#was the first thing i did upon waking open up my phone and listen to this? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaythes1mp · 2 months

Text

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

5528 words, 31958 characters, 321 sentences, 115 paragraphs, 22.1 pages.

Dick silently observed your sleeping form through meticulously concealed cameras around the room, a secret the family have kept even from Jason's knowledge.

He couldn't help but smile softly at the sight of you, cozily wrapped up in the soft woolen blankets he had masterfully orchestrated to be displayed on pop up ads all over your computer. Using Tim's hacking skills to flood your screen with countless ads for the snug blankets. He had spent months immersed in countless YouTube tutorials and enduring more pricks of his fingers from the knitting kits than he cared to admit. All in an effort to perfect the soft wool necessary to create the cozy blankets he observed you always instinctively seeking out when shopping, seeking to replicate that soothing comfort the same way your favourite sweaters did.

Dick waited quietly for over twenty minutes behind the front door, his phone held in his hand, with a soft grin playing on his lips. He knew the subtle creak of the wood would rouse you from your sleep, and he prepared himself to be the first thing you saw upon waking up.

Grayson couldn't help but coo softly as he observed you, looking around in confusion. You were so adorably clueless without your siblings to guide you, like a lost little bird.

He softly taps his knuckles against the door, but flinches backward as the wood creaks loudly, creating a resounding echo. He quickly checks his phone to see you flinching, and hisses under his breath, "Damn it."

He quickly flicks the app and pockets his phone, fiddling with his clothes to look perfect for your little outing.

After another five minutes of patient waiting, Dick drops his smile and knocks again, this time in a more rushed manner. He can't help but feel just a tad bit impatient, his fingers itching to see you.

He hears a soft thump and a low hiss followed by a curse, and Dick has to stifle a soft, amused chuckle. You must have toppled off of the couch, quite ungracefully, if the muffled cursing is any indication.

He glances down at his watch, noting the time - 01:24 PM. He muses mentally that there's still a good hour remaining before the reservation, plenty of time to coax you out of your cosy apartment and into some suitable clothes.

Dick hums a soft tune to himself as he waits, his fingers unconsciously fidgeting with the anxiety ring Tim had gifted him for Christmas. The fond smile on his lips widens as his deep ocean eyes crinkle with the gesture.

He straightens up, smoothing his hand delicately down his shirt as his gaze zeroes in on the door handle, listening intently to the distinct click as the lock disengages. A soft, sincere smile graces Dick's face as the door swings open to reveal you, disheveled and bleary-eyed. He can't help but find your drowsy appearance endearing.

Grayson’s voice comes out gruff and deeper than intended as he utters a soft, "Hey..." in greeting, the sound catching in his throat for the briefest of moments. He quickly gathers his composure, clearing his throat as he takes in your sleep-rumpled appearance. You looked even better in person.

The fond smile on your face was causing his heart to race. His baby bird. So grown up...

“What are you doing here so early, Grayson?” Hearing you speak jars Dick out of his thoughts, and he quickly runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth it back into place. He can't help but imagine you calling him "big bro," the thought causing his heart to skip a beat, and he mentally berates himself for it.

"I wanted to see how my favourite little bird is doing," he responds with a crooked smile, trying to play it cool. Or rather, that’s how he wanted to reply. Unfortunately, his attempt to play it cool is thwarted. He aims to reply with a casual nonchalance, but instead, his words come out as a spluttering mess. "It's already past one," he manages to utter, his voice cracking halfway through the words. Dick inwardly cringes at the voice crack, mentally cursing himself for faltering so visibly. “It's not that early.”

"I came to see how you're doing," Dick swiftly recovers, leaning casually against the doorframe as he explains his unexpected arrival. "Jason gave me the address," he quickly responds, noticing the confusion etched across your face. He mentally chides himself for appearing so flustered, knowing he needs to come up with a plausible explanation for his sudden visit.

It isn't until your brows furrow and the question leaves your lips that he realises he may have inadvertently revealed his connection to Jason. His mind races for an excuse, realising he needs to tread carefully to avoid raising further suspicion. He hates having to lie to his baby birdy. You deserve to know the truth. But he also knows that Bruce is keeping the information from you for a reason.

Dick can feel his body tensing up, and he forces a soft chuckle past his lips, trying to act casual and nonchalant. His mind is racing, searching for a suitable response to diffuse the situation before you can continue questioning him. “You could... definitely say that.”

Before you can react, the older man swiftly brushes past you, stepping into the apartment and moving deeper into the living area. His sudden movement leaves you momentarily speechless. He almost chuckles at the surprise flashed all over your face.

As you part your lips to speak he quickly steps in, his gaze darting all over your face, committing every little pore and feature to memory. “We’ve got our reservation in an hour.” The man can't contain his excitement as he moves further into your flat, his gaze darting around the room with a poorly disguised smile. He's inside your home, in civilian clothes, while you're awake. This is a moment he's envisioned countless times, and he can't help the sense of giddiness that washes over him.

Your mind races as you follow Dick further into the apartment. A reservation? You weren't expecting any plans today, least of all with Dick. Questions dance on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be asked, but the time constraint and the sense of urgency in his words makes it impossible to voice them.

"Dick, what –” he promptly interrupts you with a firm glance, but instantly softens when he sees the pout on your face. His expression quickly changing to a sheepish one.

"No time for questions," he grins, casting a fond glance in your direction before reluctantly shifting his attention to the surrounding apartment in search of something suitable for you to wear.

As Dick begins walking around the living area, he swiftly and efficiently sets about collecting a variety of clothing items. He snatches up a hoodie, a pair of shoes, and a jacket before adding them to the growing pile beside him. He carefully lays out the garments as he proceeds to plan your entire outfit for the day, as if he's already made up his mind about how you should look.

He maneuvers around the apartment carefully, avoiding any of Jason's clothes like second nature. He's all too familiar with the other boy's habit of leaving his belongings scattered around recklessly. He has no intention of stepping into the minefield that is Jason's mess. Rolling his eyes affectionately at the sight before him, Dick couldn’t help but find the scene slightly endearing.

His mind flicks through the various pieces of clothing he knows are in your closet, but he quickly shakes his head in dismissal. This will have to do for now. He scoops up the collection of clothes, folding them neatly and slinging the stack of clothing over your shoulder cheekily.

He takes a brief pause, his deep ocean eyes locking onto your own for a moment. Searching for something that he seems to find in your expression. A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth before he turns away to begin searching the room for a bag.

You catch the clothes before they can fall to the floor, raising a quiet eyebrow as you look at Dick. "Are you asking me to change now?" you ask, your voice tinged with mild amusement. God, he loved your voice. He's mesmerized by the sweetness in your tone, the way your words seem to dance effortlessly off your tongue. He could listen to you talk all day, every day. It was like music to his ears. The sweet, hypnotising tone that seemed to always reel him in. His baby bird.

His gaze shifts to the area where he recalls seeing a bag on the surveillance footage from last week, when you had used it to buy some pet food. His eyes roam over the floor, searching intently for the bag he had spotted before. “Not particularly asking," A grin tugs at his lips as he spots the small backpack shoved underneath a chair in the corner. Triumphant, he moves over and picks it up, the familiar canvas material gripped in his hand. "It's more of a gentle suggestion."

He turns back to you, holding up the backpack with a victorious expression on his face. "Found the bag," he declares, throwing it towards you. Without missing a beat, he resumes his search, scannings the room diligently with meticulous attention to detail. His gaze doesn't miss a single spot, methodically checking every corner as if it were second nature to him.

"Why do we need a bag?" Your voice cuts through the room, causing Dick to shift his attention back towards you. He silently scolds himself, suppressing the overwhelming desire to croon at the innocent confusion in your tone. In his eyes, you're like a little lost bird, fluttering around cluelessly, desperately in need of guidance from your big brother.

He takes a moment to steady himself, his shoulders visibly relaxing slightly. He moves closer to you, bridging the small distance that separates you. Resting his weight on the back of a chair, his gaze locks onto yours. His voice is soft and tender, a gentle attempt to soothe your curiosity. "We just do," he reiterates gently, as if hoping to ease your confusion.

He leans in further, his voice taking on a more soothing tone. "Don't worry about it," he says slowly, his words meant to assure any anxiety.

His response leaves you frustrated, the vagueness doing little to satisfy your curiosity. Huffing in annoyance, you turn on your heel and stride down the corridor with purposeful steps. You march into your bedroom, closing the door behind you with an audible click, effectively shutting him out. Dick remains in the room, watching your hasty exit with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In his eyes, your childish huffiness was nothing short of adorable.

He steps forward and leans his weight against the side of the couch, a tender smile playing on his lips. He listens intently to the soft rustling sounds coming from behind the closed door, where you are presumably changing. Though he can't see you, he is intimately aware of your every movement, each shuffle of fabric echoing in the room like a secret. The closed door serves as a deceptive veil of privacy, one that holds little power in his eyes.

He continues to listen, his sharp senses picking up every subtle sound from behind the door. The soft thud of your footsteps, the quiet sigh as you pull on a shirt, the gentle whisper of fabric against skin. He can almost picture the way your body would move, and a part of him wishes he could see each motion, commit it to memory.

The desire that wells within him is not one of a sexual nature. Instead, it is a yearning for a deeper, more intimate connection. For the kind of trust that comes from being laid completely bare, defenseless. He longs for a moment when you are vulnerable before him, stripped of all defenses and pretences. Where you place unwavering trust in him, giving him the chance to truly cherish and protect you, to cherish the trust you place in him as you reveal your true self. It’s what he yearns for.

Dick's gaze flickers up at the sound of the door handle turning, his eyes immediately fixating on your form as you step out of the bedroom. The sight of you wearing the clothes he had carefully chosen fills him with satisfaction. Each piece fits you just like he had envisioned, and he can't help but admire the way the fabric drapes over your frame.

He casually pushes himself away from the couch, his gaze trailing over your figure with open appreciation. His smile widens as he moves closer, closing the distance between you until he stands within an arm’s length away.

He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing the fabric of your shirt, as if he can't help himself. "Looks good," he murmurs, a hint of pride and possessiveness in his voice. The words spoken lower than a whisper, as if he’s talking to himself.

“See, didn’t I pick the best outfit?" he teases, his voice gentle and affectionate. He reaches out to tug lightly on the sleeve of your hoodie, a soft smile playing on his lips. The fabric is smooth and soft under his touch, and he takes a moment to simply savor the feeling of it against his fingers.

He tilts his head in a subtle move, his gaze tracing over every contour of your face. His eyes rove over your features, meticulously cataloguing them in his memory. It’s an unconscious act, a silent check to confirm that you're alright, that you're there and safe. Just within his reach.

Dick looks up, instantly recognising the irritation in your stance. It's a sight all too familiar, one reminiscent of a certain Damian. Your arms crossed defiantly, like a petulant child. He can't help but let a sheepish smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "What's that look for?" he teases, attempting to dissipate the tension. He can almost hear Tim's voice in the back of his mind, commenting on how much you resemble the youngest Wayne.

Your eyes narrow slightly, the irritation etched deep in your expression. Frustration is evident as you shift uneasily on your feet in the silence that follows. The atmosphere feels charged, weighed down by the unspoken.

Finally, you cut through the tension. Your tone is firm, demanding as you address him directly. "Dick, seriously," you say abruptly, cutting off any attempt at banter. "Why am I changing? Where are we going? You're being ridiculously vague."

Dick lets out a resigned sigh, his smile faltering slightly under the weight of your direct question. He had been hoping to delay this conversation until later, but he's aware that your persistence won’t allow for any evasion.

He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the neatly styled locks. His expression turns serious as he locks his gaze with yours. While the constant questioning can occasionally be irksome, he can’t help but find a certain charm in it, that endearing childlike curiosity that often drives you.

The answer is simple, stated as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re going out.” It’s a straightforward statement, short and lacking in any further details or context. He preens at the way your face contorts in confusion. You looked cute.

You're about to question him, craving more details about the plan, but before you can utter a word, Dick interrupts. He holds up his hand, preemptively stopping any further inquiry. "And before you ask," he starts, his voice steady, "I can't tell you where." His gaze gleams with amusement.

His voice is steady and unwavering, carrying a firmness that leaves no room for debate. But deep in his eyes, a flicker of conflicting emotions dances - a mixture of concern and determination. Dick understands that he can't divulge everything just yet. He knows the truth has to remain hidden, cloaked in secrecy. However, as he gazes at you at this very moment, his heart clenches. It's difficult to keep the truth from you, to prevent himself from simply sweeping you away right in that instant. His contemplation abruptly comes to a halt as you take a step closer to him, closing the distance between you.

You let out a soft sigh, moving closer to him. Your arms are held out, your annoyance evident in the slight pout on your face. The action sparks a tightening sensation in Dick's chest, his heart reacting instinctively to the sight of you waiting with your arms open, an unspoken plea for affection.

Your pout brings about an immediate transformation in Dick. His manner softens, a fond chuckle escaping his lips as he recognises the familiar indication of frustration. In response, he pushes himself off the couch and moves closer, promptly wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him.

His embrace is firm and secure, an unspoken message of reassurance. His chest brushes against yours with each breath, a comforting presence. He pulls you against him, your body fitting perfectly in the space between his arms. Dick buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent.

He tightens his arms around you, drawing you closer to his chest. In another context, he would likely take the opportunity to tease you about your pout, a behaviour he always finds endearing. But in this moment, there's a sense of urgency that hangs heavy on his shoulders. A silent understanding flickers in his eyes, and he pulls you even closer, his breath warm against your skin.

He senses the tension that courses through your form, the frustration and confusion palpable in your stance. In response, he begins to gently run his hands up and down your back, trying to ease the anxiety that clings to your body. His fingers press softly into your skin, a familiar touch that he hopes brings a sense of comfort. At the thought of you being upset, he feels a wave of protective anger wash over him. After all, no one should hurt his little sibling. Ever.

Dick rests his chin on the top of your head, his eyes closing for a moment. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his, the rhythm of your breathing, the steady beat of your heart. He memorizes each sensation, committing them to memory.

He takes a deep breath, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose. He inhales deeply, the familiar fragrance calming his nerves. He can hear your own steadying breaths, the soft exhale against his chest.

Holding you close in his embrace, he murmurs into the softness of your hair, his words carrying the weight of sincere reassurance. "Trust me, okay?" he says, his voice resolute. There's no room for argument, only a plea for your unwavering trust.

He feels your response in an instant, your arms encircling him tightly and pulling him closer to you, their grip firm yet tender. As you look up at him, a small, tentative smile begins to form on your lips, the earlier irritation dissolving under the soothing presence of his proximity.

The furrow between your eyebrows softens, replaced by the hint of a smile. The stiffness in your frame begins to subside, the aggravation gradually fading away as he continues to hold you, his touch working its magic. You're blissfully unaware of the effect you have on him, each little expression making his heart swell.

A wave of warm affection washes over him as he gently pushes a strand of hair out of your face. His hand then moves to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the contour of your skin affectionately. His words, soft and soothing, break the silence. "Ready to go?" The image of you, nestled in his arms, is so vividly etched into his mind that he never wants to forget it. In that moment, you were his. His baby bird.

You roll your eyes, the gesture lighthearted and amusing. You lean your head into his touch, your features relaxing into a softer expression.

"I guess," you say, adding a touch of sarcasm. Despite the ambiguity and the unanswered questions, there's a sense of reassurance in being with him. The bond between you is deep-rooted. In that moment he knows that you trust him completely.

A wide grin spreads across Dick's face as you pull away, his arms dropping to his sides. The mixture of curiosity and subtle irritation in your eyes amuses him. He meets your gaze, his own eyes sparkling with a hint of his characteristic playfulness. "You'll find out soon enough; no need to worry." Even though the words are casual, the undertone of his voice indicates a barely concealed desperate urge to pull you back into his embrace.

He turns away, picking his jacket up from the back of a chair. He slings it over his shoulder, gesturing towards the door. “C'mon, we've got a reservation to catch.”

Dick leads you down a quieter street, away from the hustle and bustle of the main road. The ambiance of the area is distinctly more upscale, the shops and restaurants here a noticeable step above the rest of the city. A place he’s spent countless hours researching. It’s perfect for you, it’s got the food you like, it’s one of the lowest crime rates in the city, and the family has full control of the surrounding areas.

He guides you towards the charming little bistro, the soft light of the outdoor lanterns creating chiaroscuro patterns on his features. Dick can't help himself; his hand moves instinctively to tousle your untamed, bedraggled hair, a fond gesture of affection.

A satisfied smirk lights up Dick's face, his confidence evident. "Told you I've got this under control," he gestures toward the entrance. "Let's go."

Dick opens the door, gesturing for you to enter before him. The restaurant's interior exudes refinement, but he barely spares it a glance, his focus entirely on you as he allows himself to admire you.

Immediately, a sharply dressed host approaches, her spine ramrod straight and chin held high. Dick's voice is assured and unruffled. "Reservation for Grayson," he states, his manner self-assured and laid-back. The host already is aware, of course, but Dick is well aware he needs to keep you from posing any unnecessary queries.

The waitress gives a knowing nod, sharing a silent understanding with Dick. She affixes her most polite smile and phrases her question with a courteous tone, "The four-in-one show, is it?"

"That’s the one," he responds casually. The waitress nods in agreement and leads the way to the reserved area. Dick naturally gravitates toward you, his hand finding its way back to your waist, the touch both possessive and reassuring as he tenderly guides you.

