#okay Ik some of these happened but they were BRIEF | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yesimwriting · 2 years

Note

Hi, I'm kind of picky of FF in general, smut especially, but your "Pulling away" is just beyond perfect. Do you maybe have time and the enthusiasm to write something like that again? Not sure what other characters you'd write for (out of your master list) but another Joel would be great anyway. Thank you for your work!

A/n ahh thank you!! the feedback i've gotten on "Pulling Away" has been unbelievable,, and i very rarely usually write smut without being prompted to lol, i feel like it's too obvious that i'm a virgin who has had very few sexual experiences, even less if you don't count the ones i didn't fully consent to,, but that's neither here nor there, i'm doing better now i promise :)

also ik my masterlist is super limited compared to who i actually write for lol,, updating it is my absolute enemy but i'm working on it 😭

also the build up in this fic is criminal!! that's my bad!

Summary: You, Ellie, and Joel have recently decided to permanently settle in Jackson. The promise of stability seems to lead to boundaries adjusting during a sleepless night after Joel appears in your bedroom.

smut warning, 18 plus !!

----

It's existed in him as undeniably and permanently as the lines etched into the slightly calloused skin of the back of his palm. Control is something that Joel Miller knows, something he clings to the same way he keeps a gun in his hand when he needs to.

Control is what keeps him from reacting when your arm moves too carelessly and your elbow manages to push against his ribs. The side that you know is more yellow-purple than the soft tan it should be. If you weren't lying next to him, you would have assumed that the shift of your arm had no affect on him. But you're pressed closer to him than you've ever been, so you can feel the shift despite his intentions. It's subtle. A pinch in his breathing and a brief wave of tension in his spine.

"Sorry," your blurt out is instinctual, and you're not sure if it might be making things worse. You've never been this close to him and it burns so much you can practically feel it melting the thin ice holding the two of you above water.

Burns in a good way. A way that you've only ever felt through brief flutters that have come up more and more recently. Lingering touches patching up injuries, reassuring squeezes of hands that are always brief and never mentioned, the press of Joel's knee against yours as you sat at that table in Jackson, overwhelmed by the presence of so many strangers.

And now this. You, Joel, and Ellie had been given a place to stay. You used to dream about your own bed. A safe roof over your head and a clean blanket keeping you warm. Finally getting it left you restless. Being away from Joel and Ellie felt unnatural even if they were in the same building as you. There are so many strangers here, and even though they have no reason to strike you down, it's still weird.

You couldn't help the obsessive thoughts. It felt oddly compulsive, the urge to wrap the two of them up in warm blankets and bubble wrap and just watch them be okay. It's weird, but what can you say, Ellie and Joel are your people.

And then Joel wandered in after some talk with his brother. It had surprised you, considering the way he had avoided you earlier, but you'd never complain about having him close.

You're still not sure how it happened. How Joel started asking you about how you were settling and telling you that Ellie was just fine. He had gone in to check up on her and then lingered until she fell asleep. The thought of that domestic moment made your heart swell and you found yourself relaxing.

Somehow Joel ended up taking some of your covers. There's a draft, it's winter. You forced yourself to not focus on that in any other context. Refused to give it any other meaning. And then he moved closer, eventually laid his head on your pillow. You almost convinced yourself it was just a way to be a little comfortable while keeping up conversation. But then the talk eventually faded and you had to move to let him fit and you ended up like this. Safe and fragile.

This stray from what's normal is okay tonight. Everything is still weird, you three like awkward, feral cats compared to the people of Jackson.

"You're fine," he breathes, voice rough with sleep.

His acceptance is easy but it does nothing to make you less aware of your position. You're more on top of him than you need to be and your mind is suddenly scrambling, trying to remember every injury you've ever seen him receive.

Untangling yourself from the gentle cocoon you've created is an ache in your chest, but the thought of hurting him is worse. You move your leg close to the edge of the bed and start the careful process of retracting your arm.

Joel shifts with a slight sigh, his own hand following your own. He snags your wrist, pulling you back into place. "You're fine." Joel repeats his earlier words, so half thought out and mumbled together you think they might even be sleep idled.

"Careful," you try, fighting against the blood rushing to your face. "I don't want to hurt you."

Joel's hand moves down your forearm with a slowness that almost feels deliberate. You have to press your lips together to keep from exhaling too sharply. He turns his head and even in the dark you can feel the focus of his gaze.

He swallows once, lips parting for a moment before he speaks, "Hurts more the other way." It's vulnerable and not, undercut by something that feels so factual you briefly have to think about whether or not that's physically possible. "It's good pressure."

Your eyebrows draw together at the realization that he's not entirely joking. The audacity. He's always referencing his age and the soreness that's going to have to catch him at one point or another but now there's not a single concern for his joints or potential hip damage. You've always had a feeling that at least a part of that rant has to be bullshit, or at least some kind of exaggeration.

You scoff but make no move to pull away as Joel settles. "I don't believe you." Normally you wouldn't state anything so transparently. Any flash of softness is glass and barely tangible. Trying to grasp it by speaking about in the open makes it vanish. Like waking too suddenly from an incomplete dream. But you don't feel at risk, something about the dark and the warmth and his hand on your forearm. "You're so full of shit--what happened to old man knees and arthritis and hip joint iss-"

"You're making up those last two."

There's silence for a brief moment and then laughter. A stupid burst of giggles that has you forgetting the little bit of normal left. Your forehead briefly falls down, your face pressing against his shoulder as you try to keep it down. He laughs with you after a second, a reluctant, almost annoyed display of amusement.

You're still recovering, breathing a little heavier than usual and coming back enough to realize that this level of closeness may be pushing it. You lift your head just as Joel's hand finds a place between your shoulders. First a fist and then his fingers patiently relaxing. You don't think you've ever been this still in your life.

"I can't keep track of all your old man ailments," it's a whisper that's more against his skin than not.

He lets out a breath, "You needed me to help you onto a horse today."

You halfheartedly glare even though you're too pressed into him for him to be able to see you. "I could do it by myself now." Likely a lie, considering it had only taken a second with Joel's help and the concept of casual horse riding still feels foreign. "I just hadn't ridden one before."

His hand shifts up your back, an unbelieving hum escaping him. Has Joel always been this warm? And somehow both so evidently sturdy but still comfortable? Safe? You don't know what possesses you, maybe it's the urge to not feel so divided from him in any way, but you turn head slightly to make it easier to speak: "You're not actually that old."

He pauses at that, fingertips freezing against the fabric of your pajama shirt. "Older than you."

You let out a sigh, feeling like there's a hint of something else tucked into his words that you're too tired to explore. "So?" He lets out another flat breath, a sound you don't quite understand but makes you want to compensate, "You can get old, though, when it's your time."

He shifts in a way that feels like a combination of stifling a laugh and a display of a touch of reluctant curiosity. "You givin' me permission?"

"Not like that," you shake your head against his arm, "I just--I don't know--I think it'd be good if you got to be old with arthritis and bad hip joints and whatever else happens. It'd mean you were still alive."

You don't realize what you're saying until the words slip out. The blankness of your statement is too honest and you blame the fact that you're actually starting to feel like you could benefit from the sleep you've been putting off. It's instinctual to turn into him in a vain attempt to get closer even though you're already hanging onto him in a way that feels ridiculous. Your fingers curl in to him a little more, clutching at the surprisingly soft fabric of his shirt.

It's a subtle change, but you're not surprised that Joel notices. You are, however, not expecting him to understand. The hand on your back draws up even further, pushing you against him more firmly. Maybe Joel did have a point. Good pressure.

"Don't go thinkin' about it."

For once, you want to listen to him without putting up a fight just to see that line between his forehead reappear. But you can't. It's not that easy. Even here, as safe as it's ever going to get, there's still a chance of loss. And even if the world was perfect and Joel could guarantee that there would never be a dangerous patrol or anything threatening him again, there are still other things that worry you. There's no reason for you all to stay together.

When your only response is to halfheartedly nod so that he can feel the motion, Joel lets out a partial sigh. The movement of his chest is more noticeable than the sound. His hand travels down the expanse of your back, something you only recognize because of the warmth his touch leaves in its wake. You're only half there until his fingers brush against a small expanse of exposed skin where your sleep shirt had ridden up. Nothing insanely suggestive, nothing that should be considered too intimate. It's likely an accident, too. It's too dark for it to be intentional.

Knowing this is not enough to keep your body from tensing. Joel's fingers move upwards with no warning, slipping between the only layer dividing you. The cotton of the T-shirt is trapping him and the heat of his touch as his hand settles on your hip.

"You here?" His question is low, like he's trying to compensate for the hint of worry leaching into his tone. "With me?" The second part of the question is an afterthought, said so quickly and earnestly it feels like an impulse.

You're melting, and you don't mind it all. In fact, you're starting to think you might prefer it. "For now, at least."

It's half joke, half something else. A punch that some cynical, over worrying part of your brain needs to throw. You hope he won't see past the shell of humor, but feel the uphill battle in his silence. In the eventual drag of his thumb across the curve of your hip. The gesture is a contradiction in itself--small and cautious yet so natural. What should feel foreign is so familiar it coats it all in a layer of intimacy that's difficult to just sit with.

An odd sense of almost panic that makes it impossible to think settles in you. Something in you feels like it's burning, a slow fire that's patiently spreading. You don't know if you want him closer or farther or something in between.

The mix of unknown emotions is enough to distract you from your derailing train of thought. Maybe that's the point. Some strategy on Joel's end to force a mental reset. If it is, it's working. You wouldn't say you're breathing any better or more calmly, you're just more aware of the way air enters your lungs and filters right back out. The world seems to be reduced to that. Just your breathing. And Joel.

The little of him you can make out in the dark and the feel of him everywhere without him feeling close enough. He's steady, secure in his firmness like he's some immovable force. Joel is also starting to feel like a natural heater, radiating just enough warmth to make everything comfortable.

What is wrong with you today? These thoughts might be more dangerous than the other ones. They're definitely close to being more overwhelming. All of this has to be in your head, the result of all the feelings you've been attempting quell all day culminating and a touch of something else. The thoughts about Joel that you've been fighting against since you first met him finally winning.

Every time you've forced yourself to stare at your hands after the edge of Joel's shirt rode up as he reached for something or moved a certain way. Every stray thought that rooted itself in your mind like an invasive species while you patched him up after a rough day. Every painfully overwhelming moment where you let yourself get distracted by his hands for reasons you could never justify. Those same hands are on you right now.

Okay--you need to get it together. Stop playing at something that's definitely all in your head. Your eyes drift up, searching for Joel's expression in an attempt to convince yourself to be normal. To remind yourself what's at risk if you don't get what you've been begging yourself not to let be actual romantic feelings in check.

He's already looking at you, eyes focused and jaw so tense you can tell from your position. Joel presses his lips together. The hand that's on you shifts upwards. Nothing drastic, but the heat of his pinky is now melting into the skin above your ribs.

You have to bite your tongue to keep from letting a shaky breath escape you. It's too much and nowhere near enough. It's another contradiction that throws you through a loop. You need him closer and the desire twists at you even further. There's a level of hesitant care in all levels of him. In his touch, in the way he's watching you. Like he just can't help it.

It's so overwhelming you have to do something. So you do the only thing you can think of. You reach out to him. Your hand finds his upper forearm.

The motion seems to shift things. Joel lets out a breath, but it's not the easygoing sound it was earlier. It's strained. "Y'should get some sleep."

You're not all that tired anymore, but his tone and your own confusion makes you want to listen. At least he hasn't done anything to imply that he's leaving.

A part of you wants to leave it at what it is. There's no reason to risk his presence by pushing. You don't know what that last moment was about, but Joel's earlier gruffness from today seems to be coming back. "You okay?" The question feels awkward hanging there on its own. "You've been moody."

The hand still under your shirt adjusts with him. "Moody?"

"Mhm." His fingers ghost up your spine, making it twice as hard to organize your thoughts. "More earlier than now, when..." God, you can barely remember with the way he's tracing patterns onto your skin. "When we were with that group?"

Joel's lips briefly pull into a frown. "I know that Jackson people are a little different than us, but trusting them all so soon--" He cuts himself off briefly. "Just don't think it's a good idea for you to accept it all so--"

He pauses as you shift against him as you move to sit up. Joel watches the separation with sharp caution. He doesn't ease until you settle again, your chin resting against his stomach. "Seriously?" It's a lighthearted enough disagreement. "I'm not overly trusting anything. I feel like a crazy person half the time because I feel like I should be staring down anyone that talks to Ellie or you for a second too long."

The confession eases Joel much more than it should. It's proof that he's been searching for...proof that he's needed. That you're still here. Still his and Ellie's above anything else.

But it's been an unsure couple of days. You're good with people, likable in a natural way. You know how to make people feel easy. It's not your fault that you're the natural communicator in the trio, and it's a good thing that at least one of you is inclined towards that sort of thing. It's just been harder than he thought, to watch people always talk to you, even if it's just a way of communicating something to all three of you. Especially when you smile or laugh as another way to ease them.

It's even worse when it happens to be other men. You don't see it, the way their eyes linger or their tendency to lean in just a little too close. Don't know the way your polite smiles and words draw them in. There isn't exactly a plethora of new women appearing daily, so your novelty is only an amplifier to all your good traits.

Tommy's been giving him shit about it. How long did you have to close the deal on that when you were her only option?

It was an almost brotherly form of teasing, but it still rubbed Joel the wrong way because of how true it is. He can't justify the bitter, protective vile that leaves his chest feeling too tight when he sees how well you fit. How easy it'd be for you to end up with one of the guys from here, closer to your age and a lifetime less of baggage.

Joel hates the breathlessness of it, hates that he has time to think about these kinds of things now. The resentment is too much, bubbles up and comes out in the form of something mean, "Doesn't always look that way."

It's not an overly done insult, and somehow that's worth. Joel's faint accusation is personal and it lands the way he knew it would. You sit up so quickly, Joel can't even try to stop you. "What the fuck does that mean?"

The bed is small, clearly meant for one. Sitting up didn't exactly accomplish what Joel has to assume was your goal--to create distance. You're still tangled together, only it's different now. You're practically sitting on his lap. His mind, which should be focusing on the fact that he's upset you, that he's pushing you in the exact direction he doesn't want you to go in, can only think of your sleep shorts.

Maria promised to get you some pajama pants as soon as some came in, but that hasn't happened yet. Winter makes clothing a little scarce, so you've been managing in a pair of elastic shorts. Thin, elastic shorts.

"Just that it looks like you've been getting comfortable. Trusting others, spending time with Ben."

Your lips pull into a firm pout. "I'm not going out of my way to trust shit. Yeah, I talk to a lot of people, but that's just because I rather that than have them talk to you or Ellie first. It--it feels safer that way."

There's such a genuineness in that, Joel almost feels bad, almost feels the need to back step. But your indignation at the implication that you're trying to leave is too alleviating. Until you try to crawl towards the edge of the bed. Away from him.

Joel props himself up on his elbow and reaches for you. His hand finding your forearm feels like giving something up. A silent, too raw plea for you not to go. He knows it isn't quite that in so many words, but you understand. You always do in your talent for feeling the way he bends for you when he can.

For a moment, that's it. Just his hand on your arm, still perched on the edge of the bed, still flighty. One move and you might be gone. It'd be so easy.

Joel's never really considered himself a pissing on his territory type of person or one to be found of dependents, but he'd be lying if he didn't say Jackson didn't worry him. He's not an idiot, he knows he's been rough to travel with and that he's taken time to get to here, but you've always stayed close. Some of that must have been influenced by survival.

Not that Joel wants you to stick around because you have no other choice. He'd never use that against you, it's just something that he wonders about from time to time. A fear that this might be how he finds out that's the only reason the two of you have been together for so long.

He's been thinking about loss more lately. After the decision he made, after what almost happened to Ellie. Losing Sarah left him stagnant for 20 years and some days that grief still flares up and makes breathing feel impossible. It's a wound that will never fully heal, and maybe that's for the best. Hurt means not forgetting, but Joel knows he doesn't have anymore of that left in him.

What if he did just fuck everything up? Not just for him, but for Ellie as well. He sees the way she looks at you, like you're everything. He's peered into your mornings together, the world that is your little routine and your inside jokes. If he messed all of that up because he only knows how to be an asshole when any type of feeling comes up...

Joel knows action better than he knows words. Caring is easier an action, and so is apology. His hand releases your forearm, trailing down your arm and settling on your exposed thigh. When you don't push him away or try to move, Joel feels like he can fully inhale again.

