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eluxcastar · 5 months

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Dottore giving child reader a check up

── ୨୧：il dottore & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: nobody scares you more than the Doctor, and that's why you're wholly betrayed by Father tricking you into getting a check up right under your nose, but perhaps your worries are exaggerated by rumours

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child reader, he's a lil soft (cause if he's not poor kid might explode on site), reader is mute, reader is also autistic (but tbh you don't have to read it that way), not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 2.9k

idk what possessed me to write this I just has the thought and decided it had to be done. I got in the zone and wrote it in a few hours �� this is kinda loosely based off one of my characters but ambiguous enough I think to be read as a reader insert. little ball of anxiety with legs reader hehe. they come from the house of the hearth so every instance of father refers to arle

You can't think of a single person able to scare you nearly as much as the Doctor can, whether it's the daunting trip to find him wherever he hid this time or the fear of knowing he tried to bargain with Father to have the more unimpressive children��as some would call you—shipped off to him to become experiments.

Father won't allow him to get his hands on any of you, but it hardly eases the fear that he may disregard Father's warning and decide to pluck the first child he comes across up and feign ignorance when she realises they've disappeared.

Father personally entrusted you with this letter, so you cannot turn back as you make your way to where she said he should be.

The sleepiness might manage to numb you to the danger by the time you arrive and make it easier to stomach his presence, but most likely, he will only frighten you awake, and it will worsen with the shock to your system.

There's no turning back now and no declining when Father asks you to take letters, which she says are of great importance. You can't treat letters like this lightly, even if you fear the recipient.

Knowing who is behind it makes the door all the more daunting. Doors that separate you from Harbingers always make you nervous as it's not every day you find yourself faced with one armed only with a letter and shaking hands. If it were anyone else, you could've knocked in a heartbeat, but you pause to gather your bearings before raising your hand to knock.

One two, three…four. Spaced just as Columbina taught you to, and then you wait.

Several seconds pass in silence before you hear footsteps from inside, then a voice calling out to you. "The door is unlocked."

You reach for the handle, cautiously cracking open the door just enough to peek inside. Your eyes travel across the room from your left to your right until you spy Dottore seated in a chair facing away from you. He hears you, evident in the way he turns to look at you as you work up the courage to step inside and leave the door ajar behind you.

"It's you," he remarks, the closest to acknowledgment you expect to receive. You are about to make your way to hand him the letter when he interrupts you. "Close the door."

The door is always closed here like it's trying to keep someone out, but there's no one here that he would dread seeing who would knock and accept that the door is locked. He must not be trying to convince anyone of that, and if he was, maybe he'd lock the door for real and leave everyone stranded outside instead of talking.

Dottore makes you nervous. You don't know what he thinks or why, but you probably don't like it. It's the only reason why he would be here right now. Normal doctoring wouldn't get him far as a Harbinger, and the sounds you've heard coming from his lab are enough to deter you from wondering too much.

Instead, you quietly spin yourself around to push the door closed before returning to your endeavour of handing him this letter from Father she entrusted you with.

"Who is it from?" he asks, a question you remember him asking before too. You concluded that he's trying to gauge how eager he is to read it, and your answer will set his mood for the remainder of your stay.

You turn the envelope over to show him the seal on the back, which you hold out to him. The mark of the House of the Hearth—Father's seal—is displayed so that Dottore can glean the answer from wordless actions. He accepts it from your hand with a stifled eagerness, the hopes of something he'll enjoy written there held back by the knowledge that, in all likelihood, it's a trivial matter.

The moment the letter leaves your hands, you retreat to the safety of the door, where you stand beside the frame to await a half-hearted reaction or collect his response. Father is always happy when you return to the House to inform her that Dottore sighed when he read her letter, even if she regards the news with her usual stoicism. She despises when he bothers to send something back to her, but she never tells you why, as usual.

He collects something off his desk just out of your sight, hidden behind him, and the sound of paper tearing follows. He drops the twice-folded paper into his hand, then unfurls it to read the contents.

You wait in silence, nerves evening out as you rub the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hand. Sleepiness does help you occupy yourself if nothing else.

Then, you are interrupted by a snap of his fingers and a motion of his hand to usher you closer.

Keeping him waiting will only make him mad, though you're sure not enough time has passed for him to pen any cohesive message in the minute or two you spent waiting.

You look up in anticipation nonetheless, expecting him to hand you something or tell you something so when he reaches toward you, it doesn't alarm you.

Not until he grabs you beneath your arms, picks you up, and sits you down on the table, much closer to eye level with him.

"Arlecchino has her concerns about your sleeping habits and your seeming lack of will to speak," he begins, reaching behind you to grab something you barely follow before he has it in his hands. It's only a light, small and thinner than the torches at the House.

Your mind races with every question you can think of as you try to find a way off this table back to the floor, but the only way out is blocked by Dottore sitting in front of you, unsympathetic to the fear in your eyes when you stare at him. You could swear you hear your heartbeat thrumming in your ears in a quickened rhythm.

What was written in that letter? Was it about you? It takes only a brief glance down in search of the open letter to realise exactly what makes this delivery so important. Father tricked you into coming here to see the Doctor after you so eagerly declined her previous offer to go willingly. You catch glimpses of your name in Father's handwriting and little else as it blurs into a messy sea of details, but you always recognise how Father writes your name.

You know better than to assume this is punishment but rather the manifestation of Father's worry as you keep oversleeping lately and need one of the older children to fetch you from the comfort of your bed. The idea that habit would land you here, presumably getting a check-up, might've inspired you to prize yourself out of bed a little earlier had you known.

Dottore seems to gauge your trembling as an obvious sign of fear, though a twitch at the corner of his lips is your only indicator, as you can't see his eyes beneath the mask. "Her explicit concern was whether or not you're ill." He rests his hand against your knee— they're cold, yet you almost expect it. It doesn't mean you especially like it. You can only interpret the action as a skewed attempt to comfort you. "As long as you're healthy, I see no reason to keep you longer than a simple check up."

He's not a real doctor, is all you can think, and he doesn't know what he's doing.

You have no choice but to steel yourself for whatever pain you're about to be subjected to. It might hurt, but you have no way out, no way back to Father, so you can curl up in a ball at her feet and ask why she would subject you to this torture—

"Don't tense your jaw," you suddenly hear, realising his finger taps your knee to grab your attention back from dreamland. "Open your mouth," he instructs you, and rather simply at that. It's something you can follow without getting scared he'll hurt you somehow.

He shines that light at you, inspecting something, though you can't say what. A slight tilt of his hand and, by proxy, the light he's holding is your only sign he's looking at anything.

The light is off before you know it. There was no pain at all, not even a hint of discomfort beyond what naturally arises from your ever-present anxiousness.

Dottore moves to set the light beside you, then appears to change his mind as he offers it to you. You take it from his hand and click it just as he had, the light coming on again. Another click, and it's off. Holding it just like that, an object of clicks and ridges and a light you can play with, is enough to give you something to at least take your mind off the fear of getting hurt.

"Lift your head."

This time, compliance comes easier as you tilt your head up until the point his hand stops nudging you, and instead, he presses his fingers against your throat. It's light enough to feel only slight pressure; it doesn't hurt, but you don't like that feeling. Your thumb brushes over the exterior of the light, smooth against the pads of your fingers and satisfying to touch. You pull away before you can come to your senses and stop yourself, but he lets go the moment your discomfort flares, and you do the closest you can to telling him no.

Your breathing begins to even back out seeing his hands so clearly in the air in front of you, away from you, not touching you. It's silent reassurance that what you just did counts enough as revoking his permission to touch you as anything can.

Dottore doesn't feel like dealing with the fussy child that trying to force it would invoke for a mere favour to the Knave.

Instead, simply asking you like the fully grown child you are seems much more efficient. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, all yes or no," he begins. "They're all simple enough you can answer without speaking."

You interpret the ensuing silence as Dottore waiting, expecting you to nod or shake your head, and you quickly offer a nod in agreement.

"Do you know if you're able to speak?"

You consider his question carefully, unsure of the answer. Your hesitation prompts him to rephrase the question.

"Are you able to make any noises at all?"

You nod. You know the answer to that.

"But not speak in full words?"

Not words. Words don't work. You shake your head.

"Would that be because you're physically unable to?"

You shake your head. You've spoken before, but each time you try, especially here, something robs you of your voice before you get the chance. You know you can talk, just not here like this.

"If not physical, then there's nothing wrong with you," he concludes. It feels sudden like there should be more, but he stops so quickly. "Nothing that I can fix," he promptly adds. That explains it.

Why not? He doesn't answer, unable to hear the things you don't say. To him, you remain as starkly silent as ever and as difficult to treat as you have been the past few minutes. You suspect he came to some greater conclusion between when you first walked in and now but neglects to share with you what it is.

You must look unsatisfied or just confused as he pauses to stare at you. You look away first, eyes drifting back to the light in your hands.

"Arlecchino only wanted to know if something was physically wrong with you," he says, briefly looking down at the letter as he skims a particular section again. "Your poor sleep may be the result of insomnia, or whatever is causing the mental block that also prevents you from speaking."

Mental block? Nobody ever told you about anything like that.

You eye him curiously, though you again remain silent, watching him while you think he isn't looking back. It's easy to look at him as long as you don't consciously think of the fact that he's staring at you behind that mask.

Dottore holds his hand out expectantly, a motion of his fingers telling you he wants you to return what you have in your hands to him. You do so, but not without a sadness-driven hesitance to accompany it.

"None of the things you're describing imply a physical problem, but a paranoid 'parent' overattentive to the wrong facets of what could be wrong with an orphan." You don't like the way he says that as if he's speaking ill of Father, but like always, you keep your mouth shut. "If you couldn't speak because of a physical injury, you would have presented with one when you arrived at the House of the Hearth—not now. Trouble sleeping and an elevated heart rate, shortness of breath, intense panic and your tremors are more likely the symptoms of anxiety."

That's a lot of words, but as he quickly lists every example, you seem to become conscious of it. Mental block, anxiety. Those are the two things you've been told that sound like explanations. You look down as if on instinct, hands held in front of you to investigate his claims that you're shaking. You are. Before your eyes, your hands are trembling, though you can't say why. You look back at him to see if he has anything else to say.

You thought your sleep troubles weren't the same, the result of bad dreams, but supposedly not. Dottore doesn't know anything about that, does he? No, he can't. You never told him, so he can't know. He knows lots of things he shouldn't, like your heart racing when you're scared or how you feel like you can't breathe at times.

Dottore clicks the light on again, shining it down at your hands resting in your lap. He circles it in place, and your eyes follow. It clicks off again after a few seconds. "Distraction helps anxiety," he says, then sets it down on the desk beside you. "Do you know why you can't sleep?" he asks.

Yes. You nod. Dreams. On nights when they're at their worst, they keep you awake long past bedtime when all others have gone to sleep. By breakfast, you can be so tired and sleep-deprived that dozing off over your food is the only thing you can manage.

You half expect to sit through another round of questioning before Dottore finds the one that clicks the pieces perfectly together in his head, just as he did in the first round.

Instead, Dottore stands, and his hands find your sides to hook you under your arms. Your feet are back on the ground before you can fuss any more about how much you do or do not like it. With you out of his way, he flips the paper Father wrote her request to him on.

"If you know the answer, then you're free to go."

That's it?

You stare up at him for a moment, perplexed by the surprising lack of pain compared to the abundance of fear you felt. It should have hurt, but it didn't, and now you don't know why you were so against coming here in the first place. Dottore spared five or ten minutes of his time, which he already didn't want to give you, and is sending you on your way without injury,

You can't see his face as he's turned away, writing something down that you can't make out. If you took a guess what it is, it's probably about you, just like the first one was. Still, you can tell why Father is so annoyed to receive letters from him. You don't recognise your name when he writes it. You don't recognise anything he writes. His handwriting is awful.

He folds it and slips it back into the envelope it was given to him in. That's not proper etiquette, but something in the way he practically shoves it into your hands tells you that he doesn't particularly care. So long as it gets from him to Father, it doesn't matter how it gets there in his eyes.

"Give that to the Knave." That is his final instruction. You're very used to following those kinds of instructions by now, having heard and executed them many times. They're second nature to your mind.

You nod, pinching it between your fingers to keep the paper from falling out of the open envelope. If Father's was critical, so is this one, and you'll get it back to her quickly—more importantly, safely.

You can't help wondering why it felt so much easier to have someone briefly look at you and ask a few questions. The older children make it sound torturous and barbaric, like being used as a lab rat to spite Father for her refusal with his only opportunity to access the children of the House.

Perhaps seeing a doctor to ease Father's worries isn't as scary as you believed.

#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — fluff.#for anyone wondering #yes this is extremely self-indulgent #because the little doctor-fearing child in me needs to be soothed #by a scarier doctor LMAO #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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thelifeofchuckmovie · 16 days

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When it comes to ending the world, Stephen King is a repeat offender. He has brought life as we know it to a brutal conclusion several times over the decades, usually highlighting the cruelty and desperation that erupts among the last to go. But his 2020 story “The Life of Chuck” uses doomsday to evoke some unlikely sentiments: Wistfulness. Gratitude. Even joy.

The idea of creating an apocalyptic version of It’s a Wonderful Life is what led filmmaker Mike Flanagan to call dibs on the rights to the novella more than four years ago. The breakdown of society, extinction-level natural disasters, and the disintegration of reality itself is explored through the lens of one relatively meek and mild accountant, played by Tom Hiddleston, whose memories and choices are mysteriously connected to these tribulations. Retirement posters congratulating him on “39 great years” pop up everywhere. But who is this guy? What job does he do (or did he used to do)? And why does it matter so much to the fate of the world? This apparent nobody named Chuck Krantz has lived larger than anyone thought possible.

Having explored King country before in 2017’s Gerald’s Game and 2019’s The Shining sequel Doctor Sleep, Flanagan got involved after reading an early copy of “Chuck” before it was published in the collection If It Bleeds. The Haunting of Hill House and Fall of the House of Usher creator produced the film independently, believing it might be too offbeat for risk-averse studios to greenlight. He even secured a waiver from the striking Hollywood guilds last year to move forward with the shoot while the rest of the industry was stuck in the work stoppage. Now he and Hiddleston are ready to reveal the finished version of The Life of Chuck as it heads to the upcoming Toronto International Film Festival, where it will screen for potential distributors.

Among the skeptics about this adaptation was King himself, according to Flanagan. “His initial responses to me were a little like, ‘Oh, okay. Yeah. If you think that’s a movie…,’” he says. “He did say several times that he thought it would be a challenge to get it supported through traditional means.”

King has now seen the finished movie and no longer has doubts. He described it to Vanity Fair as “a happiness machine.”

“Well, he’s written something very tender and very wise,” Hiddleston says. “I think there is a great wisdom in the soul of the story, which is that it takes courage to hold on to what is good in a world that feels like it’s falling apart.”

Flanagan hopes others see it that way too, although the overpowering dread that begins the story may be more immediately relatable. “I’ve heard it said that every generation feels a little like the world is ending at some point, [but] I still feel like it’s different for us,” the 46-year-old filmmaker says with a mordant laugh. “Institutions we took for granted as propping up our society are failing left and right. Our politics have degraded spectacularly. The sense that it’s breaking down, that the world is moving on, has been increasingly palpable. When I talk to my parents or members of older generations who have been through their own turbulent times, the thing that strikes me is that they’re like, ‘Oh yeah, this is really bad.’”

But…it’s not entirely bad. And that’s the underlying message of The Life of Chuck as its various mysteries play out. “There’s no sense of terror in the way that King drew it,” Flanagan says. “Even as the world feels as though it’s ending, people become introspective, they reach into their past for loves that have left their lives for one reason or another. Strangers engage in open and fearless communication.”

It’s an indie-film variation on the big-budget cataclysm story. “A disaster movie has people meeting the end while running from tidal waves, and this story has people sitting quietly holding hands looking at the stars,” Flanagan says.

The key to it all is Chuck himself, although he doesn’t turn up onscreen until the second segment of the three-act story, which plays out in reverse chronological order.

The beginning is actually the end, as the whole world circles the drain. Caught in this spiral is Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 Years a Slave), a school teacher trying to apply logic to the planet’s troubles; Karen Gillan (Guardians of the Galaxy) is his ex, a hospital worker determined to save everyone she can; Matthew Lillard (Scream) is a construction worker neighbor who finds zen amid the chaos; and Carl Lumbly (Alias), plays a funeral director who has dedicated his life to easing people through death.

The end of the movie is actually the beginning, showing young Chuck (Benjamin Pajak) when he was a boy being raised by his grandparents (Mia Sara of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Mark Hamill). The insight of these two—coupled with the otherworldly revelations he finds in an eerie room tucked into the peak of their Victorian home—help him learn to seek out bright spots when life is marred by sorrow and darkness.

In elementary school, young Chuck discovers some important things about himself thanks to guidance from a brusque dance instructor (Samantha Sloyan), and a kindhearted English teacher, played by Kate Siegel, who gives the boy (not to mention the audience) some important information that serves as a code breaker for the story's more cosmic puzzles.

As for the middle of the film: It’s a dance number. That’s when Hiddleston steps in.

Compounding the peculiarity of The Life of Chuck is the question: Why is this song and dance sequence so important? The answer is for the movie to reveal, but it matters a lot. “The life of every human being is a constellation, as expressed in this film,” Hiddleston says. “There are certain moments which will burn most brightly as individual stars. Sometimes it feels like the world is going to hell in a handcart, and it’s full of pain and suffering, and it is—but there are moments of deep joy and deep connection.”

Hiddleston shows the audience this single moment in the life of a buttoned-up fellow who somehow controls the destiny of the world. It’s not necessarily the most important day in his life, but it’s a memorable one involving a street drummer (Taylor Gordon), a lovely stranger (played by Annalise Basso), and a fateful decision to cast aside caution and cut a rug. “It’s a reminder to do whatever it is that expresses whatever gives you that feeling of being alive,” Hiddleston says. “Whether it’s music or dancing or math or writing or creativity—do it. Do it now. Those moments are what you’ll remember.”

Flanagan considered casting a relative unknown as Chuck to “give the audience the experience of ‘Who the hell is this person?’” as the peculiar retirement signs begin to appear in the midst of the apocalypse. But he felt the promise of the Loki star would build more curiosity as the world falls apart. “You grow an enormous amount of anticipation to finally spend time with an actor like Tom, who can be a literal god in one story, and then an everyman in another,” Flanagan says.

A TikTok video of Hiddleston getting his groove on sealed the deal. “He had a completely unfiltered joy on his face,” Flanagan says. “He was a good dancer, but that wasn’t what struck me. I wasn’t amazed by the technique so much as the degree of happiness that was radiating off of him. The look on his face made me smile the same way I smiled reading that particular portion of the book.”

The resulting scene was created in a month-long collaboration between Flanagan, Hiddleston, Basso, choreographer Mandy Moore (So You Think You Can Dance, and La La Land), and Gordon, a real-life percussionist who performs under the name the Pocket Queen. “Taylor was there for all of the dance choreography. She wrote that piece of music for that performance. They built it together,” Flanagan says.

Hiddleston rattles off the lists of influences: “I had to learn in six weeks the full regime of any dance training. We did jazz, swing, salsa, cha-cha, the Charleston, bossa nova, polka, quickstep, samba. We were trying to tip our hat to anything that might have influenced Chuck. It might’ve had a bit of Gene Kelly or Fred and Ginger. Certainly moonwalking—Stephen King is very specific about the moonwalk.”

Precision was not the goal, exuberance was what they sought. “We need to always bear in mind that this man is an accountant. We needed this to be an earnest, escalating explosion of joy, and a remembrance of who he was,” Flanagan says. “It’s a chance to step back into the skin of his younger self, not caring that his feet are going to kill him the next day, not caring that he’s going to wake up with a horribly stiff neck.”

A surprising thing happened while shooting the scene over the course of several sweltering afternoons in the deep South. “I burned holes in my shoes,” Hiddleston says. “I was dancing out on the asphalt in Alabama, and by the time we’d finished, you could see my socks through the soles.”