The reserved area is tucked away in a remote corner of the restaurant, deliberately secluded from the main dining area. It's a cozy, intimate space adorned with soft lighting, a small circular table topped with sparkling glassware, and padded, inviting armchairs.

Dick courteously draws out your chair for you, waiting patiently until you are comfortably seated before taking his seat opposite you.

He hums, watching over you for a moment before the silence is broken. "What the hell was the waitress talking about?" you ask, leaning your cheek against your palm.

Dick gives a soft chuckle as he settles into his seat across from you, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "You’ll see," he answers in a purposely vague manner, his eyes nonchalantly roaming over the leather-bound menu. However, his attention is not fully focused on the menu. His gaze drifts towards you as he steals furtive glances, observing every move you make with a hawk-like intensity that only an older brother has.

Dick observes your struggle for a few moments, watching as you squint at the small, intricate script scrawled across the menu. He can’t help but chuckle softly, the endearing sight amusing him.

"Struggling there, birdie?" he teases with a smirk. The name slipping past his lips absently.

"How can anyone read this?" He watches you toss the menu down, slouching back in your chair in frustration. Dick grins warmly at your disgruntled expression and reassures you, a touch of humor in his voice. "You get used to it," he informs you, the hint of amusement in his tone evident. "Reading these fancy menus is all part of the experience, y’know."

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on the tabletop. He takes a moment to observe you as you continue to mutter and fuss, clearly not appreciating the fanciful script and intricate typography on the menu. Inwardly, he wanted nothing more than to gush over how adorable you looked with that disgruntled expression plastered across your face.

"Whoever made these is a sadist," Dick chuckles deeply, the sound echoing in the small, intimate space, making the air feel even more private. "You're right," he confirms, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "But don't worry," he assures you, a grin forming on his lips. "I'll step in to help you read the rest, if needed."

Your eyes narrow as you respond defensively. "I'm not a child. I don’t need help to read." the eldest brother clenches his teeth firmly, struggling to hold back a heated retort. he bites his tongue. But you are.

Dick expertly buries his inner thoughts beneath a veneer of false joviality, holding up his hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. His forced smirk attempts to mask his true feelings, as he replies in that charming manner of his. "Hey, I never said you did," he says smoothly, his tone still even and lighthearted.

"I was just offering my services as a personal menu translator," he teases, smirk deepening as you roll your eyes playfully, clearly enjoying your little bit of banter.

"You're cute when you're stubborn," he comments, the compliment slipping out almost effortlessly, like it's something he says every day. And when it comes to you, it really is.

Dick leans back in his chair, lifting the glass of water to his lips and taking a measured sip. A momentary silence descends upon the conversation as both of you stare down at the menu, each of you lost in your own thoughts. After a brief pause, he speaks up once again, the quiet finally broken.

Dick couldn't help but laugh again in response to your indignant hiss. Your defiant, pouty expression was just too adorable to resist, an almost complete 180 from your usual demeanor. "So," he asks casually, "finding anything interesting on there? Or is it all just gibberish to you?" You shoot a glare in his direction, muttering a frustrated "Oh, shut up."

"Hey," Dick returns with a teasing smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "It’s not my fault you can’t read fancy, tiny writing." Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on the tabletop as he continues, his tone more earnest now. "Seriously, though, have you found anything you'd like? I can order for us if you'd like," the peace offering clear in his voice.

A small smile graces your lips as you finally set the menu aside. Leaning back into the chair, you place your arms over your chest and turn to Dick, addressing him with a faux-dramatic flair. "Alright, Mr. Fancy Menu Translator," you declare. "Surprise me." Dick grins widely, thoroughly pleased at your response. He lifts an eyebrow, savoring the moment before speaking again. "Challenge accepted," he replies, his tone filled with playful confidence.

"Surprise it is then." Dick chuckles softly, his gaze flickering over the menu, though it is clear that his attention is entirely on you, rather than the list of dishes. With a smooth precision, he signals for a nearby waiter and places your orders with expert ease. Once the waiter steps away, his gaze turns back to you, a proud smirk plastered on his face.

"Alright, you're in my hands now," Dick's smirk deepens, your name rolling effortlessly off his tongue. You roll your eyes dramatically in response to his conceited attitude, though inside you can't deny the quiet thrill it sparks in you. He always knew how to keep things exciting and engaging. "In your hands, huh?" you muse, arching an eyebrow in a faux-skeptical manner. "Should I be worried?"

The warm, cerulean depths of Dick’s eyes follow your movements closely, noticing the unconscious way you shift towards him, as if seeking out his presence. A wave of protectiveness washes over him, yearning to envelop you in his embrace and keep you safe forever. But he quells the urge, choosing to bask in the moment, relishing the time he has to spend with you. "Oh, I think you should be very worried.”

Grayson leans forward, matching your position and bringing himself closer to you across the table. In a soft, almost imperceptible gesture, he subtly brushes his knee against yours beneath the tabletop, the touch gentle and affectionate.

"But don’t worry," he adds, his tone shifting into something slightly more genuine. "I’ll take good care of you."

You grimace and let out a mock gag, dramatically clutching your stomach as a playful response. Your voice drips with sarcasm as you shoot back, “What, did you steal that from a soap opera?”

Dick feigns offence, a hand dramatically flying to his chest as he gasps dramatically. "Me? Steal from a soap opera? I’m wounded," he grins, his tone equally as sarcastic as yours. Nose scrunching up in extra flair. He revels in this moment, you were acting like true siblings would. He wonders if you somehow know, if you’re somehow aware, but he squishes down the thought.

"You’re supposed to swoon, by the way. That’s usually the natural response to such declarations.”

"Sorry to disappoint," you reply dryly. "I’ll be sure to swoon next time. Maybe I’ll even swoon so hard I fall out of my seat." Dick chuckles heartily at your retort, the sound deep and genuine.

"Careful there," he teases. "I’d hate for you to give yourself a concussion. I’m still enjoying my night." He reaches out to gently pinch your cheek before pulling his hand away, his smile still firmly in place.

You scoff at the action, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your cheek. A soft glare thrown his way. "Stop it," you warn, though your tone lacks any real seriousness. "You’re such a child sometimes."

Dick grins unrepentantly, clearly unworried about your 'warning.'

"You love it," he says, his tone cocky as ever. He has the smug expression of someone who knows exactly how true his statement is.

"I do not," he holds back a giggle at your huff. You narrow your eyes. "You're infuriating, you know that?"

Dick grins wider, clearly satisfied with your response. He leans back in his seat, his arms crossing over his chest.

"Oh, I know," he replies, his tone smug. "But you love it, admit it."

“It sounds like you’re just trying to get me to tell you that.” You shoot him an unimpressed look, which Grayson shoulders almost too easily. He tilts his knee further into your own, seeking out your warmth.

"And if I am?" he responds, that cocky grin still on his face.

Dick leans forward yet again, the proximity between you decreasing with every movement. His intense stare remains unwavering, fixed intently upon your eyes. "Admit that you love it when I tease you," he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his voice, "and I’ll stop."

Dick can barely contain the storm of emotions churning inside him at the thought of you confessing your feelings first. His heart soars with elation and giddiness, his mind spinning with sheer joy. My baby bird. In his mind, he silently pleads say it. Please, just say you love me.

"Yeah, alright. Whatever. So what if I do?" You respond with a reluctant shrug, leaning back against the chair, feigning nonchalance. Dick's heart skips a beat, the nonchalant dismissal causing a surge of excitement within him. It takes all his self-control to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions bubbling up inside.

Dick grins widely in response, the triumph in his voice evident as he gloats. "See? Was that so hard?" he teases. "Admitting that you love my teasing." His smirk widens even further, the cocky satisfaction of knowing he has you wrapped around his finger all too clear.

He moves his elbow onto the table, resting his chin against the palm of his hand as he stares at you intently. A smoldering, almost intense look in his eyes, the playfulness in his tone masking the deeper emotions hidden beneath. "I knew you couldn't resist my charm," he drawls, his voice dropping even lower, filled with a mixture of smugness and possessiveness. You can't help but snort at his arrogance.

“Dick.”

Your voice causes him to pout involuntarily. The way you say it makes him think you're not actually calling out his name, and a frown momentarily mars his features.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features used, no gender mentioned.

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wearebarca · 3 months

Text

7. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 7

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 6,4k

A/N: Feedback is always nice. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy

Rosalie knew before she opened her eyes that she wasn’t in her bed. The stiffness in her neck was indication enough, along with the slightly rough feeling of the wool blanket she kept as a decoration on her couch. An unknown alarm was blaring from her phone on the coffee table. Suddenly, the memories from the night before started to come back to her. How good it was to be wrapped in the footballer’s arms, how warm and safe it felt. She was probably the one who set an alarm to make sure the photographer wouldn’t be late for work. The simple thought put a smile on the woman’s face.

A quick look around her kitchen told her that most of the dishes were put away and a cup of coffee along with a note were waiting for her on the counter.

“ I have to bring Nala home before training. You looked too peaceful to wake up. Thank you for yesterday, I really needed it. See you at training bonita.”

Ale

The photographer took the note and pinned it on her fridge. Every time her eyes strayed to it while getting ready, she could feel butterflies fill her stomach. The brunette hopped quickly in the shower and changed into her day clothes before heading out for the training center.

The first thing she noticed upon entering her office was the small brown paper bag which seemed to be the source of the delicious smell lingering in the room. There could only be one person responsible for such a gesture. The fluttering feel from the morning came back full swing as the photographer pulled out a fresh pastry from the bag.

Her morning was quite slow. She had tasked some of the junior photographers to attend training to allow her to finish answering some emails and send the contend Martina was waiting on for the next social media campaign. Rosalie’s morning was surprisingly productive considering the stiffness in her neck. The only thing that pulled her out of her work induced trance was the repeated buzz of her phone. When the device kept vibrating after a good five minutes, the brunette finally checked her screen to see what was going on. She was surprised to see the nicknames of several girls from the team appear on her screen, with the first notification being “Capi has added you to the chat”. Most were welcoming the photographer to the group and the rest were discussing the team bonding night organised by Ingrid that would most likely take place two weeks from now.

Deciding she would read everything later, she left her phone on her desk and focused on finishing a few tasks before lunch. When she arrived in the cafeteria, she was immediately called by Mapi and Ingrid to join them and the rest of their group. The brunette grabbed her food and took the last available seat, which happened to be next to the Spanish captain.

She was leaning with her elbows on the table, her hands holding her chin up and listening intently to what Patri was saying. Only, as soon as the brunette took her seat, her focus shifted.

« Hola, » she said with a lazy smile stretching on her lips. Patri was aware of their budding friendship, but so far had not been aware of a deeper connection blooming between the captain and the photographer. Now, with her friend who had seemingly forgotten about her in order to engage in a conversation with the Canadian, it was clear that something more was happening.

“Did you sleep ok?”

“Yes, thank you, I didn’t even realize that you left this morning.” The photographer said a little embarrassed by how hard she was sleeping. They were leaning close to each other in order to keep a certain level of privacy in a table filled with their friends and colleagues. “ How did you sleep? Can’t imagine my couch would provide the best sleep.”

“I slept good actually, but I can’t say it’s because of your sofa no.” She said with a smile.

Patri, still amazed by what was unfolding in front of her, tried to catch Pina’s attention by elbowing her in the ribs. “¿qué es?¿qué es?”

“¿desde cuando?”

“no sé” Pina said, watching the two women converse in front of her. “tengo curiosidad por saber que esta pasando”

“Le preguntaré a algunas de las chicas sobre esto.” Patri said, getting up to bring back her tray.

The week passed on quickly for everyone. The team was preparing for their game next wednesday and the media team was working extra hard to provide the fans with fun content with their favourite players. Rosalie was able to get out of her office more, and take back her place as the main photographer present during the training sessions. More than ever, Rosalie was appreciating the little routine she had formed, but now, there was a new element present in her daily life. Every lunch, she would spend it with the team in the cafeteria, more precisely with a certain blond captain.

As they grew closer, the rest of the team noticed the growing chemistry. With the realization came the teasing, which Alexia shot down pretty quickly. Even if these girls were her family, she did not want her private life to be the subject of discussion among them. But even with her efforts, the whole team was soon aware of the clear interest the women had for each other.

Even with the thought of the photographer in her mind, Alexia was still dead focused on training. Her comeback after her injury had not been an easy road and the pressure of getting back to her old standards was a heavy load on her shoulders. Her appointment with the physio had been full of warnings against overtraining and focusing on a slower but safer road to full recovery.

Alexia knew all of this. She knew that overworking herself would only slow her down in the end. But she was stubborn. The guilt she felt for her club, her teammates, the fans, who had yet to see the return of their queen, was simply too strong.

She wasn’t surprised when Monday , two days before the game, she felt some discomfort in her knee. It wasn’t pain, yet, but it was enough to allow fear to grasp at her mind.

Rosalie could see it from the sidelines, the anxiety slowly creeping in the blonde’s eyes. She was slower than normal, running through the drills with a carefulness she hadn’t seen her use before. She wasn’t the only one who had noticed the change in intensity. Jonatan soon after called for the captain who immediately ran to him, making a tremendous effort to hide the slight limp she had developed in the course of the session.

Their exchange was fast. Alexia clearly seemed to want to finish this session and was arguing her case with as much intensity as she would with a ref during a game. Jonatan stayed strong, even with the captain towering over him.

At this point, their argument had pulled the attention of several of the girls. Rosalie lowered her camera, not wanting to breach what clearly was a conversation meant to stay between player and coach. When she realized that Martina failed to show the same respect as her, she positioned herself between the pair and the head of media’s phone.

“ I doubt this is the entertainment the fans want.” She said with a raised eyebrow. She had heard from the players how Martina could sometimes be invasive but she hasn’t seen her cross the line just yet.

A dry laugh escaped Martina’s lips as she finally lowered her phone. “Si, si, you are right.” She said as she moved farther on the sidelines. Rosalie turned back around just in time to see Alexia storm off the pitch, leaving a discouraged Jonatan behind.

“ Thank you Rosa.” Mapi said, approaching the photographer. “ Ale would have been livid if this came out in one of her instagram stories.”

“Would she really?”

“ She has before.” Mapi said with bitterness in her tone.

“ I’m starting to understand why Alexia is so wary of the media team.” Rosalie made a move towards the tunnel but was stopped by a hand on her wrist.

“I know you want to make sure she’s alright, but for now Ale needs a minute to process.” Mapi said with a sad smile. Rosalie knew the Spanish woman was right, and she could not just leave practice to go comfort the captain.

“ Oui, oui I understand.” She said, picking back up her camera. The rest of the practice seemed to drag on to no end for the photographer who wanted nothing more than to see how the blonde was doing.

Once training was over, Rosalie learned that Alexia had been sent to the physios to assess the situation. Not wanting to disturb the professional, she went back to her office to work in the editing of the pictures she had taken.

Once again, her afternoon seemed a lot slower than usual, and for one of the first times since she had started this job, Rosalie left her office at the same time as the rest of the staff.

Lucy and Keira could not believe their eyes when they saw the Canadian walk out of the building.

“Are you feeling alright Frenchy?” Keira asked, almost worried for her friend.

“Oui oui, I just thought finishing early would hurt once in a while.”

“Who are you?” Lucy asked, grabbing the younger woman by the shoulders.

“Non mais voyons lâches moi.” The brunette said, laughing loudly.

“Wanna come by for dinner? We could watch a movie or something.” Keira asked, happy to finally have the opportunity to finally spend some time with her best friend.

“Sure! That’s a great idea!” They all walked together in the parking lot, discussing what they would watch, when a specific dark grey cupra caught the attention of the photographer.

“Isn’t that Alexia’s car?”

“Yeah, I thought she left at the same time as the rest of us.” Lucy said, checking her watch. At this time, the medical staff had already left and no one was left in the gym.

“I hope she’s ok.” Rosalie said as she came to a stop half way to her car. Lucy and Keira could practically see the dilemma forming in the younger woman’s head. They knew that she would not ditch them, even if her heart was telling her to go see the Catalonian.

“Go.” Lucy decided for her. Rosalie sent a thankful look towards the couple as she turned around and almost dashed to the training center.

She let her instincts guide her to the pitch, where she found the blond sitting alone on a ball. She took a seat next to her. They stayed silent for a while, until the blonde was ready to talk

“I am not playing on Wednesday.” The blonde said, her gaze not leaving the pitch. “They want to prevent further deterioration.”

The brunette shuffled closer to the footballer. “Can you still train?”

“ In the gym, yes, and light drills.” She said sadly.

Rosalie took a second to take in the footballer's sad features. With her foot, she kicked the ball slightly under Alexia, just hard enough to make her lose balance and slide to the floor. As soon as the ball was free, Rosalie dashed down the pitch to the nearest goal and sent the ball in the top right corner. When she turned back towards the blond, she was still sitting on the floor with a very cute and confused expression.

“Come on! What are you gonna do about that?” The photographer yelled arms in the air with what Alexia thought was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

“Are you scared of an amateur, La Reina?” Rosalie knew she had her now. Alexia got up and slowly jogged to the goal to retrieve the ball. She kicked it in the brunette’s direction and stood a few feet away from her.

“ I just know that you are no amateur Rosalia.” She said with a soft smile.

As soon as the brunette touched the ball, Alexia’s whole demeanour changed. Her face was the epitome of focus and her whole body tensed, revealing her taut muscles. The sight was intimidating to say the least, but Rosalie was not going to let the opportunity to show off a little pass.

She dashed forward, ball at her feet, pulling all the tricks she could think of. She was fast, but Alexia seemed to be able to predict her every move and soon enough, the photographer ended up on her ass, no ball in sight.