"You know my priorities, right?" Your voice sounds more hesitant than before. Nervous. "It's you and Ellie. It's been you and Ellie and nothing's going to change that. It doesn't matter if we're here for two more days or two more decades."

A pinch of guilt rises in his chest. Normally that level of promise would make him feel the need to cut all ties. Safer that way. But Joel doesn't want to hold you at arm's length, not right now. Carefully, his hand moves forward, closer to your inner thigh than knee.

He should say something. Admit to his own insecurity or apologize. "I know," is all that comes out, even though it doesn't really matter, you have every right to walk away. Your eyes still soften, though, like he managed to come close to saying what you needed to hear. "I shouldn't have said that."

His hand moves up even further and this time you have to react, your breath catching itself on your throat. The noise fucking gets to him. Gets to him in a way nothing has in a minute.

"You're kind of an asshole, sometimes," it's breathed out in a way that feels like you're accepting his apology, "And it's only going to get worse as you settle into your old age."

There it is. The joke was forced through the uneven timbre of your breathing, but it's there. All you, all forgiveness in the way the corner of your mouth turns upwards.

Joel's thumb drags across the soft skin of your inner thigh, "So now I'm already there?"

You blink, unsure on how to react to anything with his hand tenderly working the skin of your inner thigh. Everything in you is only capable of focusing on the feeling, of chasing it. "Getting there." Joel's thumb and pointer finger briefly pinch at your skin in a way that has to be intentional, right? His touch is approaching the end of your shorts.

The closer he gets, the worse the distance feels. Your face feels like it's burning at the thought. This is Joel, not some random guy that things could be casual with. Or maybe he could be casual, but you--god, you're getting ahead of yourself. This isn't--it--

"Too old?" Joel stretches forward, sitting up a little more. "You lookin' for younger like Ben?"

There's something odd in his tone. A flat attempt at humor that misses because it's too straightforward. Ben. Again. This is the second time his name's come up tonight. Why? And that's not even the strangest part. His assumption is what sticks out the most.

"I'm not..." Fuck, his hands are killing you. "I'm not looking. Not actively and if I..." Okay, it's officially too much, he's turning you into a transparent puddle. His hand pauses and pulls back down, settling on your knee. Firmly. Unbudging in a silent demand to continue.

He traces circles onto your knee with his thumb. "You can say it," he encourages in a way that feels like he's patronizing you.

The words feel like too much. Some lines might have been crossed today, but nothing life changing. You two could still dismiss the whole thing, crawl beneath thin sheets, fall asleep, and wake up the next morning like nothing ever happened. But his hands on your thigh and the needy ache you're not sure you fully understand it left you with. And what it felt like to have him closer.

Joel's sitting up fully now, waiting. "If I was looking, it wouldn't be at Ben, it'd be..." His hand calmly trails back to its previous spot on your leg with each of your words. Fuck, you're struggling to think again. "At you."

At that, his fingers push upwards, touching directly between your legs. "Really?" He's quick to create a steady rhythm, pulsing his pointer and middle finger at a speed that makes it impossible to breath. Your eyes screw shut so tightly you see stars. "You're so wet, can feel it through those shorts of yours."

The way Joel's voice catches on itself makes a weak sound slip out. You'd be embarrassed by it if he gave you the chance to be, but before you can even think twice about it, Joel's free hand finds the back of his head. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls you forward so harshly you try to gasp. The sound doesn't make it out, Joel's mouth is on yours before it has a chance.

He holds you against him as he takes his time pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth and letting his tongue glide over the bites. Your mouth opens for him instinctually, asking for more.

Joel's taking his time and moving at a speed that has him everywhere all at once as his fingers continue to work you through the fabric that divides you. He releases you with no warning, the hand at the back of your head finding a new place right beneath your chin. His fingers pause, forcing out an instinctual whine.

He's panting near your ear in a way that makes you miss his touch even more. "So this is all for me, sweetheart?" His eyes flit from your face back down to your lips.

Even though the question is dripping with roughness, there still manages to be a hint of something else there. Something genuine. It doesn't matter, though, because all you have the willpower to do is nod. Joel turns his head, pressing a kiss to your temple that's so close to tender it leaves you spinning. He trails the barely there kisses down to your ear before whispering, "Then prove it."

The word's send a jolt through you. "Prove it?"

Joel tugs you closer, you listen clambering back to where you were before trying to leave. Joel rests his back against the wall and makes a point of extending one leg. You don't fully get it until he's helping you ease onto his thigh. The material of his sweats is nowhere near enough.

"Joel--"

"Sh," he hums, soothingly as he runs a hand up and down your back, "It's okay, sweetheart." The hand that's still on your hip squeezes firmly. "I've got you, y'know that." He helps pull you forward on his thigh and the pressure after so long without nothing hits you harder than you thought it would. "There you go," you push down harder, faster, "Just like that."

The longer you go, the more Joel encourages you, whispering sweet nothings and words of encouragement as the knot in your stomach continues to grow until your body feels it. You're seizing up, body ready to throw itself off of a ledge. Your thigh squeezes around his leg, which must be how Joel knows you're close, because before you can find release, his hand is leaving your back and moving onto your arm. In one, fluid motion that should be impossible, he flips you two.

Your back is on the mattress and Joel's above you, pinning you in place with his body. You can feel him, all of him, hard and struggling between the layers that divide you.

Your lips part, but you don't know what to say. You're still reeling from your stolen orgasm, and you're not sure if you want to curse him out for it or simply ask why and how. Bad back your ass the way he just turned the two of you over with no real effort.

Before a single sound can come out of you, Joel folds the edge of the T-shirt you sleep in, exposing your stomach. A fluttery kiss to newly exposed skin. Again and again until he has to push up even more of your shirt to continue. "This," his voice comes out lower, harder as he tugs at the fabric, "Off."

You sit up just enough to help him tug the shirt off as quickly as possible. The desperation makes it harder than it ever should be to take off a shirt, but the offensive piece of fabric eventually finds its way to the floor.

The bareness you feel is startling, even in this level of darkness. Joel doesn't give you a chance to let your mind wander or insecurity take root. His mouth is exploring the newly exposed skin immediately. It's a rabid mix of love bites and placating the irritated marks with soft passes of his tongue and genuine, devoted kisses.

It's then that you realize there's a reason he's taking his time. He's definitely hard, you can feel him pressing against your thigh, but that doesn't matter to him. He's taking his time because he can. Because he's enjoying it, getting off on having you writhing and desperate under him.

"Joel," your voice is so small it feels like it belongs to someone else.

He pauses, lifting his head just enough that the scruff of his facial hair scratches comfortingly against your skin. A reminder that he's still him. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

You carefully lift a hand, making sure your movements are easy to follow in the dark. Joel lets your fingers settle in his hair. "Need more-need you."

"I know, sweetheart." His voice is low and soft, impossible to not trust. "You can wait a little longer." His teeth drag against your skin again. "Can't you, baby?"

Fuck, he could ask you anything like that and you'd have to say yes. "Mm."

He takes it as the answer it's supposed to be. Joel goes back to it until his fingers finally snag around the elastic band of your shorts. In one swift motion, he tugs it and your underwear away, leaving you fully exposed. He gives no warning before moving his mouth to your thighs, slowly moving up until the only thing left is your center.

With no warning, Joel licks through your folds. You practically cry out. "I know, sweetheart," he mumbles, barely looking up, "You can take it."

After that, he picks up the pace. Just as you think you're going to get used to the overwhelming pleasure, Joel moves his hand down your waist to use his thumb against your clit. Fuck. You're panting, whining, begging.

Joel groans. "You're close, I can feel you." His fingers replace his mouth, "You gonna come?" Another whine, like your body has forgotten how to make any other sound. "Yeah?" He's picking up the pace, pushing his fingers into you in a way that hits you somewhere deep. "Come on my fingers, sweetheart, I've got you."

His pace reaches its peak and his thumb works at your clit until you're finally pushed over the edge. Joel reaches you before you can scream, muffling the sound of your orgasm by pressing his lips to yours.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as he works you through your high. Joel knows when to stop, when the pleasure comes close to bordering on painful, he moves his hand back up your waist and focuses on just kissing you.

After a few minutes, you regain control of your thoughts. The urge to pull him closer takes over once again. Without thinking, you're tugging at the hem of his shirt. You almost think twice about it, but decide that it's only fair. He's touched so much of you and seen even more. All while fully clothed.

You're not as good or tactful about it as he is, likely due to the gap in your experience, but Joel picks up on what you want. He pulls away cautiously, eyebrows furrowing together like he's debating before finally giving in.

He discards his shirt just as carelessly as he got rid of his own. Joel tries to reconnect the two of you together again before you can take full note of him. It's a tactic you find the strength to beat, turning your head just enough to indicate that you're pausing.

Joel allows that, stills against with no protest. The silent promise that it's your pace is comforting. You let your eyes rake over his chest in what you hope is subtle, but really doubt actually comes off that way. You can feel him tense under your gaze. You stretch out a hand carefully, touching him because you can. Your attention focuses on the details that you can make out despite the limited light. A few marks of varying sizes are visible across his skin.

Scars. You wonder how many of them there are and the stories behind each. What it'd feel like to touch and learn each of them until they're as familiar as the lines of your palms. Your hand drifts down, faintly touching a particularly long mark.

Joel's hand moves, catching your wrist before you can make it any further. You frown up at him. "I want--"

"I--" He cuts himself off, unsure on how to explain it. You deserve to know what a war it will be to get him to open up, but he doesn't want that to change things. "Not yet, okay?" He squeezes your hand in his. "I'm not an easy person to care about, to get close to, but I--I can try to--"

"I disagree." He frowns at being cut off, but lets you continue. "And you don't have to worry about forcing anything right now, whatever you have to give, that's what I want."

That's all it takes. Joel crashes his mouth to yours, holding you there for much longer than before. He shifts away just enough to be able to pull down his pants. He strokes himself briefly before lining himself up with your entrance.

Joel enters you with no warning, easing himself in until your hips are pressed together. You're a mess despite his soothing words. He pulls back and pushes back, again and again until all you're seeing is white, blinding pleasure. "Fuck!"

"You're squeezin' me so good, sweetheart," his groans are hot and heavy against the shell of your ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he's losing his tact, his movements becoming more and more desperate. "You gonna come with me?"

You nod, eyes screwing shut as Joel picks up the pace until you're a mess again. He clamps a hand over your mouth as your second orgasm hits you fast and hard. It takes all of Joel's strength to pull out before finishing.

He lets himself relax against you after, a mess of sweaty limbs as you both recover. After a minute, Joel sits up. "You leaving?"

Joel brushes back your hair out of your face gently. "No, sweetheart, just need to get something to clean you up, okay?" You're about to protest again, but Joel beats you to it, "You don't want to sleep like this." When your only reaction is to pout up to him and cling to his arm, Joel leans down and finds a shirt to offer you. "Ellie's an early riser that never learned how to knock. You want to deal with this in the morning while pretending you're not?"

That's a point that sticks. You could probably explain Joel being in here early in the morning or he could climb out of your bed at first sunlight to keep this from being weird for Ellie...but your current state? Yeah, that's undeniable. "Come back?"

Joel squeezes your hand, taking a moment to watch your small expression fondly. "Promise."

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

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f1daydreamers · 1 year

Text

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟕

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: exes ugh, lots of fluff, lotta kissing, some angst but more towards the end, cliffhanger cause ik y'all hate me already :D brief mentions of alcohol, please tell me if I have missed anything!!

Word Count: 3.1k words (11 mins reading time avg)

…

"Well played," Thomas slid past you with a remark as you stood amongst a group of relatives who were mostly conversing between themselves.

You turned your head to acknowledge him, obviously knowing he was referring to the kiss he'd seen you and Lance share earlier.

As the memory resurfaced, you couldn't help but suppress a smile while recalling it.

Subconsciously, your finger gravitated towards your lips, etching into your mind the unforgettable sensation of his lips melding seamlessly with yours, akin to the completion of a long-lost puzzle.

Maybe you began to daydream a little, staring at the hardwood floor when your aunt shook your shoulder. "I called you twice, had too much to drink?" She asked, though smiling through the question.

"Sorry Aunt Mel, what did you need?" She waved you off, "nothing. Your boyfriend's looking for you, dear."

"My boy… oh my boyfriend. Um, where is he?" you stammered, your aunt studying your face with a hint of suspicion, as if contemplating the extent of your alcohol consumption tonight.

"Last I saw him, he was by the chocolate fountain. You need me to go with you?" You shook your head despite the fact it wasn't very convincing, handing her your empty wine glass and wandering off.

Maybe you were rubbing your head or the nape of your neck when you spotted a familiar tall man with a tucked in shirt.

You reached for his arm but pulled away at the last second when you realised it was somebody else. "Sorry Unc-"

Before you allowed yourself to finish the sentence, you whisked around when you felt someone's presence right on your back. They steadied you with their hands on your arms, but a warm smile encompassed your lips when you realised who it was.

"018!" You exclaimed excitedly.

He scoffed, it was a running joke between his team that the 018 number would be used when Lance was either running late or wasn't anywhere to be found minutes before an important event, which had happened a few times too many.

When he eventually showed up, usually his team of mechanics which now had extended to any personnel who so happened to be present either by accident or not, would shout it out.

He never knew the backstory to it, just always played along, dishing out a few quick slaps on his engineers' arms before running off to fulfil his contractual obligations.

"Oh so now you know about that too?" He questioned, his hands sliding down your arms to meet your hands.

You tilted your head, reducing your otherwise beaming smile to an innocent one. You glance down at your intertwining hands before responding.

"Well, it's hard not to when the entire garage shouts it out for the whole paddock to hear." You explained.

"Is that so?" You nod curtly, biting back a laugh. He leaned forward and you decide to help him out, tip-toeing to meet his lips in the middle.

His right hand gently rests on your jawline. When you broke away, you rested both of your hands on his chest.

"Technically, we have a whole weekend to make up for. You know, for the sake of acting." He says, a subtle thrill in his voice like a whisper of excitement, one barely perceptible but undeniably present.

You hum agreeingly, tucking your bottom lip in between your two rows of teeth.

...

"Okay, that is so not what happened!" You burst into laughter as Daisy makes a genuine attempt to swat your cousin's head, playfully aiming to embarrass her with his exaggerated rendition of a story that your sister insists is nowhere near the truth.

"Why do we believe anything Dais says, you said you were giving up sugar three weeks ago and today the only thing I saw you cosying up to was the dessert stand."

Your dad nearly choked on his water just as everyone laughed again, recalling the heartfelt speech your sister gave about the perils of unhealthy eating.

While you obviously agreed with her message, the notion of practicing what you preach was never one of her exemplary mottos and this was one example of many.

"Okay, leave me alone! I held that up for a whole week and then I got my period so was it really my fault?" You smiled, shaking your head.

After some time, you decided to retreat from the living room as the various relatives who had gathered after the wedding started to head home.

With a sense of anticipation for your leave tomorrow evening, you bid them your goodbyes, realising that you wouldn't have another chance to see them before your departure.

You guess Lance was being your moral support with an occasional squeeze on the shoulder. The formality of goodbyes always stirred up emotions within you, especially when the uncertainty of the next meeting loomed large.

You made an internal vow to meet with them again over the summer, just as you had promised yourself in previous years. Yet, deep down, you couldn't ignore the fact that those plans often fell short of their intended course.

"You okay?" Lance asked, concern lacing his words. You gave a nod in response, avoiding his gaze and discreetly pressing your finger to the inner corner of your eye, collecting the tear that lingered, on the verge of spilling over.

After you bid goodnight to your parents, you and Lance finally retreated into your bedroom for the final time this weekend.

You flicked the light switch on as the F1 driver removed the tie hanging around his neck, having undone it the moment you left the venue anyway.

You picked at your false lashes, already feeling the weight on your eyes lighten a little when you simultaneously peeled them off and stuck them back on to their packaging.

Maybe half an hour had passed when you'd wrapped up your time in the bathroom, relieved to change out of your dress and remove the makeup that had adorned your face.

Despite not consuming much alcohol tonight, you had an inkling that tomorrow morning would greet you with a headache, or at the very least, some discomfort.

As you entered the room, you noticed Lance sitting on the air mattress, perceiving your hesitance upon seeing him there. He looked devilishly handsome even after a full night of dancing, drinking and socialising. You wanted to despise him for it, but how could you despise someone so perfect?