The sequence begins awkwardly: Chuck is self-conscious as he first hears the busker’s rhythm while walking back from a banking conference. That feeling quickly gets shaken off. “Tom was very committed,” Flanagan says. “He was like, ‘If I look silly, that’s fine. As long as I look happy.’”

Flanagan remembers being in a bad place when he first discovered “The Life of Chuck.” Then again, everybody was.

His copy of the manuscript arrived in March 2020. “That was just as the world shut down for COVID,” he says. “We had been a week away from starting principal photography on Midnight Mass in Vancouver and had fled across the border before it closed to make it back to the States. We were hunkered down in our homes and had no idea if this was going to last for two weeks or if this was going to last forever.”

With everything halted as the lockdown set in, Flanagan had plenty of time to do nothing but read. The new King book seemed like the perfect escape. Except…

“The first third of ‘The Life of Chuck’ just rattled me,” he recalls. “There’s no way he wrote this before the world ground to this bizarre halt—but he did. And the feeling of anxiety, and uncertainty, and that everything was falling apart came roaring out at me. I wasn’t sure I could finish it. It just felt too close to the anxiety I was feeling.” But he kept turning the pages. “By the end of it, I was in tears, and incredibly uplifted, and convinced I’d read maybe the best thing that he’d written in a decade. I just was floored by the thing,” Flanagan says. “So I fired off an email to him right away saying how much I loved the story, how incredible I thought it was, how meaningful, and important, and how it had really tattooed itself on my heart and said, ‘It’s the movie I want to make so that it’ll exist in the world for my kids.’”

King’s response: Not so fast. Flanagan and his producing partner, Trevor Macy, had at that point secured the rights to King’s fantasy saga The Dark Tower through their company, Intrepid Pictures. The eight-book series is threaded throughout King’s other works, and adapting it was a massive undertaking that Flanagan is still working to make happen. Other filmmakers had either abandoned the project, were canceled midway through, or bombed miserably. The author didn’t want him to be distracted. “He doesn’t like to give the same filmmaker more than one thing, because it typically means one thing is not advancing at all,” Flanagan says. “He said, ‘Well, let’s focus on The Tower and I’ll try to keep this one available for you for later.’”

The quest to The Dark Tower remains a priority for Flanagan, but a number of disruptions to that epic undertaking led him to reapproach King last year about Chuck. Intrepid’s deal with Netflix, where they had created Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor, and other shows, had come to a close, and Intrepid signed a new development agreement with Amazon. That meant starting over on The Dark Tower. Meanwhile, the threat of a double-barreled strike by writers and actors was on the horizon, stalling nearly every major new project. The industry plunged into another production-halting lockdown, this time over contract impasses rather than a virus.

Since The Dark Tower was suddenly further off on the horizon, Flanagan saw a chance to make The Life of Chuck happen in the short term. “It’s so rare that I get to approach any project that just has not an ounce of cynicism to it. I just really believed in this thing,” he says. “But it was also clear that we would have an incredibly uphill battle bringing the story to any major studio. They would try to make it as familiar as possible, instead of leaning into what makes it so different.”

King gave Flanagan his blessing to proceed. “I was off like a shot,” the filmmaker says. “I think I turned in the draft to him before he got around to sending the formal agreement.”

For everyone involved, The Life of Chuck became a bright spot in an otherwise dismal time, which matches the theme of the film. “There is a profound optimism in this story,” Hiddleston says. “As the world is spinning off its axis, there are moments of magic.”

#the life of chuck #tom hiddleston #mark hamill #karen gillan #chiwetel ejiofor #jacob tremblay #kate siegel #mike flanagan #carl lumbly

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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Meeting Pastry Chef Luca from The Bear For the First Time Headcanon

a/n: inspired by @superhoeva, i thought i'd take a crack at writing a chef luca headcanon because we're all dying rn for will poulter as a sticker-sleeve tattooed chef. would anyone read this as a fic?? let me know.

edit: (7/3/23) i turned this into a fic called 'burn your life down.' feel free to read if you'd like!

you own a small restaurant in copenhagen. it's only been open for a year (this could potentially change if i write said fic). it's nothing fancy, but the food has soul. the food is an extension of yourself -- it tells the story of you.

inspired by noma, you grow some of your own produce outside of the restaurant in raised garden beds.

you begin to notice (as it's an open kitchen) and a smaller spot, that a tall, blonde brit has become one of your regulars. he comes in the same day each week at the same time. he always looks tired, like he's unwinding from a long day's worth of hard work, but he's always kind to your staff, and he has a quiet, powerful confidence to him.

week after week, he's there. he always orders one dish and one glass of wine, before paying the bill and leaving for the evening without a word.

your staff speculate about him: who is he, what must he do, that he's so handsome that he must have a partner. you don't pay much attention to the gossip, but it's hard not to notice that it's become part of his routine.

he always orders something different -- eager to try any new kind of special that you have on the menu that day.

it's not till one slower night of service that you finally meet him. you're short staffed that night and so you end up running plates out to tables -- finding it a great opportunity to connect more with your diners on a personal level. it's a very american hospitality concept, but since you have the time, you figure, why not?

he comes in at his usual time on sunday evening and you're curious to learn more about your weekly diner. you introduce yourself after walking his plate out and he's surprised that it's you who's serving him this evening.

"you're the chef?" he asks. "yes." "i can't think of the last time i saw a head chef work front of house..." he shakes his head in disbelief. "we're a little short staffed tonight." he seems impressed, raising his glass of wine to you. "cheers."

at the end of dinner service, one of your servers hands you a handwritten note that luca's left for you, inviting you to the restaurant he works at. the note reads: "thank you for all of the great meals. i'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it," followed by a time, a date for tomorrow, and an address.

as soon as you realize which restaurant it is (much fancier, michelin starred, held in high regard) you only panic a little, but decide to go anyways. since both of your restaurants are closed on monday, you're even more nervous about the fact that you're meeting him at his tonight, while it's closed, considering you've barely had a conversation with him and how intimidating of a reputation the restaurant has.

he greets you at the door, right on time, and he leads you past the closed dining room, back to the kitchen where he's created a few dishes for you to try: two from his regular menu and one inspired by a dish of yours he's had.

"all of this... you did all of this for me... why?" you muster up the courage to ask. "your food is inspired and i don't think i've had something this inspired in a long time. and as chefs, this is what we do. we feed each other." and it's the beginning of, you're not quite sure what, but whatever it is, you're glad he walked into your restaurant however many weeks ago.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction

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jaehunnyy · 10 months

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time's the charm | cs

Genre: 'hate everyone but you' trope, angst, fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Pairing: quiet-boy!San x fem!reader

Warnings: San has a sad past (nothing triggering mentioned tho), mentions of running from home, sadness, toxic men, crying, some harsh words, misunderstandings, happy ending tho!!, possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @pocketjoong-reads, @nebulousbrainsoup, @justhere4kpop, @bluisheye93, @i-luvsang, @ad0rechuu, @starillusion13

You had no idea when the quiet, ebony haired guy’s eyes started to form red hearts whenever they landed on you. You had no idea when he gathered the courage to look away from his phone, just so he could get a glimpse of your outfit that day, or your hair, anything when it came to you. You also had no idea that Choi San was capable of having feelings, and neither did he. That was the first time San pleasantly surprised someone.

There wasn’t much he knew about you. Aside from your not-so-good reputation around the campus, he also found out that you held the power to make his heart jolt in happiness, or whatever that feeling was supposed to be. The lingering feeling of warmth whenever he saw you was burning his skin, along with the electric arrows piercing through his spine—and he hated it. He hated that he couldn’t hate you, just like he did with everyone else around him. But he knew he brought it upon himself, and maybe this one time, he was willing to try and risk some things.

You, on the other hand, knew what the people around you wanted you to know about him. San didn’t talk to anyone except one person (the only person he called a friend, just because they were roommates), which is why you just let the guys in your class spill whatever harsh things they dreamt up whenever his headphones were covering his ears; except he wasn’t always listening to music, but also to the things they were saying about him—because what’s so great in lying is the not knowing.

Little did they know that instead of making you stay away from him, it intrigued you. You wanted to see behind the fluffy halo of black surrounding his head—you wanted to know the story of the blue streak that blended in between his black hairs, what music resonated through his ears every break, or what shop he preferred whenever he went shopping. Something told you there was something special about the guy. He was different from all the other ones you messed with, and as much as you didn’t want to hurt him, you were selfish enough to want him for yourself.

Love did its wonders in the last few weeks, cause San didn’t know what had gotten into him when he grabbed the smallest piece of paper he eyed and a pen, writing a short note and putting it into your locker. It was like Cupid was controlling him or whatever, and as much as his nose scrunched at the thought of those lovey-dovey things, his heart swelled with pride. He just wanted to be looked at from a different point of view, he thought that maybe, you would look at him differently.

“San? Did you just put something into y/n’s locker?” his only friend, Yeosang, asked him with a frown on his face.

San looked at him with puppy-like eyes, as he was caught red-handed.

“San… what did I tell you when you transferred here?”

The black haired guy looked at the older boy, whispering in a tiny voice: “To stay away from her.”

“Well, it definitely doesn’t seem like you are too great at it.” His friend snapped, dragging him along the hallway.

“Yeosang, she makes me feel things no one else has, I don't even know how to describe it.”

“She will make you feel some unique things when she will break your heart too.” The blonde haired guy said and left, not in the mood to argue with his friend.

San felt small again. He hated everyone for the way they treated him—for seeing him as nothing less than a fragile thing who could break in any second. When he ran away at the age of fourteen, everything changed inside the once bubbly guy. He became quiet, indifferent even, or that was just the wall he built around him from broken memories and dirty past; cause deep down, he just wanted to be loved, despite hate being the only thing he knew how to offer.

You truly wanted to get closer to him. You admired how his head bobbed to the beat of the music he was listening to, or how his lips would form a pout when he got out of words when writing a note—the same love notes that continued to grow into a pile on your desk, bringing a lopsided smile on your face whenever you thought about the dimpled guy who sent them. You saw him sticking one of them a few days ago, yet you had too much fun seeing him like this—as the cold boy who had a soft spot for you; so you acted a fool.

You weren’t as bad as everyone claimed you were; you were just giving nasty men a taste of their own poison. Call yourself a femme fatale or whatever, but you just enjoyed seeing them crawl for forgiveness after what they did; yet your little act of service brought you a title as dirty as your actions, so you could just bear it in exchange for some healed hearts. You grew tired of the brokenhearted girls around the campus, so you just made their exes approach you enough so you could break their heart; you would call it playing the hero; except it wasn’t seen the same by the ones who sided with the villains of the story.

The more time passed, the more you were getting infatuated with the quiet boy, as much as he was getting addicted to your intoxicating presence. You could say you two fell in love with the help of the innocent notes, hiding behind the sweet nothings plastered on the pieces of paper; and this little word game of yours gave San enough confidence, the moment he decided he was ready to ask you on a messy date. That was the second time he pleasantly surprised someone with his efforts.

You might be curious about who I am. Meet me today at 7pm in the park? ♡

You would have said yes, if only someone didn’t have a trump card. The moment San turned his back away from the lockers, the boy who had other plans for you took the note and stamped on it, before throwing it into the closest trash bin he found. He couldn’t let this date happen, and it sadly didn’t—which is why you weren’t aware of the guy waiting for you in the cold, tears threatening to stain his cheeks with the salty taste of loss. Was that all he was destined to? Pain? Where did he go wrong this time?

He waited and waited, and when the clock hit 9pm, he realized he should have probably listened to his friend. He was way out of your league—and still, your responses to his texts (though he supposed you didn’t know it was him), and the subtle smiles you threw in his direction, he thought that maybe, just maybe, in his world full of darkness and bad luck, you would be his lucky charm. He let out a bitter laugh the moment he felt the familiar wetness on his cheek, making him remember that instead of hating everyone but you, he should have stuck to hating everyone, including you. That was the moment he swore he would never waste his feelings on anyone, deciding that he was made to wallow in self-pity forever.

And as expected due to the circumstances, the notes stopped—and you were sad; that sad that you distanced yourself from your heartthrob activities, just to focus on the boy you grew to adore. But things changed—San changed. He didn’t look at you anymore, his once fond look turning into painful daggers whenever your eyes laid on him. His dimples were hidden deeply in his soft cheeks, making you wonder what happened. If it was your fault, if it was a false hope you had, if he was like the other ones. While you two were hurting each other with the lack of affection, the tragedy was happening under the eyes of the person who screwed it all.

You endured, and endured, until one day, you couldn’t endure anymore. When you finished your lectures, you followed San, stopping him at the nearest wall of the school and looking into his eyes.

“Why did you stop sending me notes? I liked them, San.” You whispered, looking for any sign of emotion on his face.

To say he was surprised that you knew it was him was an understatement—though it didn’t matter anymore. You were probably just trying to fool him again.

“I never sent you any notes. You must be mistaking me for someone else.” He said coldly, not even looking into your eyes. He was lying.

“I saw you sticking them to my locker, San. Please, tell me.”

He let out a scoff, followed by a mocking laughter.

“Why do you even care now? Are you going to tell the whole college now? That I am such a pathetic guy?”

“San, please!”

He looked at your pleading eyes, debating if he should give you an explanation or not. You didn’t deserve it, but his feelings made a step forward.

“Why would I try to hit on someone who would only laugh at me? You broke my heart—gave me hope, and then stamped on all my efforts to ask you out the moment you made me wait for you for two hours. And this isn’t even the biggest problem,” he paused, his sharp eyes laying on your confused face: “The problem is I can't even hate you for it. Because I know you deserve better; yet I still had some hope.”

Your eyes widened. What was this man talking about? While you were engulfed in your thoughts, he was ready to leave, but you were quick to grab his wrist, making him turn back to you, an annoyed expression on his face.

“San, let me talk.”

“About? I already know you don’t do relationships or anything, kind of learned it the hard way.” He said sarcastically, yet you knew he was as hurt as you were.

“If you truly like me, give me a chance to speak,” you begged, and you saw his stiff expression relaxing just a bit, a small nod of his head encouraging you to continue: “I don’t understand. What did you expect from me? You never asked me out!”

San frowned, knuckles so tense from the way he was clenching his fists.

“I literally did a week ago?”

You don’t recall receiving a note a week ago. You thought hard, but the last time you got a note from him, he asked you to expect something later. So, what if someone was sabotaging you, stealing the chance you had away?

“San, I didn't find any notes a week ago. I can show you all the notes I have if you want, I… kinda collect them.” You said, a small blush on your cheek—only that he wasn’t buying it this time.

And that’s when it hit you.

“San, wait—what if I never got the note? What if someone didn’t want us to happen?”

“Stop finding excuses to play with me.”

“San, I'm not, list—”

You were interrupted by a shuffling sound behind you, and that's when the culprit who was eavesdropping all this time appeared, a halo of fair hair surrounding his head as he looked down, drenched in guilt.

“It was me. I didn't want you to happen, because I was scared you would hurt my friend.” Yeosang whispered, head hung down in shame.

He never felt that small in front of San; it was always the other way around. But now, he felt like he did the wrongest thing ever, and he didn’t think he had any right to look his friend—or you, in the eyes.

“Yeosang…? Why would you even? You—you knew I was so into her, so… why…?”

“I know she hurts everyone she gets with. I wanted to prevent you from heartbreak.”

“I don't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. I just get revenge for my friends’ broken hearts by messing with their exes’ minds, and this might make me look like some sort of fuckgirl and whatnot, but this time, I fell in love. For real.”

San looked at you in awe, the light in his beautiful eyes shining again.

“Did you really?” he stuttered,

“I… I think I did, yeah.”

San wondered if it was too late to ask you out, again. And, as the invisible red thread of fate tied you to one another, you kinda read his thoughts.

“If you still want to, I would love to go out with you, Sannie.”

Sannie. The first nickname that got his heart running laps, along with the butterflies dancing a sweet dance of victory inside of him.

Yeosang’s eyes filled with hope, and he looked up at his friend, who gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder.

“Thank you for caring, Yeosang. But I am on my own now.” He said, before grabbing your hand and leaving with you.

This was San—the quiet guy who was pretending to hate everyone while waiting for the person who would look behind his intentions, who would see how much he craved to be loved and understood. He improved so much, and that was the third time San had pleasantly surprised someone—but this time, it would definitely not be the last.

After everything he had been through, he felt like the sun had finally risen on his street, the moment he first woke up with you in his arms. This was only the start of his journey to happiness, and he hoped it would last more than the suffering he went through in his twenty years of life.

Time’s the charm, and despite the hardships you two faced, he wouldn’t want it any other way. He felt invincible when he held your hand, happiness written all over his face, and he was sure that he wasn’t meant to cycle this beautiful trip alone, but with the love of his life by his side.

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dira333 · 4 months

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Hurting together - Aizawa x Reader

mentions of Chronic pain, requested by @alienaiver I hope this is in any way what you've imagined.

“Nervous?” Shouta asks after a full 120 seconds of your leg bouncing without stopping.

“Huh?! Oh, oh, I’m sorry!” You scramble to a halt, arm resting on your leg to keep it in place. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to stop now. But if you wanna talk about it, I heard that helps.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t wanna … I don’t wanna annoy anyone,” you mutter, eyes flickering from left to right.

“Do you wanna hear my story then?” He asks, not because it’s something he likes sharing, but you’re cute and what’s the alternative? Staring at the wall until he gets called in.

“Oh, if you… if you don’t mind?”

He huffs out a breath. “Well, apparently it’s not healthy to break a bone every single week.”

“Oh!” Your eyes grow huge. “Every single week? Wait, is it the same bone.”

“No,” he snorts softly, “At least then I’d have a better story. I’m a pro Hero, I just happen to get into fights.”

“And what’s your Hero Name? Fragile Bone?”

It takes him a second to recognize the joke, snorting loudly when he does. You’re snappy, now that the anxiety fades.

“No, it’s uh… Eraser Head.” He waits a second for you to recognize him, the star-struckness to hit. But it doesn’t. Instead, you cock your head to the side and eye him thoroughly.

“Interesting,” you say, “I remember an Interview you were forced to give a few years back. Uh, I think there was a streaker at the Sports Festival?”

He laughs. “Good Memory. Yeah, that was one of our students. He didn’t have his Quirk under Control back then.”

“And you’ve got a broken bone now? Or is this just a check-up?”

“Bloodwork.”

“Yikes,” you pull a face, “me too. It’s the worst.”

“It is,” he agrees, dares to ask before he can lose his courage again. “Want me to hold your hand through the process?”

And it’s smooth, smoother than he’s ever been able to - maybe the absence of his friends does benefit his ability to flirt - and he might even get his hopes up for a second there - until your face falls.

“That’s really tempting, you know, but I… uh… my hands are hurting. That’s why I’m here, you know, to figure out why they’re hurting like this. So hand-holding is kinda a no-go.”

“Oh, I understand,” the dejection must be audible in his voice because you reach out for him, though you don’t take hold.

“But if you want,” you offer, voice a little breathless, “you could… uh… put your hand on my shoulder? It might look weird, but-”

“I’ve seen weirder things,” he offers and your smile lights up the room.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were coming in together,” Doc Oc greets him and for a moment he is paralyzed, frozen between two different emotions. Surprise, because Doc OC’s obviously familiar with you and he’s got the worst memory when it comes to names. Embarrassment, because it’s usually not the best thing if a Doctor remembers you by name, let alone this one.

“Ah,” you smile, “We met in the waiting room. Bloodwork, you now. It’s easier if it’s done together.”

“That I can agree with. Now, who wants to go first?”

-x-

“Now, I believe you owe me something,” Recovery Girl announces one afternoon, a big smile cutting into her wrinkly face. “What’s her name?”

“Huh?” Shouta had been busy reading through this week's assignment, deciphering the texts. Denki’s Handwriting almost requires a PHD in decoding.

“Doc Oc and I have been friends for quite some time. One would call us even… very close… if you know what I mean. He said you brought in lovely company.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess…” He can’t help but blush at her tone. Too much information.