A loud laugh was heard behind her. She turned around to see Alexia with one foot on the ball, seemingly trying very hard to keep her composure.

“ You’re fast, and skilled, but a tiny bit predictable.” She said, offering a hand to pull the photographer up.

“Rematch.” Was all the photographer said as she took the ball from the blond and positioned herself once again. Alexia smiled at the brunette’s eagerness. She had found someone as competitive as her.

They were at it for almost an hour, with Rosalie successfully scoring a grand total of seven times against Alexia who blocked at least twelve attempts.

Rosalie, unsatisfied with these statistics, almost begged the footballer for one last attempt. Whoever won this, would win the whole game.

“ I think I have you now Reina.” Rosalie said with a cheeky smile.

“ Don’t get so cocky now bonita, I won’t go easy on you.” The nickname made the photographer blush furiously, but she refused to let it distract her. She finally launched her attack , but Alexia’s response was so fast Rosalie wasn’t even able to register what was happening. She was left standing alone in the field while Alexia was already halfway across the pitch, sending the ball in a perfect arc in the opposite goal.

Rosalie sat on the grass and let herself fall on her back dramatically, arms in a cross. Alexia retrieved the ball and ran back to the photographer, flopping down almost on top of her. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs, but she made no move to get out from under the blond.

“ I think it is safe to say that I won.” Alexia said, still laughing. No answer came from the brunette, who was too mesmerized by the blond’s eyes and the feeling of her weight on top of her.

Her smile softened as her eyes shifted to the captain’s lips. Alexia seemed to finally notice the position they were in, as well as how little space separated the two. She could feel the rapid pulse of the photographer, which matched her own. The pull was magnetic, and every second passing seemed to eat away at the woman’s resolve.

They did not know who reached for who first, their movements almost synchronized.

Her lips were even softer than Rosalie had imagined. They fit perfectly on her own and it felt like something had just clicked. She could feel the tension in the captain’s body slowly fade away, as if she was melting in their embrace. The shift of weight brought the delicious feeling of the footballer’s body moving on her, which pulled a small moan from the brunette.

The sound caught Alexia’s attention. She smiled into the kiss, which made the smaller woman pull away slightly. When she saw the happy expression on the footballer’s face, she smiled and angled her head away, embarrassed by her body’s reaction to the blond. Alexia’s hand came up and caressed the photographer’s cheek before diving back in for a slow kiss. The contrast between Alexia’s callous hands and her soft lips made the photographer’s head spin.

They pulled away when oxygen became an issue. Alexia thought, as she looked at the smaller woman who’s pupils were blown and lips swollen from their kiss, she realized that she needed to see more of this blissed out version of the photographer.

Rosalie’s expression changed, mistaking Alexia’s silence for regret. “I’m so sorry I didn’t want to overstep I’m…” she was interrupted by the feeling of the blonde’s lips back on her.

“ Don’t apologize, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” She said with a smile. They got back up and retrieved their bags. None of them uttered a word as they walked back to their car, content in the comfortable silence. Alexia stopped next to the photographer’s car, holding the door open for Rosalie.

“Thank you,” Alexia said with a shy smile. “I needed this.”

“Which one, the game or the kiss?”

“I think it’s safe to say both.” She said with a grin.

Rosalie had a love-hate relationship with her phone. She liked the convenience of having a decent camera always with her, but she hated the constant buzzing and being bombarded by text and notifications. She kept her phone on silent outside of work hours.

If she had it on, she would have seen the notification of a new instagram story on the club’s account. She would have seen that she had been tagged in it, along with Alexia’s account. She would have seen the massive wave of messages flooding her dms.

Instead, it was in her bed , when she reached for her phone in order to set her alarm, that she realized exactly how invasive the head of social media could really be.

The video wasn’t too bad really. It captured the moment of the photographer’s fall after she had lost to the captain and Alexia toppling on her a few moments later. To anyone else, it simply looked like two friends having fun after a long day at work but to the women’s football community, it was a lot more.

Emotions flooded the brunette all at once. Never would she have thought that her privacy would be so easily exposed to the world. She never wanted to be thrusted into the spotlight, and all this attention made all the color drain from her face.

The feeling only grew much worse when Rosalie thought of Alexia. She knew how the blonde felt about her life being exposed to the public eye.

Rosalie didn’t sleep that night, and the consequences were very visible the next morning when she pulled up at the training center. She had ignored all of Ingrid and Mapi’s numerous calls and texts, and only answered a thumbs up to Lucy and Keira’s worried messages.

For the brunette, it was impossible to think about anything else than Alexia’s reaction to all this. The facility was quieter than usual, due to the fact that Rosalie had opted to arrive later to avoid crossing paths with anyone. Surprisingly, Ingrid was sitting in the lobby, and got up as soon as she saw the Canadian enter.

Rosalie froze and didn’t move when the Norwegian made a move to hug her. «How are you? »

« Worried.» the photographer said in a small voice. « My phone won’t stop buzzing. »

The raven hair girl tightened her hold before letting go and grabbing her arm to start guiding the brunette down the corridor.

« The media team and the coaches have called a meeting to deal with the situation. Alexia is there as well. »

« How is she? »

« Very angry. » Ingrid said. She panicked a little as she saw her friend’s face fall. « Not at you Rosy! She’s in this state mainly because this time, Martina dragged someone dear to her in this mess. »

Rosalie blushed slightly at that and stayed silent for the rest of the walk. They arrived in front of a room where loud and rapid Spanish conversations could be heard through the closed door. Ingrid sent an encouraging look to the photographer before pushing her inside the room.

Inside was a long table where Jonatan, Sara, Marcelo, Martina, Alexia and another man she did not recognize were all sitting. The room went quiet as the Canadian entered. Jonatan got up and smiled at the nervous photographer.

« Bon dia Rosalie, take a seat. » he said motioning to the open seat next to Sara, which happened to be right across Alexia. Just like Ingrid had said, the captain looked livid, anger overtaking all of her features, making her look cold and almost Dangerous.

« Hey, I’ll translate if it gets too fast.” Rosalie sent a grateful nod her way, but when the conversation started back, they had switched to English to make sure the photographer would follow.

“ As I was saying, it is simply unacceptable to use the player’s personal life to promote the club. Let’s not forget that this video was taken outside of training hours and I am certain none of the girls gave their consent to post this.” Jonatan said, turning to Rosalie to confirm his statement.

“ I never gave my consent, nor was even aware of being filmed during that time.” She said in a shaky voice.

“ But you were at the training centre. That makes it ok to film since what happens inside these walls is club business.” Martina said, clearly trying to justify her actions. “ It was a wholesome moment that attracted a lot of attention to the club.” She added.

Every word coming out of the woman’s mouth seemed to chip away at Alexia’s patience. She decided that she had been silent long enough and it was time to show just how angry she truly was.

“ Attention? You exposed us for attention? You forcefully pulled Rosalie at the forefront of an obsessed fan base who’s been harassing us for the last 12 hours, for attention?” She said, the sound of her voice getting louder and more aggressive with every word.

“You don’t realize the impact your actions have on other people. As players, we know that we are constantly being watched and that our lives are but a source of entertainment for others. But Rosalia never asked for any of this. She doesn't deserve this violation of her privacy.” She added, sending a look in the photographer’s way. One that greatly reassured the brunette. Alexia was trying to protect her.

“We are tired of the abuse the head of social media has perpetuated and the team, along with the coaches, ask management to take action against the perpetrators.” Alexia sat back in her chair. The rest of the table was silent, waiting to see who would dare speak after Alexia’s declaration.

Finally, the man Rosalie did not know coughed a little and spoke in spanish, too fast for Rosalie to be able to understand properly.

“He said that from now on, Marcelo would be acting as head of social media and that every post Matina would prepare would have to be approved beforehand.” Sara whispered to the brunette. She turned just in time to see Martina’s face fall and Alexia’s smirk appear.

“There is still the matter of the video itself.” Marcelo said, pulling out his computer. “Millions of people have already seen it. Taking it down now would only attract more attention to it.” He said, turning his screen so they could all see the statistics.

“ The response is mainly positive and Alexia told me that the messages she’s been receiving are mostly positive.” The new head of socials turned towards the photographer. “ What about you?”

“I haven’t read anything really, but none of my notifications stood out.” She said pulling out her phone and opening the app for the first time since the night before.

“ So it seems that for now, most people see this as the friendship we all know you two have. This is good. I think that the best course of action would be to leave it up, and simply continue our posting habits as usual, but featuring the other players more.” He said with confidence.

“ We need to give the fans something else to focus on. We can post a fun interview from media day today along with an update on our injured players.” The solution seemed like a good plan to the rest of the staff who all agreed and stood up. The man Rosalie had yet to know the name walked out first, followed closely by Martina who looked dead set on trying to explain her point of view. The fact that she seemed incapable of understanding what she had done was wrong baffled the brunette. She really did not regret her actions and Rosalie was starting to think that her consequences weren’t harsh enough.

From the corner of her eye, the photographer saw Alexia abruptly stand up and bolt out of the room. Her instinct told her to follow, and she was glad she did because she arrived just in time to see Alexia trap Martina against the wall.

“¿Viste algo más anoche?” She asked in a low, menacing voice. Her tone gave Rosalie chills, and she didn’t know if it was because of fear or something else.

“No, me fui justo después, lo juro.” Martina said, visibly shaken by the taller woman’s action. Alexia released her and stormed out towards the locker room. When Rosalie passed her, she sent a strange look her way, as if she was trying to see something that would have evaded her keen snooping skills.

Her gaze made the photographer feel uncomfortable as she quickened her steps. She pushed the door of the locker room and found Alexia, head in her hands, sitting at her cubicle.

“Ale…” At the sound, the captain’s gaze met her own and Rosalie saw for the first time how Alexia truly felt about the whole ordeal. Fear and panic was visible in her hazel eyes as she stood up to pace around the room.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” She said, eyes to the floor. “If someone sees…”

“Everyone is on the pitch, it's ok.” Rosalie could see Alexia getting agitated , so she decided to take a seat in the closet cubicle to her, on the opposite side of the room.

“I knew this would happen. It’s always the same thing with your team.” She said, still pacing.

“My team?” Rosalie said incredulously.

“Si, you can’t stop putting your nose in other’s lives and it’s hell for the rest of us.” Alexia said, stopping in her tracks to look at the brunette.

Rosalie was too stunned to speak. Her expression was a mix of hurt and sadness that broke the captain’s heart as soon as she saw it.

Rosalie knew that Alexia was angry and it was this anger that pushed her to say these things, but she couldn’t help how bad she felt after hearing it.

“ I thought you knew I wasn’t like this. I would never breach your privacy like this.”

“ I know, I know.” Alexia said, trying to calm down. “Maybe we should just be colleagues,” she said in a small voice, incapable of looking the photographer in the eyes. She knew that if she did, she would cross the room and take the smaller woman in her arms, apologize and tell her that everything would be alright.

“Is that what you really want?”

“Si.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do but respect your decision.” Rosalie said in a sad voice. She turned around and walked out of the locker room, leaving Alexia alone.

As soon as the brunette left, Alexia sat back down. She felt like her legs weren’t able to carry her anymore. Her hands were shaking and a heavy feeling lingered in her heart.

She knew that what she had just done was cold, but it was the only way she could protect her from the scrutiny of the public eye. She knew Rosalie was like her, a very private person and the moment the photographer crossed the threshold of the confederation room, she could see from how small she looked, how much this was affecting her. Distancing herself from the French-Canadian was the only option to keep Rosalie, and herself, out of the spotlight.

When she finally mustered up the strength to get out on the pitch, her eyes immediately scanned the field for the family silhouette of the brunette. She only found one of the other photographers and the rest of the media team. Thankfully, Martina was nowhere in sight.

Alexia walked to the huddle in the center of the pitch and took a spot next to Lucy. The woman turned around and sent a glare her way, almost frightening the captain. The rest of practice was hell for the midfielder. She made mistake after mistake, missing targets on her passes and unable to complete plays that she usually had no difficulty doing.

She simply could not stop thinking about how it all went down this morning. She knew that it would be hard to stay away from the photographer, especially now that the feeling of the woman’s soft lips was ingrained in her mind, but she had not planned feeling this sort of withdrawal so soon.

As soon as the photographer reached her office, the tears that were threatening to fall ran down her cheeks. It was all too much at the same time for the woman. Her phone blowing up with various messages from fans, her anger towards the former head of social media, Alexia’s rejection and the workload that came a few days before a match, was simply more than what she could handle emotionally.

So Rosalie did what she always did when it became too much. She buried herself in her work and training. She spent her whole day barricaded in her office, arranging the photoshoot schedule for the next month and working on the fan project. She skipped lunch and stayed well after the last staff member had left. She ignored the messages from Lia and Leah who had seen the story and wanted to know if their friend was alright, and sent a quick answer to Lucy, who she had briefly talked to before hiding in her office. She needed to be alone, isolate herself from the world for a bit.

Having the match here in Barcelona came as a relief for Rosalie who didn’t have to take the team bus or interact with anyone before the actual match. She had tasked the other photographers to take the arrival pictures and was able to receive and edit them in her office while everyone was preparing.

With Alexia on the bench, Rosalie found her job sligh harder than normal due to the piercing gaze she could feel on her back. It took every ounce of self control to not turn and meet her gaze head on. She knew that if she did, she would forgive the blond for the harsh words she had said. So she focused on her job, and did not linger on the pitch once the team secured the win.

The rest of the week stayed more or less the same for the French-Canadian. Wake up, run, breakfast, work, strength training, sleep then repeat. She had declined coffee with Ingrid and Mapi and had yet to decide if she was going to show up at the team bonding night, which was scheduled in 3 days.

All week she could see, as well as the rest of the team, that Alexia was clearly not in the right mindset. Her temper was short and she easily lost her patience when training wasn’t going the way she wanted. The whole team had come to fear the blonde and simply did not know how to approach their captain.

When it became clear that Alexia’s mood wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Mapi decided that it was time to have a talk. Which is why, when the midfielder was sulking all alone on the sidelines, she was swiftly grabbed by the jersey and dragged in the stands.

From their spot, they could see the rest of the girls doing drills and for a moment, Alexia was able to take a breath. She had loved watching her teammates practice when she herself could not play. She used to close her eyes and visualize herself back in the field. But for now, she was focused on the reason why her friend had dragged her in the stands in the middle of training.

The tattooed woman stayed silent while she kept looking at the blonde in the eyes.

“What?”

“You are going to talk to me now.”

“What about?” Alexia knew exactly what Mapi was hinting at, but she still tried to act confused.

“ You know exactly what I’m talking about, now spill.” Mapi said with a stern expression.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s the same thing every time any of us gets close to someone. We get exposed and our whole lives are scrutinized. I don’t want this and I am pretty sure she doesn’t want that either.”

“You are scared.”

“No.”

“Alexia, you can’t let this dictate your life.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t be distracted by all this. I can’t have people think football is not my priority.”

“They won’t. Ale you are human, you are allowed to have a life outside of football. We all saw you with her. You haven’t been this happy in a long time.” Mapi said, trying to reason with her friend. She could see that beneath this facade, the woman was simply scared to allow herself to thrive outside of football.

“It’s too late now, she probably doesn’t want anything to do with me anyway.” Alexia said.

“ I know for a fact that isn’t true. She cares about you too Alexia. Make it right.” Mapi got up and made her way down the stairs, leaving Alexia alone to think. She knew her friend was right, and she knew that the true motivation behind her decision to cut ties was fear, but the feeling was still so potent that the blond could simply not allow herself to act on her emotions.

Alexia did not go back to practice, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the photographer who was currently dying under the harsh Spanish sun. Even after last week, the brunette still caught herself seeking out the captain on the pitch. She shook her head and tried to focus back on her job, but the heat combined with the exhaustion caused by her excessive training and lack of proper sleep was a deadly combination.

One second she was up, the next she was on her ass with her head on her knees, concentrating hard on staying conscious. The first to notice was Lucy, who bolted across the pitch, followed closely by Sara and Kiera.

The last thing the photographer saw was Lucy crouching down in front of her, and the feeling of her hand on her forehead before the world went black.

Rosalie woke up in Sarah's office with her head pounding and vision blurred. As soon as she opened her eyes, Lucy was all over her, making sure that the girl had everything she needed. The older English woman managed, after some arguing, to convince Rosalie to take the rest of the week off, since she had already finished her work and the rest of the photography team could manage without her just fine for two days.

A knock suddenly echoed in the room and a silhouette blocked the frosted glass of the door. Lucy stood up from the chair and opened the door slightly before sliding out once realizing who was at the door. Rosalie could not clearly see who was at the door, but she could hear the faint sound of talking

“Lucia I just want to know if she is ok.”

“ I’m telling you she’s fine. It’s just exhaustion Alexia you can relax.” Rosalie could hear a long exhale that most likely came from the blonde.

“Alexia, if you care about her so much why did you treat her like this.” Lucy asked. The captain stayed silent, but Lucy learned a lot more from the blond’s silence than any word could explain.

“Make it right ale.” Lucy said, echoing the words Mapi had said to her just a few hours prior.

Rosalie heard some footsteps and soon after, the door opened softly and a disheveled blond head poked through. Once she saw that the brunette was awake, Alexia realized that she had not planned what she would say to the photographer.

“Hey..” Her voice was so hushed and shy that Rosalie almost didn’t hear it.

“You can come in, you don’t have to hover at the door.”