"What?" he inquired, breaking your momentary trance as you snapped back into reality and proceeded to hang your dress behind the door.

"Nothing," you replied, the sound of the door clicking shut marked your decision to face him. Though you attempted to dismiss the notion, Lance wasn't willing to let it go so easily.

With a faint but lopsided smile, he spoke up, "You gave me a look." You rolled your eyes, briefly glancing at the time displayed on your phone before reaching down to plug it into the charging cable.

“No. I didn’t.” You persisted.

"You tryna gaslight me right now?" You scoff, turning your head to see him beginning to stand up, you tried to ignore the rush of beats in your chest but it was his fault he had that stupid mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I'm not. I didn't give you a look. It's been a long day." You tore your eyes away from him.

"Has it?" You could sense he was moving closer but you didn’t dare look, trying to occupy yourself with the items scattered messily on your nightstand from the rush of leaving this morning.

“See, now you’re not looking at me.” You sigh unsteadily, finding his teasing intolerable for someone so attractive.

“Maybe I don’t want to look at you.” You turn your head in his general direction, emphasising your point but Lance only chuckled.

A momentary silence enveloped the room, and remnants of the wedding flooded your mind. You vividly recalled the instance when you found him near the chocolate fountain, guided by your Aunt Mel's directions.

Before, his chest only loomed behind you, but now you were certain that he was intentionally getting that much closer.

The palms of his hands feathered over your shoulders before pressing into them. His touch sent a surge of electricity through your entire being, awakening every nerve ending as if it were a cascade of fireworks illuminating the sky.

His voice barely above a whisper, emerged rather as a raspy murmur, "You don't want to look at me?"

“Maybe,” you reply, your head spinning as you attempt to make sense of his hands caressing your shoulders for any reason other than the one your heart was about to burst out of your chest for. Your fingers fiddled with the medication packet in an attempt to distract yourself.

“You sure?” You’re rendered speechless, his pelvis brushing against you. One of his hands remain atop of your shoulder, but you can feel every little tap, every little rub against your arm when he slides his other downwards.

It brushes against the fabric of your pajamas before finding its place, squeezing somewhere between the curve in your waist and your hip.

Perhaps you were being irrational or imagining a scenario beyond the realm of possibility, even in your wildest dreams. So when you start to turn towards him, Lance had already accepted your response.

Practically speeding up the process and turning you so you were facing him completely, he guides his other hand directly parallel to the other and uses the force he has over you physically, and the one you were allowing him from sheer vulnerability, to rotate your bodies.

You had your back turned towards the bed, feeling his hands firmly planted on either side of you, the intense contact driving you to the brink, yet you refused to lose yourself. You fought hard to remain grounded in the present moment, even when his head lowered to capture your lips in a kiss.

The cloud of uncertainty between you two dissipates, as if a wall had crumbled, giving way to an intense desire. Lance boldly encroaches on your personal space while you glide your hands up his chest and around his neck. With a firm press, his body collides with yours, causing both of you to stumble backward.

You find yourself collapsing onto the bed, and Lance positions himself on top of you, his body weight supported by his arm next to your head. With tenderness, you raise your hands to his face and gently cradle his cheeks in your palms, engaging him in a kiss.

The unraveling of his self-control is captivating as his hands glide over your neck, waist, and thigh with a benign caress. The kiss is fiery, possessing a rawness that contrasts with the smoothness of his lips.

As Lance's mouth leaves yours, planting softer kisses on your neck, a sharp pain shoots through your knee. You make an effort to conceal the burning sensation, but your body tenses involuntarily. His lips detach from your skin, his attention now focused on your discomfort.

“M’sorry.” You breathe out, frustrated and shut your eyes in annoyance.

"It's okay. Your knee?" Lance's concerned voice reaches your ears, and you give a single nod in response. The warmth of his body against yours lessens as he readjusts his position. Turning your head towards him, you can't help but wonder what's unfolding in his mind.

Lance exhales deeply as he pushes himself up and away from your body, running a hand through his hair. "Must've been from all that dancing," he remarks. You manage a weak chuckle, he was probably right.

You raise a hand to your forehead, realising you haven't experienced such feelings coursing through your body like this in years. The expectancy, nerves, and excitement intertwine, building up to a breaking point, like a taut spring ready to release its tension.. or snap in half.

Thoughts of self-doubt creep into your mind, wondering how pathetic and weak he might perceive you to be. As you withdraw your hand from your forehead, you notice him rising to his feet.

"Lance," you instinctively call out, though unsure of what you want to say next. Sitting up, you lock eyes with him, but a sudden pause overtakes you. Your lips part slightly, as if hoping it'll hasten your currently blank thought process.

“Yeah?” He prods you on further, but all that can leave your mouth is, “thank you.”

“For uh for this weekend. I guess you did really well.” He laughs, nodding his head.

As he makes his way around the bed to return to his air mattress, you reach up to the side of your neck where Lance left a particularly distinct kiss. Your fingers delicately graze over the tender patch of skin, feeling a lingering warmth.

Without another moment's notice, Lance switches off the light, plunging the room into darkness. A pang of sadness wells up in your chest, if only you had concealed your pain instead of openly admitting to it.

After a few minutes of silence, you lift yourself up to rest against your pillow, wincing slightly at the discomfort in your joint. Lifting the blanket, you slide beneath it, crossing your arms underneath the cover to try and warm yourself.

You search for something else to say, hesitant to fall asleep on these terms. The bed dips on the other side and you can't help but wonder what he might do next, or if he'll do anything at all. The uncertainty hangs in the air, intensifying the uneasiness inside of you.

For a brief moment, you feel a tinge of disappointment but it quickly fades when his hand slides under your top, traversing over your stomach, drawing him closer to you.

In a pleasant surprise, you turn your body to face him, and a smile spreads across your face when you catch the familiar glint in his eyes.

“You need to get it checked out,” he advises.

“I will,” you reply, sliding a touch closer to him.

Lance’s hand glides along the ridge in your hip, before moving to rest on your thigh. He presses his lips against the line where your scalp meets your forehead as you tuck your head in between the curve of his jaw and neck.

"Back home tomorrow," he whispers, and a bittersweet feeling settles in your stomach. It's ironic how, at the beginning, you wished for this weekend to be over, but now, almost 72 hours later, you find yourself yearning for the opposite.

His warmth comforts you the best it can, and you hum to assure him that you heard what he said. As the tiredness from the day weighs on you, sleep gradually takes over, and you find yourself succumbing to its embrace in the safety of his arms.

…

Your brows pull inwards when you awaken to the sound of a loud knock on your door. Lance isn't beside you, and you assume he must've already left to grab his morning coffee, considerately letting you sleep in.

"What?" you mumble, your words partially muffled by the pillow mushed into half of your face.

Your sister opens it, brushing her hair with one hand and the other waving you up. Like that was sufficient enough motivation to make you want to leave your bed.

“Dad's treating us all to this breakfast place ‘cause you’re leaving today so.. you’ve got 10 minutes to get ready.” You groan but have no option to argue when Daisy’s already gone by the time you blink both of your eyes open.

You feel like shit and you definitely look like shit when you force yourself to get up and out of bed, usually that takes you 10 minutes alone so you mentally applaud yourself for doing it so quickly.

You hurry downstairs once you’ve completed the tasks compiled from basic human hygiene, meeting only Lance in the kitchen, leaned against the counter with phone in hand.

“Where is everyone?” He looks up, rather obviously checks you out then meets your eyes with a bright smile.

Your chest warms, and maybe your face tints red a little, but you smile back at him. “They went ahead, said to meet them there.”

You hum, “I always wondered where I got my impatience from.” He chuckles as he slides past you, letting you pull your flats on before opening the door.

As soon as you catch sight of Tom across the way, a perplexed expression washes over you, causing a brief blink and a subtle parting of your lips.

“Y/N,” he looks past Lance and the F1 driver looks back at you puzzled, wondering if this was a planned meet-up. The bewilderment on your face answers the question for him.

“You need to go,” you say before the man in front of you gets a chance to.

“I just want to talk,” Tom says, watching you desperately. “Come on.”

As Lance takes a step closer to him, you swallow sceptically. You were aware that his tolerance for your ex had been dwindling throughout the entire weekend, but now wasn't the opportune moment to witness him reach his breaking point.

"What the hell do you want to talk about now?" you ask, your voice unsteady.

Tom again looks around him to meet your eyes, “five minutes of your time is too much?”

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Lance says warningly. You reach for his hand to tug him backwards which you succeed in, though not without a questionable look.

With a firm tone, you remind him, "you had your five minutes at the wedding." Despite your reminder, Tom takes a step closer, maintaining a cautious distance to avoid provoking the man fixed between the two of you.

Insisting fervently, he presses on, "you're going to want to hear this. I promise." The desperation in his eyes becomes apparent, and you hate that the urge to hear him suddenly overcomes you. Being your ex meant he was still masterfully able to draw you in somehow.

“Wait by the gate,” he nods at your instruction and you turn your body to meet Lance’s. “Just get the car started?”

"You've gotta be kidding. Why are you still bothering with him?" Lance probes, searching your face for an explanation. With a sigh, you mentally admit your inability to provide a good enough answer.

“I’m just going to hear what he has to say. It doesn’t mean anything.” You rationalise, your eyes growing soft and Lance can’t help but understand where you’re coming from.

Maybe granting him the chance to express whatever he wanted to say is a debt you feel obliged to fulfil.

“I’ll wait in the car,” you mutter a thank you in return, watching as he creaks the door open to walk through it.

He glares at Tom as he walks past, bordering on a push, and unlocks the car. He settles into the driver's seat and your ex waits for you where you told him to.

With a heavy sigh, you approach him, his face still adorned with a palpable sense of desperation that shows no signs of fading.

“What is it?”

…

Part 8

Masterlist

I am posting this at 4:47am in the morning :') The writer's block is REAL!! Thank you so much for your patience, I love you so so much! One part left :(

Taglist: @fantasticbouquetwitchsthings @topguncultleader @spicyclover @amirahart @softiecaro @alilstressyandlotdepressy @eugene-emt-roe @e-lisa-bettan @strolleclercs @jjsprobablywrong @carmelita-holland @flowerchild-96 @honethatty12 @gaslysainz @pierre-gasssllyy @lestappenloverr @chiliwhore @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @chonkybonky @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @lxnceclercs @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @hockey-racing-fubol @honeyric3 @purplephantomwolf @mindflay3r @ttzjune @xitsyaiizax @dylylylylyly @rd14 @secretlyangrymagazine @love4lando @vildetry-06 @sharllec @aundercover @mloyer @alesainz @cinnamonroll2003 @nikki01234 @junhuilvrrr @f1-hyperfixation

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mazzystar24 · 1 month

Note

It must be nice to be able to be a multishipper, but Buddie are so deeply rooted in my brain so it'll need to be surgically removed, I'm afraid, before I can ship either Buck or Eddie with anyone else on the same level 😩

I also wasn't that bitter about BTs at first, but for some reason almost from the very start they didn't just stay in their cozy shipping room, but they decided to force the idea of Buddie never happening on everyone... And the worst part is those were former Buddie shippers!! And suddenly Eddie is the straightest of the straights, Buddie is nothing but platonic and never going to be anything else, and T is the bestest boyfriend in the world (even if it wasn't supported by canon at all) - any contrary opinion was met with aggression.

I'm not against them shipping their ship, but a lot of them seem to be against us shipping ours😅 (and we're also the root of all evil, but worry not - BTs and multishippers have come to save everyone from us).

Sorry, I think I am being rude😩 it wasn't my intention

Yeah the multi shipping life isn’t for me neither but they must be having the time of their lives Hannah Montana-ing it (it’s the besttttt of both worlds)

No same at first i was like ooo I’ll let this play out and enjoy this brief little segue but then tommy got more and more insufferable so I was like okay I hate him but that’s fine but so did certain fans and I’m like okay I hate him and gimme bt bones rn

Like also what I find funny abt the trying to disprove buddie part (other than the fact most were shipping them the day before) is like if the concept of buddie is so threatening to you that you feel a need to like disprove it or make arguments with ppl abt it then maybe them being canon isn’t so crazy

Like I’ve seen chimney/ravi shippers, BOBBY AND BUCK SHIPPERS and so many crazy combos that I’ll be like woah I wanna study their mind but I’m not feeling a need to disprove cos ik no way in hell is that a real combo or threat, like at most I block people who’s ships make me feel particularly irked like the bobby and buck one

Hell even common ones like Josh/eddie is a combo I personally don’t fuck with but I’m not out here starting arguments over

So the fact they feel a need to argue over it I find extremely telling for one

You’re not being rude dw a little sarcastic but so am I so it’s fine 😭😭

#911 #buddie #911 abc #evan buckley #911 fox #911onfox #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #anti bt

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sl-vega · 7 months

Text

✧Sticking to the Script✧-Prologue

⋆｡°✩ Prologue-A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now

"I just don't think we'll work out anymore"

You choked back a sob as you stormed out of the restaurant, those words still ringing in your ears.

"I've been seeing someone else."

You continue to blink back tears as you tried to block those words out.

"You aren't actually surprised-are you?"

Surprised would be an understatement you thought bitterly.

Two years. Two fucking years of being together.

"And for what?" you told yourself as you sobbed, some tears escaping. You didn't even know where you were going, you just wanted to be far, far, away from him.

You pulled out your phone to message Lyney

You put your phone back into your purse. Tears and raindrops trickling down your face.

You leaned against the outer wall of the tea house. The downpour was heavy and you could feel your dress cling to your body from the water. You found some shelter by a tea house, but it didn't make any difference, your feet felt numb in the fancy heels you had put on for your date, and your makeup that your friends had helped you with was all messed up from your tears.

You stared at the busy street, at the many cars rushing by, you prayed that Lyney would show up soon, you just wanted to escape.

This time, you didn't hold back your sobs you let them all out. Your vision was blurry from your tears, your head hung low and the tears fell down to the side walk.

Suddenly you felt the rain stop.

You turned your head to your side and saw a boy around your age holding an umbrella over your head. He was dressed in semi-formal attire. He looked familiar. Where have I seen him before

"Sorry, I just noticed you crying when I walked by." he said as he gave you a gentle smile, still holding the umbrella over your head. You whispered your thanks to him.

"Xingqiu!"

The boy turned around after hearing someone call out to him. He held your wrist and placed the umbrella in your hand. "I think you'll need this more than me." he told you as he turned around.

"I hope that whatever you're going through gets better"

He gave you another smile before running through the rain "I'm coming!" you heard him yell as he ran towards the source of the first voice.

You felt your face flush as he left, it was a brief moment of bliss before you remembered why you were out here in the rain, before you remembered what just happened. Before you remember your boyfriend of two whole years had just confessed to cheating on you.

Archons, I'm pathetic

You thought to yourself, you felt like you were going to start sobbing again. Then, a familiar car pulled up.

"(Y/N)!"

You heard Lyney call your name, he quickly got out of the car. He was holding a red towel and he handed it to you. "What happened? Why isn't Chaoxi with you?" he asked, along with many other questions that you couldn't bother to remember.

Your eyes were still red and puffy from crying.

"He-" you tried to muster out some words but you started sobbing again. Lyney pulled you into a hug, placing the towel around your shoulders, and taking the umbrella you were given earlier.

He led you into the car, opening the door for you. "You don't have to talk about it now." he said as he wiped a tear off your cheek. You nodded, as you stepped into the vehicle, fastening your seatbelt.

As he started the car, he placed his hand yours, he looked you in the eye and said "It'll be okay."

You looked out the window and thought

I hope you're right

additional notes:

-prologue out FINALLY

-ik it's a tad boring but i got to set the scene

-in case y'all didn't pick up on my shameless exposition, let me summarize this chapter for ya:

-chaoxi is y/n's boyfriend and he just confessed to cheating on her (on their 2-year anniversary no less!)