“Well, are you going to ask her out? You cannot count this as your first date, surely? A fancy Dinner is a must.”

“A fancy Dinner is a must for whom?” Hizashi’s leaning around the door and Shouta groans. Of all people to overhear this.

“Shouta’s girlfriend.”

“Shouta has a girlfriend? Shouta, my man, why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you love me anymore? Your best friend?”

He crawls further into his sleeping bag, closing his eyes. Those assignments can wait, if he can fall in to a coma first, he-

-x-

“So?” Rumi leans against your Desk. “Did he call you?”

“Not yet,” you’re chewing on your lower lip, “But he’s probably busy.”

“Busy my ass,” she snorts angrily. “You’re a catch. If he doesn’t get a groove on you’re gone. He should know that.”

You level your friend - and boss - with a glare. “I’ve been single for a year.”

“Which he doesn’t know,” she sings. “But on another note, have you’ve gotten the results from your bloodwork? You know we only need that so we can get started on your hands-free Desktop.”

“Why do you sound more excited about this than I am?”

“Because you’re afraid of change and I am not. Just think, your hands will finally get to rest!”

“Yay,” you wave them around half-heartedly when your phone pings.

Rumi’s already grabbing it from your desk, always faster than you. “Oh, it’s your guy.” She hands it back. “Not looking.”

“Thank you for respecting my privacy,” you joke and open the short text only to gasp.

“He’s asking me out.”

“Great, so he’s not an idiot. Confirm.”

“No, no, he’s asking me out for a date tonight. You know how bad my legs have been today, I can’t show up with a cane.

“Why not?”

“Because,” you drag out, “the last time I did that there was no second date.”

“And you think he’s that shallow?”

“I just don’t want to jinx it.”

“Fine,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “Tell him you can’t tonight because you’re working late. Ask him if he’s able to reschedule for tomorrow or Friday.”

You hesitate, but do as you’re told.

“And now,” she grabs your bag as soon as you put your phone down, “you get your cute ass home and rest. I want you as fit as you can be tomorrow so you can enjoy that date.”

“But work-”

“Work is like my ex - it will always wait for you.”

-x-

“Fuck,” Shouta groans, head on his arms. The pain is strong today.

“You… uh… you good?” He hears a familiar voice from the door. Shit, he forgot about training with Hitoshi.

“Fantastic,” he grinds through his teeth though he does not dare to lift his head. Lunch was decent, but he doesn’t want to taste it again.

“Do you need Recovery Girl?”

“No, I’m going to be fine. Can you get me my painkillers from my bag? I would, but moving-”

“Sure, sure.” He can hear rustling and then a pill is dropped into his outstretched palm.

Slowly, carefully, he drags his arm back to pop it into his mouth, swallows it dry. He’s got loads of practice.

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be right as rain.”

“Uh, if you say so.”

He’s got a black eye.

He’s got a black eye and a date in about thirty minutes and the painkillers are making him particularly loopy today.

Hitoshi wouldn’t have been able to hit him in the face if his reaction time hadn’t been so slow. He’s lucky no bone is broken.

Something tells him that it would be better to reschedule, but wouldn’t that make him look disinterested when he’s not?

“Mew.”

Shouta turns to the sound, surprised to see a black cat looking up at him. There’s a hedge there, and he bends down to pet the animal.

“You’re loud, huh?” He comments on the purring, taking a seat on the ground when his knees turn a little wobbly. He really is getting older.

The cat disappears into the hedge and he holds out a hand, making little sounds to lure her back out.

Just as he can spot the green eyes blinking back at him, a banknote is dropped into his hand.

“Here,” a voice says, “It’s cold out.”

Shouta freezes, only to look up into your face.

“Uh,” he makes, suddenly envious of Kaminari when he cooks his brain.

“I didn’t mean-” you say just as he exclaims loudly: “There’s a cat.”

“Where?” You ask, peering into the hedge. “I love cats.”

-x-

“This was nice,” you tell him after Dinner, the episode with the Cat now something you can laugh about. “Would you like to do it again sometimes?”

“Yes,” he nods slowly, “I’m sorry if I was a little loopy today. I took… uh, I forgot to take a nap.”

“Ah,” you smile, “You’re getting old too? If I don’t get my usual lunch nap I’m not so nice to be around.”

Shouta laughs. “Somehow I find that hard to believe. You’re very nice to be around.”

“You think so?” You ask, heart skipping a beat when he nods.

“How are your hands?” He looks down at them, “Can I hold them? Or do they still hurt?”

“If you don’t squeeze them I should be fine,” you say, praying that it’s the truth.

It is a little uncomfortable, if you were to tell the truth, but he’s gentle and your heart blooms at the implications.

If only you could put this moment in a jar, keep it for all the days where it’s hard to get up.

“So?” Rumi leans over your desk, grinning wide. “Gimme the scoop.”

“We went out, it was amazing, I don’t know when I’m going to see him again.”

“That’s not the scoop, that’s a short summary. I want every detail. Also, what does it mean you don’t know when you-”

The ringtone of your phone cuts her off. You take a peak only to gasp.

“It’s him. He’s calling.”

“Well, pick up. I’ll come back as soon as you’re finished. And I want all the details.”

It’s hard to find time for another date.

Shouta works two fulltime jobs and you’re overwhelmed with just one.

But he calls or texts every day, sending you pics of cats whenever he’s out on patrol.

It’s nice, but it could be nicer.

When he asks what you’re doing and you’re in bed, pain holding you down, you cannot tell him the truth. Because he doesn’t know the truth. And telling him over the phone seems insensitive.

Sometimes he sounds pretty loopy when he calls and you wonder if he’s getting enough sleep. But when you ask him about it he evades the question so masterfully, that you only remember it hours after the call.

“I think I have to come clean,” you tell Rumi one day during lunch, your hands in thick compression gloves to combat the pain. “This season is hitting me hard and I cannot postpone our next date again just because I cannot go anywhere without a cane.”

“I’m sure it’s going to go well. From what you’ve told me about him he seems very nice.”

“Yeah,” you sigh,”so nice I don’t want to lose him.”

-x-

Of all the moments for a migraine to hit, this has to be the worst.

Okay, maybe the second worst, because he’s not currently fighting someone.

But he’s been pressing his temple against the fridge doors of this Konbini for half an hour now, clearly unsettling the other shoppers, and his painkillers are far, far away in his car’s glove compartment.

Every time he thinks he’s got it now, turning away from the coldness has his lunch rise up in his throat.

“Shouta?” A familiar voice asks and the ice seeps into his veins. It’s you.

“No, I’m not Shouta. You must mistake me for someone else.”

“You’re wearing a nametag. Backward, but you’re wearing it.”

He sighs. “Can you just pretend you’re not seeing me?”

“I could, but why?”

“This is embarrassing.”

“I mistook you for a homeless man, I think we’ve already reached top embarrassment.”

“I’m having a Migraine.”

“See,” he can hear the encouragement in your voice, knows exactly how your mouth curls at the words even if he cannot see it. “That’s very low on the embarrassment list. Do you need a painkiller?”

“Yeah, but they’re in my car.”

“What are you using.”

“I doubt you have that. You can only get it via prescription.”

Shouta names it, hears you chuckle.

“Oh, you bet I got that. One pill is enough, right?”

“Right.” He can hear rustling before a pill is pressed into his hands. He swallows it dry.

“It will take me a minute to come to my senses.”

“No worry at all. I can stay here with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, but I want to. By the way… the Bloodwork… was that about your Migraine?”

“Yeah,” he swallows around the lump in his throat. “And other stuff.”

“Mhm.” Some more rustling.

“How did you get those pills by the way? You don’t work in a pharmacy, right?”

“Oh, no, I don’t deal drugs if that’s what you’re asking.” You laugh, but it tapes off awkwardly. “I… I suffer from chronic pain.”

“I’m sorry.”

You laugh again, but you don’t sound amused. “Yeah, me too.”

Silence settles between them. Slowly, the pain in his head eases into something manageable and he peels himself away from the cool glass to look at you.

You’re staring at the ground, a cane in your hands.

“I’m going to be pretty loopy for the rest of the day,” he tells you, lump in his throat, “But do you wanna grab a coffee after this?”

The surprise in your eyes tells you what he’d already assumed. You’re not used to people accepting your condition as something that just is.

“Might ask you some questions as soon as my head works properly again,” he adds like a threat, “but for now I’d just like to look at you. You’re really pretty.”

“You’re really loopy,” you giggle.

“Mhm, it’s going to get even worse, sugardrop.” His hand finds your elbow, careful to avoid your hands and you knock your head lightly against his shoulder.

You’re probably a weird-looking couple to the outside world, but he’s never cared much about that anyway.

#my writing #mha x reader #mha #bnha #bnha x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa fluff #aizawa #aizawa x you

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my-castles-crumbling · 9 months

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Of course James knows what Mistletoe is!

for @siriuslygay1981 - AU- everyone lives, no voldemort - jegulus holiday fluff

He knew what mistletoe was, of course.

In theory.

It was a plant. That one kissed under. Easy enough.

So when the holidays approached and he still hadn't succeeded in building up the courage to kiss the object of his affections, forgive him for taking up a new tactic. It was festive.

The first step?

Get a plant, of course.

But it was cold! It was snowy, and windy, and he didn't really fancy bundling up. So, he figured, all plants were basically the same, right? (He was a very smart person but he wasn't exactly a star in Herbology.)

Good thing he knew where the kitchens were.

He grinned to himself, praising his own intelligence, as he left the kitchens with his plant, and also possibly an entire cake because the house elves insisted.

Step one- check!

The second step?

Hang it up high.

In all the stories he'd heard, the mistletoe had been hung above doors, so he contemplated the perfect door to hang his plant.

Eventually, he settled for the entrance to the dungeons.

Why?

It seemed easy enough to get both of them in that spot at the same time, during a time that might be at least a little more private. He didn't want to embarrass anyone, after all.

So, with Remus grudgingly standing lookout a ways away, he levitated the greenery above the entrance and affixed it with a simple charm, admiring his work for a minute before running back to his friend.

Step two- check!

The third step?

Get both of them there at the same time.

It was odd, he realized. For a group of people who talked a lot about mistletoe, a lot of students didn't seem to want to actually follow through with the tradition. Even pairs who were obvious couples walked under his trap without kissing, and the only reaction he observed were some confused glances and pointing.

Oh, well. James Potter was nothing if not a trendsetter.

So, the next day, he mustered up all of his courage and walked up to his target.

"Can I walk you to Potions, Reg?" He asked in his most gentlemanly voice.

"Bugger off, Potter," the shorter boy said through a grimace, barely looking up from his breakfast.

But James was nothing if not persistent. "C'mon, Reggie! Please?"

Regulus Black looked up, considering. James caught an endeared look in his eye. Ha!

"Fine. I have to go early to work on an essay. Let's go now," Regulus relented.

James couldn't stop himself from beaming as he grabbed Regulus's bag before he could protest, carrying both bags on his left shoulder so he could grab Regulus's hand in his right one. Regulus gave him a look, but didn't pull away.

Step three- check!

His heart positively hammered as they approached the entrance to the dungeons. Would Regulus know what mistletoe was? Would he see it? Would he want to kiss James? They'd spent a lot of time together lately, flirting and playing Quidditch, but perhaps it was just as friends? Regulus was difficult to read...

But, thankfully, Regulus stopped as they reached the door, pointing above them. "Have you seen that?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

Could it be true? Was Regulus hinting that he wanted to kiss him, too?

"Yes," James breathed. "It's-"

"Lettuce. So odd. I wonder who did it," Regulus said while chuckling a bit.

James realized he'd have to explain. "It's a holiday thing, Reg. Mistletoe."

Regulus gave him a long look. For the first time, James began to feel like maybe he was missing something. "Potter, not all plants are used as mistletoe. Mistletoe is a specific type of plant. It has little green leaves and white berries."

Oh, no.

He could feel himself turning red.

Oh, fuck.

"Potter? Did...did you hang the lettuce?" Regulus asked, his expression unreadable.

"No," he muttered, refusing to meet Regulus's eyes.

"Potter. Why did you hang the lettuce?" Regulus pushed, his voice almost gentle, now.

"Erm..." James sighed. 'I wanted to kiss you' sounded so desperate to say out loud.

"You thought it was mistletoe?" Regulus asked.

James squeezed his eyes shut, feeling unbelievably foolish. He nodded.

"And you hung it? And...led me to it? Why? As a joke?" Hurt. Regulus's voice sounded cold and hurt now.

James opened his eyes quickly. "What? No, I-"

"You thought it'd be funny to kiss me, to mess with me like that?" Regulus continued, looking angry, now. "Or were you trying to catch Evans as she went to her class, but you decided to settle for me, instead?"

This was not 'Step Four- Kiss Regulus'. This was not going right. And James was panicking. And sometimes James said stupid things when he panicked. "No, Reg! I just wanted an excuse to kiss you, because that's all I've been thinking about for weeks!"

Regulus stopped ranting then, and stared. "That's not true, Potter."

"Well it bloody well is! Ask Remus, or your brother, or Peter! You're really all I can talk about! It's pathetic!" James said, throwing his hands up in the air. "And I finally came up with such a good plan, and now I buggered it all up!"

But Regulus just took out his wand, and for a moment James thought maybe he was going to hex him, but he pointed it up toward the browning, wilted piece of lettuce on the ceiling.

Suddenly, it began to transform, to a sprig of small leaves and berries, a red bow tying it all together.

"That is mistletoe," Regulus murmured softly, yanking on James's collar and pulling their lips together.

Step four- check!

Hope you guys enjoyed! Click here to leave comments/kudos!

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cherry-velvet-skies · 6 months

Text

Marigolds In The Porch Lights (18+)

Gardener!George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut (FINALLY), but also some Fluff and Angst

Warnings: A poor attempt at a shower sex scene, unprotected sex (ALWAYS USE PROTECTION, Y'ALL), and some kinda twisted feelings I guess idk these two are just constantly teasing each other

Words: 6.4k (I had so much fun with this y'all)

Summary: 1971 era; SEQUEL TO STRAWBERRY LEMONADE; George and Reader finally have their time together; also Geo is not famous in this so I guess it counts as AU lol

A/N: MUST READ STRAWBERRY LEMONADE FIRST FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE! But honestly the amount of requests I got to make a sequel, anyone who's here has probably already read S.L. (also thank you for all the requests! <3)

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One week had gone by since the blossoming of your new relationship with George, and you could not stop thinking about him. Calling him during the week just for your own pleasures seemed rather selfish, so you forced yourself to wait the full week until his next Saturday gardening job. After all, that wouldn’t be fair to his personal schedule, now would it?

Now, here it was, the fateful Saturday afternoon, and the anticipation was swarming you. You knew that you were always his last appointment of the week, and you would have him all to yourself from now until the sunset. You contemplated walking outside naked to greet him, but quickly remembering that neighbors exist, the idea was obligated to fade away. You still wished you could, though.

You left the gate unlocked, allowing him to let himself in. He was so caring of your space, taking time to lock the gate behind him so as not to allow the opportunity of any unwanted guests. You waited by the patio for him, prepared with another plate of fresh strawberries and a cold glass of lemonade. You made enough for two this time, specifically if those two were going to be staying together for a while.

Upon George’s entry, he eyed the fruity treats reminiscent of his previous time here. Instead of helping himself to a snack, he approached you to place a patient kiss upon your lips, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist as he did so. His other hand held his gardening toolkit, keeping it at his side while you deepened the kiss. George was almost ready to drop the bag and take you in his arms, but felt he should at least accomplish what you’re paying him for first.

“How have you been?” You started, having a bit more courage to talk to him this time. He laid out his tools as he knelt in the grass.

“Doing what I normally do, I guess.” He replied absentmindedly, “Though I was excited to get back here and see how the strawberry seeds are doing.” He flashed you a cheeky grin, and your shoulders instantly floated down to a more relaxed stance. George wasn’t big on expressing his true feelings directly, but he had his own ways of getting his point across. You slowly drifted off, listening to his voice as he spoke, until he stopped, and you realized he was waiting for you to answer his question.

“Pardon?” You squeaked, causing George to tilt his head in confusion.

“You have been watering the strawberries, right?” He repeated, gesturing to the empty space beside him, “The soil looks moist, so I’d say they’re doing well.”

“Oh! Yes,” You giggled, “I purchased a book on how to care for them the morning after you planted it.” A wide smile spread on George’s face, giving you a short nod and happily moving on to the next patch of flowers. You wore a scarlet colored dress today, planning for him to give you a matching rose from your garden. You concluded that you were the one who could determine which type of flower you receive by the color you chose to wear that day. You weren’t sure if George was also aware of this arrangement, or he just enjoyed finding flowers for you too much to notice.

You had treated this time you spent with George almost like your first date. You wanted to know everything there is to know about him, no matter how minor. In the hours that he had been there, you learned that George also knew how to play guitar, and he enjoyed writing songs, but was never really interested in the life of fame and performing to the public, so he preferred not to pursue it. Being a gardener and getting as much time in nature as he could was more than enough to make him happy.

The time went faster than you both wanted it to, partly because this time felt like you had known each other for years. George had even taken the time to show you how to tend to certain flowers, as the rules differed based on the type of plant. He showed you all his tools, demonstrating how to use them and the best places to start to preserve the flowers, as well as any of his personal favorite natural additives to help the flowers grow. You now knew that adding common household items, such as white vinegar or banana peels can give your flowers a speed boost. George even explained how ground coffee could be beneficial to the soil if you decided to start growing vegetables. His wide range of knowledge was better than any purchasable book could provide.

Before you knew it, the sky was growing orange, and the sunset was upon you. More time to spend with George aside from his occupational responsibilities was not completely out of the question, so you hadn’t lost hope yet. That is, until you saw him reach for his bag to start packing up his tools.

“You’re leaving?” You blurted out, not wanting to sound desperate but your body not even giving you a chance to consider your words. “You just got here!”

George glanced down at his watch, eliciting a small chuckle. “I’ve been here for three hours, love.”

“Well it felt like three seconds to me.” You pouted, crossing your arms and slumping back against the tree you were sitting under. “And you said we would do more together next time! That’s what you said the last time you were here!”

“And we did, didn’t we?” George replied, not missing a beat. “Last time, there was much more uncomfortable silence. This time, we had a wonderful conversation.” He paused to remove his gloves and place them in the pocket on the side of his bag, slowly rising from where he was seated in the grass. “That’s a pretty big improvement, don’t you think? It’s something I can cherish, especially since we won’t be seeing each other next week.”

Your eyes widened. Initially, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly, but it was true. First you had missed out on quality time with George and now next week he wasn’t going to come by? You felt your heart sink, trying your hardest to keep the tears from escaping your eyes.

“Why not?” You whined, a little louder this time. You didn’t want to sound like you were throwing a tantrum, but it was difficult when that was exactly what you wanted to do.

“I’ll be out of town next weekend.” George replied matter-of-factly, “I’m going to visit my family as one of my relatives is getting married. The wedding is on Saturday, so I’ll be gone the whole weekend.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything that would make him stay. But why? He didn’t do anything wrong, but your impression of how the day would go when he got here was a lot different than how it actually went down. You felt like you were lied to, except that you weren’t. Last week, George said that you would ‘make more time for each other’ this time, and technically, you did. He never said what that time was going to be spent on. Perhaps you two had different ideas as to what his return would bring. But instead, you tightened your chest, putting away that tantrum for your alone time later.

“But I thought-” You stopped yourself, knowing that telling George what you really wanted could potentially lead to unwanted results, especially if he didn't feel the same way.

“Thought what?” George asked, staring at you as you mentally cursed yourself for popping a corner of the lid on Pandora's Box. “Did you have a plan for today?” He was too clever. There was no going back now.

“Well…” You started, feeling a blush creep up onto your cheeks, “Sort of…”

“Oh?” He teased, the sunset casting a brilliant sparkle on those dark brown eyes, “Well, come on then. Out with it.” You pursed your lips, shifting your gaze to the floor. George leaned in closer, the coarse hairs of his mustache brushing against the shell of your ear. “So long as we're pretending I don't already know.”