“I won’t disturb you too long. I just wanted to see if you were ok.” She said, finally stepping in the room.

“Just a bit dizzy still, but I’m fine.” She said,

“Good.” She stood awkwardly for a moment, looking around the room unable to look the brunette in the eyes.

“I am sorry about the things I said. I was stressed and did not think before speaking.” Alexia finally said, taking the few steps separating her from the chair next to the exam chair.

“It’s ok, it was the stress talking, I can understand that this kind of pressure is hard to deal with.” The younger woman said. She couldn’t deny that the initial reaction had hurt her but after a while, especially after seeing the echo it had online, she was able to understand why one would react like that. “ But I want you to know that I don’t appreciate how you blamed me and my profession for someone else’s actions.”

Rosalie could excuse the reaction, but this part still stung. “ I am not like that, I respect and value the privacy of every player in this team.”

“I know. I am truly sorry.” The brunette offered a smile which was answered by Alexia’s shy one.

“ Do you need me to drive you home?” Alexia offered.

“Thank you but Lucy has that covered I think.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Alexia asked with the slightest bit of hope in her voice.

“ I think I’ll take the next two days off and work from home if they need me.”

“ But I’ll be there at team bonding night on Friday. The girls won’t let me miss it after disappearing on them these past two weeks.” She added when she saw the blond’s shoulder fall at her previous statement.

“ Good, I am glad you are ok Rosalia.” Alexia said, standing up and making her way to the door. “ I would like it if we could start over, be friends again.” The blond added.

“ I think we can do that.” Rosalie said with a smile.

“ Ok, you take care of yourself Rosalie please.” Alexia said before walking out of the room, leaving Rosalie alone, feeling the best she had all week.

#barca femeni #barcelona femeni #futfem #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #lucy bronze #keira walsh #ingrid engen #mapi leon

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fuctacles · 8 months

Text

For @steddielovemonth day 12th prompt by @acasualcrossfade

M | 1383 | cw: trans pregnancy | modern AU, ftmEddie

Steve wakes up and does the first logical thing that all people do. Checks his phone.

He blinks at the bright screen trying to decipher his notifications and sighs when he realizes the group chat is flooded with messages. It’s nothing new, although it never hit 99+ before. He scrolls up to catch up with whatever his friends have been up to at night. Wonders if he’s the only one that uses nighttime for rest.

He’s groggy with sleep and as he passes through the chat log, he’s struggling to make sense of the messages he’s seeing.

>>How about a gender-neutral one?

>>I vote Elrond!

>>WHO’S GONNA BE THE GODPARENTS

He scrolls and scrolls and finally reaches The Photo. And things, unfortunately, start to make sense.

It’s a photo of a pregnancy test.

He immediately goes to his chat with Eddie. Tries to type a message, fails, and hits the call button. It takes a considerable amount of time for Eddie to pick up.

“The fuck do you want?” he growls upon answering, voice thick and distant. Steve clearly just woke him up but he couldn’t give two shits about it right now.

“Why didn’t you tell me first? Wait, is it not mine? No, wait, you can tell whoever you want, of course, but, is it mine?”

“What?” Eddie sounds tired and angry which, fair, it’s 7 AM, not his usual waking hour.

“We skipped the condom a couple of times, but you said it’s not possible, not with all the hormones you’re taking. I’m not mad, I’m not panicking, I just need to know.” Okay, maybe he was panicking a bit, but not bad panicking. It’s just not something he’s prepared for. Is he ready to be a dad? Would Eddie want him to be the dad? Would Eddie want to be a dad? Would he even want to—?

“Shit, fuck, do you want it? Are you okay with your body doing… this? Are you okay?”

“Okay, deep breath, please.” Eddie sounds much more awake now and Steve follows his instruction, anxiously awaiting answers. “I’m not okay; I feel, frankly, betrayed by my body, but I think we’re talking about two different things. Why did you call me? So early, may I add?”

Eddie’s calm. So Steve can be as well. He breathes in and out.

“I saw the group chat. The photo?” He bites his lip. Maybe Eddie hoped he wouldn’t see it at all?

“What? Hold on.”

Steve holds, listening to the shuffling on the other end. He hears the springs on Eddie’s bed creak and thinks it’s finally time to get him a new mattress. Or, if Eddie is up to it, move in together.

He flinches when the soft shuffling of the bedspread is broken by a loud snort, followed by manic laughter.

Wasn’t it too early for mood swings?

“Stevie, baby,” Eddie finally wheezes out.

“Yes?” He perks up, eager for answers and hopeful from hearing the pet name.

“Please put on your glasses and look at the photo again,” is all Eddie says, before bursting back into laughter.

Steve frowns but reaches for his glasses, resting on their usual spot on his bedside table. Once secured on his nose, he opens the chat again and goes straight to the media folder to open the photo in question. He squints his eyes at it.

It’s a covid test, clear as day.

“You’re not pregnant,” he deadpans.

“Nope. Just good old corona.”

“Shit.”

Steve falls on his pillow, completely drained from the emotional rollercoaster. He thinks about calling in sick. He’s too humiliated to show his face to the world and, besides, how is he supposed to teach kids when he’s such a dumb idiot himself?

“And, for the record,” Eddie continues once his chuckles subside, unaware of Steve’s inner turmoil. “I would tell you first, and it would be yours. It’s just been you for a while and I’ve never fucked without a condom before.”

Steve did not know that. He slaps a hand over his mouth so no embarrassing sounds come out at the revelation.

“But yeah, it wouldn’t be possible on my current hormone cocktail. And I don’t think I’d ever be prepared for a little alien growing inside me. It’s one thing to say fuck gender norms for one day and wear a dress and another to completely overturn my body’s ecosystem for a year, maybe more, without turning back.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods because that’s all he can do. He knows a lot about Eddie’s body by this point, but possible pregnancy is not something that comes up in daily conversations.

“Besides, I’ve been talking with my doctors about getting an oophorectomy, so that will be off the table soon anyway.”

Steve frowns, not liking the sound of that but not wanting to assume anything. Again.

“What’s that?” he asks instead.

“Ovaries removal,” Eddie answers easily. “So the hormones they produce don’t fuck with my T shots.”

“Huh.” It will never cease to both anger and amaze Steve how much trans people have to go through to be themselves. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“Mhm. How are you feeling?”

Steve frowns at his ceiling.

“Me? You’re the one with covid.” The fact suddenly, finally, sinks in. “Shit, how long will you be quarantined?”

“Just a week, don’t worry. But I’m asking because you kind of deflated there.”

Steve huffs.

“My boyfriend has covid, of course I’m—”

“No, I mean, are you disappointed you didn’t put a baby in me?”

Steve chokes on saliva and air, and has to sit up on his bed to take a proper breath.

“Eddie,” he wheezes out in a warning, his face going beet red.

“Are you?” he presses.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Open cards, baby. It’s not on the table, but I won’t be mad if you want it.”

Steve sighs. He worries this kind of thing might break their relationship. It was a topic he avoided, not only with Eddie, but with others he dated before him. Not many people their age are ready for kids talk, for a commitment like that.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Sorry if it’s a deal breaker.

“Don’t be sorry. Nothing bad about wanting to knock up your boyfriend.”

“Eddie.” This time his warning comes with an amused breath.

“What? Just because I won’t do it doesn’t mean I can’t play along.” He can hear him smirk from the other end of town where Eddie’s apartment is. “It’s no condom town, baby, from now on. I want all your cum inside, pushing it deeper with your fingers when you pull out. I’ll keep it inside while we watch TV. And then we’ll go again and again until it catches. Until you give me the baby you want so much.”

Steve whines, eyes closed and imagination running wild.

“Shit, I’m so wet. Didn’t know I have a breeding kink. Huh.”

“Jesus Christ Eddie, you can’t do this to me at the beginning of your quarantine!”

“Well, you’re the one who brought up kids! Which, I think we should have a serious talk about once I’m back in the world.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, and presses his eyes closed with resignation. He should have seen it coming. He loves Eddie, which is exactly why he’s been avoiding the topic of a future together, of kids, of a family.

“Yeah, sorry I’ve been holding back but I think I’m ready to make this serious if you are.”

Steve makes a sound. Questioning and confused because it’s all he can give him now.

“I know it’s a long shot, but we could adopt, or find a surrogate. I can wear a belly if it does it for you? Dunno, we’ll figure something out. If you want to, of course.” He’s rambling, which is a sure sign that he’s being sincere.

“I want to,” Steve assures him quickly. He is so relieved, so excited and full of love, that he’s about to cry. “I love you so much.” And there it is, his voice is already shaking, eyes wet.

“I love you too, baby,” Eddie coos back. “Now, can we get back to the horny part? I know you have to get up for work soon.”

Steve laughs at that, hand promptly sliding down his body.

“Yeah, let’s.”

#covid au #inspired by markiplier #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #mine #ff #steddielovemonth #st #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #modern au #ftm eddie munson #trans eddie munson #transmasc eddie munson #cw: trans pregnancy #cw: pregnancy #tw: pregnancy

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theglitterypages · 10 months

Text

Keep A Part Of Me

Nanami x Reader

Warning: Sad, Unedited.

Yuji was trembling as he held the box in his hands. He closed his eyes tightly and utter a silent prayer, hoping that he'll wake up from this nightmare and see another reality where the Shibuya Incident never happened.

Everyone who was present at Shibuya have prepared their last will, and messages for their loved ones in case that they won't be back. Sadly, Yuji had to be the one to deliver Nanami's last message because he promised to do so.

Yuji's footsteps were heavy as he opened the bakeshop's door. He ignored the "Sorry, we're closed." sign and went straight in.

You were cleaning the bakeshop when you heard that somebody walked in. You sighed, sometimes people don't really get the sign "closed". When you rushed to see who walked in, you saw a pink haired teenager carrying a small box in his hands.

He looks miserable, the poor teen still have some bruises and cuts and his eyes looks like he's seen more than what he should've. You have a soft heart for youngsters, maybe it was because you had a younger sibling who had passed and seeing a young boy like this one looks broken just makes your heart tight.

"Hey, I'm sorry but we're already closed." You started, "But I can still give you something, what would you like to have?" You asked him sweetly.

Yuji gathered all of the courage he could gather at that moment to step towards you and hand you the box. Before you could even talk, he went down on his knees and cried.

"I'm so sorry but I have to deliver this for Nanamin."

You froze upon hearing your boyfriend's name and your knees gave up, Yuji was able to catch you and helped you to sit on the chair nearby.

"W-What do you mean? Where's Kento?" You asked, your voice shaking as you look at the box in front of you. A part of you already knows, you've always known that this might happen, but you can't believe that this is the reality now.

You know about your boyfriend's job as a sorcerer, you don't understand a thing or two about it but all you knew is that it's dangerous. Kento would go home with bruises sometimes, but you didn't mind, you were worried but as long as he comes home alive, you can deal with it.

"Nanamin fought bravely until the end. A lot of lives were saved because of him." Yuji said. He has no idea how to say it straight. How he can make you feel better, how he can say it in a way that won't hurt but he knows that's not damn possible.

Tears escaped from your eyes before you even knew it. You were crying like a child in front of a stranger as you hugged the box that he gave you.

Yuji was crying as well, he couldn't do anything to make you feel better because there's no way he'll feel better about this too.

You opened the box and saw some of Kento's belongings, his tie, his phone, his wallet, a letter and a velvet box.

The first thing that you did was unlock his phone, you're his wallpaper and his lockscreen. You opened his video folder and saw a recent one.

You played it and your heart broke when you saw his face on screen.

"Hi my love, I would never want you to watch this video. Not at all, but if you're watching this...that means I failed to keep my promise to you." Kento removed his glasses and fixed his tie, smiling sadly at the camera.

"I didn't want to do this, you know? But I need to leave something in case my luck has run out." He sighed and paused, breathing heavily as if he's fighting back his tears.

You held the phone tighter when he looked straight at the camera with teary eyes. "I wanted to spend all of my years with you. To come home and smell the cookies and cake that you're baking, and see that smile of yours." He smiled bitterly as he clenched his fist.

"I will do my best to come home, safe and sound. So I could kiss you and keep you in my arms, but if I don't...forgive me my love."

Yuji's heart was breaking every moment that he listens to Nanami's voice and while watching you break down as you listen to his message.

"If you're watching this, god, I truly hope you wouldn't have to but if you do. I'm so sorry, forgive me for the pain that this will cause you my dearest."

You could see that he couldn't continue, you know he didn't want to record this at all. But apart from that you see the fear in his eyes and you could hear the worry in his voice.

"This will be my last mission. If I survive, I would lay my weapon down and live the best of the years with you." Nanami smiled at that thought, that's the plan, this is one last fight till he finally rests and live without the fear of not making it home to you.

"However, if fate decides to be cruel. I want you to move on. Take the tiny box and open it, love."

You did what he said and your heart was broken even more into tinier pieces if that's even possible.

There was a golden ring inside the box with your birthstone on it. Your eyes went back to the screen and you see Nanami smiling sadly. "Keep this ring as a sign of my devotion to you even in the after life." He chuckled, biting his lower lip as he looked at the camera.

"Please find someone else and get married. And my wish is that you use this ring so that even if I didn't have the honor to marry you, a part of me would still be with you. But if you don't wish to, please keep it for me and look at it to remember me."

You wore the ring and kept on watching his message.

"I love you and I want nothing but your happiness. So please don't cry for me, I want you to smile whenever you remember me because I would never want to be the reason of your tears."

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short-honey-badger · 9 months

Text

Peppermint Tea 15

Figured I would go ahead and get this part out since it was already halfway written. Just some super fluffy and domestic stuff since I've been in my feels lately.

Also. JJk fandom. The name is for you. It's pretty obvious.

btw. I'm running out of OPLA Gifs of Mihawk, so you might start seeing some anime gifs.

Warnings! kissing is all.

Song reader is singing! Here!

Masterlist

Time passes as time does. Weeks turn into months since the day Dracule stumbled upon your island. He visits when he can, usually staying three or four days at a time, every couple of weeks. During that time, you and Mihawk have grown closer, to the point that the two of you were in each other's thoughts at every waking moment. There was nothing in this world that would keep Dracule away from his Snow Angel.

Today Dracule had a rather unusual gift, so his ship was packed with the things necessary to take care of it. Dracule dearly hoped that you would like this one. He surely did not. Or maybe it didn't like him.

As the months passed by, Dracule gifted you many things, some for you and some for your home. The three chickens, one rooster, and two hens had arrived not long after Mihawk had figured out your true heritage. Your garden expanded another four plots to accommodate all of the new seeds and saplings the warlord brought you. He had even gone so far as to help you build a pen for the goat Dracule had brought along on one memorable trip. The poor man had not been happy and made you help him clean his ship.

The best gift of all was being able to finally meet Perona after weeks of speaking over the phone. The pink girl had quickly become your closest female friend, and it felt incredible to have someone to speak to about the girlier things in your life. There were some subjects that Mihawk just didn't get.

Thankfully, Mihawk arrives at your island before he decides to toss your gift overboard. He gathers his things and then flashes off the ship, making sure the ocean doesn't touch the wiggling body in his arms. Golden eyes glare up at him and he glares right back down, and the warlord swears this thing is worse than the goat. Dracule can hear music pouring out of the cottage when he gets close enough.

And then there suddenly appears before me

The only one my arms will ever hold

I heard somebody whisper “Please adore me”

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold

Mihawk huffs at the lyrics. His timing was far too good. The closer he gets, he begins to hear your voice as well, and Dracule would much rather hear you sing to him than some man who is long dead. He would stand and listen if his gift wasn't threatening to claw his eyes out.

The warlord steps through the open door of the cottage, and his shoulder slumps as soon as he enters the humble abode. This place is his home away from home, and it never fails to bring him peace.

Dracule finds you in the back storage room, a crate full of the older and unneeded stuff you had lying around. After not having anything but the couch for Perona to sleep over on, you had decided that it was about time to clean out the back room for her. Or anyone else that didn’t want to kill you first thing when they washed up on your island.

Blue moon

Now I’m no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

He leans in the doorway, watching you finish up dumping a broken oar into the crake. Mhawk knows that you see him when you jump and turn to look at him with narrowed eyes and a cute little sneer.

“Bastard. You scared me,” you grumble and then you cross the floor to carefully slide his hat off, holding it to the side as your free hand slides into his hair and brings him down for a sweet kiss, “Welcome home, dear.”

Mihawk hums into the kiss, gently nipping your bottom lip, and then sliding his tongue inside your mouth when you open up for him. You taste like sweet chamomile, and it leaves a soft smile on his face when he pulls away to gaze down at you, “It is good to be back, Angel.”

The two of you share several more sweet kisses before the wriggling bundle in his arms finally gets your attention. You pull away and look down to see a very angry feline staring up at you. You break immediately at the sight of its pitiful gold gaze and hand Mihawk his hat back so that you can scoop the kitten up.

“Where did you find him?” You ask and have already abandoned Mihawk in favor of giving the orange tabby in your arms all of your attention. The kitten purrs happily when you scratch behind his ears.

Dracule glares at the creature, and the kitten glares right back from where it is happily curled up against your breasts. Mihawk doesn’t know how much he likes this idea anymore.

“I stopped for a resupply before I came here. There was a fishmonger that had chased it off, and I knew that you would give it a good home,” Mihawk explains. He sighs when you baby talk at the kitten, not giving half the attention he deserves for bringing the little demon to you, but your happiness was definitely worth it, “I have what you’ll need to care for it in my ship.”