-chaoxi is actually a character in game, he's an npc in liyue that's dating three girls at the same time

-yes xingqiu giving y/n his umbrella is a reference to that one mlb scene

-you can't write a romance story without including smth like that

-lyney supremacy fr fr

-this chapter title is actually a reference to the song "A little fall of rain" from the musical les miserables

-ty to @freyao7 for proofreading this 4 me <3

masterlist

✧Sticking to the Script✧

Pairing: Xingqiu x FEM! Reader

Genre: fake dating, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst (?), high school smau, modern smau

⋆｡°✩-Synopsis: Xingqiu just got entered into a special writing contest, the type that's invite only, the theme this year is love, the only problem is that he has zero romantic experience. but he really wants to prove himself as a writer. meanwhile, you just found out that your boyfriend cheated on you, and you need to show him that you're 100% over him, the only problem is that there's no way you can get an actual boyfriend that quickly. clearly, the solution to both of your issues is to fake date each other. it shouldn't be hard for an actor such as yourself, all you need to do is stick to the script.

(OPEN) Taglist: @freyao7, @thatoneswordgirl, @sn1perz, @latay7, @esmetrees, @nmriki0, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @httpsrenren, @cupid-spams, @aixaingela, @kaitfae, @luvkvni, @danhenglovebot

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yourleftpinkytoe-blog · 2 months

Text

The Bi Andrew controversy and my opinion on some people’s reactions

-Okay so ik this is a dead topic but it’s been on my mind since this all went down and i feel like i have the words to describe my feelings on it. But first i want to preface that im not trying to start a fight with this i just have some thoughts i really want to get off my chest.-

I made a post when the whole thing was going down and honestly I really didn’t get what I ment across. It was a mess of angry ranting that people couldn’t understand without me explaining in the comments. Sorry for that btw.

When I’m being honest the whole reaction to Nora revealing that in most drafts Andrew was bisexual made me kinda sick to my stomach as a gay man. It was just legions of people celebrating the fact that “thank god he wasn’t actually gay” or “now I don’t feel bad for wanting to fuck him as a woman cause he was bi the whole time!!”. And idk sometimes about that reaction just really bothered me (I wonder why)

I would have no problem with bi Andrew if he was canon. (I’d love him just as much as I love canon Andrew) it just doesn’t make sense to me that so many people were so happy when Nora told about his different orientation in the drafts. I dead ass saw people claiming Andrew was now bi in canon because of this. There was a brief uptake in andrewxrenee shipping (idc what u ship I’m using this as a point) so many people just acting like he was not gay in the text because it was different in the drafts.

A characters sexuality is an important aspect of them. Like let’s take Neil for example, he is demisexual/demiromantic. That is an important part of his character as a whole. Hell it’s pretty inseparable from him, it is a part of what makes Neil, Neil. The same can be said about Andrew. His homosexuality is a large part of what built him as a person. If he was bi then that would have been an integral part of his character. And to see people practically giddy over the fact that in the drafts he was bi and then using that to diminish his canon sexuality was icky.

-I do want to quick say that when I say that Andrew’s being gay was an important factor in shaping him as a person I’m referring to that being a thing he needed to cope with after what happened to him in his childhood not that what happened in his childhood was because he was gay. I don’t want to get the wrong idea across lol. Also if he was bi that would have also been a thing he would have needed to cope with because no matter what he is still into men.-

Ik it’s a classic talking point but let’s switch the situation around. Say Andrew was bi in canon and Nora confirmed that he was gay in most drafts. Then with that info people started celebrating the fact that “HES NOT ACTUALLY BI!!”. That is a really uncomfortable thing to read, right.

It was not ok just cause it was gay->bi and it would not be ok if it was bi->gay.

-Just another thing if Andrew was bi there would be no problem. People resorting to biphobia over this whole situation were wrong and deserve to called tf out for their shit. A character being bi in drafts is absolutely no excuse to resorting to real world bigotry. If u did that ur gross and wrong-

I can understand a small bit about how if you are bi seeing a character you love also be bi probably feels great. But hey I and other gay men see the stuff ur saying and it kinda (really) hurts.

(Quick tw: brief mention of irl csa. Plz don’t read if that is a trigger for u)

-sorry for so many side notes. I just want to be open for a sec. I am a gay guy with a decent amount of sexual trauma. Andrew is the best example of a character in media who I see myself in. And idk there is something about how fast some people were to jump on the bandwagon of this was really uncomfortable for me to see. It’s probably stupid that this situation upset me as much as it did and I’m sorry for bringing this back up.-

#plz don’t take this the wrong way #I’m not gonna tag this with any fandom tags cause i really don’t want to start anything rn I just wanna get this off my chest

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gothicknightz · 2 years

Text

the book of immortality — xavier thorpe

:: what would wednesday do? definitely not wear whiskers and a nose.

chapter 2: poe’s styx

Ever since the incident in the woods, your friends had been dying to figure out what had happened that night, but even with the incessant asking, you wouldn't say a word.

You washed your face that morning, staring in the mirror for a few seconds before you heard your phone vibrating.

Enid was calling.

You answered, and as soon as you did, you were met with stressed out breaths and labored breathing.

“Yoko can't compete and Wednesday is joining, but we don't have enough people to compete, can you be on our team this year?” She exclaimed all in one breath, and if she said it any faster, it would've come out as a conglomerate of words.

Usually, you were always on Bianca's team during the Poe Cup, but due for a lack of better words, you silently owed Enid for that girls night.

“Enid, breathe, let me text Bianca real quick.”

You shot Bianca a text that read, ‘hey, enid doesn't have enough members on her team this year, u don't mind if i join? i owe all of you for that night.’

A few seconds after the text was delivered, the typing bubble icon appeared on your screen.

‘still not gonna tell us are u? no promises if u guys get shut down this year.’

‘don’t worry. ik your game already.’

You return to an anxiously waiting Enid on your call, “So?” She asked, “What did she say?”

“She said it's alr-”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll be at your dorm in five to give you your costume and a brief on our plan!”

As soon as the call ended, you heard a knock on your door, which took you off guard. “Damn, she was fast.” You muttered as you went over to open the door.

But when you went to open the door, you were greeted by a half costumed Xavier.

“Xavier? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the Poe Cup?”

You knew Xavier through Bianca, and as far as you knew, she had gotten over him after they broke up, but you could never tell with him.

You were friends by association, occasionally helping each other out with Ms. Thornhill’s assignments and homework, and eventually becoming sparring partners during fencing class.

But you never had talked to him outside of classes, at least when he was with Bianca. That was your number one rule to each other; you never messed with Bianca's love life, and she never interfered with yours.

Even after the fact, you occasionally talked to him, and now, he was standing in front of you with no meaning or prior warning.

“I should be asking you the same. Shouldn't you be with Bianca around now?”

“Not this year. I'm with Enid on a favor. What do you need?”

“I wanted to ask you about, you know, the shit that happened at the fair. Did anything seem off to you?”

“Other than the irony behind Wednesday and the sheriff's son seen together? No. Besides, hasn't everyone put that behind themselves? Rowan got expelled, nothing happened, end of story.”

“Yeah, but don't you th-”

Enid's presence came bursting into the doorway, “Hi Xavier! Poe Cup emergency, let me just borrow (y/n) for a second, bye!”

The door was closed in Xavier's face, in response, causing him to scoff and walk back to his dorm.

“Okay, here's your costume, ears, I'll do your makeup-” Enid paused mid sentence, “What was Xavier doing at your door?”

You shrugged, grabbing the costume from Enid's hands and heading to the bathroom, “I could ask you the same thing,” you closed the door, then raising your voice as you changed so Enid could hear you.

“He started asking some odd questions about Rowan and that night at the fair, and if anything felt off to me.”

“That's weird- so anyways, Wednesday came up with this plan to beat Bianca at her own game this year, and we're going to need your bow and arrow.”

You came back out of the bathroom wearing the cat costume; it had sheer sleeves while the gloves and rest of the suit was some sort of leather material.

A gasp emitted from Enid as she looked at you in uniform, “Oh. My. God. I have to get a picture of this!”

Enid scurried around you, frequently snapping pictures of you in your costume, “I’m sending this to the group chat!” She smiled before getting some makeup and started applying a set of whiskers and a nose before doing your eyeshadow a dark purple.

You turned around and looked in the mirror before gasping, “Enid,” you turned around to look at her, “I wish I was as good with makeup as you are.”

In a costume of her own, Enid rushed by your side, “You’re gonna make me blush, now, let's get a selfie for my blog!”

As soon as Enid snapped the picture, a thought came to my mind, “Now, what did you want me to do with my bow?”

Before the race, you take a quick glance to your right, seeing Xavier's team clad in jester hats and clown makeup, and of course, the captain has to comment.

“Like what you see?” He jokes with a small smile on his face.

“I'll take it into consideration when I wipe that smile of your face, Thorpe.”

The fanfare after Mrs. Weems call-out set everyone off, and soon enough, each team was racing against each other in a competition to make it to their flag.

There was no rules in the Poe Cup, and year after year, you and Bianca had always sabotaged the other teams, whether it be by destroyer their boats, or setting up a distraction.

But this time, with the aid of Wednesday, Enid was determined to win, no matter what it took, even destroying others if they had to, and they would.

#xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #xavier x y/n #xavier thorpe x y/n #wednesday 2022 #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe fluff #wednesday #wednesday netflix #netflix wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday addams #tyler galpin #enid sinclair #ajax petropolus #bianca barclay #eugene otinger #yoko tanaka

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ptergwen · 2 years

Note

OK OK IK IM GETTING BACK TO YOU LIKE AN HOUR LATER, AND THIS IS GONNA SOUND SO CLIQUE- but a songfic based on all i wanted by paramore. i’m talking reader and peter being really close friends until he starts straying from reader and hanging out with mj more. maybe they get into a fight one day where reader goes to the tower for a mission briefing and sees that mj is there (superheros aren’t allowed to reveal identities at all, and peter never let reader in on anything, reader found out he’s spiderman on her own) AND THEN THEY ARGUE RIGHT? both say really hurtful stuff THEN THEN READER TAKES MATTERS INTO HER OWN HANDS. GOES ON THE MISSION ALONE. THE WORST HAPPENS AND THEY BARLEY FIND HER. you can choose whether she makes it out or not 🤷🏻‍♀️ BUT YEAH THATS WHAT I GOT

like her, love you

gif by random-fandom-whump

ask box | taglist | blurb masterlist | main masterlist

w/c: 1,005

warnings: angst, mentions of injuries

a/n: bestie you have done it again! i can always count on you for some good old angst mwahaha it has kind of a happy ending but i think the people will appreciate that <3 also i just posted a sleepover so make sure to check that out y’all! happy reading

“talk to me, y/n. say something, anything.”

when you open your mouth to speak, you start to cough. you cough up dirt and dust, choke on it. you lie in the grass, where you’d landed. peter is kneeling on the grass in front of you. he has an arm behind your head for support, his free hand finding yours. he holds your intertwined hands against your chest.

the jet you had taken for your mission ran out of fuel mid-air. you never even made it there. you crashed, and it was only because of the tracker in your suit that peter was able to find you. he was supposed to go with you, but you two had gotten into a fight before you left. you decided to do the mission alone. you were heated and distracted coming off your argument, so you’d forgotten to refill the jet tank.

“peter? i… i…”

you try to sit up, resulting in another coughing fit, clutching at peter’s hand with both of yours. peter squeezes your hand in his back even tighter.

“just breathe, okay? just breathe. you can do it, y/n/n. deep breaths.”

peter inhales a breath and nods repeatedly, encouraging you to follow his lead. you wheeze at first, struggling to get air into your lungs. with peter’s help, your breathing eventually begins to even out.

“there you go. just like that.”

you let your head fall back on peter’s arm as you catch your breath. peter strokes your cheek with his gloved fingers, eyes staying fixed on you.

he’ll never let you out of his sight again.

he touches his index finger to his ear piece that he uses to communicate with the rest of the avengers.

“mr. stark? i found her. yeah, she’s alright. do you have the coordinates? okay. how long until you get here? okay, thank you.”

“tony’s coming?”

you lift your head up, but peter eases you back down.

“the whole team. they were really worried when they didn’t hear from you. we all care about you, so much.”

“do you?”

“how could you even ask that? you’re my best friend.”

“what about mj?”

“can i not have other friends?”

“i never said that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

you scoff and prop yourself up on your elbows.

“look, peter. i don’t care that you’re friends with mj. she’s cool. i care that you broke the rules, and you broke them for her.”

“i don’t know what you think you saw-“

“not think. i saw it.”

this is the same argument you’d had earlier.

when you arrived to avengers tower for your mission, mj was there. she was talking to peter, but not peter peter. spider-man peter. he was suited up, mask off, identity revealed.

tony has a strict policy about peter keeping his identity a secret. he’s experienced firsthand how much damage it does when your double lives overlap into one, and he doesn’t want his protege have to go through what he did. hence, the reason why peter wears the mask in the first place.

what’s the point if he’s exposing himself to mj? how could he even trust her?

you’re both friendly with mj in school, and she seems chill, but you don’t know much about her. her and peter are just getting close. he recently began hanging out with her outside of school, and apparently in the tower. you’ve been friends with peter and spider-man for years, and you had to figure out they were the same person on your own. he never told you.

but he told mj.

“please just give me a chance to explain.”

“i’m not interested in hearing it.”

you push yourself up to your feet, stumbling as you trek through the grass. you’re still a bit disoriented from your crash landing.

“where are you going?”

“back to the jet. don’t follow me.”

“it’s not gonna fly, you know. it’s out of fuel.”

you ignore peter and your dizziness and keep walking. peter’s fingers catch your wrist, forcing you to turn back and face him.

“the others will be here soon. just stay with me until they come. hear me out.”

your pride tells you no, but your love for him tells you yes. no matter how angry at him you are, he’s still your best friend.

you look down at your wrist in peter’s grasp, then up into his pleading eyes. you give in with a sigh. he lets go of you. you take a seat in the grass, sitting cross-legged. peter mirrors your actions.

“mj wasn’t supposed to find out. it was an accident.”

“what do you mean?”

“i was showing her around the tower, because you know my cover story, how i ‘intern’ there. thought it would be cool. mj sorta just put two and two together. she’s, like, really smart.”

“you never showed me around the tower.”

“why would i? you’re an avenger.”

“yeah, but i didn’t know you were… until i did.”

tears prick your eyes.

“how come you never told me? i’ve been friends with you way longer than mj, and she found out before i did. did you not think i could handle it?”

the tears escape. peter frowns and shifts closer to you.

“i knew you could.”

he dabs at the corners of your eyes with his thumbs, palms pressed to your cheeks.

“but that’s not the point.”

“then what is?”

“i didn’t tell you because i thought i was keeping you safe. i wanted to protect you. knowing my identity puts you in danger.”

you sniffle, more tears wetting your cheeks. your watery eyes meet peter’s.

“we’re best friends, y/n. nothing and no one could change that. i like mj, but i love you.”

you throw your arms around peter’s neck, hiding your face in his curls. a sob passes through your lips. peter hugs you back, making sure to be gentle because you’re still recovering from the crash. he kisses the side of your head and holds you in his arms, never once letting go.

tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn@starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods@magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @peterficrecs @Winchestersgirl222

#peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker writing #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x avenger!reader #mcu #marvel #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland writing

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heavenlyhischier · 3 years

Text

only when you're high - rafe cameron

word count: 4.3k

summary: Rafe only ever talks to you when he's high, and you've eventually had enough.

warnings: angst i guess, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, lil makeout sesh at the end

note: ik this isn't the request but i've been working on this for a while so here ya go <3 this is def not my best writing so dont judge it too harshly

3:53 a.m.

You had been dreaming about your cat taking over a world full of people with fish heads when the incessant ringing from your phone jolted you awake. You blindly flung your hand onto the nightstand, knocking over a half empty water bottle and a bottle of ibuprofen before your fingers grazed the cool screen. You picked up the device, nearly blinding yourself when you opened your eyes to see who was calling you at such an ungodly hour. Once your eyes adjusted to the screen’s brightness, the name ‘Stupid Kook’ was displayed across the top. You hesitantly swiped to answer.

“What in the flying fuck do you want,” You whisper yelled, propping your half-conscious body up with your elbow.

“Hey, baby,” He greeted, his voice dragging as if he was thinking too hard about his words. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

You stopped breathing for a moment, not sure what you were supposed to say to his weird revelation. You had been having a weird thing with Rafe for a few months now. After many drinks, you would often finding yourself making out with him in a secluded area. Despite your random make out sessions, he had never once called you to simply hear your voice. In fact, he hadn’t even called you before. It was usually always a quick ‘wyd’ text at midnight and nothing more.

“That’s weird, you’ve never called me before,” You pointed out, “You’ve also never called me baby before, so what’s that about?”