He knew what you wanted. He was going to make you say it.

You stood concerningly still, almost frozen. It was a battle of wits, but you weren't exactly sure if you wanted to win or lose. If you gave up now, and spilled your guts, would you get what you wanted? Or would George continue to string you along, making you wait anyway just to see you squirm?

George sighed, looking at his watch again. “Well,” he huffed, feigning annoyance, “if you have nothing else to say, I suppose I should be going now.” He kissed your cheek, wedging his hand into your own to leave his complementary petal before making his way to the gate. You couldn't even look at him as he left, feeling too embarrassed. Instead, you looked down at your hand. A rose petal, no surprise. You were about to head inside until you heard George call your name. You partially turned around, still feeling rather conflicted. He was standing on the other side of the gate, pointing towards the patio.

“I'd turn that light on if I were you. It gets rather dark out here.” He waited for you to respond. You slowly nodded, approaching the back stairs. And with that, he got in his car and drove off.

You flipped the switch, watching as the porch light came on. It was a glimmering golden yellow hue, expanding its beam about halfway through the garden. You weren't sure why George told you to put it on, but it did make the garden look brighter. Even when you were angry with him, you would still do whatever he wanted you to.

But why were you angry? George hadn't done anything wrong. You knew he was teasing you, but you didn't care. In fact, there was a part of you that liked it. You felt like he was playing with you without even touching you. Wrapped so tightly around his finger that you felt like it was your life force. It strangled you in the best way possible. Like an invisible leash secured around your neck, and he could pull you wherever he wanted. You were completely and truly captivated by him.

Slipping quietly into the house, you felt like you wanted to cry. The anger had subsided and was soon replaced by a persistent longing. Your disdain towards having to go two weeks without seeing George wasn’t even due to the fact that you were crazy about him. It had become a routine. At this point, you wished you hadn’t been so shy to start a conversation with him the first three times he showed up. That you hadn’t waited until just this previous week. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe you’d be closer.

You didn’t know where to go from there. Part of you accepted this as what it was, and you would see George eventually, while another part of you felt defeated that you wanted to do something about this when you knew you couldn’t.

When you woke up the next morning, your house felt quieter, despite you having always lived alone. Almost like George had been staying in the guest room this whole time unbeknownst to you. Perhaps he was a frequent visitor to the guest room in your brain.

You spent the rest of your weekend like any other weekend: it was another gorgeous spring day, and you loved to sit out on the patio and catch up on your reading while you enjoyed your lunch or an afternoon snack, hearing the faint melodies coming from your living room of whatever record you put on for the occasion. It was the only time you actually preferred being alone. Perhaps it was the only activity potent enough to fill the void of your longing for George.

When night came again, you headed inside, about to shut the patio door when you swore you heard a voice.

You froze, but briefly shrugged it off as being in your head. You looked outside, barely being able to see your garden, but knowing it was only your subconscious. You shut the door, turning to walk away until you heard it again.

I’d turn that light on if I were you.

It gets rather dark out here.

You sighed. Even when George wasn’t around, you felt like he was right beside you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry, so you released a noise that sounded like a mixture of both as you flicked the porch light on, not paying it another thought as you headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Monday morning. You dreaded it more this week for some unknown yet obviously known reason. The past few weeks, you would just think about your weekend with George to get you through the boring parts of the day. But since this weekend did not pan out like you thought it would, there wasn’t much to occupy your mind. That was the hard part about all this. George didn’t have a typical nine-to-five. He would have gardening sessions scattered throughout his day. Sometimes he would be booked solid, and other days would be quick appointments for treatments, leaving more time for his personal schedule. Even if you wanted to meet up with him during the week, your strict schedule prevented you from having any time with him. Maybe something could’ve been worked out eventually, but the current state of your brain would not settle for that. You wanted him and you wanted him now.

When you got home that night, the feeling had not left. It was more manageable while you were away, but you felt like you were coming home to a house that was once full of life, only to no longer harbor that same feeling. You had never realized how much life George brought to your daily routine even when you didn’t live together. For a moment, you wondered why this was affecting you so much. Perhaps you were overreacting. You would see George again. It would just be longer than usual until you did. You released a heavy sigh, a sliver of hope that you could push this feeling out of your mind, for at least a little while, had begun to show itself.

Until night fell. You glanced at the back door.

The porch light.

That fucking porch light.

The entire time you lived here, you barely even acknowledged its existence. But ever since George made you aware of it, you think of it every night. Subconsciously, you thought maybe if you were consistent in putting it on every night, he would come back. He would find his way to you, sensing your desire to see him, and you would never be apart again. Never be alone again.

You turned it on again, simultaneously hopeful in your delusional scenario and growing impatient at how long your heart wanted to keep up the act.

The next morning, going by the door to shut the light felt like a walk of shame. What were you waiting for? George had his own schedule. His own life. He would see you when he could. You couldn’t help but start thinking if George was missing you as much as you were feeling every day was so bleak without him.

But yet, that night, you turned the porch light on again. Feeling an overwhelming, compelling urge to stay, you opened the back door, stepping out onto the patio. You stared up at the light, admiring the wonderful golden hue of the small bulb inside its painted glass shade. The shade was brushed in bright yellow, matching the bulb and some other accents of the house’s exterior decor. It seemed so much more prominent at night. It was the only thing visible from far away. A sign of life in the home. You smiled at the thought. You would’ve probably never got around to use it if it wasn’t for George. He truly did bring new life into your home.

Thanks to the light, you could see the first few rows of flowers in your garden surrounding the large tree in the center of the yard. This was your gradient row, as you loved to refer to it as. The row where George had taken many creative liberties, creating a smooth-flowing spectrum of colors around the tree like a color wheel. The warm tones faced the house, showing you your lovely spread of roses, tiger lilies, and marigolds.

The marigolds reminded you of the light. Bright, yellow, and outstanding. It was also one of the only few flowers in your garden that George had not given you petals from. You turned back to the light. You decided it could be your marigold petal. At least for now.

You didn’t stay long. You quickly returned inside, shuffling briskly back down the hall, trying to make it to the bathroom before the tears dripped off your face and down onto the floor.

The following morning, as your fingers brushed against the switch to turn off the light, you let out a loud sob. It had rained in the middle of the night, and the sight outside the back door, one of gray overcast and a messy, muddy garden, made it all feel much too real. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You missed George. Oh, how you missed him. One day a week wasn’t enough anymore. You needed more of him. So much more. More than your own mind, body, and soul would ever know.

You considered taking off work today, as your mangled emotions were surely draining your energy. But realizing that staying home would only twist the knife further, you conceded. It was almost as if any choice that life could make would've been wrong in your eyes. Whether you went to work or stayed home, you felt uncomfortable. If the work day went quickly, you were dreading coming home to face your feelings again. Yet, if the day dragged on, you groaned at the thought of having to endure more time until your fateful reunion with George. You were incessantly unsatisfied. Insatiable, even. The only correct answer was George. You needed him to give you what he had promised you, whether he was waiting for you to admit it or not. At this point, you wouldn't have even cared if you sounded desperate. You were desperate. You didn't care if you had to call him right now and divulge everything you felt. How badly you wanted and needed him. Your brain was chasing a fierce addiction, and George was your dealer.

That night had been the hardest so far. You couldn't even bring yourself to walk down that hall. The light wasn't going to be some magical beacon to signal George. You felt like you were holding onto nothing. You didn't care if the light wasn't on tonight. It made no difference anymore.

You went to sleep early that night. Your main thought process was to sleep as much as you could to make the days go by faster. You didn't even want to think about this Saturday. Your soul felt like it was grieving. But grieving what? George didn't break up with you. Technically, the two of you never even established any sort of declaration of a relationship anyway. But you felt like you belonged together. You were his and he was yours. As sweet as the thought was, you quickly shoved it away as you felt your eyes welling with tears.

You turned on your side to try and sleep when you heard a noise outside. It sounded like a low thud, but fairly close to your house. You shrugged it off at first, until you heard it again a few minutes later, sounding closer this time.

You sat up in bed, overtaken by fear. Living alone, you always worried about having to fight off intruders. Luckily, nothing had ever come of it. Until now.

Grabbing a broom from your hall closet to arm you, you headed into the living room. Your first instinct was to check out the front window, being too scared to open the door.

You peered through the curtains, seeing nothing to the left or right of the door, the street only illuminated by the porch lights of your surrounding neighbors. Of course the universe had to think of a way to remind you of what you were desperately trying to put out of your head.

You closed the curtains, ready to go back to bed when you heard what sounded like wet footsteps coming from your back door.

Oh fuck.

If this really was an intruder situation, you were anything but prepared. You glanced at the back door, hiding behind the hall corner. With your breath held and your muscles stiff as the wooden boards beneath your feet, you took slow steps down the hall. You lurched forward to quickly lock the door, which you normally did anyway but forgot that night as you never actually made it to the door without crying.

Knowing that the lock was safely in place brought you some time. Being closer to the door, you heard another sloshing sound, as well as some angry muttering. With your luck, the intruder slipped on the wet and muddy grass and was now disoriented, leaving you time to- well, do what, exactly?

You hadn't thought this far. Do you call the police? Make a loud noise in retaliation in hopes to scare them away? Armor yourself with throw pillows to burst through the door and use your broomstick to beat them senseless? Your mind was racing. The most reasonable thing to do in that moment, although it hurt quite a bit, would be the answer to whether this was really a life or death situation.

You turned on the porch light.

When the illuminating glow hit the grass below, you saw a person laying there, covered in mud, clearly not anticipating the new biome that had been created in your backyard. You screamed, causing the person to immediately look up at you. Upon making eye contact, you felt your heart spring up into your throat before free falling down to your stomach. You threw open the door, feeling like you were being fled with a million emotions at once, all conflicting each other. You stood there in shock, only being able to choke out one single word.

“...George?”

“I thought I told you to keep that bloody light on! I almost broke my neck out here!” George shouted, but couldn't keep a straight face long enough to be convincing, dissolving into a puddle of laughs back onto the ground. You felt your whole body fill with happiness. You dropped the broom, running out into the yard, slippers and all, squealing all the way before landing on top of him, trapping him in a tight hug.

You kissed him faster than your brain could process what you were doing. The familiar feeling of his soft skin, luscious hair and beard, and plush lips made your whole being swell with euphoria. Your golden yellow silk pajamas were now full of mud, but it didn't matter. George was back here with you. And you didn't need anything else.

“You’re getting all muddy, love.” George giggled, pushing damp strands of hair away from your face.

“I don't care!” You shouted while laughing, pressing loud, wet kisses across his face and neck. George wrapped his arms around you, resting his hands on your waist. You pulled away, staring into his eyes. It may have been late at night, but you felt wide awake as ever. Before you even opened your mouth to speak, you knew there were tears dripping down onto your cheeks. “I didn't think I'd see you again for a while.”

“I planned to stop by before I left, but I didn't have much time during the day.” George confessed. “I wanted to surprise you, but I'm realizing it might have been a better idea in my head.” He looked around the yard, then at his muddy clothes, eliciting a light chuckle. “Thinking about it now, I probably should've called first.”

“I'm just so happy to see you.” You replied, not even hearing half of what he said. You heard he planned to come back for you, and that was all you needed to know. “But I'm guessing your plan involved you being able to see once you got back here. Hence the, you know, porch light.” You averted your gaze, adding a nervous laugh.

“First I tried hopping over the fence, and tripped over that.” George explained, staring back at the gate. “Then I tried to walk quietly, and slipped in that big puddle over there. Not to mention I tripped over the center gradient, so I apologize for that. I'll be sure to fix it the next time I'm around.” He added with a swift cup of your chin and a kiss to your lips. You looked at the tree, seeing the warm toned flowers slightly uprooted, tiny specks of dirt adorning their golden petals. Honestly, that didn't even matter to you. The image of George trying to sneak into your backyard and failing miserably made you erupt into laughter again.

“I suggest you have to get cleaned up now, don't you?” You asked, running a finger through the thick layer of mud adorning his jeans.

“Well, yeah, but I refuse to get your floors all dirty.” George declared. You helped him up off the ground, trying your best to smudge the dirt out of his hair, as well as your own.

“You can leave the clothes in the laundry room. I'll deal with them tomorrow.” You replied. George shot you a look, helping you brush some of the grass off your pajamas.

“So it's already been decided that I'm spending the night, then?” You smirked, not saying anything back. George smiled, sneakily pinching the skin on your waist. You squealed, playfully batting his hand away. You turned to walk back to the patio when he spoke again.

“Even after we get out of these filthy clothes, we still have to get ourselves clean, you know.”

You froze, a chill running through your spine, excitement filling your body. You whipped your head around, grabbing George’s hand and leading him to the stairs. You were about to open the door when he put his arm out to stop you.

“I know you're excited, love, but I still don’t want to bring all this mud into your clean house.” He seemed genuinely concerned by this issue, but at this point, nothing was going to stop you.

“Okay, fine. Easy fix.” You stated, slipping the straps of your pajamas off your shoulders, followed by your underwear. George’s eyes widened as he watched the silken fabric pool around your ankles, leaving you completely nude standing on the patio. The cool air of this particular spring night began to wash over your body, and you shivered slightly. You weren't sure if it was from the sudden breeze, or the tantalizing feeling of this whole situation, but either way, your nipples were completely hard.

Seconds later, George followed suit, removing his muddy shoes, followed by his equally sodden shirt and pants. He stopped at his underwear, feeling a flash of uncertainty. He was no stranger to being nude, but being nude while standing on the back porch of his lover’s house in the middle of their classy suburban neighborhood? That was a new one.

He turned back to you, taking in the sight before him. Seeing your fully bare form, taking one slow drag of his eyes over your lower half, he quickly shuffled off the remaining piece of clothing and tossed it on the floor with the rest. You opened the door, scooping your clothes up in one swift motion, walking a mere few feet and tossing them in the laundry room to be dealt with eventually. You couldn’t be bothered right now. George did the same, keeping his clothes in a neat pile right beside yours, placing his boots by the door. He stood there for a few seconds, gauging your readiness to proceed. With a smirk on your face, you grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom.

You opened the shower curtain and turned the water on, feeling the warm steam slowly fill the room. You adjusted the water to a comfortably neutral temperature before climbing inside, leaving space for George to join you. You stayed under the stream of water, allowing it to take its time to rinse all the mud off your arms and legs, and most of it out of your hair, leaving you with a fresher start before moving on to shampoo and soap. You looked over your shoulder at George, who now seemed rather chilly, so you switched places, allowing him to rinse off as well. He had been wearing more covering clothes than you, so there wasn’t much dirt he needed to get off his body, but his hair was a different story. He spent extra time using his fingers to comb through his beard, which seemed to be a prime target for all that grass and soil.

Getting started on washing your body, you had briefly turned away from George to grab your soap. Before you could open the container, you heard a low shudder coming from behind you. You looked at George, who was now staring at you, while sporting quite the erection. You giggled, lightly poking his stomach. “Am I taking too long for you?”

“You know, for someone who wanted me so badly outside, and is now teasing me about having to wait, you’re quite mad, aren’t you?” He stated, glancing down at himself while continuing to rinse his hair. You laughed louder this time.

“I figured we would clean up first.” You said innocently. He chuckled.

“Why do that when we’re just gonna get dirty again, love?”

You bit your lip, holding back a whimper, but the way your legs involuntarily began to clench shut gave it away immediately.

You nodded. “I see. Well let’s get it on then.”

The second you finished your statement, George wasted no time grabbing your waist and pressing his lips against yours. It was a hungry kiss. Passionate. Longing. It had confirmed he missed you just as much as you missed him. You put your hands in his hair, which was now much softer under the water. You were the one to take that passion further, feeling his lips part and allowing your tongue to enter his mouth. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy this, moving his hands from your waist down to your ass, kneading it softly yet with an impatient edge to it. You were tempted to hook one leg over his waist, but the slippery floor beneath you made you fearful of losing your balance, so you refrained. But you wouldn't have even had time to take action, as George quickly pulled away, spinning you around and pushing you up against the shower wall. You put your hands out, both of them splayed out on either side of your head as your cheek made contact with the cold tile. George grabbed your waist again, slowly grinding against you, slightly pressing you between the wall and himself. The contrast in temperature between the cool, flat surface and the steamy air made your head spin before he even did anything else. He leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your earlobe.

“I think you've waited long enough, my beautiful flower.” You moaned softly at his statement as you felt him enter you. Slowly, savoring it just as much as you. It was a bit of a stretch, but you never found it painful. The combination of the warm water and your mutual arousal provided a decent amount of lubrication.

George continued to leave kisses around the shell of your ear and down to your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. Once he was all the way in, he steadied himself before going any further. “You doing okay, love?” He cooed, patiently waiting for your response.

You sighed blissfully, softly nodding your head and letting out a low “mhm” while taking in all the sensations around you. The mix of everything made you whine in pure ecstasy, feeling so full in the best way possible, not wanting to say or move much in fear of losing your grip on it. You felt like you were in a different world, where it was only you and George, and nothing else mattered. However, you were not in the mood to be kept waiting either, feeling like you were holding your breath a bit, waiting for his next move. You took another deep inhale and exhale, releasing another moan in the interim. “It's okay,” you mumbled, “you can keep going.”

George nodded, starting with a soft, slow pace. Even with shallow thrusts, you were already in heaven. You quickly got lost in the rhythm, hearing his occasional breathy sighs directly into your ear. Hearing him enjoy it just as much as you were only turned you on more. And the more George fell into a rhythm as well, the faster he went. His thrusts became quicker and harder, pushing you up against the wall with each motion. Your moans had just become one long groan of pleasure, the way your nipples dragged across the cold wall with each thrust stringing you along even further.

When you felt that pressure start to build, you couldn't even form a coherent sentence to signal anything, the only word falling from your lips a meek “George...” before a high-pitched whining overtook you again. George shushed you softly, rubbing his thumbs along your waist as he brought you closer to the edge.

“I know, flower. I know.”

What felt like seconds later, you felt your orgasm crash over you, a noise that sounded like a mix between a moan and a scream flying from your mouth, proclaiming your everlasting love and worship of the man behind you, feeling yourself begin to slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath. George finished shortly afterwards, his grip on your hips tightening as he came inside you. He tilted his head back, a low, steady groan signaling his release. He had no choice but to use the wall for support as well, nearly falling on top of you after he slowly slid out. It was times like these you considered turning off the shower head and just filling up the bath instead, as your legs felt like jelly by this point, leaving you with minimal energy to hold yourself up.

Before you could say anything else, you felt George’s hands on you again, running his fingers through your hair. You smelled the familiar scent of your shampoo, feeling it glide through your hair as you closed your eyes again. He held you tenderly, guiding your head to the water, gently tilting it back to rinse the suds from your hair.

Once finished, he started on your body, massaging the soap all over your back, making sure to be careful around any areas that were currently more sensitive than usual. You sighed happily, feeling pampered like royalty, so grateful to have him here with you.

After a few minutes, your legs didn't feel like that of a newborn giraffe anymore, so you turned around to face George, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before taking the bar of soap. “I got it from here.” You giggled, finishing yourself off before starting to help him out as he eyed your shampoo. It wasn't what he used, but it smelled nice, and there wasn’t much of a choice in this situation. He chuckled before squeezing a small amount onto his palm, looking down as you lathered up his chest and stomach.

Once you both had thoroughly cleaned up, you turned off the water and stepped out, fetching some large fluffy towels and equally soft robes to only increase your level of comfort. By now, both of you were free of mud, partially dry, and ever so tired. Wasting no time to climb into bed, you snuggled up against George, resting your head on his chest.

“I'm so happy you came back.” You whispered, placing a kiss right over where his heart is. George giggled, caressing your arm.

“I would've always come back, flower.” He paused with a pensive sigh. “I enjoy every second I spend with you. You give me new life. A new purpose to an already wonderful experience.” You stared up at him, eyes wide in awe. It was the first time he had openly expressed his feelings to you without hiding them behind his usual cheeky humor. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard.

“You have no idea how special you are to me.” You beamed, craning your neck up to kiss his jawline, surprised when he turned his face and you landed on his lips instead.