The grin you grant him is worth it too, and Dracule can’t help himself when he crosses the room to press you against the wall, lips connecting with yours in a kiss a little more fierce than the ones earlier. Mihawk has missed you, far more than usual for some reason. You moan into his mouth, eyes sliding shut when Dracule slides a hand around your jaw, angling you just how he likes.

A loud yowl interrupts the two of you, and Mihawk pulls away to sneer down at the kitten who proceeds to hiss at him. You laugh, seeing his jealousy clear as day, and over a cat of all things!

“I guess we should name him, huh?” You say and it’s your turn to be on the receiving end of that sneer. You scoff at him and lift the kitten, dangling him in front of Dracule, “You found him, so you get to name him.”

Dracule scoffs and turns on his heel, stripping off his coat to hang on the mantlepiece, quickly followed by his hat, “He is your cat, so you are the one naming the demon,” He dismisses and stalks to the kitchen, but you only pout and follow after him.

“Nu-uh. That’s not how this works. You saved him, you name him.” You weren’t about to back down on this. The kitten mewls and you snuggle it back to your front, tucking the fuzz ball under your chin.

Mihawk ignores you in favor of pouring himself a glass of wine and snacking on the green grapes you must have harvested earlier today. He feels you slide up beside him, and chances a glance down to see his darling staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes, “Ugh. Fine. Give me a moment to think.”

You cheer at your victory and patiently wait for Dracule to decide on a name. He does you the courtesy of actually thinking of a name and smirks when he settles on a proper name for the hellspawn.

“Sukuna,” Mihawk decides and you repeat the name, getting a feel for it. You don’t know the story behind the name, but it must be an interesting one with the way Mihawk is smirking at the kitten.

“I think that’s a good name,” You agree and scratch Sukuna’s little ears again, melting when the kitten only purrs louder and snuggles close. You giggle when you catch Mihawk glaring at the kitten again, “Let’s find Hank. I think he’ll like his new friend.”

Hank turned out to not like his new housemate very much. Sukuna had taken one look at the big hound and had puffed up, long fur bristling so much that he resembled nothing but a cotton ball. Hank had run from the tiny ball of anger straight to Mihawk, cowering behind the man, and whining whenever Sukuna got too close.

“Nothing but a coward,” Dracule says, but he is already kneeling to give into Hank’s puppy dog eyes and give him some pets. Sukuna stalks from one end of the room to the other, fluffy tail straight up in the air as he surveys his new home.

Mihawk straightens up when he sees you approaching. You settle in his lap, hands cradling his handsome face as you lean in to press your lips to his brow. Mihawk grasps you by the hips, tugging you flush against his front and holding you close. He noses along your jaw, “Are you happy with your gift, sweet thing?” He rumbles quietly.

You nod, “Very happy, Mihawk,” you assure him and settle more fully in his lap, letting the man under you take your weight. He massages your hips, causing a soft sigh to slip from between your lips, “I missed you.”

“Did you, Darling?” Mihawk breathes and pulls you down to press his lips to yours for half a second, “What all did you do while I was gone? I see that you already started to clean up, even though I told you to wait for me.”

You shrug helplessly, “I couldn’t help it. I was really bored, and we already decided what needed to be thrown out, so,” You trail off and lean forward to snuggle against his chest, “You can help in the garden later?”

Mihawk huffs and presses a kiss to your hair. He watches as Sukuna chases after Hank’s tail, lips twisting in satisfaction to see the two animals getting along better. His arms tighten around you, and you have relaxed completely in his grasp.

“Whatever you wish, dear one.” Dracule agrees and says nothing when he feels you grin against his neck.

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #opla mihawk x reader #opla #cute #Peppermint tea #cats

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live-laugh-lenney · 4 months

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could write a little something about being on tour with George and Max like how max has Andrew with him no worries if not love your writing x

oh, imagine all the mischief they'd get up to... :'))

george loves it.

he loves waking up and seeing yn in the crew bunk opposite him on the tour bus, wearing an oversized t-shirt from their merch collection, curled up underneath the blanket she'd brought to add to her home comforts on the bus. he loves cosying up with her on the sofa in the made-up living space area, munching on snacks that they would buy from the service stations they stop at on the way to each location, as they watch the world go by on their travels to the next tour location. he loves getting to stay up late with her after each show is finished, talking nonsense and having the bus to themselves as max has his snooze in the bedroom at the end. there's just something relaxing, for him, that helps him wind down after each show with her being right beside him.

she's there during the meet and greets, too.

usually sat in the background or loitering by the set on the stage as she watches the two of them hug or take gifts from those who had brought them something special, and she listens as they say hello to everyone who had paid for tickets to see them before each of the shows. and, every so often, someone would recognise yn and they'd come over and say hello to her and include her in their conversations which she absolutely adores. (and sometimes, they bring gifts just for her and she doesn't know whether to cry on the spot or hug them or do both - which george loves to see happen and he's always standing behind with a massive grin on his face as he watches her interact with his fans).

her and max would be chaos.

they'd constantly 'bicker' over george and during the london show, she would make an appearance on stage with a 'query that she needs help with' and it would simply be about how there's some guy who won't leave her boyfriend alone - much like andrew did at the recent london show at the weekend.

"tonight, we thought we'd welcome a few special guests who have a few issues of their own that we most definitely are qualified to help with," george introduces the next, and final, segment of the london show and it's the time when the audience understands why the two arthur's and herself had been announced as guests for the show, "so, without further ado, can we please welcome onto the stage... our very first guest and my very lovely girlfriend, yn!"

she's met with cheers and blinding lights shining upon her as she steps from behind the wings of the stage and makes herself known to those in the audience. her cheeks heating up, already sweating from the stage lights that were intensely lighting her up, and her legs were like jelly as she with the phone in her hand.

"i'm actually really thankful you guys chose my query," she says into the microphone once the cheers had subsided, "i think it's getting worse and i was in desperate need of some answers."

"and how may we help you, dear yn?"

"you see, my boyfriend is currently on tour with his podcast co-host and i'm pretty certain said co-host has a thing for said boyfriend," she says playfully and max feigns shock, holding his hand to his chest with his mouth gaped open, "he's very forward with advances."

"how forward?" max asks.

"well, i'm currently visiting my boyfriend and there's been times when i come back from the toilet and said co-host is in my place beside him. he likes to cuddle with him a lot, too, which makes me feel very jealous," yn frowns playfully and her brows furrow dramatically and it makes the audience laugh loudly, "i was hoping for some alone time since it's been a while since i've seen him but, i'm scared i'm being replaced unwillingly."

"have you tried anything to stop this?" george asks, trying his best to hold back the laughter that was building up within him, "maybe, we should get our own bus?"

"or, you know, you should just consider the option of a throuple?"

shepherd's bush fills with cheers and claps and george just shakes his head at how max encourages the crowd to go louder with over-the-top hand movements to increase the volume. and yn can't help but giggle as george rolls his eyes.

"a throuple?"

"i'm sure said co-host is happy to share," max looks over at george as george's eyes are trained on yn, smirks on both of their lips, "i mean, if you're happy to share, that is."

"i don't know," yn pretends to think about it, tapping her chin with her finger before she placed both of her hands on her hips, "my boyfriend is very handsome, you see, so i really understand why he's in such demand by this co-host."

"maybe said boyfriend has eyes for his girlfriend and only her?" she hears george say into his microphone as the audience cheers at her previous statement, "have you asked him that? you're very beautiful so maybe he doesn't see what's happening because he's distracted by how you are? maybe he just loves you so much that he can't see what's happening?"

max pretends to gag and yn snickers softly at his actions.

"i don't think my boyfriend would like to hear you say that, george clarke," yn teases and george stands from his seat, walking around the desk he was sat at to stand beside her, "you know what, i think i'm just being silly because the co-host is so gay. unless-"

"nope," george shakes his head and stands beside her, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips as the crowd coos and cheers at what they were witnessing. and away from the microphone, he whispers, "i love you. nothing to worry about," into her ear and it's enough for her to melt under him.

"give it up for yn, ladies and gents," max grins widely and gives her a theatrical applaud himself, standing up to give her a hug, "i feel so accomplished tonight, we've helped so many people."

and when the show finishes, like she does every night, she joins them as they do a mini meet-and-greet with those who were waiting by the stage door in hopes of seeing them after the show. and she happily takes photos with those who asked her and has conversations with those who ask her questions and want to talk to her opposed to max and george.

it's always fun and the two weeks she spends on tour is something she speaks about for ages.

mini tiktok vlogs on her days spent with them, instagram q&a's about what she got up to and what her favourite night was, posting tweets during the shows as little updates for those that never got tickets. it's like a two week holiday for her and she has the best time. xx

#george clarkey #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey fics #george clarkey blurbs #george clarkey headcannons #george clarke #george clarke imagines #george clarke fics #george clarke blurbs #george clarke headcannons

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cheatsykoopa98 · 5 months

Text

its 4 AM and im trying not to freak out, let me write something to see how I feel

Her eyes opened and closed repeatedly, slowly. The dim light coming from the window let her know that it was daytime, everything felt so fuzzy. What had happened? What time was it? Her arm reached to her side looking for something on her counter. Glasses? Phone? She didn't know for sure yet. Slowly she realized, this was not her room, it was clean, white walls with a brown carpet. She sat by the side of the bed, still not fully awake, feeling the soft carpet on her feet. It then came to her: She needed her glasses, and quickly reached for them again. A yawn overcame her and as her thoughts became clear, she noticed her surrounding. It was a very tidy bedroom, with horse decorations on the counter by the other side of the bed. Figurines and a small pony plushie sat by it. The half open closet door had a coat hanger with skirts and sweaters on it, barely visible coming out of it. She scratched her eyes under her glasses. Another yawn. It had been long since she felt so... Calm? Paying no mind to the apparently unfamiliar bedroom, she moved her feet around the sides of the bed, looking for any kind of footwear. She felt the rubber of a sole under the bed. Her crocs. Quickly she put it on with only her foot, while the other moved around looking for the pair. Another object touched her foot, a soft one, a slipper. Slightly bothered but too lazy to find each pair, she finally got up, opening the bedroom door. The morning sunlight blinding her for a second before her eyes adjusted to it. She could hear a faint noise not tol far away, the sound of someone talking, and the smell of food being prepared. Following it, she found the kitchen. The smell of grease from the fried eggs with bacon got to her nose and made her realize how hungry she was.

"Uh... Hello?" She muttered with a grumbly morning voice. Her head was still not wrapped around everything. It felt so comforable yet so alien. As if she had travelled to a different culture and was kindly taken in by some nice hosts.

"Oh did I wake you up? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't leave my phone so loud..." A woman in her 30s took notice of her. She was making breakfast while listening to the morning news on her phone, quickly grabbing it and turning off the livestream it was tuned to.

"Don't worry..." She muttered in response. She tried to take a closer look at the woman. She had curly reddish brown hair, small lips and a round nose. Her face was filled with freckles that were clearly visible despite her tan skin. What took some time to notice, though, was everything about her eyes. At first she thought she was seeing things, but upon looking more and more she could confirm. One eye blue, the other brown, both very bright. Even with her tired face one could see genuine happiness in them.

"Am I... Dreaming?"

"Aaw, you're still a little sleep groggy! Come here" The woman with bright eyes pulled a chair, inviting the other to sit down. As she did, the woman put a plate and silverware in front of her, with fried eggs and bacon.

"I think I don't usually have breakfast, but... Thank you" She tried to smile, but she was still confused. She had to ask.

"Is this really not a dream? I'm... not sure what to think"

"Oh, well... I can't say I do either, honestly" The woman responded. "If you don't like it I can make something else! I can go out and buy..." The woman suddenly appeared to be getting nervous.

"No, this is good, but... Where am I? I remember the circus..." Suddenly the woman held her hand.

"The circus is gone Pomni... I mean, Pam. Everything is fine now" It was all clear now. Pam. Pamela! She had escaped that horrible nightmare. This wasn't just some woman, it was her wife. Tears came to her eyes.

"Oh... You're right..." Pamela smiled a bit, feeling whole while taking one of the bacons to eat.

"I know it's our first day out of the hospital, I just wanted to make it special, you know? I don't like thinking you're having a bad first experience..." Annie tapped her fingertips on the table nervously.

"Rag... Annie... This is delicious, did you know that?" Pamela had a bigger smile on her face, a genuine one she couldn't have afforded for years.

"Look... I'm sorry, this is all so new to me... I just... Thank you..."

"Hey, it's all cause I love you!" Annie winked and did finger guns at Pamela's direction, waving them around in a "get it?" motion. Pamela giggled. They kissed.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long..." Pamela muttered close to Annie's lips, as they both smiled looking at each other passionately.

"We'll be doing that a lot, new stuff" Annie smiled as they kissed once more. Suddenly, Annie's phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, getting both of their attention. Annie picked it up, looking at the screen, a familiar number

"It's work stuff" She showed the phone screen to Pam, rolling her eyes, to which she giggled a bit.

"Hello?"

As Annie talked on the phone, her usual look of happiness faded. Whatever she heard shook her. She fell sitting on the floor, sliding down the side of the counter. Pamela jumped in to aid her wife.

"W-What happened?! What did they say?!" She questioned, anxious and scared. Maybe she did not want to hear the answer.

"A new adventure is about to begin! And what circus is complete without it's performers?!"

"w-what?"

"It's time to come back, Pomni! Your time out is on time out!!!"

Pamela looked behind her. No kitchen. No house. Just the monstrous, gigantic dentures and millions of eyes everywhere, looking at her. The mere sight of it was enough to make her dizzy. Looking closer, she realized she stood atop a giant pole, ready to jump into a tiny pool.

"Caine... What the..." As words couldn't leave her throat. Where was Annie? Pomni spun around trying to find her, only to lose her balance and fall.

She couldn't scream, for her lungs were filled with tears, and with a gurgling noise, she hit the floor next to her couch. A dream. There was no daylight. She remembered this place. Her run down apartment. All she could afford. Her clothes scattered on the bed, waiting to be folded. Paper bags from groceries she forgot to take out close to a full trash can. The living room illuminated by her phone, which she was watching videos on before falling asleep.

She was breathing heavily, her eyes jolting around, looking for danger anywhere, but still she was unable to move or turn around. Just shaking and moving her eyeballs. She bit her nails and scratched her cheeks. It was like second nature to her. She felt like crying, but was too scared to let her guard down.

That is, until she felt a hand touching her hair. It was clumsy, but still soft.

"Hmrr... Are you ok, Pam...?" A sleepy voice grumbled. Annie's voice, much to Pamela's surprise. As it slowly came back to her.

"I... Had a nightmare... About the circus again..." She said with teary eyes. Annie grumbled something she couldn't make out, before slowly pulling Pamela back to the couch, closer to her. She could feel Annie's soft skin and soothing smell. Her soft carressing on her hair. The safety and warmth of her embrace. Slowly but surely, she felt home.

#ck98art #ramble #fanfic #ragapom #tadc #the amazing digital circus #pomni #tadc pomni #ragatha #tadc ragatha #jesterdoll #buttomblossom #writing

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wonderland-smile-stories · 9 months

Text

~ Chapter 2. 01 ~

I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes and how poorly written this fanfic is. English is not my first language and together with my dyslexia ass things can go wrong I'm sorry.

I took out my phone trying to see if it was working now, but when I put it against my ear the same annoying pitch sound came through.

"Goddamnit!" I groan out putting my phone next to me before putting my head in my hands.

I jumped almost out of my skin when I heard a groan from beside me. For a second I thought that somehow the girl had found a way to come in, but luckily it was just Hyun-su waking up.

His eyes flutter open blinking a few times before being fully open. I watch as his hand when to his head, probably on the spot he hit the ground with.

"A....are you, okay?"

With wide eyes, he turned his head at me. It took him a few seconds to recognize me, but quickly his expression changed to his usual emotionless one.

"Yeah." Carefully he sat up still holding his head.

"W...what happened to the woman?" His eyes went from the ground to meet mine trying to find an answer in them, but the only I did was shrug.

"I don't know. I haven't seen or heard her ever since I dragged you back here."

A frown came on his face.

"D...drag? What happened?"

Again I shrug my shoulders.

"Again I don't know. When I came around the corner you were on the ground with a man standing next to you, but I don't think he did something to you." He nodded his head trying to process everything that had just happened.

"H....how long was I out."

"Around eight hours or so."

I stood up stretching my legs while looking around the room. There was almost nothing here. A mattress and the computer from earlier, The only other thing that was in the room were empty ramyeon cups..... a lot.

The curtains were also closed making it here more darker than it should be.

"Can I open a window? I just need some air."

I don't really think he had heard what I said because he was still looking down in his thoughts, but he still nodded his head. With my socks, I walked next to him on the mattress to open the window. I was so happy I could get some fresh air, but the moment I pulled the curtains away my heart completely stopped.

"Oh my God," I mutter out of shock.

"What?" I heard Hyun-su say from beside me, but I didn't answer him.

I was just too in shock at what I was seeing in front of me with my eyes. When I didn't give him an answer I felt him stand up taking one curtain out of my hand so he could open it more to see for himself. Even though my eyes weren't on him I could feel him freeze when he saw what I saw.

The whole city was in ruins. Smoke rose up from corners in between the building. The things that were nearby and we could see from above were destroyed completely. The sound of sirens came from everywhere. It looked like the end of the world was upon us.

A dripping sound dragged me out of my thoughts and made me look down. There was blood dripping down at our feet.

Wait?

What?

I looked up at Hyun-su and saw blood coming out of his nose.