“Mm, I don’t know. Always wanted to call you that before so why not? What are you up to, baby,” He asked, his words slurring together in a way that could only happen while under the influence.

“You’re high aren’t you,” You sighed. Of course, he was high. You should have known that from the get-go. Rafe Cameron wouldn’t have called you sober; he never even looked at you sober.

A brief silence hung over the line, Rafe’s heavy breathing being the only thing coming through the receiver. “Maybe a little. Had a rough day, so I went to see Barry and now I’m at Topper’s. Talking to you.”

You couldn’t help but let a small smile grace your features; a smile that was gone almost as soon as it came. You let your elbow fall from its position, your head falling back onto the pillow that was still warm from when you were asleep. “How sweet of you. What are you doing, anyways? Shouldn’t you be getting shitfaced and taking some innocent girl to bed?”

He let out an airy laugh before speaking. “The only one I’d like to take to bed is you, and we somehow always stop before it gets to that point. Anyways, it’s just me, Topper, and Kelce, and I started thinking about us in the back of my truck when we were outside. Before I knew what I was doing, you answered the phone.”

Your cheeks flared red as images of Rafe’s hands exploring your body flashed through your mind, the feeling of his ring on your skin igniting something inside of you. His mouth latching onto the sensitive spots of your neck as your moans filled his truck. You let your fingers ghost over your lips as if you could still feel his own on yours. More memories of him exploring your body in every way but the way you wanted him most were running through your mind. Every time you wanted to give in to him, give in to your urges, but you couldn’t.

“You know, I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you and I hate it,” He started, his words still slow, “I hate it because you’ll never let me have you.”

“Rafe,” You groaned, running a hand over your tired face, “I don’t really feel like giving myself to someone who only talks to me when they’re drunk or high. Someone who would rather be caught dead than with a pouge.”

“You know it’s not like that, baby. It’s complicated,” He tried, and you could tell there was a hint of unfamiliar panic in his voice.

“It always is. Guess I’ll see or talk to you next time you get fucked up. Goodnight Rafe,” You whispered before hanging up on the boy, ignoring his desperate protests.

1:38 a.m.

You turned the shower water off before stepping out onto the cool tiled floor, water dripping from every part of your body. You chose to ignore the buzzing coming from your phone, moving to grab the towel hung on the back of your bathroom door. However, the buzzing started again as you were drying off your legs.

“Who the fuck,” You groaned as you wrapped the towel around your still wet body. ‘Stupid Kook’ was making a second appearance, much to your surprise. “Yes, Rafe?”

“What’s up your ass,” He laughed his infectious laugh. You could picture him throwing his head back and his glazed over eyes twinkling with amusement, something you had only seen when you found yourself admiring him from afar.

“Nothings up my ass. Just don’t know what your high ass wants this time.” You gripped your phone in your hand and started to walk back towards your room. Your parents had fallen asleep hours ago, so you had to make sure you were quiet. However, that deemed difficult in the darkest hours of the night in your already poorly lit house. You bumped your hip and stubbed your toe on just about anything that was out in the open. Once you were in your room, you hastily shut the door and flipped the light switch on.

“Hello! Hello! Hello! Where are you,” Rafe yelled, making you wince and pull the phone away from your ear.

“Jesus, dude. Calm down, I was walking back to my room,” You chastised, doing your best to hold your phone in between your ear and shoulder.

“What were you doing? I missed you,” He pouted.

You ignored the swelling you got in your heart and said, “I was leaving the bathroom. I just finished showering. What are you doing?”

You grabbed a clean pair of underwear and a shirt you had taken from JJ after you had thrown up over whatever you were wearing that night. Rafe began telling you what he was doing, which was quite literally nothing. However, he quickly dove into a spout of how you were naked and wet and how badly he wanted to see you without any clothes on. Your cheeks were burning as he went on and on about all of the sinful things he wanted to do to you. You let him ramble on a bit more as you turned the light off once you were clothed and ready for bed.

“Okay, that’s enough, Rafe,” You stopped him, pulling your blanket back so you could crawl in bed. “So, calling me two times within a week? You falling in love with me?”

It was so painfully obvious that it was a joke, but you could practically feel the tension radiating through your phone from Rafe’s end. His abrupt silence concerned you because this boy was far from silent when he was doped out.

“Maybe I am,” He finally got out, and you couldn’t detect any sarcasm in it.

“Sure you are,” You rolled your eyes, blaming exhaustion for briefly clouding your judgment, “If you were in love with me, you’d actually talk to me when you aren’t too fucked to remember your own name.”

You started picking at a loose thread on your blanket as you let your mind wander to what life would be life if you had an actual relationship with Rafe. Going to parties with him. Hanging around the Island Club with him and his friends. Him doing lines off your body before having his way with you.

“I will talk to you when I’m not high,” His voice broke you from your thoughts, “If that’s what you really want.”

“I do,” You said way too quickly, “I mean, yeah sure. That would be nice, I guess.”

“Just text me and I’ll answer.” You couldn’t stifle the yawn that escaped your lips, but you did try and hide it from Rafe. Your attempt was no good, though. “You’re tired, go to bed.”

“No, I’m fi-.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Rafe shouted over you, “Talk to you soon, baby.”

Rafe’s name popped up on your phone screen every few days after he had gotten drunk out of his mind or too high to do anything other than find your contact. You didn’t mind it at first, but after you had texted him during the day and those messages went unanswered, you grew hurt and annoyed. You had tried asking him why he wouldn’t respond, but he always found a way to change the subject. You wanted to ask him about it in person, but you hadn’t seen him in almost a month. You wanted to ask him why he couldn’t bother to pick up the phone when he was sober, but wasted no time in calling you as soon as he got his bump in.

One of the nights he called, you offered to have him come over because your parents were gone, but he said no. Made up some excuse about how he was staying with Topper for a while since Sarah cheated on him and he wanted to be there for his friend. You understood that, so you didn’t push him after that. Then, the next time you told him about a party everyone was going to and how you wanted to see him there. You even told him to bring the other two. That time he told you he was staying away from parties for a while, wanting to stay to himself for the most part due to the constant stress from his dad. You knew how Ward could be sometimes, so it wasn’t hard to believe him and move on from there.

You wanted to be mad to him for only acknowledging you when he was high, but you couldn’t be. You’ve always wanted to feel wanted by somebody, and he made you feel like that albeit only when he was far gone from reality. You could deal with it as long as you got to talk to him, no matter how insecure it made you. Well, you thought you could.

2:25

Your parents were gone for the night, so you opted to watch Marvel movies in the living room. You were so invested in watching Iron Man and shoving popcorn in your mouth that you didn’t feel your phone go off the first six times. Or the fifteen times after that. Not that you would have cared either way. You knew the only person it could be was the boy who never wanted you sober. The credits began rolling across the TV, so you finally decided to pick up your discarded phone. You were shocked to see Rafe had called you eight times and texted you thirteen. Overall, his texts said the same thing.

Why aren’t u answering me :(

Call me pls

I wanna talk to you baby

It was if he knew you were finally looking at your phone because his contact popped up not ten seconds later. You rolled your eyes, but reluctantly answered.

“Y/N! Where have you been,” He whined into the receiver, “I’ve been trying to call you for like two hours.”

“Watching movies,” Your words were sharp and short, not particularly wanting to talk to him right now. You’ve nearly reached your breaking point with him.

Rafe could immediately tell something was off with you by the way you sounded. “What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath in, setting your bowl of popcorn on the coffee table after you paused the end credit scene. You leaned forwards and planted your elbow on your knee as you held your head in annoyance.

“I’m fine, Rafe. I’m just getting fed up with you only wanting to talk to me when you’re high or drunk,” You started, “I used to be fine with it because it once every couple of weeks, but now it’s almost every day and it’s annoying. You told me to text you when you’re sober, and I did, but you never responded. I try and offer to come over to you or have you come to me, but you always have an excuse. I know you want to be there for Topper and you don’t really want to be around anyone right now, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with it.”

“Y/N, I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just-It’s complicated. Please understand that,” He was practically begging you to listen to him.

“Rafey, are you coming back to play beer pong with us,” A female voice suddenly cut through the sudden sound of music.

Your breathing stopped and your heart felt like it was being squeezed by Rafe’s own hand. A wave of heartbreak crashed over your entire body. “‘I just don’t want to be around anyone’ huh? Thought you were just spending time with Topper for a while? You know, if you didn’t want to see me, all you had to do was say so,” You whimpered, hurt now mixing with your anger and annoyance.

“No, wait,” He tried, yelling at whoever came in the room to get out, “Y/N, please. It isn’t lik-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. It is like that, Rafe. It is exactly like that. You don’t want to see me, and that is fine. I get it. Why would you ever want to be seen with someone from the Cut? It doesn’t matter, though. Don’t call me anymore. You lied to me. That is not something that I can forgive,” Your tears were too strong to hold back now, “I don’t care for liars, Rafe Cameron, and you’re the biggest one of all.”

You quickly hung up and turned off your phone, throwing it towards the end of the couch so you weren’t tempted to grab it. You grabbed the large blanket from the back of the couch, picked another movie, and let your tears fall as it played in front of you.

“Honey,” Your moms gentle voice broke through, “You fell asleep on the couch.”

You slowly opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the bright light shining through the giant window. The headache hit you like a ton of brinks, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut in pain. Your mom was hovering over you, her hand on your shoulder and her soft eyes pretending to not notice how puffy your cheeks and red your eyes are.

“I guess so,” You mumbled, pushing yourself up into a sitting position, “I’ll go lay down in my room. I’m still tired.”

She gave you an understanding nod with a caring smile and helped you off the couch. Her hand lingered on your back as if she wanted to say something to you, but she decided to leave it alone for now. You would talk to her when you were ready, if you ever were. You gave her a thumbs up when she told you her and your father would be out again most of the day.

Your feet dragged as you stumbled back to your room, using the wall to keep you steady. You pushed the door open with your foot and gave your cat, who was laying on your bed as if she owned it, a stupid smile. You fell onto the bed and pulled her onto your chest as you turned your phone back on. You were scared to confront the actions from last night, but knowing Rafe, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to even send you a text about it. You were quickly proven wrong the moment your phone turned back on. The vibration from all of the texts, voicemails, and snapchats felt like it lasted for five straight minutes. Nearly all were from the boy you wanted nothing to do with. Although, you noticed a voicemail from Topper, who you forgot even had your number.

Um, hey its Topper. Look dude, I don’t know what happened, but Rafe is freaking out like a bitch right now. He keeps mumbling shit about how he fucked things up with, which I didn’t even know you two were a thing but whatever I don’t really care. He kicked everyone out of my house and has been calling and texting you for like thirty minutes straight now so please call him back, so he shuts the fuck up. If not for him, do it for my sanity before I kill him. Uh, yeah, thanks, bye.

You sighed deeply after the voicemail cut off, your heart rate increasing at the thought of Rafe being upset. If he was bad enough that Topper of all people called you, you knew it was bad. You wanted to not care because of how he made you feel, but you did. You’ve always cared about the blond boy more than you cared to admit. You finally decided to look at the messages he sent you.

Y/N pls call me back

I’m sorry its not what it looks like and I know that sounds stupid but its true

Pls talk to me. I need u to talk to me

I promise that I never wanted to hurt u ok???

I love you, Y/N. Please call me or I’m coming to your house tomorrow.

The world stopped spinning when you read the last message. You kept reading it over and over again as if you misread it the first time. Rafe had never been any kind of affectionate with you until he called you baby. Rafe Cameron was not someone known to get emotional, so you weren’t sure if you believed his words. He was a liar and would do anything to get what he wanted, so what was different now?

You heard a knock on the door followed by your moms muffled voice, but you were too focused on the situation in front of you to notice who it was. Your eyes were glued to the screen, staring at the three words you never thought anyone other than your family and friends would say to you. The world around you was fading away, your heart feeling as if it was going to beat out of your chest as tears slid down your still puffy cheeks. You weren’t going to let him do this to you. You weren’t going to let him toy with you anymore.

“Y/N,” A deep voice dragged you out of your subconscious.

Your eyes darted over to the door and saw the last person you wanted to see. Rafe was standing there, his eyes wide and blood shot and he looked like total shit. His hair was a wild mess, nothing like its usual tamed state. You met his gaze and you wished you hadn’t. One look from him and you were puddy in his hands. One look and every thought you had about never seeing him again flew out the window.

“Hey, can we talk,” He mumbled, his bright blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Please.”

Not trusting your words, you gave him a swift nod and gestured to the spot next to you on your bed. You leaned to the side and placed your cat on the ground, watching as she rubbed herself all over Rafe’s leg before scampering away. His walk to your bed was painfully slow, and you wanted to tell him to hurry up, but you knew that was unreasonable.

“What do you want, Rafe,” Your voice was harsh, trying to ignore the urge to reach out to him. “What do you want to talk about? How you only use me for your own pleasure? How you only ever even look at me when you’re drunk or high? How you lied to me? Wanna talk about that?”

Your anger surprised even yourself. One second you wanted to hold him in your arms and comfort him, but then the memory of how he treated you came back and flipped a switch in your brain. You don’t know how you feel and you hate it.

“I deserve every bit of your anger,” He breathed out, letting his hand fall dangerously close to your own, “But please let me explain everything to you, okay?”

“Fine,” You gave in, “Talk.”

“Yeah, thank you, okay. I really do want to talk to you when I’m not absolutely fucked, I do. I know that it doesn’t seem like that, but its true. I just, I can’t. Every time I look at you, think about you, I hear my dads voice screaming at me that I will never be good enough for anyone. I have this thought drilled into my head every day that no matter what I do, who I am, I am just never enough. To me, you’re no exception to that. In fact, you remind me even more. Wait no.”

Rafe rubbed both of his hands over his face and tugged at his hair, afraid that he’s already fucking this up. “Rafe,” You gently spoke up, turning to grab his hands from his face. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

His eyes met yours and you could see how strained he was. There were too many emotions swirling in his eyes for you to pinpoint exactly what he was feeling. “Okay, um, okay. To me, you are way too good for me, so the only time I feel comfortable talking to you is when I’m high. I’ve never had trouble talking to any girl before, but you’re more than that to me. You’re more than just some girl to me and it scares me, so I feel like I have to be, yanno, not me. When I talk to you. I want to be with you more than I have ever wanted to be with someone in my life”

Your hand was still holding his as you let his words sink in. Him revealing how his dad truly made him feel made your heart ache for him. It made you want to grab him by the face and tell him how he is more than good enough. You wanted to let him in, but you weren’t sure if you were ready for the risk that came along with it. You’re not sure if you want all the things that came with being with Rafe Cameron. He’s followed by hurt and lies, and you do feel guilty thinking that, but it’s been proven true countless times.

“Rafe, listen to me,” You began, moving so you were straddling him and holding his face in your hands. His hands immediately came to grip your hips, and you are well aware that this was a more than compromising situation. “I understand that your father is probably the worst person we both know, but that doesn’t excuse you lying to me. I don’t know if I can trust you, no matter how much I may want to.”

You watched as tears gather in his eyes, and he was doing his best to keep them at bay. He had never felt the way he feels about you before, and he’s more than aware that his reputation precedes him. He knows that he’s done nothing more than prove how untrusting he is to you, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from trying to prove to you that he means what he’s saying.

“I know that nothing I say will fix what I’ve already done. I know that, but I can show you just how much you mean to me, if you’ll let me. We can go at your pace. Do things your way. Just, please, give me another chance to prove myself to you.”

You’re searching for any detection of a lie in his eyes, in his voice, but you come up empty. You wipe away the stray tears that broke through his wall of protection. You hesitantly placed your forehead on his, and you could hear him take in a sharp breath at the connection. Your eyes fluttered closed, your nose brushing against his as you weighed all of your options.

“Did you mean what you to me? In your last text,” You whispered, too scared to open your eyes and look at him. “Do you actually love me?”

“More than you know,” His breath was hot against your chin, and he pulled you closer into him.

You decided to take a leap, dive into something that scared you more than anything. Your lips finally met his, and Rafe wasted no time in returning the feeling. Your hands fell from his cheeks and clasped each other behind his neck, while his hands stayed placed on your hips, too scared to push you too far. You deepened the passion filled kiss by pulling him closer to you and running your tongue across his bottom lip. Rafe’s lips moved in such a sensual way that you almost didn’t know how to react. It was much different from the lust filled kisses you’ve shared in the past. You started moving your hips on top of him, an action that had him gripping your hips tighter than before.