“And you to me.” He replied. You enjoyed the streak of added sappy statements from George, but you knew it was a big step for him, judging by the deep breath he took afterwards, followed by a swift “Let's get some sleep, love.”

“Okay,” you agreed, “but let me just make sure I locked the back door first.” George nodded, getting comfortable on his side of your bed as you hopped out from under the covers, shivering again as the cool night air came back with a vengeance on your naked body. You quickly put your robe on and shuffled down the hall. You clicked the lock shut and went to go back to your room when you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. Something yellow.

You looked around until you spotted it again, sticking out of the side of George’s boot. Bending down to get a closer look, you moved the muddy laces and pulled it out. A tear almost fell down your cheek and you held it between your fingers. A petal from one of your precious marigolds, presumably stuck there when George tripped over them on the way in. You smiled warmly, feeling your heart soar at the idea that George can give you a petal every visit, even if he didn't realize it. Without saying anything, you put the petal in the pocket of your robe and made your way down the hall, trying not to disturb George as you quietly slipped back into bed.

==============================

IT'S FINALLY HERE Y'ALL 😄 I'm so happy I can share it and it was definitely a fun plot to continue!

Taglist: @peaceloveandstarrs @queen-of-stars @nosegoes @cocteautwiny @thatgoesinthere-misshapes

(If you want to be added to my taglist, feel free to send an ask and let me know! 🥰)

#george harrison #george harrison x reader #the beatles #beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles fanfiction #beatles x reader #beatles fanfiction #george harrison fanfiction #george harrison imagine #george harrison x y/n #george harrison x you #george harrison smut

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shuxiii · 1 year

Text

Zealous jealous— Kang haerin x reader x Hanni (subtle)

Synopsis: you confessed what you’ve felt for her but it seemed like she didn’t feel the same? But that all changed when she saw you in another persons arms.

Requested: anon

You were pretty sure from the moment you caught a glimpse of her, she was going to be stuck in your mind for the rest of your nights.

It didn't help that she was only a room away—it didn't help that you were madly in love with your own member.

It just happened, love was unpredictable sometimes unimaginable. You wont know what hit you is the perfect metaphor you could explain what it felt.

She was just the right person you want to love, she fit exactly your hopeless romance daydreams.

She was nice, from her expression to her acts; she was an angel in disguise to you. Her smile was bright and warm, albeit clichéd. Her giggle was so contagious and endearing that you couldn't help but laugh along with her.

Love really does change people, whether for the better or for the worst.

You could say you and haerin were inseparable, you both were close since since debut. And that bond was the knot that led you to see her more than just a friend.

And no matter how close you two are, some people only adore from afar; you wanted that, but how can you admire from afar when she's only a foot away?

You sit just beside each other, even then sleep beside each other, eat together, watch together.

How exactly can you admire from afar if shes so near?

But even then, you tried to hide it anyway. You didnt have the courage to do so and even jeopardise such friendship, you never want to make things awkward for any of your members.

Yet, a heart get what it wants.

It was a little loud in the dorm, everyone gathered in a circle playing a game of truth or dare.

“C’mon Unnie! This isnt fair, that dare is way too mean!” Hyein complained.

“A dare is a dare hye, you must do it!” minji laughed loudly, clutching her stomach.

Hyein whined in annoyance, shooting glares at Minji. Because She was dared to eat a stick of celery.

As they kept arguing, the other two girls tried to stop the two from starting a brawl, while haerin just laughed at the scene that behold infront of her.

while she was distracted laughing you were taking a few glances at her, you cant help but hold back your smile not to make it too obvious.

Hanni had to tap my arms to gain my attention since I was too engrossed in my helpless daydream.

“Hey yn?” She says “you there”

I look back at everyone, as all their stares were now focus on me, making me embrassed.

“Yeah sorry, just a little distracted” I awkwardly laugh.

“Well then truth or dare!” Hyein, smirked “its your turn to pick now.”

I decided to pick truth, because i know how mischievous hyein is when it comes to these.

And as if she read my mind, she immediately said,

“Who do you like?”

I nervously scratched my nape, acting unconcerned, but my heart was pounding as I felt her stare.

“That’s a silly question, of course i dont like anyone,” i say.

“C’mon its so obvious,” She says “You like—“

“Okay, thats enough” Hanni laughs “Dont pressure yn like that, i want it to be my turn now!”

You mentally reminded yourself to give every bread hanni wants.

You give a light pat to the back on hanni, thanking her. She looks back at you smiling a little.

And despite after avoiding a close one, for some reason her gaze never left you, and that made you nervous you knew she liked to stare at people but this one felt different it felt like you were trap in by her eyes.

After playing a couple of more everyone has started to retreat back to their rooms, after hearing hyein yawn signalled that it was time for bed.

But you decided to stay in the living room to clean up the mess that were scattered.

You assumed everyone already went back to their rooms but that didnt seem to be the case, after everyone was gone you were left alone in the living room.

Thats until you heard faint footsteps from behind.

“Yn,” a familiar voice call out to you.

You look back to see the same eyes you’ve grown to love each day.

You felt yourself slightly blush, and you didnt know why.

“Oh, rin?” You say “why are you still here, shouldnt you be asleep?”

She didnt respond, she gazes back at you with an unreadable expression. And that made you anxious.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask again.

“Who do you like?”

You felt your body tense as it felt like a lump got stuck on your throat, you try to hide it.

“Haha, I dont like anyone” you try to play it off “seriously, dont believe hyein she just loves to mess around.”

She didnt seem to be convinced at your answer.

“Do you like hanni?” She ignores what you say.

“What no!” You tell her “like i said i dont like anyone.”

You despised lying, particularly to her. However, it seemed to be a better option than saying the truth.

“Why does Hanni know and i dont?” She continues “You guys seemed to have gotten closer—even closer than we are now.”

It was inevitable; you knew she'd figure it out eventually and the stalling would no longer work.

“It’s complicated, rin…”

“What is complicated about liking someone and telling me?” She says “do you not trust me enough?”

“Its not like that!” I stammer, “You wouldn’t want to know, trust me.”

I felt my heart take its pace, and the it wasnt the good type, it felt like it would drop any moment and theres nothing to catch it.

I could see her frown in the corner of my eyes as I avoided her gaze and focused on the polished floor.

“Why wont I want to know who you like, yn?” She says “You’re my best friend, of course I want to know everything about you.”

Of course that word “best friend” that’s all she ever sees me as a friend not a lover, not someone she wants to talk with about everything single detail of her life, not someone she greets in the morning, not someone she sees more than just a friend.

“Rin…” I mumble.

“I just dont get it, why wont I want to know?”

“It’s because, you’re the one I like,” i say with a shake in my voice, still avoiding her gaze.

And for once, the silence between us was different; it wasn't comfortable, it didn't seem like the silence we'd share whenever we were together—it felt deafening, yet too quiet for you, you wanted her to say something but it seemed like all she could give you was nothing.

“Yn…” the sympathy in her voice, made me hate it more, she was too kind.

“Yn, look at me,” she says.

I didnt want to look at her becuase i knew the moment i did, the answer would be there—one gaze was enough to be the answer.

“Please…” she pleaded.

It felt impossible, but i did anyway. And just like that, her eyes revealed the answers, and it hurt—it wasn't the eyes of someone ready to love me, it was the eyes of someone ready to tell me the things I don't want to hear but are the only thing I'll get.

“I’m sorry.”

Two words. Two words was all it took.

It was the first two words, but the last. And everything altered radically from the way it was.

Every since that you tried to be more normal around her, but it was harder than you expected—it felt force for you, you couldnt forget about her properly, you decided to find a better distraction—a diversion away from her.

And Hanni has been there for you ever since; when she spotted you crying in your room, she was there. She was always there for you when you needed her.

you’ve grown more fonder with her and lost more familiarity with haerin, but that was for the best wasnt it?

It had been two weeks since you'd drifted apart from Haerin and further into the arms of Hanni's company; it's not that you weren't sad, but for the time being you kept a barrier between yourselves because you were frightened to be hopeful.

Haerin didn't seem bothered by it; she understood why you were avoiding her, but it would be a lie to say it didn't pain her any less.

You avoided her from seating beside each other, even standing just beside her—even hold a long conversation or have the ounce of courage to look her in the eye.

And that hurt her even more, but she tried to understand.

But her intuition were right, you’ve grown fonder with Hanni ever since the talk. It looked more like you guys were a couple than as friends, and she had this irritating feeling whenever she saw you guys.

Hanni would always cling to your arms, like someone would separate you from her. You used to do that with her, before.

Its like ever since you both stopped talking, Hanni became more closer, far too close for Haerin’s liking.

She didnt understand why she hated it.

And today was no exception; Hanni was clinging to you like glue. But this time the frustration feeling grew—the more she repressed everything she felt, the more clear it became.

She hated to admit it, but ever since she lost you, she began to love you.

The motto that goes, “you know its love when its too late”

Thats what Haerin felt at that moment. And it didnt help her case at all especially with hanni holding you within her arms—that should be her, she thought.

You were gathered in the living room, as usual, watching a horror movie, which Haerin knew you disliked, but Minji was eager to see the new conjuring movie. And knowing you, you never had the heart to say no.

And at this type of situation, Haerin was ready to hold you and give you solace but instead hanni took her spot and all she could do was stare as she puts her arms around you, smiling like an idiot. Haerin wasnt insulting Hanni at all, Hanni indeed looked like she was smiling a little too much.

She hated that.

She hated the fact that she was feeling what she shouldnt, she didnt deserve to feel this but in the end she does.

Did you move on already? Have you stopped looking at her like she makes the stars glow at night? Have you seen someone better than her?

The thoughts was enough to drive someone insane, and that made her more frustrated.

She didnt get it, she cant understand why she felt like this.

She looks at you, as you laid your head against Hanni’s shoulder, like you didnt do that with her before.

She wasnt mad, no. She was fiery of jealousy.

I mean who wouldnt? To see someone else doing the things you guys used to do.

Haerin was no longer interested in the movie since she was fixated on you. Her entire attention was completely on you.

And when the scary scenes came, her heart ached even more, as you reciprocated Hanni’s embrace.

She just couldnt take her eyes off you, she could remember each detail of your face like the back of her hands.

And before she knew it the movie ended and it was time to go to bed.

But she couldn’t sleep if it ended like this.

Everyone was already sound asleep, it was one in the morning.

You were awoken from thirst so you decided to get a cup of water in the kitchen.

With tired footsteps you carry the weight of your drowsiness to the sink.

As you leaned against the counter you lazily drank, letting your guard down.

And suddenly out of nowhere you felt arms wrap around you, someone was hugging you from the back.

You squeal, as you try to look back to see who it was but something stopped you from doing so.

“Yn,” a whisper, as you felt her lean her head against your back.

It was haerin.

“Rin?” You recoginized the voice right away, like a muscle memory.

You felt her relax, she missed hearing her name off your lips.

“hi,” she says.

“hello?” You reply “What are you doing?”

There was a silent pause, and it made you worried.

You try to face her but she stops you.

“Don’t move, dont turn around” she mumbles “please, I dont want to see you yet.”

And you agreed in silence.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“No,” she says.

There was again a pause, you felt her warp her arms even tighter.

“I miss you.”

You felt the beat of your heart grow faster, but it ached as you recalled the past.

“Rin, you cant do this,” you frowned “this isnt fair.”

“I do miss you.”

“But it isnt fair, you cant do this to me.” You felt your voice quiver “You cant…”

“Yn—“

“you’ll just make it hard for me” you cut her off.

And even if you wanted to take her embrace off, you felt her tighten it even more.

“I love you, Yn.”

You thought you were hearing things but she said it again,

“I love you,” she says it a little louder.

You felt your body tense, hearing such words from her? Was this a dream?

“Are you messing with me right now?” You say “its not funny haerin.”

“Seeing you with Hanni, made me realise many things.”

“I was a coward, Yn.” She mumurs “I was afraid—afraid for such change, i was scared that if things change, I’ll lose you eventually.”

“And i dont want that, I cant bare to lose you.”

change was a complicated word, it could mean good or bad, haerin thought it was a hard and a big step thing to do, because how much she tried to hold onto something, it’ll never stay. Sometimes she wished things were different, she always ended with a “maybe” or “what if”

She was terrified of change because she had become accustomed to the way things were; it was a part of her everyday. And for such an alteration to occur, she was hesitant to take such a risk.

“Rin, why didn’t you tell me?”

You tried to face her but she didnt budge at all.

“Dont turn around yet.”

“I was just scared, if i told you—you’d wait and understand and i didnt want that, i thought it’d be too much of a burden for you.”

“You’ll never be a burden to me,” you say “even if you put bricks on my back, I’ll carry it.”

You felt her smile against your back as she holds back her laugh.

“You’re so corny.” She tells you “but that’s why I like you.”

“Do you really mean it?” You pause “do you mean everything you say?”

“I do, yn. Im just afraid but yet i was so happy when you said you liked me too, i wanted nothing but for you to feel the same.” She tells you “but i was just hesitant, i didnt want things to change, i had so much in my mind.”

“What if you fall out of love for me? And I’ll lose you both as a friend and as someone i love, its scary to evem think of it.”

You felt her fiddle with the hem of your shirt as she hugged you, like she always did when she was worried, so you held her hands intertwined with yours.

“Rin, you know, you’ll never lose me as a friend,” you gaze down at your hands interwinted at hers “you’re already a part of my life, and i dont want nothing else but for you to always be in my life, regardless of anything.”

You felt her hug loosen and then you felt something wet hit your back.

You finally got to look at her, and as you did—you saw her eyes glisten as tears were cascading down her cheeks.

And when she finally looked at your eyes, the answers were clear to her—maybe change was a good thing.

They say the more things change the more they stay the same.

Like the waves coming in on the beach, watch a fire. Watch the rain drops, river flowing, sunset, sunrise, everything's changing and nothing's changed.

The look you gave her was still the same, it was the same ones when they exactly met, it was adorning and shining.

She hugs you again startling you.

“Rin?” You laugh, feeling her arms wrap around you making you feel a little ticklish “are you okay?”

“Let’s stay like this for a while.”

#newjeans fanfic #newjeans #newjeans imagines #haerin x reader #hanni #kang haerin x reader

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outlanderskin · 5 months

Text

Tobias Menzies

I was reading on a card how much would fit in ten years and I saw that in 10 Years

fit 120 Months

521,714 Weeks

3652 Days

87648 Hours

5258880 Minutes

315532800 Seconds.

And even in all this, it doesn't fit what it meant for me to wait for him.

Within these 10 years, there are memories of being persecuted since the beginning when I said that he was my favorite.

All the times, I had to explain the difference between actors and characters for people who hated him because of Frank and BJR.

All the times I've had to say that I really like Sam, but that at the top of my list will always be Tobias, and this isn't a sin.

All the times I said there was no dispute between them.

All the times I was hurt when I saw people from my side of the fandom excluding him from photos or wishing he wouldn't go to some events because it would "take the focus" away from the main actors couple (yes, this stupid thing happened).

I've been in this fandom since the beginning, and anyone who knows me knows that for me, it's always been about him. I'm not someone who started using Tobias to justify hatred or to disguise an unhealthy love for Sam. It was natural from the first day I looked at him. And a thousand times, I've expressed my pride about how private, talented, different, down-to-earth he is.

I've been going to Cons of Outlander since 2015, but he rarely does Cons, I had already met the loves of my fandom friends' lives, but never mine. Until Saturday, April 13, 2024.

When I took the first photo (with him and Sam) and saw him for the first time, everything around me disappeared completely. There he was, finally. I was practically led by my friend, I gathered all the courage to say where I came from, then he blinked, and all my senses and rationality, and 🎶🎶🎶 all that was me, was gone🎶. I don't remember how I left the room, but my friends remember... I needed to be strong, I thought. There would still be three photos with him alone (one of them a gift from much-loved friends), a photo with him and Sophie, and an autograph. I would have to maintain my sanity until then.

For the first time, I understood the fact that Sam Heughan's fans left photo shoots shaking.

During the photo shoot, I spoke quietly, and so did he, and for me, it was like a dance because I said he decided the poses and I followed. I left the session and I want to thank from the bottom of my heart the girl on the team who asked me how I was and I could only say "he's my favorite" and she hugged me.

There was a rush at the autograph, but I gave him a book about theatre from my country, and I believe it was a gift he didn't expect. He thanked me with his hand on his chest, like the gentleman he is and at that moment I wanted to be royalty because I was going to give him all the honors of a noble English knight that I could find in the Buckingham Palace . Do I like British Monarchy? I like Tobias Menzies.

Ah....how I wish I could sit down with him and say he has a fan page that I manage, say that I admire him for being truly discreet in every way. Ask about his process of acting , speak about Stanislavski, Brecht, Ibsen, talk about my experiences in the classroom with The Theater of the Oppressed and say how good is for me to see someone like him acting. But conventions are collective experiences, and there would be no time.

In ten years, a lot can happen... all this time waiting for him. And I would do it all again. Someone like him was worth waiting for.

#outlander #fandom is for fun #the love of my life

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justmystyles · 1 year

Text

Now You're In My Life - Part 3

part 1

part 2

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.8k (it's a shorty, but I promise the next one won't be)

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down.

warnings: some curse words, but other than that it's tame.

a/n: i am absolutely blown away by the reception i've received over the last couple of days. i just had these stories in my brain that i wanted to write down to get out of my system, i never in a million years thought anyone would read them, let alone actually like them. i'm so thankful for all of the likes, comments, reblogs, lurkers. thank you thank you thank you! 🖤

i say it's a plus size reader, while i don't focus a lot on that aspect (because your size should not define you), it will come up, so i just wanted to be upfront about it.

tag list: @bethanysnow @cute-as-ducks420 @gem1712 @golden-hoax @groovychaosavenue @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @youknowwhaaat

The day after your night with Harry, you sat at your desk willing your eyes to stay open as you reviewed the end of month report. By the time you got home, and the adrenaline of the evening had worn off, you only really got about an hour and a half of sleep. You figure you probably should have called out, but you had been holding onto your PTO so that you could end the year with two months of short weeks.

You were startled by a soft knock at your cubicle wall. You turned to find one of your coworkers, hiding half of his body and displaying a suspicious smile on his face. “Hi Y/N.”

“No way that’s a good greeting,” you reply cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

“You always think the worst of us,” he chuckled. “I’m just here to hand off the delivery that just came for you.” He stepped to his left, revealing an elaborate flower arrangement.

Your eyes went wide and you reached out to take the vase, pulling it up to your face to inhale the scent of fresh sunflowers, orange roses, safari sunset, and yellow solidago. The perfect combination of fall colors.

“You guys got me flowers?” You ask. Sure, you worked with some great guys, but they were typical mid-forties construction guys, you didn’t think it would ever cross their minds to get you flowers. Especially for no reason.

“Not us.” Your coworker shrugged before returning to his desk.

Even more confused than before, you place the flowers down on your desk, and remove the attached card. Pulling it from the envelope, her heart leapt as she read over the words.

Thank you for last night. Especially that last bit.

-H

PS - This should also cover your train ride. ;)

They were from Harry. He was thanking you for kissing him.

That’s it, you clearly never made it into work, you’re still at home in your bed. This has to be a dream.

You sat back down, and reached for your phone on the other side of the desk. You didn’t want to bother him, but it would be polite to thank him for the flowers, right? Just one text, that’s not too much of a bother. He can read it when he has a moment and respond whenever he wants. If he wants. You take a deep breath, building up the courage, and quickly open up your message app, typing Harry’s name into a new message.

Thank you sooooo much for the flowers. Completely unnecessary, but very much appreciated. :)

Before you even had a chance to lock your phone, a FaceTime call from Harry lit up the screen. Your eyes went wide, you weren’t even really expecting a reply text, let alone a FaceTime.

You swipe to answer, and before you know it, you’re staring at Harry who’s looking into his phone with that wide, dimpled grin.

“Harry, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I wanted to. Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful. Really.”

“Well, let’s see them then.”