A lot just like with the girl.

"Y....you're bleeding." I croak out getting his attention.

His hand went to his nose trying to cover it, but it was no use it kept on coming out. He took a few steps back still covering his nose. His eyes were wide open looking at me like he was a kid scared of something.

"Go to the bathroom! Quick!" I told him loudly.

Listening to me, he turned around walking with a quick pass to it with his hand still on his nose. I watched as he left a trail of blood players on the ground. It reminds me of my nosebleeds and how much I have stained my floor with them.

That's when a thought came into my head. I look up at where the bathroom is, hearing the water running.

He has the symptoms I have been having for the past week. They are also the same as what they describe on the computer. My head turns back to the screen debating if I should look again. I could still hear the water running in the bathroom, besides I don't think he minds me being on the computer if it is for looking up answers.

Turning the screen on, I took a seat in front of it. There were those words again. Nosebleed, infected, and so on. I was about to click on a link when Hyun-su's made me jump back.

"What are you doing?" With my hand on my chest, I look up at him before answering.

"Searching for answers. It's not just happening here." My gaze went back to the screen finally opening the link.

I felt Hyun-su moving over to be me before sitting down. With a fast-beating heart, I began to read.

'It's not a disease, but a curse.'

What? A frown came to my face before reading further.

'Frequent nosebleeds, hallucinations.'

I don't think I had hallucinations in the last couple of weeks only nightmares.

'It just started one day and it will never stop. No known the cause.'

I bite my lip knowing that they can't find something to stop it if they don't what started it, but just like it said. It's not a disease.

It's a curse.

I took a deep breath before reading further.

'Humans will not overcome this. If you have symptoms kill yourself before it's too late. Because being alive will harm others.'

From the corner of my eyes, I watch Hyun-su tense up probably reading the same part as me. My attention went back to the screen, ready to read further.

'But if you decide to live to the end, there is something you must know.'

Quickly I scroll further down.

'That is.'

The moment I wanted to scroll down further the page disappeared.

"What the hell?" I mutter out.

A different page came on the screen telling us there was no connection with the internet. My hands let go of the computer mouse, putting them in my lap. So there is nothing we can really do about this? It's meant to destroy us all eventually. Hyun-su grabbed the mouse clicking rapidly on it, trying to refresh the page.

Swallowing hard I ran a hand through my hair shaking my head.

"That's it?" I whisper to no one particularly.

For a few seconds, we just sat there looking at the screen in front of us, until we heard one of our stomachs growl. I look down putting my hand on my belly before looking back up to meet Hyun-su's eyes.

"Sorry. I hadn't really eaten something since yesterday afternoon." I apologize.

Maybe I could go to my place and grab something real quick. I'm pretty sure he would be hungry too. This was confirmed when Hyun-su's stomach growled too. And seeing all the ramyeon packages lying around here, I'm pretty sure he hasn't eaten anything decent in a while. I stood up and began to walk to the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" I turned around and saw him standing up as well.

"I'm going down to my place to get us something to eat." I was about to turn around when he spoke again.

"No, wait." He walked up to me looking at the door.

"I think my delivery is still outside." I look at the door with a frown.

I didn't see something lying there yesterday. Then again I was almost killed by a crazy woman, so I didn't have the time to look around.

"Stay here. I'm pretty sure no one's out there." Before I could answer he walked to the door opening it slightly.

I took a step to the side crossing my arms over my chest.

"After that we...." I started speaking but abruptly stopped when the ringing in my ears started again together with the awful feeling in my stomach.

Quickly I spun back around ready to tell Hyun-su to shut the door when I saw him crouch down to the ground while two grey-looking arms came through the doorway, with one on each hand with long pointy fingers. His head was half gone making it so you could see his brain, well half his brain. That looked like lotus roots. He only had one ear, while the other one was cut off clean just like half of his face.

"I can't see." It whispers groans, walking inside the apartment. Just like Hyun-su, I put my two hands over my mouth trying to be as quiet as possible. The monster was trying to feel around if someone was there while muttering the same sentence.

"I can't see." My heart began to beat faster when I saw him walking in my direction.

Quickly, but carefully to not make any noise I crouch down. My hands were shaking over my mouth while I could feel tears filling my eyes because of fright. The monster still came closer to me, trying to feel around above me.

With my panicked eyes, I looked at Hyun-su who had the same expression on his face. I saw him look around before his gaze fell on the stick from last night.

My eyes widened when I saw him trying to grab it, which I quickly shook my head at. It would make too much noise. The beating of my heart stopped when he grabbed it and a little noise came from picking it up.

"Found you." It croaks out.

I had sworn he was about to launch at Hyun-su when a cracking sound came from one of the announcement speakers above him. My breath hitched in my throat when I saw that the monster's hand had turned into what looked like a root spearing it through the speaker above Hyun-su.

After what seemed like an eternity the monster finally began to move again. It shuffled his way past Hyun-su still muttering I can't see. A big sigh left my mouth when I fell completely to the ground. My legs were all cramped up from sitting in a crouch position for too long. I heard the door close shut, which made me feel a little bit safer.

Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter

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Hey, I hope you are all enjoying the story. Thank you so much for all the love you guys are giving it!

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skyward-floored · 1 year

Note

A yellow piece of paper that shows signs of water damage reads: “One of the boys does that thing that kids sometimes do: run away from home.”

Had fun with this one hehe

It’s a bit longer, so it goes under the cut :)

———

Ding-dong

Warriors groggily blinked his eyes open, trying to figure out if he’d imagined the sound of the doorbell ringing or not. He was still half asleep, so it could just be a dream... but he wasn’t sure.

He hoped it was. He didn’t want to get out of bed.

Ding-dong

Guess it was real.

He groaned and rolled over, squinting at the clock, then wishing he hadn’t as the time came into focus. Why on earth was somebody ringing the doorbell at two in the morning?

“What’s wrong?” Artemis murmured from next to him, and he shrugged and got out of bed.

“Somebody’s at the door.”

Artemis blinked. “At this hour?”

Warriors shrugged again and yanked on a shirt, then stumbled down the hallway to the door of their apartment. He glanced absently through the peephole, then did a double take and looked again.

But his first look had been correct, and Warriors nearly flung the door open, now very much awake.

“Wind?” he gaped, staring at his nephew standing at his door. “Wind what— how did you get here?!”

“I walked,” Wind answered, usually cheery voice subdued.

Warriors blinked, trying not to just blankly stare at the kid, but not quite able to stop himself. Wind stood with his head bowed on his doorstep, a backpack in his hand and an unusually sad look on his face, and his eyes were red like he’d been crying.

“Wind, what is going on?” Warriors said slowly, crouching down and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Is everything okay? What are you doing here?”

Wind stared at him, then abruptly looked down at the ground,

“I... I ran away,” he said quietly. “Can... can I live here with you and Artemis? I won’t be any trouble, I promise, I just—”

Warriors put a hand up, stopping his stream of words before they could continue.

“Wind. Does Time or Malon know that you’re here?” Warriors asked seriously, and Wind shuffled his feet.

“...no,” he whispered.

Warriors exhaled, and ran a hand over his forehead. This... was not something he knew how to deal with.

“Wind, buddy, you can’t just walk halfway across the city in the middle of the night, that was extremely dangerous,” he began, and Wind shrunk into himself. “You’re very lucky nothing happened to you. Why on earth did you run away?”

“Mom an’ dad don’t like me anymore,” Wind said angrily, then sniffled. “They’re too busy to notice me.”

Warriors watched as Wind wiped at his eyes, and he sighed, pulling Wind up into his arms and carrying him inside.

“Wind, I promise they’re not too busy for you,” he said gently, ruffling his hair as he closed the door. “They have a lot going on, but that comes with having so many siblings. And you guys just moved, they’re doing their best.”

“But they don’t even care that my box went missing!” Wind cried, and buried his face into Warriors’ shoulder. “My telescope is in there, and my seashells and maps but nobody can find it and nobody cares!”

Wind let out a string of wet hiccups, and Warriors hugged him, sighing to himself.

That would explain it.

“Wind, did you tell anyone it’s missing?” Warriors asked, and Wind sniffled again.

“I tried to. Twi helped me look a little but he got busy and couldn’t anymore, an’ everyone else was too busy to listen.”

Warriors sighed again and let Wind sniffle into his shoulder some more, rubbing little circles onto his back. Artemis walked out then, and upon seeing Warriors’ arms full of a sniffling Wind, both of her eyebrows went up. Warriors motioned her over, but before she could join his side the phone rang.

Artemis changed course to pick it up, and Warriors sat down with Wind still in his hold, listening as she answered the phone call.

“Wars?”

Warriors looked down at the kid in his arms, green eyes wide and teary.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Wind whispered.

“Wind, I’d much rather that you wake me up in the middle of the night than feel like nobody cares about you,” Warriors answered gently, still rubbing circles onto his back. “Because I do, all of us do, especially your parents. They’re not trying to ignore you kiddo, and I’m sure they’re worried sick.”

“They prob’ly didn’t even notice I left,” Wind murmured, and Artemis came into the room, phone cord stretched almost as far as it would go.

“Wind, it’s for you,” she said with a little smile, and Warriors stood up and joined her side, Wind hesitantly taking the phone.

“Are you sure?” he asked suspiciously, and Artemis nodded, motioning him to talk.

Wind looked down at the receiver, and swallowed, holding it up to his ear.

“Hello?” he asked quietly.

“Wind! Oh honey thank goodness you’re okay, we’ve been looking for you for hours—”

“—Twilight said you were upset, he feels awful—“

“—noticed your bed was empty and you weren’t in the bathroom or anywhere, we thought the worst—”

“—were you thinking, going off in the middle of the night like that—”

Wind winced at the cacophony of voices coming through the phone line, and Warriors gave him a slightly amused look.

“I think they noticed you left,” he said with a gentle smile, and Wind looked down at the phone in his hands, and wiped his hand across his eyes.

“I guess so,” he said with another sniffle, and smiled just a little as he rested his head against Warriors’ shoulder, listening to his parents and siblings continue to talk over each other on the phone, overcome with relief that he was okay.

#Incredibles au #lu warriors #lu wind #lu artemis #minor Warriors/Artemis #linked universe fanfic #answers from the floor #mad navi my beloved #I thought about running away a couple times as a kid #several times actually ha #thought out a plan once but I was smart enough to realize it wouldn’t really solve anything #also hitchhiking didn’t sound fun to get where I wanted to go #incredibles au fic

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years

Text

Something Extra Special

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Mentions of reader’s hair, daddy kink, slight touching (not really anything), brief alcohol consumption

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A/N: I’m so sad Daddycember is coming to a close 😭♥️ I always love it 🥺🥰

◆

Daddycember Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

“Good mornin’, baby girl.” He’s smiling, speaking quietly and brushing your hair back to kiss your forehead.

It’s like you’re waking up the day after your honeymoon all over again. The two of you on vacation, exploring the world and resting peacefully together. Nothing is ever better than when you’re together.

“Good morning, daddy.” Comes your airy, morning voice, happiness laced in your tone.

You’re in his arms, like you always are when you sleep. The curtains are still shut, gentle rays of light peeking out from the sides. But overall, the room is still dark. He’s been up though, Jack always wakes up early, he can’t help it. It’s a schedule that was set early in his life, since he joined the army in his early twenties. And you don’t mind, he likes to workout in the morning, get chores done around the house, and he usually lets you sleep while he does it. Today, he waited as long as he could, deciding to wake you after so many hours scrolling on his phone.

“You ready to open your presents?” He asks with another gentle kiss to your forehead.

Somehow, you’d forgotten that it was Christmas day. As cheesy as it sounds, every day was special with him. But upon your remembering, you smile, feeling giddy. Tilting your head up at him, you’re met with that handsome smile, nodding happily to him.

You’d both spent an incredible amount of time and effort into the other’s presents this year, but honestly, you did that every year. You were thoughtful people, and that trait was tenfold in your relationship.

“Should we have breakfast first?” You ask, yawning while you stretch.

“Sure, babycakes.” Reaching over, he grabs the phone. “I’ll order room service.” It’ll likely be your last time ordering; you’re leaving for home later today.

When Jack turns to face you, he grins widely, chuckling. Reaching over, he puts a hand on top of your head, mussing your already wild hair. “Your bedhead is really cute.”

It makes you smile shyly, cuddling up into him all over again. You listen to him as he orders, playing with the ring on his left finger while that baritone voice nearly lulls you back to sleep. Never in your life have you felt this calm in someone’s presence.

“Wanna eat in bed?” Jack asks, admiring the way your thumb runs over his ring.

“Nah,” Shaking your head, “I wanna see the presents. Let’s eat out in the living room.”

As usual, your wish is granted. While you get yourself cleaned up in the bathroom, Jack takes it upon himself to set up the food. So far, everything has come quick and has been delicious during your stay. There’s really nothing better than good food after a long day, or a tasty breakfast to start it.

In your opinion, your relationship is the epitome of opposites attract. Jack is an absolute extrovert, he loves to go out and meet new people. But you, you’re more introverted, you recharge when you’re in your own space, tending to be a homebody. And as your relationship grew, you started to reflect a little bit of each other in your own personalities. Jack has brought out your more adventurous side, and you’ve definitely brought out his inner domesticity. For instance, instead of going out to some big fancy breakfast, Jack wanted to stay in on Christmas day. Not only that, but he liked the idea of opening gifts in your pjs, with just the two of you. The longer you’re together, the more he wants to experience things just with you. He likes the intimacy of it, and he never wants to share you.

“You look so cute.” Already, he’s pulling you into his arms, your body plopping onto his lap while he sits on the couch.

“You’re so lovey today.” You giggle, relaxing on him.

Pulling back, he frowns. “Am I not lovey always?”

Turning your head, you eye that handsome face. “No, you definitely are.” Lifting your hand to him, your palm resting over the side of his face, you then say, “And I really love it, baby.”

He grins, a small, happy hum emitting from him. “Remember when we used to say ‘I really like you’?”

The memory makes you chuckle, nodding. “Yeah.”

Hugging you tighter in his arms, that wide smile presents itself again. “And now we get to say I love you.”

It’s a routine thing, an everyday thing, that phrase. Before leaving for work in the morning, you’d say it. When one of you went to the store, you’d say it. Hell, if one of you went to shower you’d say it. Some might say it’s overkill, that saying the words so often makes them lose their meaning. But neither of you see it that way, not when the words came so naturally.

“I knew it the moment I met you.”

“Did you really?” He asks, surprised by your admission.

Again, you nod, fingers stroking his face. “When I looked into your eyes, I knew it.” When you looked into those eyes, you saw everything you needed.

“You’re gonna make me blush, babycakes.”

“You look so cute like that.” Leaning in, you give the tip of that curved nose a sweet kiss. “Now c’mon, let’s eat so we can open our gifts.”

“Why don’t we do both?” Jack suggests, leaning over to hand you your plate.

Of course, you agree. Jack had your gifts set aside in a closet, bringing them out and into the living room when he brought in the food. And with them only feet away… they’re just staring at you.

“You go first, honey.” He insists, grunting while crouching to sit on the floor beside you.

Both of you bring your plates, setting them on the coffee table just to your left. Before even taking a bite of your food, some delicious-looking raspberry crepes, you reach for a box. Sliding it close, you grin like a little kid, fingers already tearing in.

“Baby,” You tut, opening the small box. “How are you so good at gifts?”

All he does is smile and shrug. “You like ‘em?”

“Of course I do!” Reaching in, you rub the tip of your finger over the gems on your new set of stud earrings. But they aren’t just any type of gem, they’re your birthstone. “They’re so pretty, baby.”

“Open this one.” Your husband then insists, handing you another smaller gift. “You’ll like this one so much more.”

It’s in your hands in a second, you don’t even hesitate. Another jewelry box is revealed when the wrapping paper is ripped away, and Jack was right. Somehow, you’re even more in love with this gift.

“Look at the engraving.”

It’s a silver bracelet, your wedding date engraved into it.

“Honey…” You’re only two presents in and already, you’re tearing up, an emotional smile on your face. Lifting your right arm, you slide the thin cuff onto your wrist, admiring it. “I love this.” And then, you’re finding him, leaning over for a kiss.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, baby doll.” He’s smiling into it, the sweet press of your lips. And he still has his morning breath but you really can’t bring yourself to care. How did you end up with a man like him?

“Well open some of yours before I finish mine,” You then tell him, folding your legs. “Today is about you, too.” It doesn’t take much convincing; Jack is just as excited as you.

The first gift he picks out is in a bag, and once he realizes what it is, he’s releasing a grateful breath. “Baby, this is so great. I’ve needed this so bad.”

“Yeah,” You laugh, “Ever since you dropped your old one back in the fall when you were doing your tipsy dances.”

“Hey, I wasn’t that drunk, okay?” Raising an eyebrow at you while holding the crystal decanter and glass set in his hand.

“You were drunk enough to shatter it!”

“Whatever.” He waves a hand at you, returning his gaze to the whiskey set. “Anyways.” Chuckling, he reaches for another one, the smallest of his presents.

“You really like these on me, huh?” That famous smirk is back on his face, those warm eyes glancing over at you.

“You look so handsome and cozy in them.” They’re a set of three flannels, each of them a different color pattern. “Do you like them?”

“Honey, of course I do. They are pretty cozy.” He has about a million in his closet, but what’s wrong with a few more?

“Baby, are these…” When he opens his next gift, he’s not prepared for what it is.

“Our vows.” Answering him softly, you then say, “I framed them. We can put the other’s on our nightstands.” You thought it was a sweet idea, to be reminded of the other’s loving promises every day.