Y/N,” Rafe breathed out after he broke away from you, “If you don’t stop, I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Then don’t.”

i have not edited this so if you see a mistake lmk. love u

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #obx #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine

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beccascribbles · 4 years

Note

Could you maybe do a scenario where bokuto has a childhood omega friend and(ik this probably wouldn't happen irl in this type of situation, but...) bokuto decides that the omega would be great to have as a roomate along with the atsumu, sakusa, and hinata(the four of them would probably be alphas).You can just explain what that would be platonically, or you can throw in some 🌶✨spice✨🌶 if you want like maybe someone goes into heat or a rut or starts catching feels.But it's your choice :) <3

a/n - kind of only did the moving in day to establish what the dynamics might be between them, but, if you want to see more of this let me know! (not sure if it’s good enough to warrant more though haha) enjoy!

LIVING WITH THE BLACK JACKALS, an omegaverse au

Moving In Day

"Are you sure it's okay?" you asked, gnawing on your bottom lip as you watched Bokuto lift one of your suitcases from the boot of the car. He glanced over at you, placing the suitcase at the floor. His hand came down to rest on your shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I wasn't sure," reassured Bokuto. You moved closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest. Breathing in deeply, you let his scent sooth you. He wrapped his arm around your body, squeezing you tightly before releasing you. He reached into the boot, removing the final bag and turning to face you once again. "Come on."

Bokuto held out his hand for you, and you took it, picking up a bag with your other hand. Once more, you glanced up at Bokuto, finding comfort in his amber eyes. His hand gave yours a squeeze, a gentle reminder that he was there. As you stepped up to the door it was flung open, and a head of ginger hair came barrelling towards you.

"y/n!" cheered Hinata, wrapping his arms around you and crushing you to his chest. Even as he held you, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, struggling to contain his excitement at seeing you again. You let your bag drop to the floor, released Bokuto's hand, and wrapped your arms around Hinata's neck. He let out a pleased purr, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he pulled away and picking up the bag you dropped on the ground. He rambled away to you. "I'm so glad you decided to move in. Bokuto was saying he was asking you for ages. Just between you and me, we're all really happy. Ignore Sakusa's grumpy face. I overheard him talking to Komori yesterday and he was definitely pleased."

"Um, okay, Shoyo," you said, following him into the house, Bokuto behind you. He dropped your bags to the floor, turning to shut the front door behind him.

"Tsum Tsum!" he called as Hinata led the way into the living room. “Omi!”

His shout was accompanied by the sound of feet rushing down the stairs and a figure skidding around the corner, a head of bleached blonde hair barrelling towards you at a startling speed. Instinct told you to move to the side, taking refuge behind Bokuto as Atsumu attempted to stop moving, digging his heels in just before he made contact with the wall. Atsumu turned to you with a pout.

“No need to sidestep me,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. You grinned up at him sheepishly. “Sheesh. I’m not some scary alpha comin’ to claim ya or shit like that. Relax, y/n.”

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you pressed your forehead against Bokuto’s back, taking in another deep breath. His reassuring scent eased you, and you finally lifted your head up to be greeted by Atsumu’s outstretched arms.

“Now come here and give ya favourite alpha a hug,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around you and crushing you against his chest. You returned his hug as well as you could considering he had pinned your arms to your side. From behind you, you were aware of Bokuto letting out a grumble.

“I’m obviously their favourite,” he grumbled, resisting the urge to pull you away from Atsumu, who was taking far too long to greet you. Hinata, sensing the growing tension, spoke up.

“Sakusa’s here,” he declared, the statement enough for Atsumu to release you. You turned around, shooting the final alpha a warm smile, holding out your hand in greeting.

“Nice to see you again, Kiyoomi,” you greeted, feeling his warm hand close around yours, holding your hand in a firm grip. Sakusa nodded, hesitating for only a moment before he tugged you forward, his free arm wrapping around your waist as he gave you a brief squeeze.

“I didn’t think Bokuto would manage to win you over,” he admitted, gaze falling on Atsumu, as if your hesitation was due to him rather than the fact that living with four alphas was daunting at the best of times, let alone when the time came for their ruts. “Heaven knows they need the influence of an omega to tidy up their shit.”

You let out a snigger, knowing how messy Bokuto could be. It wasn’t that he was unable to clean or that he didn’t know how to. Honestly, Bokuto was just forgetful, too easily distracted for cleaning to be something he viewed with any importance. The alpha struggled to do his taxes, after all. Weakly, you defended, “I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

“Atsumu leaves his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor,” Sakusa reeled off. “Hinata struggles to understand that you need to clean up after making dinner. Bokuto leaves his boxers all over the house. I can go on.”

Bokuto flushed furiously at his words, protesting, “No, I don’t.”

“I do clean up,” Hinata insisted. “Last night, I washed up after eating.”

“Because I told you to,” sighed Sakusa, regarding Hinata coolly. “None of you do anything without being told.”

Atsumu, notably, stayed quiet. There was no arguing with what Sakusa had said. The proof was waiting to be discovered upstairs. He froze, shooting a panicked look up the stairs.

“Excuse me for a minute,” he said, sprinting up the stairs and leaving you all (excluding Sakusa) standing there a bit confused. Instead, a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.

“He had a shower when Bokuto went to collect you,” Sakusa explained. “Now, he’s moving his clothes from the bathroom floor because he doesn’t want to leave a bad impression of him as a roommate on you.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “I really don’t mind though. We should just buy a clothes basket and leave it in the bathroom. It would be useful for all of us.”

“And this is why you moving in with us was a good idea,” grinned Bokuto. “Told you I was right.”

You smiled over at your best friend as Hinata grabbed one of your bags from the floor. Hinata spoke, ignoring the sound of Atsumu’s feet pounding on the stairs as he ran down, “Shall we get you moved in then?”

You nodded in agreement, reaching down to grab another bag and letting Hinata lead the way as Bokuto reached down to grab the remainder. Atsumu, whose sudden reappearance almost resulted in Hinata being knocked onto the floor, grabbed the majority of the bags, shooting Bokuto a teasing grin.

“You’re not the only muscle-bound athlete, Bo.”

“He is more muscular than you though, Tsumu,” admitted Hinata, glancing over his shoulder to watch Atsumu’s face twist. He let out an indignant splutter.

“Take that back, Shoyo.”

“He beat you in an arm wrestle yesterday, Atsumu,” sighed Sakusa. “Just carry the bags upstairs before you hurt your ego even more.”

A snicker escaped your mouth as you watched the interaction, your eyes immediately darting away from Atsumu when he made eye contact with you. You cleared your throat, “I thought we were showing me where my room is?”

“Right,” said Hinata, focusing on the task at hand once again. He took it upon himself to give you a quick tour as you walked down the corridor towards the room which was soon to be yours. “So, that door closest to the stairs is Omi’s, and beside it is the bathroom. Opposite the bathroom is my room. Tsumu’s room is beside yours and Bokuto is opposite you.”

You nodded along, attempting to process the information being given to you at speed. Already, you knew you were probably going to get the doors confused at first. They were all the same, with little to distinguish them from the other.

“No getting pissed off if I accidentally walk into your room instead of the bathroom,” you said, finger raised in a threatening manner. Atsumu hid a snigger behind the suitcases he was holding, while Bokuto’s lips stretched upwards in a smile.

“None of us would get mad if you walked into our rooms,” he said, giving you a slight nudge with his elbow, the action comforting. “My room will always be open for you if you need me.”

“Mine too,” piped up Hinata, Atsumu quickly nodding in the affirmative. Sakusa let out a grunt.

“I suppose, if you ever need to talk to me, you can,” he mumbled. “Though I don’t know why you would need to come to me.”

“Maybe if the others are being dickheads,” you teased, shooting Atsumu a smirk that had him giving you a playful glare in reply.

“Ya know I’m only a dickhead if I like you,” he grinned, giving your hair an affection ruffle. He dropped your bags down on the floor outside your room, Bokuto placing the ones he was carrying with far more care. “I’ll leave you to settle in. If ya need anythin’, just knock on my door.”

“Me and Bokuto are going to be watching the Adlers game that’s live now downstairs so come and join us when you’re finished,” said Hinata, already walking towards the stairs. Bokuto looked after him, then turned to look at you, trying to sense if you wanted him to stay. You gave his arm a squeeze, turning him around and pushing him in Hinata’s direction.

“Go watch the game, Kou,” you said, voice firm. “I know you want to. Besides, I’ll be fine. If I need help, I’ll just rope Atsumu in.”

“Okay!” he beamed, jogging after Hinata and leaving you alone with Sakusa.

Awkwardly, Sakusa ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching in his curls as he yanked them through his hair. “I did clean your room before you came today but if you want to give it another clean, I can give you some supplies.”

“Don’t worry about it, Kiyoomi,” you said, voice soft and full of gratitude. “I trust you.”

He turned away, hiding the rising blush on his cheeks at the way your scent grew sweeter at his words. In that moment, he could tell you were truly happy. Your earlier hesitation seemed to have vanished. He cleared his throat. “I’ll tell Bokuto you’re settling in okay. We’re going to order takeaway for dinner as a welcome meal so make sure you tell Atsumu what you want. He’s going to order it because he insists he’s more likely to get free food or money off. Not that we need money off, considering how much we make.”

“I will,” you said. “Thank you.”

Sakusa gave a nod, spinning on his heels and walking down the corridor, entering his room at the same time that you pushed open the door of yours.

#haikyuu omegaverse #omega reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x omega reader #bokuto x reader #atsumu x reader #hinata x reader #sakusa x reader

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order-of-river-phoenix · 3 years

Text

Better Off As Lovers; Josh Ray Person

Fandom: HBO War; Generation Kill

A/N: hi hello how are ya? I’ve arisen. Ik I’ve got some requests piled up and I will get around to them, a couple of them I started working on forever ago. I just wanted to do a little self-indulgent writing to get me going. Also I tried to make this as gender neutral as possible but if anyone had any critiques pls let me know!

Warnings: dumb boy syndrome and some language

Taglist: @stressedinadress @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @ricksmorty @hbohmygodx @meteora-fc @vintagelavenderskies @hoosiers-hoe @mavysnavy @inglourious-imagines @warrior-healer @joe-webgott @hannahbear1 @punkgeekcryptid

**reminder: if you’ve since changed your name/url please either let me know so I can change it or change it at the link in my description; ALSO feel free to add/remove yourself as you wish**

__________

"Don't expect me to send you any heartfelt letters about how much I miss you," Ray teased.

"Why because you won't miss me or because you think it's dumb to write letters?"

"Both."

You punched his shoulder, knowing at least one of those wasn't true. "Please. If anything, I won't be missing you. I'll finally be able to lead a peaceful life. I mean, I'm still banned from half the grocery stores in the county—because of you, I might add—"

"Technicality," he interrupted. "You're still banned. Doesn't matter if I had anything to do with it."

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes, and you both laughed, but your chest was growing a little tight. You weren't going to say it out loud though. "Take care of yourself. I have no doubt they'll kick your ass in boot camp."

"Don't worry about my ass, Y/N." Ray was grinning now. "Although," he craned his neck around to try and peek at his backside, "I can see why you would."

You had never wanted to kiss Josh Ray Person before in your life, and you'd known him for most of it. But right now, with the thought of him being gone, a small part of you wished it would happen. A bigger, much more reasonable part reminded you why that would be a very bad idea.

"Hey," he said, his voice softening slightly at your change in expression. "No sad goodbyes, remember?"

You blinked away any sadness forming in your eyes and threw him a dumb, cheesy smile. "Do I have to spell it out for you, Ray? I'm not sad."

"Oh okay." He pulled you in for a hug, and you welcomed the embrace. "Well, if you ever do get sad and miss me, I left a copy of the band's demo in your car for you."

_____four years later_____

Ray kept himself awake with caffeine and thoughts of being home.

Both amusing and grating to everyone else, when it came to Ray, with thinking came talking. "And my best friend, Y/N—don't worry, Brad, I still love you—decided to ride around the grocery store in a cart, paddling along with a broom. We weren't allowed to even be in the Save-A-Lot parking lot for two years."

He knew if you had been there you would have corrected him. It hadn't been your idea. He dared you, and you could never turn down a dare. That was one of the foundations of your friendship.

"So... Y/N is the one you're dating right?" Trombley questioned from the back.

Ray resisted the urge to throw a confused look at the kid. However, he had to keep his eyes somewhat focused on the road ahead. "What? No. Y/N's been my best friend forever."

"Oh. Well, you talk about Y/N more than your girlfriend," Trombley noted.

"What? That's not true," Ray scoffed. "Brad, tell them that's not true."

"Person, I can't even remember your girlfriend's name, but I'm quite certain I met Y/N."

"What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? I just have more stories with Y/N because I've known them longer." Ray huffed a few things to himself about how ridiculous this was and how you two were basically siblings.

"It would make complete sense for you to be dating someone that was related to you," Brad slyly added in response to Ray's mumbling.

"Now you're just being obscene. We're not related, and besides, I'm not from that kind of town."

"Ray, you come from a whiskey tango hick town where couples meet at family reunions, and you're living proof." Brad blinked maybe twice while delivering this blow. "Now tell us more about the person you're not dating."

__________

You happened to be outside your own parent's home when a car stopped at the curb. You squinted, trying to see who was inside.

"Ray? That you?" you called as he rounded in front of the car to where you stood in the yard.

"The one and only."

"Well, I'll be damned. How long you been home?" You made your way to him and greeted him with a hug. Even after only brief visits over the last few years, he was still your best friend.

"Just got back today. I stopped by my parents' first and figured I'd find you somewhere."

"And you found me. How are you?" You knew that whatever his answer was, it would only be a partial truth.

"Not bad. Happier now that I've can shit in a familiar toilet.”

You laughed, knowing he’d prefer that over whatever concerns you had for him. “So—“

“I love you,” he interrupted.

Whatever you had been about to say had dissipated from your thoughts like vapor. “I... I love you too.” You frowned, realizing this was a strange moment.

That was always an unspoken truth between you two. Neither of you had ever needed to say it.

A wide grin spread across his face. And maybe... relief? “Thank God. I thought you were going to punch me.”

“I may still,” you warned, though your smile called you a liar.

“Well, while you decide on that, do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“Did you ask me out on a date?”

“I mean, it’ll be at my parents’ house, and my family will be there.” Ray was rarely flustered but appeared to be a little pink in the cheeks now. “But we can do something alone after.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Any time with you is a nice time,” he beamed.

You groaned and squeezed his shoulder, falling back into your comfortable back and forth. “Don’t go corny on me, Ray. Tell me I’m stupid or something.”

“You’re stupid cute.”

Internally wincing, you weren’t sure if the cringing truly outweighed how endearing it was to hear him do anything other than jokingly tease you. “What time do I need to be there?”

“Be ready by 5. I’ll pick you up.”

“Classy.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Ray, you never fail to surprise me.”

#mariah writes: generation kill #generation kill #josh ray person #ray person #generation kill imagine #ray person x reader

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myherowritings · 5 years

Text

All That Ass

— One night at the gym, you see a handsome guy with so much ass, you take a picture on the sly and send it to your number neighbor, Bakugou, to freak out over. But what you don’t expect is for him to reply with a picture of you from the same gym.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader word count: 1,876 genre: number neighbor au!!, fluff

a/n: this is a bonus “what if” scenario based on these asks i received about baku and y/n meeting at the gym while he’s doing leg/butt day LOLOL,, just to be clear, this isn’t a canon part of the nn-verse! it’s just a hypothetical oneshot answering the question “what if they had met this way” AND I THINK IT’S SUPER CUTE!! i hope you enjoy and pls lmk what you think !! xx

“So… Does anyone want to go to the gym with me?” you asked cheerfully, sending a pointed look Shinsou’s way.

You knew Midoriya had already gone this morning (though, if you asked, there was no doubt in your mind he would go again), and Todoroki had just come back from swimming laps at the pool, so your roommate, Shinsou, was your best bet.

Too bad said roommate would rather stay home and play outdated games than workout with you.

When he didn’t reply for a solid five minutes, you poked him on the bicep-- How he actually had muscles considering how lazy he was would undoubtedly remain the world’s biggest mystery.

“Hello? Earth to Shinsou?”

He slowly tore his gaze away from the television, looking up at you from his seat on the couch. “Did you say something?”

Giving him your best smile while fluttering your lashes, you sang, “Does the best roomie in the world want to go to the gym with me?”