You swap the camera view, the flowers coming onto the screen. You see Harry’s brow furrow and his head shake in disapproval.

“No no no, this won’t do at all. I’m going to have to let you go. I’ve got to give that florist a piece of my mind.”

“What?! Why? They’re so beautiful!”

“I made it very clear to them that I wanted the flowers to be as beautiful as you are. These aren’t even close.”

Your heart melts immediately, but you’re quickly snapped out of it by the sarcastic ‘awws’ and kissy noises from the cubicles around you. Everyone was listening to your call. You were mortified.

“Y/N, can you flip the camera back around, please?” Harry’s voice rings out over the taunting of your coworkers. You quickly comply, and he starts to chuckle. “There’s that adorable blush. I wish I were there to pinch those cheeks.”

You cover your eyes with your free hand before rushing into a nearby conference room for some privacy. You take a seat at the table, placing your elbow down and burying your face in your hand.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Harry says before taking a brief pause. “Well, maybe a little.” He chuckles. “But more than that, I wanted to make sure you know that last night meant a lot to me.”

His words pull you from your spiral of embarrassment, you stay silent for a moment, making sure you heard him correctly before uncovering your face. “Really?” You ask tentatively. Harry nods his head with a sweet smile. “Me too.”

“Yeah? Excellent! I’d really like to see you again, would you like that?”

“Yeah, I really would.”

“Great, New York City isn’t that far from you, right?”

“No, it’s a few hours. Not a bad ride, I’ve done it a few times.”

“Would you like to do it this weekend? I’m at Madison Square Garden Saturday and Sunday, I would really like you to come.”

Your smile widens at the thought of spending the weekend with Harry. “Yeah, that sounds really great. I would love to.”

“Great! Can I book anything for you? Travel? Hotel?”

“No Harry, I’ve got it. I’ll book everything and let you know my itinerary.”

Harry smiles, and you can see the excitement in his eyes, even through the phone screen. “I can’t wait. Oh! And don’t forget your costumes!”

“Costumes?”

“Yeah, it’s Harryween! You’ll need to have costumes for the shows.”

“Harry… ween?” You question.

“Yeah, it’s Halloween, and my name is Harr--”

“No no no, I get it,” You interrupt him, waving your hand at the camera. “I just… it’s cute.” You smile.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. I’m a sucker for a good pun.”

You see a sparkle in Harry’s eyes, and his dimples re-appear. “I knew I liked you, Y/N.” He joked. “The costumes don’t have to be too elaborate or anything, you can just reuse one of your old ones.”

Your chuckle at his suggestion. “I don’t think that’s going to work, I haven’t had a Halloween costume since I was like twelve.”

Harry’s jaw dropped at your confession. “You don’t go out on Halloween? No parties or anything.”

You shrug in response. “Never get invited anywhere.” You pause for a moment, suddenly remembering the one time you actually did get invited to a Halloween party. As a plus one. You were dumped two days before the party, and it was too late to return the costume, so you threw it in one of your basement storage bins. “Actually, I may have something.”

Harry could see the sadness in your eyes as you recalled the memory. He hated the sight, and silently swore to himself that he’d do everything in his power to make sure you never made that face again.

“Perfect. I’m sure you’ll look stunning in whatever it is.”

You grin through your blush, a knock at the door brings you back to the present. “Well, I uh… I should get back to work. I’ll see you this weekend.”

Definitely. And I’ll be texting and calling you well before that. You don’t really think I’m just going to go three days without talking to you, do you?”

“I mean, you went all those years without talking to me before we met.” You shrugged.

“Then I guess we’re going to have to talk all that much more to make up for lost time.” The sincerity in his voice makes your heart race. “I’ll talk to you soon, Y/N.”

“Bye, Harry.” You smile before ending the call and returning to your desk.

When Harry said you had to make up for lost time, you didn’t think he meant it literally. But he would text you often throughout the day. He would let you know what he was up to, ask you what you were doing and tell you how excited he was to see you this weekend.

He had a show Wednesday night, and he had been texting you right up until the last moment before he went onstage. He asked if he could call you after the show, you told him of course. You figured it would be around eleven or so, which was pretty late for you, but you’d just go to bed and leave your ringer on. The sound of the phone would wake you up, and you could talk to Harry and hear all about the show before going to bed properly.

The plan worked… mostly.

The sound of your phone woke you from your slumber. Still half asleep, you reach over to your nightstand, swiping to answer the call. “Harry?” You say groggily.

“Y/N? I can’t see you.”

See?! It’s a phone call, what is he talking about? You pull the phone from your ear and look at the screen, you sit up with a jolt when you see Harry’s face on the other end.

It wasn’t a phone call, it was a FaceTime. He was on your screen, hair perfectly tousled from performing onstage. He looked amazing. You were in bed, hair in a sloppy topknot, no makeup, a couple of pimple patches, probably some eye crusties. And Harry wanted to see you.

“I… uh… I thought you were going to call?”

“I was, but I missed your face. I wanted to see you.”

Harry wanted to see you. Not if he knew the horror show that was waiting for him on the other side of that phone. “That’s really sweet Harry, but I wasn’t expecting to see you. I don’t have any makeup on, I’m all gross and night face-y”

“Turn on the light, darling. Let me see you.”

Darling. He called you darling. Nothing that had happened over the past three days felt real.

How could you say no now? “Alright, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You sigh and reluctantly lean across your nightstand, turning on your lamp. You look into the phone, Harry’s eyes soften when he finally sees you. A look of adoration spread across his face.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“Harry…”

“I’m serious. Thank you for being vulnerable with me.” He had seen it the night you met, but your insecurities and difficulties letting people in became even more obvious to him the more he spoke with you. He wanted nothing more than to be trusted with your heart. He wanted to know everything about you; the good, the bad, he wanted you to let him in, and he was willing to take as much time as you needed.

You talked for a few minutes, getting a recap of his show, talking about your schedules for the next day. But Harry could see you were tired, he didn’t want to keep you up too long. You said your goodnights, and he blew you a kiss through the phone. You smiled shyly and ended the call, placing your phone back down, turning off the light, and snuggling into your blankets. You drifted off, replaying your conversation in your head.

Especially the part where he called you darling.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles meet cute #harry styles fluff #harry's house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

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brighter-by-the-daly · 6 months

Text

Millie Bright x Reader

Triggered (Rewrite)

AN: I’ve wanted to rewrite this for sometime since reading it back and it felt so cringey. As it’s about a neurodivergent reader I felt like it could and should be better. It’s mostly Part 1 that’s changed the most but I felt like it should have it’s own post rather than editing the old 3 parter, so I hope you enjoy. It’s been a nice way to ease myself back into writing too.

A ping rang from your pocket up to your ears letting you know you had a new message, hearing the sound your heart started beating faster. You had desperately been waiting for updates from your friend who had won the chance to be at Chelsea women’s open training session and was hoping he’d get something signed from Millie Bright for you. Millie is your favourite footballer but she has been out with a knee injury for months - hardly spotted at games or training as if she’s gone into hiding, but opening the photo from your friend filled your heart with joy seeing the blonde huddled with her friends. She wasn’t in her training kit but seeing her there kept your hopes alive that you’d have something signed in your hands by tomorrow. Your friend had asked you to come with him but you already had tickets for the England game tonight that was at the other side on London which made it impossible to be at both. You had hoped that if she wasn’t at Kingsmeadow she may had turned up to support her England teammates but the photo on the 6 inch screen proved she wasn’t coming. “She seems really rude (y/n/n), why do you like her? She’s not talking to anyone!” the next text came through, shattering your daydreams of finally having her autograph. “I don’t care, I love her! Pleeeease try!” you begged with lots of prayer emojis, keeping your fingers and toes crossed that he’d come up trumps.

“Here, it’s the last one” your best friend Mack broke your concentration from the text exchange as he sat down next to you, placing a hotdog on your plate. His mum was cooking a BBQ for your friend group before you left to go to the stadium which was conveniently around the corner from their house. Perching on the doorstep with him and watching the fans trickle towards the stadium you munched happily on the mounds of food piled up on your plate. Mack’s mum always goes above and beyond when it comes to gatherings, you had been eating BBQ food for hours yet your plate never seemed to be empty. She was the type of person who always left her front door open, her house was always filled to the brim with school friends, then uni friends and work friends. New Years Eve parties every year, Miss Gloria really knew how to throw a banging party! You and Mack threw some memories around while watching his mum pile more sausages onto your other friend’s plates, chuckling as you remembered her flinging you across the lounge to dance with her after she saw you sitting alone when you were younger.

The click of the front gate in the near distance drew your attention to the garden path where a very familiar blonde was approaching the house. Watching in awe as she approached Mack’s mum over the BBQ you rubbed your eyes to see if you were hallucinating. “Millie!” she loudly exclaimed, “I thought you weren’t coming anymore!”, looking to Mack beside you for reassurance that you weren’t going mad who had already upped and left, running over to see her. ‘What, the..?’ muttering to yourself in disbelief you heard them all chattering in the distance but didn’t notice her approaching you a little while later. You were spaced out staring into the distance trying to muster up the courage to talk to her when suddenly she was in front of you. “I’m assuming you’re (y/n)?” she snapped, breaking you out of your spiralled thinking. “Uhh.. yeah?” you replied, not knowing what to think of her standoffish behaviour, she always seemed so upbeat and happy that you just didn’t imagine her being as rude as your friend said earlier. Mack came running over saying his mum was out of food, glancing at the mound on your plate you offered it over. “I-I’m definitely not going t-to eat all of this” you stammered, still in awe that your idol was in front of you but confused with the interaction as you passed your plate over. She took it with not even a thanks and sat down beside you on the door step, beginning to eat like she hadn’t had food for months. “Ketchup?” offering the bottle that was next to you to try break the awkward silence that only amplified her chomping sounds. You felt the mood lift a little when she squeezed the bottle too hard it splashed over her plate in a massive gloop, waiting for her to chuckle at herself so you felt able to too. Squirming in her seat trying not to get it on her clothes, her knee grazed yours, “hey, hows the injury?” you asked trying your hardest to make small talk, “I’m not allowed to say” she responded bluntly, plunging the interaction into dead silence again. Rolling your eyes you let out a desperate sigh, disappointed with how the day went from hopefully getting her autograph to being totally disappointed with actually meeting her.

Glancing at your watch you called out to your friends that you should probably be leaving for the stadium soon, you were met with agreement from all of them as you gathered up the plates to wash up. When you collected Millie’s she asked why you had to leave so soon because kick off wasn’t for another hour. “I just like to know I’m on time” you replied, taking her plate to the kitchen as she followed asking more questions. “The stadium is only around the corner, you don’t need to leave that early” her statement sharp and slightly condescending. Your friends knew your autistic and adhd traits came out the most when you had a timed thing to do – like football. You liked to be there early so you could find your seats without the overwhelming amount of people staring at you arriving. You found comfort knowing you wouldn’t have to tell people they were in your seats and that you could relax knowing you were in the right place. You’d never been to this stadium before and new places trigger your anxiety. You couldn’t tell Millie that though, with the mood she’s in she probably wouldn’t listen anyway. “I just get anxious” you told her honestly, “well don’t worry about it, it’s just football” her tone now throughroughly irritating you. “Wow thanks, I’m cured” rolling your eyes at her ignorance you washed the last plate, expecting her to pick up a tea towel but she didn’t; truly cementing your feelings about the woman – rude and obnoxious! Maybe your friend was right!

45 minutes passed before you actually left leaving 15 minutes to get in and find your seats, you were now an anxious mess and on the brink of a meltdown. Millie lead your friends down an ally to a gate you hadn’t seen when you studied the stadium map online yesterday, falling behind as you rushed to find the tickets on your phone and missing the email containing them. “I can’t find the tickets” you said in quiet panic but realising no-one heard you made you become even more flustered, “guys, slow down! I can’t find the tickets!” you pleaded with everyone to help. Millie turned around and looked at you in a way that you could tell she was annoyed, “you’re with me you don’t need tickets, put your phone away!” she shouted but didn’t stop walking. Looking at Mack in desperation he shrugged but didn’t say anything. You’d never felt more like an outcast to your friends, they all knew your triggers and signs you were getting overwhelmed but it seems Millie’s presence made everyone forget them. You were so looking forward to this game but now you just wanted to leave and go home, everything was going wrong and it was nothing like you had planned for weeks. Millie handed over her pass to the steward as Mack watched you still frantically trying to find the tickets you bought a month earlier, clicking the lock button he gestured for you to put your phone away with no explanation. “5 yeah? All good” the steward said in a bored and tired tone. You didn’t have a clue what was happening but Mack linked his arm in yours and shuffled you inside to seats that weren’t the ones you had carefully chosen when booking them. To be fair, they were really good seats just above the dugouts but you couldn’t help feeling on edge knowing these weren’t your booked ones and panicked someone was going to tell you to move at any moment. Millie sat down next to you with her huge England puffer jacket encroaching on your personal space, hearing every squeak of the fabric against the chair and rustling against your body, you had never felt more uncomfortable.

Noticing you were stimming – tapping your foot making your leg shake and fiddling with your thumb ring, Millie placed a hand heavily onto your thigh making your leg stop shaking instantly. This meant that your anxious energy couldn’t be released and was getting blocked up inside you. “What’s wrong?” she asked sounding genuinely concerned, moving her hood so you could see her face. “Nothing” shaking your head violently trying to stop her from asking anymore questions. You were trying so hard not to have a meltdown and anymore questions might push the tears you were trying desperately to hide out of your eyes, you really didn’t want her to witness this. You’d looked up to the defender since you were younger and you thought meeting her would be a dream but today has been nothing short of a nightmare. She’d hit all your triggers without even realising you had any and you were really struggling to hide your contempt. “Just tell me” she said forcefully. Staring out at the pitch you thought deeply about what you wanted to say but it all came blurting out like a car crash of words leaving your mouth. “I’m autistic and have ADHD, I’ve never been to this stadium before so looked up all the maps of how to get here and where our seats were, I like to be early so I know I’m in the right place, you took us a different way and sat me in a different seat, I always sit on the aisle so I don’t feel trapped, the Lionesses are my special interest, I didn’t get to watch the warm ups or feel the atmosphere before the game, I hate being late and your jacket is so noisy it’s making me want to throw something at you!” Your words left your mouth in one extremely long sentence barely making time to breath, your monotone voice wasn’t raised just sad nothing had turned out like you’d planned. You took a breath and let out a long sigh, feeling a slight release of letting it all out and finally able to look at her. “I’ve been looking forward to this day for ages then you turned up and changed everything, it’s been a lot to deal with” you finished calmly and honestly. Millie stared at you blankly like everything you had just said flew straight over her head. You couldn’t help that you felt uncomfortable, your friends knew what triggers you and could have been more understanding to all the plans changing – one change you could have dealt with but this.. this was a lot.

“Do you drink tea?” Millie asked you after a long awkward silence, nodding gently she asked how you have it then rose from her seat, re-emerging moments later with a cup in her hand. “Sit in this one” she gestured to the seat she was in before which was on an aisle then passed the cup to you; instantly feeling a little relief as the warmth spread through your fingertips to your palms. Hearing the loud zipper of her coat she took it off without any hesitation and started to put it around your shoulders. “What are you doing?” trying to shrug it off, wondering about her intentions, “trust me, it’s a like a big safety bubble, put it on” she nodded smiling for the first time today as encouragement. Feeling the warmth around your body and the weight of the coat acting like your heavy blanket at home you sunk into your new seat, your heart rate slowly returned to normal and your eyes were no longer acting like dams for your tears. “I’m really sorry (y/n), I didn’t realise” her words sounded sincere. “Why would you? I have to work very hard to appear like everyone else, to seem normal. Nobody would know unless I told them or I suddenly snapped. They’d just see me flip out over one tiny thing without recognising all of the other things that had lead me to have a meltdown” you said looking down at your cup, embarrassed with how honest and open you were being. “I get it, I really do” she smiled, taking hold of one of your hands and holding it between hers on her lap as the teams walked out onto the pitch immediately making you happy again. It’s like she had heard you, listened and understood exactly what you needed - to feel safe.

Millie held your hand throughout the entire game, stroking her thumb along yours intimitently to keep you grounded and only stopping when England scored or to top up your tea. You’re unsure how she went from standoffish and rude to caring and kind so quickly but you wish more people you told about your neurodivergence acted this way when they find out instead of looking at you weird and ignoring everything you’ve just said - despite the beginning of the day, you had a good night.

Standing up and unzipping the coat to return it to her she abruptly stopped you, pulling it back onto your shoulders. “It’s okay wear it home, it’s gotten cold now” her voice a lot softer than a few hours ago and certainly more bubbly than earlier in the evening. “I can’t do that this is part of your kit” you giggled nervously, still trying to take it off. “Well I can’t let you walk home cold can I” she shrugged joking like her hands were tied. You argued back and forth at who would take the coat until you finally accepted the kind gesture, “I’m a hot bod anyway” was her winning statement which made you smirk, ‘in more ways than one’ you thought to yourself. Millie asked to walk you out but you didn’t need babysitting and suggested she go congratulate her teammates instead. “I wasn’t implying that you need babysitting, I just wanted to make sure you’d get home okay” trying to justify her intentions. “Well I won’t be home for at least two hours so you’d be waiting a long time” you laughed, shuffling past her to try and make your exit. Millie was shocked with how long a journey you had and had assumed you lived near the stadium as you were at Mack’s earlier in the evening. You chatted until your friends were ready to leave and finally asked how she knows your friends, questioning why he has never mentioned knowing the defender before now. Turns out her mum knows his mum from grassroots and she very rarely pops by, the game just happened to have been played near their house and Mack hadn’t seen her since he was a child. “I’m sorry I made tonight tough for you” she said, touching your back for reassurance which you barely felt through the puffiness of the coat. “It’s okay, nothing a tea can’t fix” you’d had a good night in the end, knew why you were triggered and was able to get over it quickly with her help. “No it’s not okay, I should be more aware of how my words and actions affect people” she looked down at the ground with embarrassment. “It’s not your job to accommodate me” you said bluntly still feeling like she was babying you. Before she could reply Mack called out that they were ready to leave and interrupted your conversation. You thanked Millie again for the coat but insisted you wouldn’t need it as you’ll be sat on a train, trying for the last time to return the offering but once again she stopped you. “Can I drive you home?” This girl just doesn’t give up! You had to put your foot down and raised your eyebrow in a ‘I’m so done with you’ way, “okay! You don’t need babysitting, I get it! Keep the coat though please” she smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes over exaggeratedly, your eyes rolled and reluctantly agreed to keep her from continuing to fuss. Holding her arms out to initiate a hug, you hesitated but hugged goodbye quickly when she called you out for leaving her hanging then made your way to the station.

On your second train of the night you were now half way home with an hour to go when your phone pinged.

“Did you get home safe?”

“It’s Millie by the way”

“I asked Mack’s mum to send me your number 🙊”

3 messages came through immediately one after the other.

“Good job you’re a footballer cause you can’t count!” you replied sarcastically “two hour journey I said, not one!” Sending a selfie of yourself, hood up earphones in and very obviously still on a train.

M - “Wish you had just let me take you home, you’d have been in bed by now”

Y - “Still babysitting are we?”

M - “No just checking this cute girl I met tonight is safe, that’s all 🙂”

Struggling not to spit out your drink as you read the last message you stumbled over how to reply. Was she seriously flirting with you right now? Settling for a funny but ugly faced selfie with “cute you say? 😂” to gauge if she really was flirting or just being kind.

M - “Don’t ruin your pretty lil face please”

M - “Although if any creep comes and sits near you that face will make them run a mile 🤣”

Y - “Didn’t work on you though did it 😉”

M - “Cheeky! 😳”

M - “Sorry again about tonight”

Y - “You’re gonna have something to actually be sorry about soon if you don’t stop!”

Y - “Honestly it’s okay, your actions after I told you speak louder than your ones before”

M - “That’s a nice thing to say”

Y - “Yeah you’re not used to saying nice things are you!”

M - “Shut ittt! What ya listening to?”