“Babycakes, this is… this is perfect.” When he looks up, you can see the emotion in his face, the genuine love in his eyes.

Scooching closer to him, you hold his cheeks in your hands, thumb stroking his skin. “I love you, Jack.”

And then those strong arms are around your waist, pulling you in. “I love you, sugar.” He’s close, pressing his forehead onto your own.” More than anything.”

The rest of your gifts are opened while eating, your stomachs’ growling becoming too loud to ignore. Upon further discovery, you find yourself holding a pair of fuzzy house slippers, a thoughtful gift from your hubby. The floors in the penthouse are made entirely of wood, and you’d been complaining about your freezing toes lately. There’s also a pair of Nike shoes in with your gifts, ones that you’ve been wanting since the summertime. They’re a gorgeous lavender shade that caught your eye as soon as you saw them. And lastly, a dark purple Coach purse. You’d never mentioned this particular item to him before, but you love it entirely. Jack knew your favorite color and was also aware that you were in need of a new bag. He’s always been so attentive with you, knowing you so well that when the time for gifts comes around, he barely even has to ask.

On the other end, Jack won’t stop talking about how grateful he is for not only his gifts, but for you. You’d bought him a new pair of dress shoes to wear to his meetings, his old pair having one too many scuffs for his liking. In his words, he was ‘starting to look like a fool’. You’re surprised he hadn’t already bought a new pair himself. You’d also given him a full luggage set, one with durable material and quite a few bags. The luggage he brings for his work travels are the exact same bags he had in his military days. They’re old and tattered and to say the least, they needed to be replaced. And finally, you got a charging station for him. Now, every night, he’ll have a place to set his iPhone, AirPods, and Apple watch, all of them easily accessible while charging up for him to use the next day. Jack isn’t very high-tech when it comes to this stuff, it confuses him and he’s slightly insecure about it. So when you make things easy for him, he really appreciates it.

The commencement of your gift exchange takes both of you to the balcony. Jack with his coffee, you with the glass of orange juice you’d happily made into a mimosa. The pajamas you wore last night are light and cozy, a satin nightgown with a pale, yellow tint to it. Jack in his signature white short sleeve and light gray sweatpants. You’re not dressed warm and you don’t have to be; the temperature out on the balcony is more than pleasant, the only chilly thing being a small breeze.

“Uh-uh,” Jack tuts, a grin lining his lips.

Taking his own seat, he reaches for you, strong hands finding your hips. Pulling you into him is easy - you let him. With a small plop, you’re on his lap, resting against his chest. He maneuvers you sideways so you’re in a sitting bridal-style position.

“Hey, baby.” He smiles, leaning in. A small peck to the tip of your nose prompts your own grin.

“Hi, daddy.”

Jesus, does he love that name. And he loves you that much more for giving it to him.

Sighing, he stares into your eyes, those warm orbs filling you with love. “Life is perfect with you, babycakes.” Reaching forward, he lightly palms your hip and the sweet curve following it.

He’s not wrong. When you found each other, something just… clicked. It’s like the universe found balance, like you’d never have to search for happiness ever again.

Smiling, you release a small giggle, more like a hum. “Do you think we’ll ever get tired of saying ‘I love you’?”

“No, baby. Never.” Shaking his head, he releases another breath, clearly smitten with you. “Not when it’s the truth.”

It sounds cheesy, but it’s true. Expressing your love for the other comes as easy as breathing the air.

Jack’s arm wraps around you, holding your back while you rest against him. The moment is filled with a quiet tenderness, both of you gazing at the setting surrounding you. Your senses are entertained, each of them, and not in an overwhelming way. The scenery is stunning, your eyes taking in the view. People on the street pass many floors beneath you, their conversions something you’ve yet to understand. Your taste buds tingle with the fizzle from your mimosa, the combination of orange juice and champagne. The scents filling your nose are… unique. The salt from the beach, the flowers being sold, the spices in the food, it’s all special to Italy. And the touch you feel is of him, his comforting embrace, something you’ll never take for granted.

But the moment is cut short due to your time constraints. Jack allows the two of you to rest in this tender embrace for about thirty minutes, until both of you finish your drinks.

When you’re both finished with your plates, Jack cleans up and stacks them on the room service tray. Each of you then make your way to the bathroom, showering and getting ready for your long day. Jack made sure to wake you up with enough time to open gifts, shower, pack, and leave. That meant rising before the sun at six in the morning. This time around, your flight is fifteen hours, and takeoff is at nine am.

“Think you’ll be ready in time, honeybee?”

Again, you’re both dressing cozy. Jack in a pair of sweats, you in your yogas, each of you with a hoodie. And while your outfits are simple, he’s always had a knack for getting ready before you, deciding to pack both of your bags during that time gap.

“Yeah, I’ll be done soon.” Tying your hair into a low bun, you yawn. As exciting as this trip has been, you’re excited to get back home and sleep in your own bed.

“Hey,” Jack’s soft voice wakes you from your sleep, his palm caressing your forearm. “Babycakes.”

“Mm?”

“We’re home, sweet pea.”

Just like before, you’d been sleeping, only waking for the occasional snacks and other treats. And Jack didn’t mind letting you snooze, that’s what he brought the mask and neck pillow for. Truthfully though, he’s glad you were asleep on this flight. He’s never been so fidgety during a plane ride before. What you don’t know, is that he’s got another surprise.

The trip home is significantly calmer than the trip you had when arriving in Italy. There aren’t as many people, so you don’t have to wait in long lines or listen to annoyingly loud conversations. When the plane lands, it’s quick and easy, having not been fully boarded in the first place.

“Baby,” You whine quietly, trudging along beside him. “I’m so tired.”

“I know, sweetcheeks.” Jack coos to you, kissing your cheek.

He’d made quick work of finding a cab, loading your bags and letting you snuggle into your seat. The drive from the airport to your home isn’t too long, though, thankfully. All you want is to get home.

“You missed the penthouse, huh?” He teases, wrapping an arm around you.

“Well, yeah.” Pouting, you glance up at him with tired eyes. “It’s our home.”

“That it is, sweetheart.” Your husband sighs, leaning his head against your own. “That it is.”

Internally, he’s searching his mind, planning out the rest of the night. Right now, in Louisville, it’s six in the afternoon, he has ample time to give you your last gift. But he’s not sure if you’ll want to unpack and shower first, maybe even get in a nap.

“Is everything okay, baby?” It’s easy to notice how quiet he’s become, especially when the two of you get to the building.

After paying the driver, Jack circles the cab to get your bags. Still in his head, he shrugs, brushing you off with a yeah, baby. But you’re not so convinced. On your way up, you find yourself retreating into your own head. Was I too grouchy? Did I say something mean? Could I have helped out more?

“Hey babe, you sit down for a little bit.” You insist, watching him unlock your front door.

Inside, everything is normal. Your winter decorations are still hung up, your Christmas tree looking beautiful as ever. There’s just something about being home after going on a long trip that makes you extra thankful for it.

“You sure?” Raising an eyebrow, he then says, “I’m okay to do it.”

But you know his back has got to be killing him, especially from carrying all of your baggage.

“Yeah,” Smiling, you reach out, taking a few bags from him. “Go sit.”

Jack keeps a smile on his face until you turn, striding down the hall to your shared room. But then, he’s whipping out his phone.

“Who’re you talking to, baby?” Back out in the living room, you stop in the kitchen, grabbing some water.

“Tequila,” He answers nonchalantly. But at this point, he figures he better tell you, because right now, he’s not sure when he should do it. “Actually honey, I’ve got one more gift for you.”

“You do?” Scurrying over to where he sits in the living room, you grin, absolutely giddy. “What is it?”

Jack grins upon seeing your reaction, licking his lower lip before he says, “Something extra special.”

“Tell me!”

“Well, do you want it now, or after we’ve unpacked everything?”

“Now! Duh!” Scooching up beside him on the couch, you smile happily. “Please?”

“Okay, honey.”

“Okay, he’ll be here in a minute.”

“What? Who?”

“Tequila, he’s bringing your gift.”

“Oh my gosh, what is it?!” The fact that he has another person involved makes you even more excited. How big is this gift?!

“You gotta close your eyes for me, okay?” And then, there’s a knocking on the door, your eyes shooting over to it. But Jack is stern with you. “Close ‘em!”

“Okay! Okay!”

Keeping your place on the couch, you hum happily, having entirely forgotten about unpacking your things. T must’ve been pretty close for him to get here so quickly. The small click of the door hits your ears, Tequila’s mumbled voice and then Jack’s soft thanks.

��You still got ‘em closed, honeybee?” His voice is lower, grunting slightly. Is he carrying the gift?

“Yes! I promise I do.”

Something shuffles in front of you, but it’s not Jack. You can just tell that it’s not him. And as soon as he tells you to open your eyes, you do. But all you’re met with is a plain, brown package.

“This is my present?” Looking up at Jack, you’re met with his entirely anxious grin.

“Well, you gotta open it!”

Something feels… off. You can’t put your finger on it, but this doesn’t feel like just any gift. This is clearly something special.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’re gonna love it.” Kneeling down, Jack crouches by the box. Looking over at it, and then at you, he says, “I promise.”

With a deep breath, you lean forward, placing your hands on the top flaps. Honestly, you have no idea what the hell this is. You try to move it closer to you, but Jack reaches out to stop you. The small inch you did move it, though, tells you this is heavy.

“Uh-uh, just open it right here.” He tells you, glancing at the box almost protectively.

“Baby,” You laugh, wanting to ask again what this is. But all you say is, “Okay.”

Kneeling down on the ground, you shuffle closer, holding your breath. With slow movements, you open the top flaps, light from the above lamps shining in. And what you see makes your eyes widen.

“Baby…” And you’re not sure if you’re saying it to Jack… or to him.

“Do you love him?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You’re smiling, small tears in your eyes. “Of course I do.”

Reaching in, you place your hands beneath his little armpits, lifting him from the box. He settles into your arms, releasing a soft whimper in the process.

“Well,” Jack says, scooting closer to you. “What’re you gonna name him?”

“It’s a boy?”

“It is a boy.” He grins, wrapping an arm around you, his other hand petting the pup’s head.

“Theodore.” You state firmly, “That way we can call him Teddy.” And it fits. The Corgi puppy already looks like a teddy bear, anyway. “Baby, I can’t believe you got me a puppy.” Laughing, you shake your head. “Oh my god.”

“So, you like your present?” He asks, kissing your cheek gently.

“Honey, I love him so much. It’s our first baby!”

This makes Jack smile, your wording.

“I already have a few things for him, a crate and a bed, a food and water bowl, too. But I figured we could go out tomorrow and get him some toys and stuff.”

“Oh my gosh, can we get him a little blanket?” Already, Teddy is snuggling into your arms, yawning. Leaning down, you nuzzle him, smiling. He even has that new puppy smell.

“We can get him anything you want, angel.”

“Do you love him, too?” You ask, turning your head to face your husband.

He frowns, disliking your doubt. “Of course, I do!” Leaning in, he scratches beneath Teddy’s chin, giving his head a small kiss. “It’s like you said, honey. He’s our first baby.”

#dadddyyyyyy #ugh I just LOVE YOU #welcome to the family Teddy #Daddycember #daddycember 22 #daddycember 2022 #daddy whiskey #agent daddy whiskey #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey fluff

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xnchxntmxnt · 2 years

Text

breathe.

description kyoya character analysis & some slight tamakyo. could be platonic or romantic take it as you will

genre: angst & hurt/comfort. kinda happy ending?

notes: why do I always project on this guy. anyway my therapist let me talk about him so now I’m having feelings. I did my research i promise i didnt just make stuff up for his subjects

edit: my therapist read it and said she loved it and then i had a fun time talking about what this meant lol

“Kyoya?”

He jolted awake upon hearing someone calling his name, sitting up rather quickly from his place on the host club’s couch. How did he get there? He was sure, just a few minutes ago, he was sitting at the table, working—

He fumbled around for his glasses, now more concerned he didn’t have them on his face, when an outstretched hand held them for him. Looking up, he realized that blurry hand was an even blurrier Haruhi. Their eyebrows furrowed upon seeing his panic and they looked almost…concerned for him.

Kyoya took a deep breath, allowing his thoughts to re-collect, and placed his glasses back on his face. Everything was much clearer, suddenly, and he looked around. The twins stood off in the corner, Haruhi sat on the edge of the couch he laid on, Mori and Honey, on the couch opposite him—why was everyone staring at him so intently?—and Tamaki…

Where was Tamaki?

“Take a deep breath, Kyoya,” Haruhi said, gently as they could. “You fell asleep working and Kaoru found you before the club was supposed to open, so Mori put you on the couch hoping you’d be more comfortable.”

“Supposed to o—Haruhi, what time is it?”

“About 4:30? We decided to just cancel today—”

“You let me sleep that—“ he started, rather irritated, but caught himself. It wasn’t their fault. It was his fault for falling asleep in the first place. There was so much to do in so little time and he had to make sure all of it was perfect. “My apologies, my anger is not directed towards you, Haruhi.”

“I…” They shook their head, contemplating their next words. “Kyoya, you don’t look-“

“Kyoya Ootori!”

He was in for it if Tamaki, in all his elaborate dramatics, was using his full name.

The doors to the music room opened with a creak and in stormed a mess of blond hair and rather irritated violet eyes. Haruhi joined the twins, wanting to stay out of the way of the King’s fury. Mori gently placed his hands over Honey’s ears, trying to limit the noise while he slept as well.

“What—” he started, swinging by the table and grabbing his open notebook, only to wave it in his face— “is this?”

His tone reminded him of one not unlike his father’s when he was in trouble for something, yet Tamaki was just louder. Kyoya hung his head. Whatever it was, it was well deserved, he was sure.

“I don’t have the patience for this today, Tamaki,” he muttered, rather bitterly. “I have things to do.”

He tried to reach for the notebook, but Tamaki held it higher than his arms could reach. This game? Really?

“You will not be working anymore today,” he said, rather matter-of-factly, like there was no argument to be had.

He rolled his eyes. “I have things to do, Tamaki.”

“And they can wait until tomorrow!”

“No they can’t–!” He lunged for the book again and, to his dismay, he tossed the book across the room to Hikaru. The twins each got a devilish look, per their usual demeanor, and ran off with it. Haruhi followed suit, albeit much slower, while shooting him a sympathetic look. . Mori took that as his cue to leave as well, doing his best to carry Honey out of the room without waking him.

They each stared the other down until the doors finally closed. The latch of the doorknob broke the tension long enough for Kyoya to look away and stand up, going back to the table he’d been working at during the end of school.

“Kyoya, I mean it,” Tamaki said, much gentler, following him through the room. “You look horrible—”

“Thank you ever so much for the vote of confidence, dear.”

“Listen, will you!”

Kyoya looked up from his things—calculator, phone, his other notebook for notes about the host club, his other other notebook for his German homework, physics textbook, legal pad full of his to-do lists—and glared at him.

Tamaki rushed to sit in the chair next to him, hand ever-so-gently placed on his arm. “You’re doing too much,” he sighed, taking his hand instead of his arm. “I’m worried about you.”

He stared. He stared for a long moment, unsure how to react. It wasn’t too much—he was fine, really. If it was too much, he knew when he needed to take a break. Soon, they’d be on winter vacation and he’d stop studying in the weekday evenings until school started again. He just needed to keep up with the host club’s work, as well as his duties for his family’s company, and stay as far ahead in his schoolwork as he could. His grades had to keep him top of the class and the pressure from his father didn’t make that any easier, but he knew how to make it work.

He took mental note of everything he had to do in the following three days down to the hour he was supposed to do it, and everything else was kept in a scheduling book he never went anywhere without. When time moved on as he planned it, things went as they should. Everyone relied on him for his ability to schedule and keep a cool head, so he would continue to complete his responsibilities as a son, student, and shadow president.

“Kyoya?” Tamaki asked, pulling him from his train of thought. “Please. You’re falling asleep at the table because I know you’re not sleeping enough at night.”

“And how would you know that?”

He took a deep breath before proceeding. “I can see it in your face, Kyoya. There are bags under your eyes, you’re paler than usual—when’s the last time you ate?”

Thinking back for a moment, he tried to think of the last real meal he’d had—one of the guests brought him cookies and he ate half of one before giving the rest to Honey. The night before, Fuyumi brought him a snack when he was studying, but he only picked at it before throwing it out before he went to bed. Dinner wasn’t his favorite, either, so he didn’t have much then.

“It doesn’t matter,” he decided, pulling his hand away from Tamaki to continue whatever he was working on before. What was he working on? There was his German assignment that was due at the end of next week that he needed to start, an English paper due after that, then the history homework that he didn’t want to do but knew it needed to be done anyway. That was the most boring, maybe he’d work through that first. Or would it be better to organize things by the due date instead of the subject?

Tamaki sighed and fell forward, sprawling his arms out over the table. He could sense the frustration he was desperately trying to bite back, but he was earnest about the fact that he was fine. “You’re impossible,” he complained, turning his head to look at him. “If you can’t beat them, might as well join them, no? When is this due?”

He gestured to the half-done homework in front of them. Kyoya sighed. “Thursday.”

“Oh! Well, that’s not bad. Two days from now—”

“Next Thursday.”