“No.” Shinsou hardly blinked.

Your mouth formed a small ‘o’. “Wha--? That’s it? You’re not even going to give an excuse?”

“Nope. Just go by yourself,” he dismissed. “You always talk about how you’re a ‘strong, independent woman’, correct?”

You scratched the back of your neck-- A habit you picked up from him over the years. “Well, yes…”

“And strong, independent women should be able to go to the gym by themselves, right?

The only way you could respond was with an incredulous nod.

“Glad we could agree,” said Shinsou with a wry smile. “Have fun at the gym, then!”

“I… Thank you…?”

And with a slightly confused expression you grabbed your keys and duffle bag and walked out of the door to the recreation center near your apartment, vaguely hearing Shinsou chuckling in the background.

It wasn't until you felt the chilling breeze of the outdoors that you snapped out of your trance.

“Dammit,” you muttered under your breath. How was he always so persuasive? Sure, at times you could be the slightest bit gullible, but regardless, his skills were almost inhuman.

You huffed, shaking your head as you entered the reception area of the gym. After showing the workers your membership and brushing your hair out of your face, you headed upstairs to do some cardio.

“Excuse me, are you done with the StairMaster?” you asked the blond-haired guy wiping down the only open machine.

A bead of sweat trailed down the side of his face to his neck and you had to avert your gaze before he could catch you gawking.

“Just finished,” he said, his voice a gruff timbre that was surprisingly pleasant to the ear. He finished wiping down the handles and nodded your way. “Go for it.”

You beamed, setting your water bottle and phone on the machine to get situated. “Thank you so much!”

He huffed. “Yeah, whatever.”

That wasn’t exactly a warm ‘you’re welcome’, but you shrugged it off with a small smile, stepping on the stairs and starting a light warmup.

You placed your earphones in and played some music to set the mood, ready to work up a sweat. Cardio was a pain, but it was worth it if it meant having a nice butt. (As well as making your heart stronger and increasing your lung capacity, you supposed, but those were mere seconds to the booty gains.)

As you upped the speed and got into the swing of things, you felt your eyes wandering around the room to your favorite part of the gym-- The squat and deadlift area. You noticed a handful of people were littered among the equipment and after your short inspection, you hummed to yourself.

Yup, things were definitely looking good there.

Absentmindedly, you saw your screen light up out of the corner of your eye and you unlocked your phone, briefly checking your messages. Or rather, checking for a certain message from a certain someone.

Still no reply? you sighed, placing your phone back on the StairMaster and trying to distract yourself by looking back at the students doing some leg exercises.

Almost instantaneously, your eyes were drawn to the blond who was using the cardio stairs just before you came.

StairMaster plus squatting what was easily 75 kilograms within ten minutes? You had to stop yourself from practically swooning on the spot. That was some serious gluteal strength he must’ve had.

He was finishing up his current rep of back squats, cheeks flushed pink and hair sticking to the sides of his face with sweat. Not only did he look unfairly handsome, but he had a hot body as well.

His arms were toned with a nice amount of muscles on his biceps and triceps--oh, goodness, his triceps were really something else--and he had impeccable posture as he squatted. (Not that his posture was the first thing you noticed about his squat, of course.)

You were staring so intently at this beautiful specimen of a man that he himself noticed, pausing briefly to try to find the source of the laser beams he felt on his behind. Before he could catch you gawking, however, you tore your gaze away and grabbed your phone, trying to pretend you were on it this whole time.

When he looked away, you sighed in relief, opening your camera app and peering at him through the screen.

You weren’t sure why, but you had a gut feeling your number neighbor, Bakugou, would’ve loved to share this beautiful sight with you. He seemed to be having a bad day and you figured a nice booty would be just the thing to cheer him up. So, really, you only wanted to take a picture of the hot gym guy out of the kindness of your own heart.

After snapping the photo, you sent a quick series of texts freaking out to your ‘bakubestie’ along with an attachment of the image of the blond guy’s backside.

Y/N: *Attachment: 1 Image*

Y/N: HDJSJDJD IK I’M LIKE QUADRUPLE TEXTING RN AND I’M SORRY (but rly what’s new)

Y/N: BUT I THOUGHT YOU WOULD APPRECIATE THIS PIC IDK WHY DON’T QUESTION MY IMPULSES OK

Y/N: i’m at the gym and this hot (albeit a lil bit of a grumpy grump :/) guy is here and woW

Y/N: like i’m just trying to work out in peace but his ass is all “hi there ( )( ) how are you ( )( )” AND I FEEL SO ATTACKED,, how is one person allowed to have all that ass? save some for the rest of us pls bro

After getting a good percentage of your thoughts and thirst out, you let out a sigh of liberation, upping the intensity of the StairMaster to further get your jitters out.

As you continued scrolling through your phone to check for texts from your roommates, you heard a bark of incredulous laughter from the other side of the room. You distractedly looked up, but after seeing nothing out of the ordinary other than the hot guy grinning at his phone, you shrugged and placed your cell down to get back to your workout.

The intense climbing only lasted for about three minutes before you got a text message from Bakugou (which you knew only because his text tone was ‘It’s so fluffy!’ from Despicable Me while everyone else’s was the default chime). A bright smile made its way to your face as you lowered the speed once again, taking a drink from your water bottle to cool down before eagerly glancing at your screen.

bakubestie: *Attachment: 1 Image*

Curiously, you took a look at the picture Bakugou sent. It was one of someone in the gym that looked quite similar to the one you were in, wearing the same workout clothes you were currently wearing… In fact, it looked like the photo was taken just now from inside the room, right next to the squatting area…

bakubestie: Too much ass, huh? I could say the same about you

You blinked, taking a few moments to process just what exactly was happening before you yelped in surprise. “What the--?!”

Your face fumed, head snapping up from your phone so fast you lost your balance and tripped on the incoming stair of the machine. Losing footing, you barely had time to let out a brief, “Oh, shit!” before falling down the StairMaster and onto your butt on the hard floor.

“Ouchie…”

There was a moment of silence before a booming laughter was heard from the opposite side of the room, and a mixture of dread and excitement filled your stomach.

Dread because if your suspicions were correct, the guy from the gym you were thirsting over to your number neighbor was your number neighbor. And excitement because--hello--you were finally going to meet your number neighbor! (That was, of course, if he didn’t run out of the gym at the very moment.) You were so excited that you couldn’t even dwell on the utter embarrassment any normal person would probably be feeling.

The scuffling of footsteps moved closer as you rubbed the side of your hip that landed on the ground.

“Tch,” you heard from above you. You looked up to see an amused expression on the blond gym guy’s face as he extended a hand out to you and checked for any injuries. “You really are a dumbass.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his all too familiar tone, and you winked cheekily at him while accepting his hand and standing upright. “And you really have a nice ass.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes as he fought off the blush on his face, your compliment catching him off guard. “Okay, well-- Now I know for sure it is you.”

With an excited grin, you jumped up and down on the balls of your feet. You were filled with nerves and butterflies and you wanted nothing more than to tackle your number neighbor into the biggest hug you could muster.

“You are okay though, right?” he asked, the smallest hint of worry in his features.

The little crinkle between his brows was so adorable that you just couldn’t help yourself. Your grin widened even more and your face began to hurt from smiling so much. You were certain you looked like a fool, but you didn’t care.

Before you could second guess yourself, you stood on your tiptoes and threw your arms around his neck to tackle him into a proper bear hug. Bakugou was still a bit sweaty and warm from working out--and you most definitely you weren’t looking any better yourself--but that didn’t change the fact that he felt cozy and safe and smelled faintly like your favorite caramel treat at the candy store.

“Yes. I’m better than okay,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, bestie.”

Bakugou froze in shock before letting out a breathy chuckle, slowly wrapping his arms around your waist as you shifted so your head rested against his chest. His hand lingered on the small of your back as he peer down at you with what looked like a smile of his own and you wished you could capture that moment in a frame and relive it forever.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

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celestialrry · 4 years

Text

call me baby

psa: this might have a part 2 if anyone wants it, ik its a shitty ending lol but I wouldn’t know what to write after this. also I have another angst piece in the works but its literally taking so long to write 😖

1.8k

summary: Being hopelessly in love with your friend isn’t ideal, especially when Harry doesn’t even seem to see you as more than a therapist.

warnings: angst, pining, cursing

You looked over at your phone, now vibrating against your bedside table, lit up with his contact photo, a picture of him sticking his tongue out. “Hi.” You picked it up, wrapping your free arm around your torso, sitting up a bit straighter out of instinct even though he couldn't see you.

“Hey, love. Can I get some advice?” He asked through the phone, his voice a bit gravely and deep as always. You silently sighed, biting your lip in hesitation. Everytime you’d get a call from him, he would either rant about his current partner, get advice about them, or just want you to be there when he needed someone to talk to.

Of course you would always be there for him, regardless of time, space, and anyone he gave his heart to. He was Harry Styles for god's sake, your friend since forever, the man who treated everyone like they were the best thing in his life, most of the time at least. He lit up any room he was in and when you’d see him it would always be fulfilling, even if the two of you sat in silence in a room of just four walls.

“Of course, what’s up?” You asked after a brief moment of silence. It was currently 4 in the morning in your single room flat in London and you didn’t think Harry knew that, but you weren't going to tell him.

“It’s just, Ana’s has been so clingy lately and we’ve only been together officially for 3 weeks. It’s making me want to end things.” Harry admitted into the phone. You almost rolled your eyes at his words. Not once has he called you to ask about you in months, but that's just how things were. You weren’t sure why you expected anything else.

“If you aren’t happy with her, end it,” You spoke up after a while, unsure if you were giving him the advice because you were desperate to be with him or it was genuinely what he should do. “There’s no point in being with her if you’re considering ending it over her being clingy.”

You heard him sigh into the phone before speaking up. “Yeah, we’ll see, thanks,” He said your name. You smiled a bit at that. It was crazy how he could make you feel so special by just the tone of his voice, absurd, really,

“ ‘Course. So-” Before you could say anything else you heard the beep of the phone being hung up. You took a deep breath, trying to think of how Harry and you were before everything changed.

2 years ago

“I can’t believe you’re officially moving to L.A.” You said as you stood in his bedroom doorway, watching him pack up his last few clothes.

“Me neither.” He simply said.

Before you could stop it, you felt a salty tear roll down you cheek. As you wiped it away, he turned around, his face dropping all previous joy, concern flooding his features.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He used the nickname he gave you 11 years ago when we were 10. It was crazy how the two of you had known each other so long, and now you were both 21, and he would be living in the city of angels.

“Just gonna miss seeing you as often as I usually do is all.” You laughed, the tears flowing more freely now. One Direction had just gone on hiatus and after spending some time at home, Harry decided to switch it up a bit. You didn’t understand why he couldn’t just switch it up by not wearing skinny jeans everyday, but it seemed he wanted something bigger than that.

He pouted and walked over to you, giving me a hug before mumbling in your ear, “I’ll call you everyday. Promise.”

Promises were made to be broken, it seemed. He only calls you when he needs a hand, and only answers if he’s alone. You wish you found it more frustrating than painful, maybe that way it would be easier to move on, but you have yet to do so. You’ve asked yourself why you were still silently pining over him, with no answer in sight.

The last time you saw Harry in person was almost a year ago, when he came back to visit his family. Up until that trip he called you everyday, or close too, wanting to know about you day or he just “wanted to hear your voice”. Then when we were together it was like no time had passed while he was away.

1 year ago

“Oh shut up.” You scoffed, lightly punching his bicep.

He just laughed in return, rubbing his arm acting like you had actually hurt him.

“I feel like you just got back and now you’re leaving again,” you said after a bit, knowing he was leaving the next morning. “Plus,” you added, gently playing with his hair. “I’m gonna miss your hair, it’s so fun to braid.”

He looked over at you as your hand fell to rest on his shoulder, running your fingers through his curls. “I know, but I’ll come back soon. I’ll try not to cut my hair for you, don’t worry.” He smiled at you, leaning over and pulling you into a hug.

You just returned his grin and hug, and stuck your fingers through the ringlets, having way too much fun with his hair. You noticed he was looking at you the entire time you were messing with his hair, but you convinced yourself it was because he had nowhere else to look.

Eventually, you were so close to him you could see freckles you never had before. Your breath hitched, not knowing if you should backup or not, your hand still resting on his shoulder in his curls. Then all of a sudden he was far away again, and it was like nothing had ever happened.

Your heart ached with the love you had for Harry, and it seemed nothing could cure it except him and when you woke up the next morning and instinctively checked your phone, you frowned as you noticed no notifications from the one person you truly wanted to hear from.

You weren’t sure when your hurt extended from the pain of practically losing a friend to the pain of not being able to be with someone you love. You weren’t sure when you started seeing his lips as kissable and not something to put lipstick on for fun. You weren’t sure when you started looking at his hands as something to hold and not as a blocker for your playful punches.

You weren’t sure when you started stealing glances more than you usually did or avoiding eye contact because it made you nervous. You weren’t sure when your stomach was no longer empty and then filled with butterflies. You weren’t sure when he stopped calling just to talk, or when he stopped picking up. All you were sure of was that you were hopelessly in love with someone who could never feel the same.

✧˖*°࿐

He called a few more times about the same girl, Ana. You had spoken to your friend about it, and you were slowly getting over him. Each time you were getting cut off and hung up on, and it took a really long time for you to know you deserved better. He hadn’t called you since he attempted once and you didn’t answer. It went on for a few months, he would call you almost everyday, alongside texts like “Hello?”, “Pick up, please?”, and the text that came last before you blocked him, “Are you okay?”. He didn’t deserve to know, and sure maybe you shouldn’t have just cut off all contact, but there was no other way to get over him.

A month after you blocked him, and you were no longer sulking when you checked your phone and no longer crying to sleep. You were becoming happy thanks to your self control, and finally learning that just because Harry didn’t love you, didn;t mean you shouldn’t love yourself.

You were sitting on your couch when there was a knock at your door. You looked up from the book in your lapa and stood up, scurrying to the door, not wanting the person at the other side to be waiting.

You swung it open, met with the last face you expected to see. He looked concerned almost, and almost immediately you were wrapping in his arms, after over a year he was holding you once more. Except this time you didn’t want it. You pushed him off of you and stepped back. “What are you doing here Harry?” You asked, a scowl on your face.

“I-y’wouldn’t answer me and then nothing went through, god, I was so worried, love-”

“No,” You shook your head. “Don’t call me that, you can’t just come here after being an asshole to me for over a year. You are not allowed to be worried about me, not when you haven’t bothered to ask how I am after all this time.”

His mouth dropped open in shock, you were always so calm, you never had yelled at him before. “I’m sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” You pursed your lips.

“Just let me explain,” He said, hesitating like he was trying to find an answer to this, but you knew whatever he told you, nothing would change. “I-when we saw each other last, we almost kissed, or at least I almost kissed you, I love you, I was so scared that y’wouldn’t feel the same, and I guess I got caught up in trying to make you jealous. Please, m’so sorry.”

He took a step towards you and you took two steps back. There was no way he felt the same as you did- you had. And even if he did, you always knew he was shit at handling feelings, but there was no excuse.

“No, you can’t do that, say that. I don’t care if you mean it or not,” You began, tearing up. “That-thats’s so fucking terrible to do to someone, especially if you love them. I’m tired Harry, I’m done with you, I’ve been done with you for months.”

“What?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe you.

“Please leave.”

Your heart broke at your own words, but you couldn’t forgive him. Not now, and maybe not ever.

“Please I-”

“I said leave, Harry.”

You could see his watery eyes as he opened his mouth to protest once more, but then closed it. There was nothing he could say. Not anymore. He was always leaving, but this time, for the first time, you wanted him to.

#call me baby #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles

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jewish-space-laser · 4 years

Note

ok i have an idea for a cbl blurb? could u do a blurb from harry’s pov from the night where he got drunk and how he felt when he saw yn and stuff? ik it already happened but i think seeing it from his viewpoint would be interesting!

Could be Lethal - Part Three (Harry’s POV)

“And every time I’ve held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns, And so it goes, and so it goes, And so will you soon I suppose...”

– And So It Goes, Billie Joel

HELLO EVERYONE! It’s been months since I’ve posted anything on here, but I randomly got the motivation to pick this up last week. I apologize in advance for my rusty writing skills! This ask has literally been sitting in my inbox for 10 months, so posting it actually feels quite cleansing. Anyway, here is a (long) blurb full of angst, angst, and you guessed it, angst! I hope you love Harry’s take of that night as much as I do. I love you all muchly, thank you for your ongoing love and support <3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxooox Tile

(3.8k word)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

See the CBL masterlist here!