Y - “Nothing, I just put them in so no one talks to me, I need to hear the station announcements otherwise I get distracted and miss my stop 🙃”

With that she tried to FaceTime you but assuming it was a mistake, you didn’t answer.

M - “You ignoring me now?”

Y - “Assumed it was a butt dial 🤷🏻‍♀️”

M - “No I wanna see your face”

Y - “I’ve already sent you a photo!”

Your message had barely delivered when she tried to call you again, staring at your phone for a while before reluctantly answering; you wanted to be left alone to process the day and unwind from the overstimulation you had endured for hours but here you were FaceTiming with Millie Bright. What a mad day! “You don’t give up easily do you?“ was your opening line, “not when I want something, no” she smiled from the other side of the phone. Giving her a stern look with a raised brow you really didn’t know how to take her, what you did know is that her cheeky smile made you feel warm inside... It was either that or her massive coat still wrapped around you! She asked how long until your station and set a timer so you didn’t miss it which you secretly thought was adorable and incredible thoughtful. “For someone who didn’t want my coat, you’re still wearing it” she teased, rolling your eyes again as you leant your head on the window. She asked you where home was and said again that she would have driven you as she lives near by, you replied cheekily that your mum told you not to get into a car with a stranger. “Strangers are we?” her voice turned high pitch and excitable, “we’re hardly anything other!” you hit back. Millie wanted to change that and asked you to tell her about yourself, explaining that you’re exhausted you suggested she go first as your blinking slowed, you barely had the energy to stay awake let alone make small talk.

“Okayyy... I’m Millie, 29 years old” you were surprised at her age as she seemed older which she jokingly took offence to. You exchanged birthdays, star signs and talked about family - something that means a lot to the both of you. “I’m a footballer, as you know” pulling a 💁🏼‍♀️ face, “oh are you? I didn’t know that! I did wonder how you got this coat” you said popping the hood sarcastically. “Can certainly tell you live up to your star sign, your sarc is off the charts!” seemingly impressed that someone can keep up with her banter. “Your simp is off the charts!” you snapped back quickly. “Shit, is it that obvious?” her eyes widened in shock as you nodded in a ‘well duh’ sort of way. “So you’ve known I’ve had the hots for you all this time and you’ve just been knocking me back?” she asked as she laid down on her bed holding the phone above her head looking sleepy and adorable. Telling her you couldn’t let her have it easy, plus you didn’t know if she was flirting or just being friendly because she fucked up earlier, Millie assured you she wouldn’t do that but you reminded her that you didn’t actually know her and it pays to be cautious. “You were a right bellend and then went all soft” you said kicking your feet up on the chair in front of you, “I was just having a bad day” she muttered glancing away from the camera, “wanna talk about it?”. She spoke about her day at Chelsea, they sent her away as she’s still not fit to play, she can’t talk about her injury as it’s in her contract not to, she just wanted to be playing with the girls and is sad she’s missing out on the last England camp before the World Cup. Camp is her fave place to be and was extra sad because she’s missing out on seeing her best friend.

The alarm went off on Millie’s phone so you knew the next stop was yours, you thanked her for keeping you company but she wouldn’t let you say goodbye until you were safe in your car. Nobody had cared this much about your safety before accept your mum but you were still sceptical whether it was because she felt guilty for causing you to have a meltdown earlier.

“Are you home?” pinged up on your phone as you pulled up on your driveway. You couldn’t help the corners of your mouth turn up as you saw her name flash but decided to keep her waiting while you made your way inside your home, turning on the lights and pulling on your bed clothes before falling into bed. Sending her a photo of your bedroom TV showing Friends and telling her to let you know an address to send her coat back to.

M - “The coat was a reason to see you again”

Y - “Oh and there was me thinking you were doing it out of the kindness of your own heart”

Your phone vibrated next to you as she tried to FaceTime you again, this girl just does not quit! “Are you single?” she immediately opened with as soon as you answered phone and plotted to play with her a little. “Who’s asking?” you teased, “me, obviously!” she giggled, anxiously waiting for an answer. “Oh no sorry, I’m taken” you paused before laughing. “Yes I’m single, haven’t found someone who can handle all this yet. I’m not into girls though soz” struggling to keep a straight face with the lie you told. “I don’t believe that, I’m not the only one who’s been flirting all night!” her voice once again high pitched as she sat up in bed appearing more alert with the conversation. “How dare you insinuate such a thing!” your tone turning dramatic, playing with her. You chatted for a little while until your eyes couldn’t stay open much longer and started to drift off. Millie watched you drop to sleep before hanging up, for some reason she wanted you and she wasn’t gonna stop until she got you.

—————————

“Good morning beautiful 😘” was the first notification you saw when you picked your phone for the first time of the day to look at the time.

Y - “It’s been a long time since I woke up to one of those texts 🤭”

M - “I’m surprised about that”

Y - “get to know me better and maybe you won’t be lol”

M - “I’d like to, are you going to the game tonight?”

The text exchange had been non-stop since your train ride home a few days ago. You hadn’t gotten tickets for the England v Australia game tonight as the stadium looked tricky to get to and two unknown stadiums in one week was just a bit too much overstimulation for you. Millie wasn’t taking no for an answer though as she asked you to go with her and to meet at her house, she’ll drive so there’ll be no public transport involved. You said you’ll think about it but in typical Millie fashion she replied “it’s a date, be here at 7 😉” sending you a pin of her address. You didn’t reply after that, still trying to keep her guessing. Of course you’d go if it meant seeing Millie again, your head had been filled with thoughts of her since the day you met!

Pulling up on Millie’s drive and climbing out of your car, she must have been watching and patiently awaiting your arrival as her front door flew open the moment she heard the hum of an engine. “Nice coat!” she shouted from the doorway, “I’ve got my own in here” you called out to her when opening the boot of your car to look for it. “Keep it, it looks good on you” she winked, holding her arms out for a hug, kissing you on the forehead as she squeezed you tightly then held her passenger door open for you to slip in. “So..” she started after turning the radio down “I’m gonna park in the player’s car park and we’re gonna go in through the back door, they don’t show that on the map” - informing you of what’s going to happen tonight. It was admirable that she’d taken on board what you’d said last time and was trying to ensure that you would be comfortable. “I haven’t looked at the map for tonight, I trust you” turning to smile at her after clicking your seatbelt in place. For the first time in ages you’d agreed to a spontaneous plan and hadn’t researched it to an inch of it’s life. The conversations you’d had with her for hours on end made you feel safe, like you could rely on her to make sure you have a stress-free evening. “That’s probably the best compliment I’ve ever had” turning to look at you and squeezing your thigh. “Okayyy, what I’m hearing is that not a lot of people trust you so I shouldn’t?” jokingly opening the maps app on your phone. “No, stop. Obviously normal compliments are fine but being trusted feels better than say.. being called pretty or something” she shrugged. “Well you’re that too, I’ll see if I still trust ya at the end of the night” chuckling softly at the playful interaction. Both of you knew that the feelings between you were mutual and the days of pretending you didn’t were long gone.

Pulling into a space close to the England bus, Millie guided you across the car park towards the stadium, away from the hustle and bustle of thousands of fans making their way inside. As you neared closer her hand grazed against yours before locking your fingers together making your tummy do cartwheels. She flashed her lanyard and got waved inside, she lead you up the stairs and into a box, grabbing you both a tea and settling into your seats where she made sure you were on the aisle again. Eyeing up the line up together her head was almost on your shoulder as she leant over to look at your phone. The game was bleak, Millie watched you stand up and sit down every two minutes shouting support at the team, at a moment where you were sitting her hand found its way onto your thigh again “I love how into this you’re getting” she chuckled as softly as her eyes looked into yours. “I’m comfortable, I’m not like this if I’m not” shrugging at her comment. “Like the first game?” she asked, you nodded and explained how being yourself is harder when you’re uncomfortable then asked if she’s frustrated watching her team losing. “No, you watch the game but I’m studying it. Where we’re going wrong, what could have been done differently. It’s all learning. Yeah, it’s gutting but it helps us prepare for the World Cup… you carry on though, it’s cute” nudging her shoulder into yours. “My friends think I’m embarrassing” standing up again to watch a corner be taken, “I’d prefer you to be yourself” the defender’s hand grazed your back as she stood up next to you.

The evening was filled with smiley flirty glances towards each other and at half time she made her move, lifting her arm up and around your shoulders allowing you to snuggle into her. You reminded your date that the cameras would probably show her at some point but she didn’t care. This made you blush a little as you sunk further into her; with your feet up on the seats in front of you, it felt super cosy. The Lionesses came away with a loss, the first L under Sarina’s management. It was a tough pill to swallow as fan and player but you couldn’t have been prouder of the team. Losing made you appreciate women’s football, the crowd just accepted it and moved on. No arguments or swearing or violence - proud of the players regardless. Allowing the fans to trickle out of the stadium before making your exit, Millie held your hand every step of the way and once in the car park wrapped her arm around your shoulders again until you got to the car.

Her hand never left your thigh during the entire drive home and pulling up outside the house you were quick to climb out the car and wave goodbye, you desperately wanted to stay but suddenly felt awkward, what if she didn’t want to kiss you? You could never live with yourself if you were rejected. Heading towards your own car a hand clasped around your wrist, Millie was pulling you back towards her. “Can’t wait to get away from me aih?” she asked with a smirk as her forefinger stroked the hair out of your face. “No.. it’s not that..” looking down at your feet as your reply was muttered, “what is it then?” using the same finger to lift your chin so you were looking up at her. Her bright blue eyes and floppy blonde bun made you subconsciously moisten your lips as your eyes flickered between her facial features. This told Millie everything she needed to know as she moved her hand to the side of your neck and leant down to place a kiss softly upon your lips. Tiptoeing to meet her half way, her other hand held the small of your back pulling you closer into her, yours balanced on her hips as your lips entwined further. “Stay with me” escaped her mouth between kisses, your lips smiling against hers as small nods moved your head in agreement, faces still joined together until she pulled away to guide you towards the house. You’d had such a good night that you didn’t want it to end! Watching her close the door behind her you were quickly pulled back into her arms “I’ll have my coat back now” she smirked, pushing it over your shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. Kicking your shoes off she wrapped her arms around your waist and you draped yours around her neck, tiptoeing to reach her as your lips found their way together again. As she started to lift you up off the floor you broke away, “you shouldn’t be doing that!” concerned about her knee, “don’t worry about it” her voice had turned husky between kisses as you connected your legs around waist. She walked you over to the sofa, sitting down with you on top of her, hands on each others face. Pulling her bunchie out to release her wavy blonde hair made you smile more as it dropped past her shoulders. “You have a beautiful smile” she said tucking your hair behind your ears before kissing you again “I’ve been dying to do this since I met you” she whispered. You questioned her statement as she seemed so grumpy, she insisted that she was smitten the moment you shared your food with her. “That’s why I sat down next to you, I couldn’t have gone inside” she reassured you that she didn’t realise how blunt she came across, especially if you don’t know her very well. All that was blown away now as you felt her hands pull your head towards hers again, you spent the night getting to know each other’s mouths until you fell asleep on her chest. As she stroked your hair your mind filled with happy little flutters, you felt like you’d finally found your person, someone that took the time to truly understand you.

#millie bright #millie bright x reader #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso x reader #woso masterlist #woso series #woso fic #woso community #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #chelsea wfc x reader

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bookishdreamer28 · 9 months

Text

Tom Blyth is a total babe and has my heart and his character in Billy the kid has me weak on the knees

Btw I'll definitely write more Billy fics so I hope you'll enjoy reading this one ❣

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You felt your body responding to his intense stare again. You found yourself burning with desire for the man with the beautiful ocean eyes across the room, for the 5th time this month. He was an occasional costumer but you never had the chance to have a proper conversation with him because of all these drunken people blocking your way or your boss making you taking orders from other tables. He never once threw a dirty look at you, neither he made you feel uneasy and uncomfortable in any way just like brainless rats did. And you liked that. You liked him.

When you served a costumer his bear, your eyes went immediately on him. He gave a small smile and waved at you. This small interaction increased your heart's rate and you returned the smile with one of your own. You tried to preoccupy yourself by cleaning the counter but all you could think about was him. The man who already had your heart in his hands.

After contemplating for about half an hour on what to do, you picked up the courage and made your way to his table. His eyes never left you. Seeing you approaching him made him nervous. Unable to make a single move.

"Would you like me to bring you something else?" You asked giving him a sweet smile.

"Uh n-no thank you" his hand traveled up to his hair, pushing a few locks out of the way. You suddenly felt your mouth dry. You licked your lips and you caught his eyes following the movement.

"I'm Y/N" you reached your hand out for a shake. He gently grabbed your hand and said

"I'm William but most people call me Billy. The choice is yours sweetheart" he lowered your hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss there. Your cheeks were burning and you were sure that you looked like you had fever.

You were ready to say something but a drunk guy placed his arm around your shoulder. Your body tensed and Billy's eyes darkened.

"Why don't We get this kind of treatment huh?" His breath was stinking liquor and you wanted to punch the shit out of him which you were ready to do so, but Billy caught you. His punch surely broke thos guy's jaw and it sent him straight to the floor. He then picked him up by his colar and slammed him to the wall.

"If you even dare do as much as look in her direction, I will end you, get it? Don't you DARE put your filthy hands on her again" He growled and then threw him on the floor again. The guy didn't had the guts to say anything to Billy. And all the other men in the bar knew that it would be best if the mind their own business instead of get themselves involved in this.

Billy turned to you and gently touched your shoulders.

"Let's get out of here"

"But I can't just le-"

"As long as you're with me no one is going to hurt you. There's no way I'm leaving you here but if you want to stay, I'll stay too" his words warmed your heart.

"Lead the way cowboy" you smirked and grabbed his hand. He smiled widely and walked the to exit. Once you were outside you started laughing at how wonderful it all felt with him. He couldn't help but watch you closely. Your smile, your bright eyes, your hair flowing in the breeze. You were all he's thinking about and now he finally has the chance to be with you. Just the two of you.

You looked at your intertwined fingers and your stomach filled with butterflies again . But then your eyes widened when you realized that you were still holding hands.

Billy noticed your expression and was ready to pull his hand away but you held it tight.

"I'm ok with this...that is as long as you're ok with it too" and for once agaim you felt your face burning.

"I'm more than ok sweetheart" he smiled.

"Oh thank you souch for earlier I didn't expe-"

"I will never let anyone touch you again like this. I know you think that I didn't have to interfere but it made my blood boil seeing in distress" he stopped walking and turned his body to you.

His eyes were so beautiful under the moonlight. The soft touch of his fingertips on your cheek is what shook me out of my thoughts. Your breath quickened.

"I...where is your home exactly? I don't want you to walk on your all alone now" he cleared his throat, moving his hand from your face, looking anywhere else but you.

"Oh we're almost there-...Um actually, I don't want to go home right now" you stopped him from moving.

"Ok that's great then, cause I didn't want you to go either" he said and you stared at each other.

"Great" you whispered and moved closer to him.

"Great" he moved closer too.

His hands cupped your face slowly and his thumbs were caressing your skin softly.

"Can I please, please kiss you? Cause I've been dying to do this for whole month now and I can't wait longer" your legs felt like jelly and you had no idea how you managed to stand still.

You nodded eagerly and closed your eyes the moment he started leaning in. He kissed you tenderly and pulled back to see your reaction, only for you to crash your lips against his passionately. You felt Billy's hand slide into your hair and his other kept your body close to his. The kiss held such intensity and emotion, that made you both breathless once you pulled away.

"I'm at your mercy woman" he whispered against my lips and and I smiled, grabbing his collar to kiss him more

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Thank you for reading 😚 love you all

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x you #tom x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid fluff #billy the kid fic #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth the man you are #fanfic #william bonney #william bonney x reader

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mj-iza-writer · 2 months

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I don’t really know if you like this type of whump but i gathered up the courage

Human caretaker who has a rough backstory with vampires (maybe their whole family got killed or they almost died to vampires in the past?) saving vampire whumpee from vampire hunter whumpers

Sorry this took so long to post back. I absolutely love vampire stories, and I love this idea so much. I hope you never feel nervous about asking me for a request, I absolutely love doing them. Thankyou so much, I hope you enjoy.

Caretaker sat by the fire, the only noises were their occasional sip from their tea, and the gentle crackle of the fire.

Caretaker had been reading a book their father had written before he died. It was titled **How to Kill Vampires**.

Caretaker read the book, feeling as though their father was telling the stories in person. Unfortunately, their father had gotten to cocky in a fight with a stronger than average vampire. They died from their injuries soon after.

Caretaker hated vampires. They only wished they had enough courage to hunt them. They could never follow in their families foot steps. Every member had met tragic ends.

The next morning Caretaker stepped outside to enjoy a leisure walk around their gardens.

The home they lived in had been in their family for generations. It still had remnants of the families' past. Caretaker had tried to make it more inviting now. They seemed to be ending the families' traditions.

Caretaker turned a corner and almost had a heart attack.

A body lay against one of the fountains. It was mostly in the shade of the statue, but the fingers was sticking out in the sun. Black smoke rose from the fingers.

"Vamp...vampire", Caretaker stepped back in fear and aww.

Tiny weak whimpers came from the body.

Caretaker inched cautiously to get a closer look. From a few feet, they could see a wooden spike laying in the limp hand of the vampire.

The vampire made a grimaced face and weakly pulled their body in from the sun. They didn't have long until the sun would fully envelope them.

Caretaker slowly turned and walked away, "the sun will take care of them soon and finish the job of whoever stabbed them. No need for me to get my hands dirty."

"Ple....", the vampire pleaded, "ple....", they gasped in pain.

"You dare beg me for mercy... you slime. Allow the sun to do the honor of killing you", Caretaker growled, "your kind killed plenty of my family. Why should I show you mercy?"

"I pro... protected yo.. your father Gerald", the vampire panted, "I'm Whum... Whumpee... the... they promised me a safe place if I-I ever needed it. He said I was th.. the only one he... he'd show mercy to", the vampire frowned, "I just ne..need to reco.."

"Whumpee?", Caretaker stepped back to get a closer look.

The vampire squinted their eyes open and nodded weakly.

That was a story Caretaker's father purposely left out of their books. They didn't want anyone to know they had been saved by a vampire, then showed them mercy.

"Is Ger..Gerald around?", Whumpee sighed as they felt the sun come close to their foot.

"He died a while ago", Caretaker knelt down, "how did you know about me?"

Whumpee groaned as they tried to pull their body in tighter.

"Oh right... give me a second", Caretaker got up and ran for a nearby shed.

They pulled out a tarp and hurried to the vampire.

"I allow you into my home", Caretaker stated loudly before running inside of the house and down to the dungeon.

"I'm sorry, but I still don't know if I trust you", Caretaker laid the vampire on the floor and reached for some shackles hanging on the wall.

"I don't care", Whumpee winced as they felt the cuff tighten around their wrist and click, "just as long as you let me lay like this, I don't care what you do to me."

Caretaker knelt down a few feet away, "how did you know about me and where this house was?"

"While Gerald was healing from his wounds, he told me stories and showed me a few pictures of his family. I brought him here when he had enough strength", Whumpee whimpered as they moved their hand.

It was the first time Caretaker had seen the wound.

"They got you good, huh?", Caretaker frowned.

"Ymph", Whumpee grunted, "that's what I get for taking blood so close to the road. It wasn't even worth it either. The blood was dead already."

Caretaker made a terrified face.

"Relax. It was from a dead animal that had just gotten run over", Whumpee whispered, "I don't take from humans unless I'm desperate. They consent most of the time for me to do it."

"May.... may I rest for a while", Whumpee whispered, "I'll answer more questions later if you want."

Caretaker nodded and got up to leave.

"Thankyou for giving me sanctuary. I will be out of your hair soon", Whumpee mumbled into the floor.

Caretaker nodded, then left.

"I don't have the heart to tell them they are staying. I may not be able to kill them, but I can keep them here. I can protect people in that way at least", Caretaker crept up the stairs, "in a way I will be protecting them too... right? Maybe I can honor my father by protecting them and others."