“Kyoya. Why do you do this to yourself—all worked up over nothing—”

“It’s not nothing,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

Frustrated with his nagging and inability to leave him alone, Kyoya decided not to hold back all his thoughts from the past several days (maybe longer). “It’s not nothing you absolute moron—you have no idea the kind of pressure I’m under!” he pushed himself away from the table and began pacing around the room, talking with his hands so much so he was sure he’d be in trouble at home if he did that. It wasn’t proper, no, of course not.

“I’m constantly babysitting you, as well as making sure the rest of the club isn’t in trouble all the time,” he started—later, he’d hope he knew he didn’t mean that as harshly as he said it. “I have to be perfect to even be recognized for anything I do, and I have to work three times as hard as either of my brothers for my father to even notice me! There are some days I swear Fuyumi is the only one who cares about me, and she’s only around once in a while since she moved out! I was disappointed when I got an A minus on my math test the other day because I was frustrated it wasn’t any higher! I almost lost it during class when I got a B back on an essay I tried my damnedest on! The only things that matter to anyone’s respect I crave are what I can do and how impressive can I be? And I’m—I’m tired of it, but there’s nothing I can do! Even if I tried to rebel I couldn’t let myself!”

He spun around at the last moment, gesturing to Tamaki to say something. He wasn’t sure what he wanted him to say, but since they were in middle school, he’d always known exactly what to tell him. It was Tamaki who brought him back to his senses when he needed it and always Tamaki who made him calm down when he was like this.

Rather than saying anything, he slowly stood up and walked over to him. Before Kyoya realized what was going on, he felt Tamaki’s arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace. Even slower, his arms fell and rested around him as well. Despite how tightly he squeezed him, it felt like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for too long.

It didn’t fix anything right away, but he didn’t expect it to. Just that opportunity to breathe was enough.

Because Tamaki felt like home.

taglist

@emswordss @kodzukoi @banica-conchita-simp @falling4fandoms @mysterystarz @sirimirihiro @otakuthingz

#//ᴏʀɪɢɴᴀʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ #//ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ #ouran #ouran host club #ouran high school host club #ohshc #kyoya #kyoya ootori #ootori kyoya #tamaki #tamaki suoh #suoh tamaki #tamakyo #kyoya needs therapy bad

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aeoki · 7 months

Text

SS Finals - Everyday: Chapter 5

Location: Seisou Hall (Yuzuru & Touri’s Room) Characters: Touri & Yuzuru

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< At that time. Seisou hall – Yuzuru and Touri’s room. >

Yuzuru: Yes. Thank you, Hibiki-sama.

Indeed. It seems the Young Master is not feeling very well, so I shall participate in the afternoon practice by myself.

No, it’s not that serious. In fact, I’d say he seems more energetic than usual, judging by his behaviour.

The Young Master has had difficulty falling asleep and waking up as of late. He doesn’t appear to have much of an appetite, either.

It makes me wonder if it’s due to poor health.

Hehe. His loss of appetite may be due to the fact that he noticed I had injected pulverised beef bones into his favourite pudding.

Yes. Growing children should consume more calcium for their developing bones.

To think he’d find out… I’d thought he had the tongue of a child, but it seems he has indeed grown.

Of course, it’s possible I may simply have gotten the wrong idea, though.

After all, I do have a tendency to be a worrywart when it comes to the Young Master.

However, as the butler who has served him for many years, I hope you can trust my instincts.

Right. I suppose he looks to be putting on a brave front.

He appears to have something on his mind after what happened during “SANCTUARY”...

He pushed himself too hard for his work and practice sessions, so I’d like for him to rest in preparation for “SS”.

I’d like him to not overdo it and rest first. Yes – I am first and foremost his butler before I am an idol.

The Young Master’s health is something I must prioritise.

Hmm? I’m his family before I am his butler? Even if that were to be true, that would not change my decision.

It’s a bad habit of yours to joke about a subject matter you would not like to touch upon yourself, Hibiki-sama.

It’s not “Amazing!” Please don’t shout like that – you’ll burst my eardrums.

I may be able to block bullets, but I cannot block soundwaves.

Yes, please do so. I apologise for the trouble, but please let Eichi-sama know. After all, he’s together with you right now, isn’t he?

Hmm? He’s not? I see you two have been doing things separately as of late, Hibiki-sama.

No, I think that’s quite satisfactory. In fact, I find it quite unpleasant to see you two all over each other day in and day out.

…As I’ve said, it’s not “Amazing!” It’s also another bad habit of yours to shout that whenever you cannot be bothered explaining.

Please communicate properly with me, Hibiki-sama.

I learnt that was the most important thing for idols at Yumenosaki.

Yes, that’s all I had to say.

Yes, alright… Then, see you later ♪

…………

...*Sigh* (My ears are ringing. How can he be full of energy all the time?)

(Perhaps it’s because his energy levels are infinite. Meaning, he is simply a child.)

(A child for eternity… I suppose that could be seen as an ideal characteristic in this line of work.)

Touri: Yuzuru~...?

I heard some voices, but did someone come by? Was it Eichi-sama?

Yuzuru: No, no. I was just talking to Hibiki-sama on the phone.

As I mentioned earlier, someone here won’t be attending the practice today, so I called to let him know.

Touri: Hmm? You’re not gonna take part today? Did you have another important appointment or something?

Yuzuru: No. I’m thinking of having you not attend the practice, Young Master… I see you didn’t hear our conversation, after all.

I won’t ask you to be like an emperor, but in order for you to become someone worthy of being a leader for others in the future–

Touri: Oh, geez, just shut up! You nag every time you open your mouth!

…I’m doing my best, so can’t you praise me a little?

Yuzuru: No. In fact, the issue is that you’re doing too much.

Touri: I don’t understand you! I’m gonna attend practice like I’m supposed to! I’m the master, so you should be the one listening to what I say.

Yuzuru: But–

Touri: Zip it, I don’t wanna hear it. Not from someone who’s not gonna tell me the important things.

…I’ve gotta grow bigger and stronger – So big and strong that no one can ignore me.

Yuzuru: …………

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

#ss finals

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wicked-witch-of-the-dream · 2 years

Text

👀 Day 1 of trying to remember my dreams and being a “sorta witch”? 👀

To be honest, I woke up super early (I always do since I kind of wake up with the sun when it comes out for some reason) and I totally forgot to even REMEMBER THAT I NEED TO RECALL MY DREAM.

So, I went to the bathroom, then went back to bed. I was like “okay Wicked, we’re gonna remember our dream we’re gonna remember yes we’re going to write it down in our cool-looking leather dream journal,” and I fall asleep to my mind-numbing trance of “I WILL REMEMBER.”

Mission success. I woke up, sat up and kind of stared at my phone for a while.

“Wasn’t I supposed to do something?”

…

“OH SHI-“

Almost immediately after that thought, I grab my journal like a damn gremlin and almost rip out the string that keeps it closed, because at this point I’m so afraid of the possibility that it’s too late to recall any dreams. So I open it-!

And I kind of stare at the blank page.

…?

A hand. I remember a hand. Details are fuzzy, but I think it’s a hand.

…

It’s reaching out in front of me. Hm. Interesting. Am I remembering this right?

…

Fear. I remember fear. There’s a person in front of me, but I can’t tell. I think they’re facing away from me. The hand, or rather, MY hand, is held out in front of me. The fingers are spread apart.

Despair.

I feel… despair and fear. The person is walking away. I think they’re someone I know. Why are they leaving? I’m scared.

I can only see their back and they’re already out of arm’s reach.

“WAIT!”

…

Oh? That’s my voice, yelling.

The dream ended after that, and I never saw their face but, I know who the other person was, and I know why I had this dream.

Even before this, I always have had “realistic nightmares.” I really don’t remember my dreams AT ALL, but the ones that really stick with me are the dreams where my fears in life are touched upon. They’re the kind of dreams where you ask “wait, was that a dream or did I actually do that in real life?”

So, yeah! There’s my first day LMAO. Despite the fear and anxiety, I’m actually pretty happy that I was able to remember it. My brain tends to block out a lot of things, and it has always bothered me that I rarely dreamt. So in a way, it’s like communicating with my spirit or soul, y’know?

It feels nice to genuinely listen to myself, and to acknowledge the unconscious fears that I have. It’s really scary but I know I have nothing to fear. I’m a witch, and I (probably) have more power than I realize! I think you do too ^^

End of entry

“your intentions have power—believe in it!”

🪄✨🫂❤️

~Wicked

#witchcraft #witchlife #witches #witch community #dream journal #dream journey #magick

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chifuyusfingers · 3 years

Text

Tokyo Revenger boy's Reaction to you hide that you’re in the Hospital from them, and they find out.

M i k e y

Mikey would be on a warpath once he found out you were in the hospital.

But when you woke up, he had worn himself out from being angry.

You would wait for him to wake up, and when he did he would be startled to see you awake.

He would ask you so many questions: “You’re awake? Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere? Do you want me to get a doctor?” Mikey wouldn’t express anger directly at you until after you were discharged.

But he would stay with you as much as he could, and would hardly get any sleep because he was so worried about your well being (even though you weren’t going to stay for that long).

C h i f u y u

Chifuyu would be extremely worried about you. He noticed you were a little sick lately, so when he heard you were in the hospital,

it was a worst case come true. He would instantly go to the hospital and would pick a fight with anyone who tried to deny him entry to visit you. You would wake up and he would be sitting with his head in his hands.

When he noticed you it was instant fretting over you. When you assured him you were fine and that it was something minor, he would sigh and lean back in his chair.

“You think I care that this is something minor? I care that you are here in the hospital and I knew nothing about it! Tell me if you aren’t feeling well and we come here together! But please… Don’t hide this from me.” Chifuyu may get a bit emotional and would tear up.

You would have to soothe him and promise to tell him. He would stay with you in the hospital for the day you had left there, and wouldn’t sleep– both from worrying about you and to make sure you were sleeping alright.

B a j i

Baji would be sitting on the edge of the bed staring at you when you woke up.

His number one concern would be how you were feeling and if you were in any pain. You assured him that it was nothing serious, and he just didn’t seem satisfied with your answer.

“If it was nothing serious, then you could have told me about it. Even if it was something serious, I would like to know this sort of thing. Your health is important to me, so please don’t hide this from me. I think I almost passed out from the shock.”

You would apologize to Baji and said you didn’t want to bother him. “It would bother me so much more if I didn’t know until after the fact!”

You would apologize and acknowledge your mistake. Baji would visit whenever he could find time, and more often than not he would bring you a snack or two in when he came.

K a z u t o r a

Kazutora is the type who would be a bit restless when he arrived. When you woke up he would be asking the doctors what was wrong with you.

When he noticed you were awake, he would direct all of his questions to you. Any attempt to calm him down wouldn’t go well at all.

You would have to talk him down from his anger, and once he was no longer angry, all that was left was worry for you. “How could you not tell me you weren’t feeling well? Why didn’t I tell you to go to the hospital?”

You would have to assure Kazutora that things like this happened and it was your fault for not checking yourself in sooner. “That really doesn’t make me feel better… Nothing will make me feel better until you get to get out of here.”

You would have to mess with Kazutora in order for him to finally crack a smile, albeit a small one. Kazutora would keep you company for the day or two you had to stay in the hospital. He would argue with the doctors if they tried to kick him out, and if they succeeded he would simply sneak back in later.

Shinichiro

Shinichiro would be crying when you woke up. When he heard your voice, he would instantly race to your side as if it was the end of the world.

He would hug you and you would have to repeat over and over how it wasn’t as bad as it may look.

He wouldn’t say much but would try to listen to you. Shin wouldn’t have to say much to you for you to understand that he was deeply hurt, by your decision to not tell him.

He would wear that on his sleeve. Once he stopped crying, he was relieved that it was nothing major and felt silly for crying so much. You would feel bad and promise to tell him how you were feeling truthfully from now on.

He would pick you when you were discharged and wouldn’t leave your side the entire day. “I want to make sure your a hundred percent.”

M i t s u y a

Mitsuya would be silently reading when you woke up. He would glance at you and continue to read his book.

You could feel the anger steaming off of him and were too scared to say anything at first. He scared you out of your skin when he asked, “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?” You would begin to apologize for not telling him about the hospital, and he would seem slightly confused.

“Oh… I guess I should be upset about that too…” You’d ask why he was upset if not for that reason, and he would say he was mad at himself. He should have forced you to come to the hospital the instance you were sick.

You’d insist it wasn’t his fault, but he would continue. “No, it was my mistake for not saying what I thought. So I think I’ll have to be much more forward with you from now on.” It sounded scary to you. Mitsuya essentially would come when he could, and would give you the silent treatment for the next several days to come.

S a n z u

Sanzu is much more stubborn. I feel like he would be tempted to visit you a lot, but he would be too angry to do it.

You weren’t willing to tell him that you were in the hospital to begin with, so why should he visit you? He would find himself standing outside the door, unable to enter.

In the end, he would call you from outside the door and scold you over the phone. “Next time, we can go to the hospital together… Just please don’t do this ever again.” Sanzu would believe that you didn’t trust him enough to tell him this, and you apologized if you came off that way.

You would say that you knew he would panic, and that would cause him to open the door and argue with you in person. You would laugh as he scolded you. He would stay with you and glare at you every once in a while. He would also help you when you were discharged.

K a k u c h o

Kakucho is very lost when he finds the news. He doesn’t know what to do when he sees you in the hospital bed and is just lost.

He seems out of it till he hears your voice. He comes back to life and yells your name. He asks you several questions and if you didn’t answer him right away, then he would hit the button that summons a doctor to answer them.

He would cause chaos in his own caring way, and you would have to scold him for causing disarray at a hospital.

Leading him to scold you for hiding this from both of you. Essentially, the remainder of your visit would become a bickering fest between you two with no clear resolution other than your discharge.

From then on, if you so much as sneezed in front of Kukucho he would grab his coat and drag you to the hospital to get it checked out.

I n u i

Inui was concerned about your health before the hospital, but once he heard you were in there? He was in full on mothering mode.

He would bring you food and nag at you to eat and take care of yourself the entire time. He wouldn’t touch much on the fact that you hid the truth from him, and would be so much more concerned about your well being. That said, once you were healthy, prepare for an earful from Inui.

“You can’t just wait until you’re about to pass out to go to the hospital!! That’s crazy talk!” Inui would now give you a look whenever you coughed in front of him, a look that read: “If we go through what we did last time, I swear I’ll go insane–”

I z a n a

Izana would fight a lot of people. Since he came in angry, the hospital was reluctant to let them in.

The doctors would tell him he had to do something, he wasn’t going to be happy go lucky doing it. He was fuming just sitting beside you in the hospital. You’d expect that he would direct that anger at you once you woke up, right? Wrong.

He would actually be caring at first and ask about how this happened and how you felt at the moment.

But once all of those “formalities” were out of the way, then he would direct that anger at you. “How could you hide it until you are in the hospital!? Do you know how worried sick I was to hear about this? Don’t ever do this sort of thing again!” Izana would always turn a little serious from then on when he saw you and asked how you were doing.

R a n

Ran is in full on nag mode when he finds out you are in the hospital. You don’t have to be awake for him to start nagging.

The instance he opens your hospital door and sees you asleep, he would start nagging. “I swear to GOD, you must be out of your mind if you thought you could hide this from me forever! AH! So help me when you wake up I swear I’m going to give you an earful, just you WAIT!” Essentially, Ran would hype himself up so much that when you finally did wake up, he wouldn’t have much to say. So? He would play it off as if he was angry and shove a tangerine at you.

“Here! Eat IT!” Ran would sincerely worry about you and help you at discharge, and would take you to hospital upon hearing a single cough.

R i n d o

Rindo is another one to be silently angry when you first wake up.

He would ask you how you were feeling, and you’d say you were fine. “Is this the truth, or am I going to turn around and find out you really aren’t?” You would feel guilty and apologize.

This is one of the few times that Rindo would seriously scold you. It truly hurt him when he had to find out from his brother that you had wound up in the hospital. After you were discharged, Rindo would be lost in his own thoughts. It would take a little while, but he’d be back to normal if you gave him some time.

K o k o n o i

Koko wouldn’t really know what to do. He would be angry at you and himself, worried about your well being, and concerned with how you would feel seeing him.

He had all these thoughts going through his head as he waited for you to wake up. When you did, he wanted to be tough and stand by himself.

You shouldn’t have hid it from him. But he was just so relieved that you were okay that his facade melted away almost instantly. He just so glad to see you okay and well and that it was nothing major. Koko would realize a lot from worrying about you– like how much he cares about you and your well being.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway?

“You are absolutely unbelievable!”

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid.

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics.

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face.

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs.

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded.

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.”

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open.

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake.

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now.

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door.

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body.

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek.

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together.

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there.

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too.

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker.

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows.

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.”

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.”

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory.

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face.

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.”

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.”

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.”

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive.

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise.

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces.

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep.

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him.

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone.

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets.

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling.

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck.

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine.

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years.

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again.

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little.

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name.

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words.

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort.

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off.

“I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees.

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.”

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane.

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away.

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up.

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?”

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on.

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there.

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers.

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air.

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair.

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen…

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks.

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had.

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before.

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another.

“Please.” She all but begs.

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing.

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame.

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns.

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly.

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other.

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her.

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely.

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another.

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight.

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them.

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before…

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?”

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body.

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.”

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering.

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.”

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom.

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner.

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs.

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs.

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther.

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse.

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks.

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.”

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything.

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.”

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly.

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain…

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly.

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton.

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way.

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...”

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier.

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles.

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs.

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock.

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag.

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that .

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet.

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of…

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple.

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone.

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

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