WARNING: Detailed descriptions of heavy drinking

~~~

It was bullshit. It was all bullshit.

Harry was miserable. He knew it, his friends knew it, his family knew it… it seemed the only person who wasn’t picking up on his desperation was you.

You were a complete enigma to him. Sometimes, you were the warmest, most open person he’d ever met, indulging him with interesting conversations, stupid jokes, and even the occassional existential discussion. It was always difficult for Harry to truly open up to a person, having been jaded time and time again by people who weren’t able to look past his famous exterior.

That’s what makes it so much harder, he thinks. Knowing you properly, you knowing him properly. It made the moments where you were closed off harsher, colder, more difficult to read.

Since you left his house two days prior, he had done just about anything he could to take his mind off of you. He loved thinking about you, but he also hated thinking about you. It was tortuous and circular and he just wanted a brief moment of emotional respite.

No, he didn’t want respite, he needed it.

So he watched all three Lord of the Rings movies in a row, tested out a new stir fry recipe, spent way too much money online shopping, and even scrolled through the Humane Society website in a moment of weakness. But none of it mattered, because even if he could distract himself for a moment, you were still there, lingering in the peripherals of his mind like a song stuck in his head.

It was dizzying and mind-boggling, and Harry was at a loss for what to do. So when Sunday morning rolled around and it still felt like his lungs were being crushed into a ball, he started drinking.

It was only 8:00AM, but he bypassed the coffee cabinet and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of champagne. The pop of the cork was as loud as a gunshot, but Harry didn’t even flinch, hardly registering the sound of it hitting the floor across the room as he rushed the bottle to his lips.

Bubbles fizzed past his tongue and dripped down his chin, sliding down his bare chest before puddling on the floor. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly at the burn of the carbonation, but each gulp sent pleasant tingles over his skin.

For the first time in ages, his mind felt numb. He didn’t necessarily feel good, but he didn’t feel miserable anymore, and that’s what mattered. He could close his eyes without seeing your smile flash in his head, he could listen to music without immediately relating the lyrics to you, and after his second bottle of wine, he was even able to brew a cup of coffee without thinking of you.

Okay, maybe he thought of you a little.

At some point, he passed out on the couch, cartons of Vietnamese takeout sitting cold on his coffee table. When his eyes finally blinked open, the sun had already started to set.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. There was a familiar ache pulsing behind his eyes, and he groaned loudly into his empty house. It never used to feel empty, but now you’d come and gone, and it was too late. You’d left your mark on his house and his coffee and his heart… so he drank more.

There was no more wine, so he started in on his collection of hard liquor, expensive bottles lined on top of his cupboards. Normally they were reserved for when he had guests over, but this fell into the realm of desperation. His sunken eyes scanned the glass bottles before settling on the cheapest of them, an unopened Maker’s Mark. It would do.

He was pouring a healthy sized glass of the whisky, and then suddenly he wasn’t. His heavy eyes blinked in confusion as he stared across the bar at the bartender, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“That’ll be thirty-five pounds, mate,” the bartender said, “got roped into buying the first round, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, glancing over his shoulder to see Thomas and Jessie watching him from a booth.

He doesn’t remember leaving his house, let alone coming to the pub with his friends. In fact, if he tried to think about it, his memory of the entire day felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together.

In his mind, this was a success. A full day gone without thinking about you or talking to you or seeing you. The clock behind the bar read 00:43 in red neon numbers. He took one of the shots quickly, signing the bill and taking the remaining five back to his friends.

“Harry mate, we told you we’re not getting pissed tonight,” Thomas groaned, “what’d you get six shots for?”

“What kind are they?” Jessie asked, wrinkling their nose.

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, setting the tray down directly in front of himself. His vision swayed to and fro, but he still managed to down another shot, disregarding the concerned look his friends shared. “It’s rum. If you don’t want any, that’s fine.”

“It’s a Sunday, mate,” Thomas reminded him gently.

“We’re at a pub, aren’t we?” Harry slurred. “Supposed to get drunk here.”

“You asked us to come here,” Jessie said slowly, “said you needed to talk to us about something.”

Harry blinked at them slowly, swaying slightly in his seat. He didn’t remember any of this.

“Actually, he said he needed a drink,” Thomas corrected, “I didn’t realize he meant twenty drinks.”

Another shot burned down his throat, and then everything was cold.

“Harry.”

His head was pounding. Every limb felt heavy. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes, already overwhelmed by the echo of Thomas’s voice reverberating off of the tile floors.

“Harry.”

He knew that somebody was trying to get his attention, but he just couldn’t. The alcohol had done its job for most of the day, keeping his brain muddled down and diluted just to spare him the pain of remembering. But now, it backfired, trapping him inside his own head with no way out, with nothing to do but remember. He could hear people talking in the background, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if he was underwater, slipping further and further down with each painful clench of his heart.

He felt a hand press against his arm, and jerked away, causing his stomach to twist. He didn’t want to be here anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to be bothered.

“G’way, Thomas,” he managed to grunt.

“It’s me.”

Your voice was clear as crystal to him, but he knew it couldn’t be real. You had left him, after all.

The image of you driving away from his house was burned into his memory, playing over and over again in slow motion. If he thought hard enough, he could even remember the way your body had felt beneath his, whining and squirming and gasping, just like he’d always dreamed about. He could remember the sunken expression on your face the next morning, the heavy silence of the car ride to the coffee shop. He could remember how he’d hoped, so badly, that you’d finally talk about it, this unspoken connection that could no longer be denied. Most of all, he remembers the way his heart dropped when you told him that you didn’t remember any of it.

Another gentle brush, this time along his hairline, and he managed to open his eyes just a sliver.

You looked amazing. Well, there were circles under your eyes, you were wearing your pajamas and slippers, and you were frowning in concern, but to Harry, you were the most beautiful thing.

“You’re here… y’really here….” he sighed.

You were crouched in front of him, holding a plastic cup of water, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his chest. You looked sleepy and cosy, just like you always did when you stayed over. Before he could reach out to pull you close, you were putting the rim of the cup against his bottom lip.

He took it, grateful for the relief it provided his dry mouth. For the first time since he came to, he took in his surroundings. He was in a single stall bathroom, curled on the floor next to the toilet. The walls were an ugly pale yellow, while the floors were white, making the streaks of dirt and grime more noticeable than ever. Thomas was leaning against the sink across the room, watching you as you tried to get him to finish the cup.

“Y’look so pretty, always look so good,” Harry slurred, “just wanna snuggle, like we always do.”

He loved the way your mouth dropped open. Everything about you was endearing, really. He watched as you twisted your head to say something to Thomas, water sloshing around in the cup when you nodded your head quickly. Thomas left immediately after, but Harry hardly even noticed.

When you turned back around to face him, he felt blinded. Despite the dark circles under your eyes, they’re bright and they pierce through him just like always. He loves the color of your skin and the shape of your nose and the little crease that forms between your eyebrows when you’re anxious. He thinks he could probably paint you with his eyes closed.

Warmth licked across his skin when you brushed your fingertips against his forehead, tucking a stray lock of hair back into place. Harry leaned into your touch, unwilling to let the moment pass too quickly.

“Can you try taking a sip of water, H?” You tilted your head. “For me?”

He could have laughed, had he not been so nauseated. He would do anything for you normally, but he really did feel awful. “G’na make me sick,” he insisted, wrinkling his nose at the cup in your hand. Even though he could hardly focus, his eyes zeroed in on the faded X scrawled in sharpie on the back of your hand, a souvenir from your night out at TAVERN. He had a matching mark on his hand, and he dreaded the moment the ink would wash off fully. Just another thing forgotten.

He just wanted you.

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the look on your face told him that it had slipped out. There was no way he regretted it though, not with you right in front of him. Not in this state of mind.

“It’s gonna make you feel better, and then we can go home,” you urged softly, scooting a tiny bit closer to him.

Home. When he thought of home, he thought about mornings in his house, sunlight filtering in through the blinds and leaving shadowed stripes across your skin. Home was the way you squinted your eyes tighter together right before waking up. Home was you at his kitchen table, going off at him about not doing his dishes.

“Y’coming home w’me?” He managed to say. Your eyes softened.

“Only if you drink this whole cup,” you lifted it up to him once again, gingerly tilting his head up with a finger on his chin. Even though he felt like his stomach would combust if tried to swallow anything, he allowed you to help him drink some water. Some sloshed messily onto his shirt, but it felt sobering. You met his eyes for a moment, “is that good?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

If you asked him to drink water, he would drink water. He would drink an entire ocean of water. It was achingly clear to literally everybody but you. He could tattoo your name over his heart and you still wouldn’t see.

You gulped loudly, but didn’t say a word, simply prompting him to take another sip of water. He wished more than anything that you’d say something. Make some kind of facial expression. He just wanted a signal, a sign, that you felt anything towards him; disgust, affection, pity.

He was sure you must pity him.

Harry drank the rest of the water, cheeks burning as he asked you for a refill. He was still drunk, but the fog had cleared enough for him to sit up straight without feeling like he was going to hurl. He watched you refill the cup in the sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades, but that was honestly the least of his concerns.

“Y’must think I’m pathetic,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back against the wall. “Can’t lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me,” he heard you say quietly.

But it felt like he had. Because even though you were friends, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fall asleep to the sound of your soft exhales. It wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t feel that rush of excitement when you sneakily texted him under the table on nights out. Having you at a distance could never be enough.

“Harry…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes, “why did you drink so much tonight?”

If your obliviousness hadn’t been so devastating, he would have laughed. How could you sit here with him, look into his eyes, and not see that his heart was entirely in your hands? How could he explain anything to you if you hadn’t already seen it?

So he wouldn’t try. Not right now.

He mustered up the strength to push up onto his knees, managing to stand up fully with your steady grip on his arms. He took one shaky step as his head spun, and felt your arms snake around his waist to keep him balanced. Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of having you so close as you helped him out of the toilet.

You brought him to a stop in the main room by the bar, and he couldn’t help but bury his nose into the top of your head. You smelled just like you always did. It had only been a few nights, but your scent was already fading on his bedsheets.

“Y’smell like lavender,” he hummed, squeezing your arm lightly, “s’like you’re tryin; t’torture me…. So pretty.”

It really was torture, having you hold onto him as you both walked out of the pub. You were distracting, with your warm skin and soft hands. Each step was difficult; his feet were heavy as anvils and he just wanted to curl up right here on the sidewalk.

Just as he was considering plopping down on the pavement, he heard the familiar beep of your car opening. He closed his eyes once he was sat in the passenger seat, feeling you fuss over his seatbelt. He flinched slightly when you slid a cold water bottle between his knees.

Harry blinked, and then suddenly you were buckled in behind the steering wheel, poking his arm and peering at him with tired eyes. “Can you stay awake for me, H? Just till we get to your house, okay?”

“Y’coming to my house?”

You were so good to him, all the time. By the looks of your attire, you were ready to be in bed hours ago, yet here you were, patient as ever.

“Yes, I’m taking you home,” you said through a yawn.

“Miss having you at my house,” Harry exhaled. He didn’t even know what he was saying really, just the same thoughts and memories circling through his mind like planets around the sun, all them centered on you. “My sheets don’t smell like you anymore.”

Suddenly, he felt hot all over. His trousers were too scratchy against his skin, his palms felt clammy, and the longer you stayed silent on the other side of the car, his stomach started turning. In an effort to cool off and calm down, he let his head fall against the window, the cool glass soothing his skin.

Drunk or not, he was trying to tell you how he feels, he was constantly trying to tell you how he feels… and you didn’t say a word. You never did. It was so frustrating that he found himself biting back tears.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you cleared your throat. “You can’t…” your voice cracked, “you can’t say things like that, Harry. It hurts me when you say things like that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry managed to say. “But it’s the truth.”

He was so confused. How on earth could you be hurting when he was sitting here with his arms wide open? Was he so repulsive that the mere thought of being with him caused you pain, somehow?

He was too drunk for this.

Luckily, you seemed to be on the wavelength. “Let’s just… not talk,” you said, shoulders slumped.

Harry was feeling awfully dejected himself. He’d spent the last few days trying to cope with his complicated feelings, and now he was back at square one. Every time he thought he knew where the two of you stood, you would say something vague and he would start all over. Your relationship was like a house of cards; delicate, fragile, and knocked to the ground with the slightest shift, the tiniest gust of wind.

The headache started out small, but by the time you pulled your car into Harry’s driveway, he was feeling like he might keel over. Somehow, he was simultaneously drunk and hungover. If he was going to make it up the stairs to his room, he was going to need something in his stomach, and water that wasn’t from a pub bathroom.

It was humiliating enough that he’d needed you to help him from the car, but upon entering his house, he nearly kicked his shoe through the living room window, grumbling about toast. He knew he’d been less than impressive tonight, but perhaps this was what you needed -- seeing him at rock bottom -- to finally open up and have a real conversation about what you could be.

When he woke up in the morning, he would be sober, and he would be ready. He would make you coffee like he always does, and maybe he’d even run out and pick up fresh pastries.

“Want some toast,” he said, though he was fairly certain he’d said it once already.

You were standing in front of him, toes just inches apart, and it felt instinctive to place his hands on your waist and pull you in. The silk pajama top you were wearing was cool against his hands, but he could feel the heat of your skin underneath, the frantic thumping of your heart against your ribcage tickling his fingertips.

Your hands were on his shoulders to keep him steady, but he was suddenly feeling more sober than he had all night. All day, really.

Harry slid his hands further behind you, locking together behind your back. Having you close felt incredible. It hadn’t even been three days since he last saw you, yet every atom in his body was craving your touch.

“You, um,” he felt your shaky whale against his collar bone, “you have to let go of me if you want me to make you toast.”

Letting go of you felt physically impossible, so instead, Harry dipped his head down and rested his forehead against yours. The anticipation was excruciating as he waited for you to do what you always did: sink into his arms, wrap yourself around him, soothe him to sleep with the weight of your head on his chest.

Fissures cracked through his heart when you pushed him back, taking a single step back that may as well have been a mile. Suddenly, the air all around him felt cold, the room felt darker, the silence felt louder. He took a deep breath in, but still felt like he was suffocating.

“Do you really not remember?”

He needed to know. He had done everything in his power to think about anything else, but had somehow ended up here, standing face to face with you. He wonders if this is how it was supposed to be, if throwing you together over and over again was the universe’s ultimate plan, if all of this misery would be worth it in the end.

He’d experienced heartbreak before, but this was something else. And when you choked out, “Harry, please don’t make me say it,” in the smallest voice he’d ever heard you use, he knew that he could write millions of records about the pain of this moment, and still never do it justice.

“You remember, don’t you?”

All you did was nod your head once, but he suddenly felt drained. Maybe it was the full day of heavy, reckless drinking… or maybe it was the realization that things really might not work out. He still wanted to try, though. Even though you’d left the other day, there were countless other times you had stayed. For months you’d been coming over in secret, coming out of your shell and showing him how amazing you really were. That had to count for something; there had to be a reason.

Coffee. He would make coffee in the morning and the two of you would fix everything.

“Should we head to bed? ‘S getting kind of late, y’must be exhausted.”

You really did look tired, your eyes rimmed with red from yawning over and over, back hunched and shoulders slumped. He was feeling knackered himself, and was more than ready for this night to be over.

“Actually… I think I’m gonna head back home,” you gulped. Harry felt like he’d been slapped, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. It’s as if you’d turned to sand; there one moment and slipping through his fingers the next.

“You don’t want to stay?” Harry tried to keep his voice even, but even he could hear how it wavered. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying.

“I just… have to go home,” you said, looking everywhere but at him.

He waited for you to say something else, but instead watched as you hoisted your purse further up onto your shoulder and walked out the door. Shell shocked, he stood there frozen, even as your headlights disappeared down the street.

A long breath blew past his lips as he finally moved to lock his front door, any hope of you walking back through it dashed by the way you’d walked out for a second time.

Harry likely would have benefited from a glass of water and pain medication, but with a buzzing brain and a shattered heart, all he could manage was to pass out on the couch fully clothed, dreaming about what might have been if you had just stayed.

~~~

As always, let me know what you think! I love talking to you <3 xoxoxoxox Tile

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