Just before Caretaker decided to go down to the dungeon to break the news to Whumpee that they were being kept as a prisoner a knock came to the door.

Caretaker hurried to answer it.

"Hello" a person in heavy equipment greeted, "I was hunting vampires last night and I seemed to have lost one. A witness said they were seen on your property."

"Yes I found them this morning. They have been taken care of", Caretaker smiled, "I'm from a family of hunters myself. Thankyou for what you are doing though."

"I need to check to ensure they are gone?", the person grinned with fire in their eyes.

"I let them fade into the sun, all that's left is the stake that was stabbed into them", Caretaker watched the judgemental look, "how many vampires do you know that can survive the sun?"

"Not many, but I know you aren't one for killing them. That's why I started to do it", they smirked, "so where are they then?"

"Fine, you caught me. In my families dungeon, where they will remain for good", Caretaker frowned, "you may not go check on them. Matter of factly, you can get off of this property."

"No need to be so testy. I'm only doing what you wouldn't. You're a shame to your father and your family", they frowned.

"I mean you're fresh meat... a newbie, you probably have markings all over your back. A vampire is just waiting to take your life force", Caretaker sighed, "I don't need you coming in here with targets on your back. You'd be allowing vampires in without them being invited into my home. I don't need that."

The hunter made a confused face.

"You really didn't research, did you?", Caretaker frowned, "not all vampires survive soly on blood. There are other ways they take your life force as well. Have you been blessed by a priest to protect against that."

"You're speaking nonsense", the hunter forced themself in and overpowered Caretaker, "lead me to the dungeon."

A dagger was poked into Caretaker's back.

"You don't know what you're doing", Caretaker started to walk.

"Shut up, you don't know what you talking about", the hunter warned.

"Right, the rightful descendent of a family of vampire hunters doesn't know what they're talking about", Caretaker frowned.

"I said shut up", Caretaker received a slap on the back of their head.

They followed Caretaker into the dungeon and down the steps.

Whumpee had sat up now. When they saw who was coming, they lifted their knees to their chest and frowned.

"You again?", Whumpee frowned, "not much in way of sanctuary if you deliver the killer to their prey", Whumpee looked at Caretaker.

"I tried. There's a dagger pointed in my back. What do you want from me?", Caretaker argued.

"You've left me quite defenseless even. Chained to the wall. What is a vampire to do?", Whumpee grinned, revealing their fangs.

Caretaker was thrown to the side, and they fell to the floor.

Whumpee looked at the hunter angrily, "you're weak. You can't call yourself a hunter if you haven't had the right training."

"And yet, I'm about to kill you", the hunter laughed, "they are about to keep you a prisoner here. I'm only saving you from permanent imprisonment."

Whumpee frowned at Caretaker.

"I was coming to tel...

"Oh shut up", Whumpee snapped their fingers at the hunter.

The hunter automatically froze in place.

"You did mark them?", Caretaker frowned, "so you take life force as much as you take blood?"

Whumpee nodded, "I need to feed from them, I can't heal my wounds completely without it."

"I can't let you", Caretaker frowned.

Whumpee stood up weakly and limped to the hunter, "you don't get a say in this. My mark is on them. I'm not taking it away. I have to save myself too."

Caretaker got up and stood in front of Whumpee to block them, "I won't allow it."

"Look, I gave up a lot of things after I protected and healed your father. That included drinking human blood unless I absolutely have to. Animal blood will not heal me", Whumpee limped forward, ignoring Caretaker. The chains jingled at their movements.

"Why would you do that?", Caretaker frowned, "vampires are monsters?"

"I use to think the same about hunters until I met Gerald. Not all hunters are bad and not all vampires are bad. At first they were as uncertain as I was, but they allowed me to do what needed to be done to heal them", Whumpee gulped down a knot, "I'm staring at the one who killed them. Am I not?", Whumpee looked past Caretaker at the hunter.

Caretaker turned to see the hunter nodding with tears running down their face.

"Your father allowed me to mark him as mine. They were my special human. They couldn't be killed by vampires, I do hold some respect for actual hunters. Your family was always respectful. There was no way your father was killed by one of us. A human did it."

Whumpee frowned, "the stake they used on me had your father's markings on them. I looked after I pulled it out."

Caretaker looked at Whumpee sadly, tears threatened to fall.

"I need you to allow me to avenge their death. Your father was dear to me, let me have this", Whumpee pleaded, "you don't have to watch. Your father always said you were sensitive to these things. He always said you would amount to so much because you were not wanting to follow in the family business. Let me avenge Gerald for you."

Caretaker turned to the hunter.

"Did you really kill my father?"

"Answer them", Whumpee knelt down weakly, "tell us what you did", they ordered.

"I surprised Gerald from behind while they were hiking in the forest. I attacked them and killed them. Then staged it to look like a vampire attack. I stole what was left of their equipment", the hunter still looked like they were in a trance, "after taking their things to my home, I led the police to the scene. The story was retold and retold until it became the truth. No one would ever know it was staged. I would fall in line as the next great hunter."

"Though you're an idiot who did it all wrong?", Whumpee frowned, "nod your head to agree."

The hunter had more tears as their body obeyed the vampire.

"That's why hunters get blessed by priest so they don't become mindless puppets", Caretaker stated.

"Give me a while to feed", Whumpee frowned, "they killed my friend. Gerald's blood screams for vengeance, and they almost killed his legacy."

Caretaker's legs felt like lead as they started to walk away from them.

"Come, kneel before me" Caretaker heard Whumpee order. They didn't dare turn and look.

Whumpee sank their teeth into the hunter's neck and snapped their fingers.

Caretaker heard the person scream then gargle cry as they climbed the stairs out of the dungeon.

They waited until late evening before going back down into the dungeon. They didn't want to see anything, and they dreaded the knowledge that the body was still down their.

They came closer to where Whumpee was.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever come back down here again", Whumpee smirked.

"Where is the body?", Caretaker frowned. There wasn't any sign of them.

"You hit the nail on the head when you asked if I took life forces. I don't leave anything behind when I feed", Whumpee frowned.

Their was silence between the both of them.

"So you want a vampire prisoner huh?", Whumpee snickered.

"Th-that was before I knew all of this", Caretaker frowned, "I'm sorry I've spent so long hating all of you because I didn't know. I almost let you die because of it. I'm sorry."

"It's alright", Whumpee grinned, "I can be a prisoner if you want. As long as a few rules are followed. I think you could use a vampire roaming the house, keeping you safe. You don't exactly carry the same presence your father carried. Plus, that idiot burnt my hideout down last night."

"Oh so you need a place to stay is what you're saying", Caretaker grinned.

"It will be perfect for the both of us", Whumpee grinned, "you can keep me in shackles if you want, I don't care. I'm old enough, I've had my fun. I guess I could use a change. I enjoy letting humans think these things can keep me controlled."

Caretaker frowned.

"I mean, oh no chains", Whumpee stated sarcastically, "I won't injure a descendent of Gerald though. I will protect you."

"As comforting as that sounds. I-I don't know about this. It kind of defeats the purpose of this building", Caretaker sighed.

"You defeated the purpose of this place a long time ago. You refused to hunt vampires. Now you have gardens growing where blood was once shed", Whumpee frowned.

Caretaker looked down shamefully.

"I'm not saying that to make you feel bad. My point is things can change, this place your family. You don't have to hold onto those traditions so tightly. Your father was proud of the person you were becoming", Whumpee looked around, "you could use some protection though."

Caretaker agreed, "can you tell me about those days when you healed him? I feel like he didn't tell us everything."

"They probably didn't. It would go against the hunter's code" Whumpee laughed.

Caretaker sat down, "and how were you able to mark them."

"As long as your father allowed me to, I could break through the seal the priest set. I am very old, I've learned to do a lot of things", Whumpee sat for a minute to think, "okay I'll tell you the story."

"It was cold that night", Whumpee started, "I had been following Gerald for a few miles. I knew who they were, and I kept my distance, but I was still curious. They had gotten attacked by a bear. Their camp was destroyed, and they were badly injured. Their blood was actually what got my attention."

"They were trying to get home or to safety. They collapsed and kept mumbling that they needed to get home. I showed myself after they collapsed."

Whumpee laughed, "they were startled when they saw me. 'Typical bloodsucker like vultures. I won't let you eat me'. I only rolled my eyes. I wanted to see the great hunter up close, I told Gerald. Leave it to a bear to do you in."

Caretaker listened curiously. It sounded just like their father. This was a different story though, not how their father told it.

"After a few minutes of watching them fail to kill me and cursing at me, I offered them a hand after they fell face first into the snow."

"They asked why I would help them. I told them I needed to have some fun. Plus they helped keep the vampire population low. I knew they planned on killing me at some point, but that was the fun of it. I got them to my hideout and into my bed. Cleaned and dressed the wounds, fed and hydrated. It took forever to get Gerald to rest though. They were so tired by the time they fell alseep."

Whumpee smiled, "I had that pain in the butt for a good month or more. I carried many messages between Gerald and your mother. That is the true reason why I knew where this house was. Finally, they had enough strength for me to get them down the mountain and here. They allowed me to leave my mark on them to keep them safe after that. I could check in occasionally, but I've been gone for a long time apparently."

"Yes its been a while", Caretaker nodded.

They sat in silence for a while again.

"I'll let you have this dungeon for your own space... if that's alright. The other rooms have windows", Caretaker sighed, "be careful if you go up there during the day. It's very sunny. You'll be safe down here. It's not like this is being used anymore."

"Thankyou", Whumpee grinned, "so I take it the Madame has passed as well. She tried to kill me the first time I came here as well. She was very kind after that. She would occasionally offer the neck of a prisoner to feed me", Whumpee chuckled.

"That sounds like my mom", Caretaker laughed, "she passed a little after my father."

Whumpee nodded, "I see."

In the night Caretaker found themself awake staring at the ceiling. Many thoughts on their mind.

They heard the floors creak outside of their room.

"Oh right, on top of everything I've allowed a vampire into my home", Caretaker sat up as they heard the creaking go down the hall, "where are they going?"

Caretaker quietly wandered down the hall until they heard Whumpee whispering.

They peaked around the corner to see Whumpee sitting on the floor looking at a painting of Gerald and the Madame.

Whumpee turned to see Caretaker.

"I didn't mean to wake you. I was just, uh, talking to my old friend."

"I do that occasionally. You didn't wake me, I have a lot of things going through my mind. My world feels like it was turned upside-down today", Caretaker came closer.

"I know the feeling", Whumpee nodded.

"So what's next?", Caretaker frowned.

"I don't know. That's for you to decide. I'm not limited by time anymore", Whumpee stood up, "I'll be here to protect you now. I promise Gerald that much."

"Thankyou", Caretaker watched Whumpee take another glance at the picture before they walked away.

"Dawn is approaching. You should get some rest', Whumpee spoke over their shoulder.

Caretaker nodded in agreement.

They went to bed after that. Mind still racing.

"What a turn of events. The descendent of vampire hunters is now being protected by a vampire", Caretaker smiled as they rolled over to fall asleep.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinx

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

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slytherinshua · 2 months

Text

TWS AS LOVE TROPES

genre. fluff. warnings. jealousy in shinyu's. implied extrovert reader in dohoon's. academic slay and competitive reader in youngjae's. extremely introverted/socially awkward reader in hanjin's lol. brief mention of makeup in jihoon's. not proofread. pairing. tws x fem!reader. wc. 2k. (around 300 per member but hanjin's and kyungmin's are a bit longer cause i was rambling sry). request. requested by anon. a/n. skdjsk this was so fun to write like maybe my fav tws request to write... like SO FUN UGH I LOVE THEM I LOVE TWS SO MUCH!!! i hope these are accurate as well!

SHIN JUNGHWAN ﾐ MUTUAL PINING

mutual pining screams junghwan to me. you aren’t friends, but you both have some mutual friends and you always end up being around one another. and you both develop the most massive crushes on the other. literally whenever you see junghwan your heart races it’s that bad. and junghwan is trying to act like he can focus on anyone but you when you’re in the room, but it’s impossible. he doesn’t even know more than your name and where you went to school, he’s pretty sure he’s lost his mind. it hurts even more watching you be in a relationship with someone else.

maybe he’s reading too into it, but he swears you look so much happier when you’re without your boyfriend. junghwan can’t help but imagine how it would look if he was in the other guy’s place. he should be the one hugging you, kissing you, taking you out on dates. except if it was him, it would be so much better. he tries his hardest to forget about his feelings for you but he just can’t. this continues, and eventually, after you break up with your ex, you realize that no one makes you feel the same way that junghwan does. you’re pretty sure he likes you as well, but there’s always a lingering fear that maybe your brain is just being dumb and convincing you that he likes you. it could turn into a friends to lovers situation too, but the friends part would always be teetering on something more. lingering touches that last much longer than they should. always going to the other for comfort or advice, the other always being on your mind. the only way that you actually get together would be when all the built up feelings and emotions finally explode into a very unplanned confession.

KIM DOHOON ﾐ OPPOSITES ATTRACT

dohoon has always been intrigued by someone who was the complete opposite of him. he loves exploring new things and getting outside of his comfort zone, but he needs someone else to convince him to do it. if he’s just by himself, he’ll stay at home where he’s comfortable. enter you. the complete opposite of him. at first he’s just interested in becoming your friend. he doesn’t expect any feelings to grow from it. he knew you would get along but he didn’t expect how well you did. you never got tired of talking to him. your conversations would go on for hours because you were both curious about the other. dohoon fell in love with your voice before anything else. he was in love with the way you explained stuff, the way you never left out a single detail. he wanted to know everything about you— he wanted you to tell him everything. he wanted to discover new things about you that no one else knew about. you brought out new sides of him that he didn’t know he had, and unknowingly, he was doing the same to you. and that’s where romantic feelings started to creep in. he started to get affected by not just your voice, but physical touch or even your outfits. you were good friends by now, and one time when he saw you in his hoodie, his entire brain stopped working. he knows at that point that you��re much more than a friend to him. you’re all he can think about during the day. you keep him up at night. he even dreams of you. so, he works up the courage to confess. if you’ve taught him anything while you’ve been friends, it’s that you only live once and regret lasts much longer than disappointment.

CHOI YOUNGJAE ﾐ RIVALS TO LOVERS

youngjae is competitive and he’s also smart. the only problem is you are also competitive and possibly smarter than youngjae is. he doesn’t want to lose to you, he’s barely lost to anyone… hence the rivalry starts. he really doesn’t see anything special about you at first. you are just the first person to ever match him in terms of intellect and popularity. there’s nothing he’s interested in about you besides seeing you always a rank below him. but from how focused he becomes on beating you, that means you’re always on his mind. sooner or later he’s thinking about you not from a competitive aspect. after months of always being around you, trying to study you to see what your weaknesses were, how he could get the upper hand, he picked up on your habits and mannerisms. he knew faster than anyone when something was wrong, and for some reason, it bothered him. when he saw you not performing your best, it shouldn’t have irked him. he should’ve been happy, if anything. it meant he was finally on top. but it didn’t bring him the satisfaction he had wanted from the beginning. that’s when he realized that after months of rivalry he had grown fond of you. the switch in his behaviour quite puzzled you at first, but you couldn’t lie that you had always liked youngjae. you liked a challenge, and he was the first guy to ever give you that. youngjae did as much as he could to help you back to where you had been, just so that the competition could continue. when you were finally back to beating his scores and returning his snarky remarks, he simply couldn’t help himself. he stopped you from talking with his lips on yours, knowing you would reciprocate his feelings.

HAN ZHEN ﾐ POPULAR X LOSER

just from hanjin’s predebut photos alone, i bet he was so popular in school. he’s always been so gorgeous and i feel like even though he’s introverted, he would’ve caught the attention of a lot of girls. so it simply made no sense why he would ever pay attention to you. you always stayed at the back of the class, barely talking to anyone and just focusing quietly on the work you were given. but the fact that you weren’t social was exactly what intrigued hanjin. though he enjoyed the attention and praise to some extent, it was also exhausting. he couldn’t imagine romantically pursuing any of the girls who drooled over him, which is exactly why he wanted to get closer to you instead. you were pretty, smart, and weren’t an attention snob. so, he makes the first move to talk to you. you had your assumptions about hanjin before just watching him as the unbelievably pretty popular boy. the fact that he was actually trying to talk to you was insane… and also not good for your heart which you could feel racing in your chest. hanjin thinks you’re so cute the more he talks to you. he likes being able to make you flustered— it feels like you actually care about him and what he has to say and aren’t just trying to be friends with him for his looks. pretty soon, everyone in the school catches on. hanjin only wants to hang out with you, the loser girl who nobody has seen talk to another student except for group projects in 3 years of being at the school. the news spreads like wildfire and pretty soon the question of when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend arises. you think it’s preposterous. you don’t want to get your hopes up just because the entire school is convinced of it. obviously… you would say yes immediately. without even a second of doubt. hanjin is the first person to ever try to get to know you, and he means more to you than anyone else. you can’t imagine how nice it would be to be able to call yourself his girlfriend. but, luckily, you don’t have to wait very long to find out. despite your loser status in the school, the student body is surprisingly fond of the match between you and hanjin.

HAN JIHOON ﾐ LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

jihoon first saw you at a convenience store at like 11 pm in the night slurping down ramen. and it definitely wasn’t the most flattering sight, but apparently that doesn’t matter at all to him. cause he’s not even looking at the sauce on the side of your lips, your messy hair, the hoodie that's pulled over your head, or your smeared makeup. he’s looking at your eyes and how they keep seeming to draw him in. you also notice jihoon as he’s checking out at the counter. his cute hair falling over his forehead and his lips that curve into a smile as soon as he looks your way. before you know it, he’s sitting next to you and introducing himself to you. it was like destiny, you both share so many interests and have so much to talk about. thankfully, the convenience store was a 24 hour one, otherwise you definitely would’ve been kicked out by the employee. you talk and talk… and talk. and eat; jihoon pays for your ice cream and extra snacks. numbers are exchanged and before you know it he’s asking to hang out again. you can barely keep track of how fast you catch feelings for him. he’s the cutest boy you’ve ever seen with the most adorable personality in the world. you’d never fallen in love at first sight before, and you certainly didn’t expect an encounter like that to land you a boyfriend. but everything progresses so naturally. you’re talking and then he’s asking you out on dates and then you’re kissing him outside of your apartment and not wanting it to end because you’re so obsessed with him. and, like you were made for one another, he shares your exact feelings. soon enough, you’re in an official relationship and more in love than ever with the boy you met at the convenience store.

LEE KYUNGMIN ﾐ CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS

kyungmin and you were inseparable as children. you were attached at the hip, always in the same classes, sitting next to you, playing together at recess, having play dates at each other’s houses. your parents were good friends with his, so it was easy to keep the friendship strong all throughout your childhood. there’s barely a moment in your life that you can remember that doesn’t have kyungmin involved. by the time you’re 16, you’ve probably spent more time with him than your own parents. everything always feels so comfortable and safe with him. he knows you inside and out after years of being friends. you share all the same interests and have more inside jokes than you can even count. it’s during a sunny afternoon in your bedroom, clutching your stomach from laughing so hard with kyungmin, that it really clicks in your head. you like spending time with him so much. more than just best friends. you can’t imagine your life without him. years from now when you’re well into adulthood, you want him to be right beside you then as well. dating was always a thought on your mind, being at the age where all your other girl friends were getting into relationships. and as you thought a bit harder about it— dating, love, relationships… only one person comes to your mind: kyungmin. your best friend who was sprawled on the bed right next to you, giggling along with you about some inside joke that had lived on too long to even remember how it started. you’ve always been able to tell kyungmin anything without feeling nervous or embarrassed, so you just go for it. at first he’s a bit wide-eyed and shocked. of course he likes you— you’re the only girl he’s ever liked since he was little. he had always planned to tell you how he felt after high school, when the thought of university came around and the fear that you wouldn’t be attending the same school arose. but confessing to each other in the comfort of your childhood bedroom, where hundreds of memories had been made together since before you were even in school; it felt perfect.

↳ tws taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy,,

@50-husbands,, @hursheys

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