#and i doubt so much that anyone told her about it when most people were just thinking about her womb | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 1 month ago

Text

then send me a son

pairing: joel miller x reader

cws/tags: so much angst (w/ happy ending! i swear), discussion of suicide attempt (the canon one), suicidal ideations, losing a child, losing a parent, survivors guilt, discussions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy, p in v, oral sex, virginity loss (but it's not that big of deal/not a kink), both dealing w grief, ellie is dead, this is set in jackson post tlou pt I

summary: joel is put on suicide watch after he returns to jackson w/o ellie and reader becomes his 'caregiver' of sorts. lowkey enemies to lovers but also not bc it's kinda one-sided 'hatred'

a/n: author is pro-choice! and also understands the complexities of mental health that reader and joel do not at times (just wanted to make it clear that i understand... from personal experience... what depression is like as well as suicidal ideation).

title is from the song 'the suburbs' by arcade fire, but listen to the entirety of the suburbs (album) and funeral (album) if you want to understand my mindframe while writing this

the last sentence is a quote and i've reblogged it before but i'll find the image and post it/reblog it again

wc: 9.4k

masterlist | ko-fi | taglist

Joel is just surprised Tommy has the gall to ask, “Where’s Ellie?” when he arrives in Jackson alone.

In this world, when two people leave and only one comes back, you don’t ask because you already know what happened. You wait for that person to tell you about a miracle, and when they don’t, you know for sure.

“Heaven, if you believe in that sort of thing,” is Joel’s response.

But Joel doesn’t believe in Heaven or Hell, or anything other than ashes and dirt.

“I don’t know what to say,” Tommy says because he’d already said ‘I’m sorry’ when Sarah died, and that didn’t bring her back.

It takes a hefty amount of booze to get Joel to tell the story.

“I just hope she died for something. Then, at least, I’ll know I’m being selfish.”

I didn’t get that with Sarah, he thinks. She didn’t die for a ‘noble cause’. He doubts Ellie did either.

“You’re being put on watch,” Maria tells him the next morning – when he’s sober and asking what his duties are now that he’s back.

Life goes on, which means work goes on, so what’s my job? As long as it’s not burning bodies, I’ll be okay.

“Watch? Like I’m watching, or I’m being watched.”

“Being watched.”

He asks why, though he doesn’t need to. Tommy knows why he’s got that scar on his forehead.

“Fucking authoritarian bullshit,” he mutters, half into his pillow. “Thought you were a communist.”

“I am. And this has nothing to do with that.”

“I bet Tommy put you up to it anyway.”

“He didn’t ‘put me up to anything’.”

“But he told you, didn’t he?”

“He told me a long time ago.”

“Figures. You always knew I was a coward.”

“You say stuff like that, and then act like you don’t need help.”

“I didn’t say I don’t need help. I said I don’t want it.”

She’s silent, letting him continue. “Now let me grieve in peace, will you?”

She hums something akin to agreement, but asks for something that sounds like protest to him. “Where’s your gun?”

“Which one?”

“All of ‘em.”

He tells her because he doesn’t want Tommy or anyone else searching through all his bullshit because that’s what happens if he doesn’t give ‘em up.

“Want my kitchen knives too?” he says, almost wryly.

She takes most of them, but leaves the more blunt ones out of sympathy. He can have butter on his toast. Unless she takes the toaster so he can’t take it with him in the bathtub.

She leaves the toaster, and then, leaves him alone.

Quite frankly, he’s too old to kill himself. Sure, people do it at his age, but he’s so goddamn tired. Moreover, he knows he could get someone else to do it pretty easily. Maybe he could be a martyr. He could save someone from a clicker or a soldier. He could save someone’s life for once. But would that be enough to save his soul? To make it to Heaven and see Ellie and Sarah again?

Maybe, he would, if God really does love people the way some say he does. But if Joel was God, he’d deny himself entry.

He stays in bed for the rest of the day. Aside from the two times he eats. And once in the middle of the night to take a piss because he may be depressed, but the last of his dignity is motivation enough not to wet the bed.

He doesn’t shower or change his clothes. Not like he’s wearing a shirt anyway, just boxers ‘cause it’s too hot outside and he doesn’t want to get up and turn on the fan. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but it comes. It comes because it has to, reluctant as it is.

He wakes up to the voice of an unfamiliar woman. Quieter than Ellie or Sarah, less stern than Maria or Tess. Not like he was expecting to hear from three out of four of those women, not outside of his dreams.

You’ve always cared about people, saving lives and all that. But you’re no good with a gun, so Tommy finds a better job than patrol for you.

“You’re going to be watching my brother, Joel.”

“Like, spying on him?”

“No, like making sure he doesn’t kill himself.”

A suicidal man is nothing new, especially in this world, but Tommy’s bluntness about it is. He acts as if it’s a normal job. Like the ones in office buildings that sound wonderful even though the people who tell you about them assure you it was barely better than life is now. This new watchmen position is the same as patrol, in a way. Terrifying in the gravity it holds. You have to keep someone alive.

You can shoot deer, you can run quickly, you can hide well. You can survive on your own. But, at age 10, your mom bled out as you sat by her side. You were too weak to carry her, to dig a grave and bury her. Your survival feels unearned, but you’re no good with guns. You’d miss if you tried to do it. That’s a rare thought anyway, and surely not one you plan to ever speak aloud. They’d put you on watch too, which sounds suffocating, in all honesty.

You don’t know Joel. You’ve heard his name in passing, but you arrived in Jackson during the period of time he was gone. He was going to take some girl to some hospital for something or other.

“What about that girl?” you ask. “Is she not taking care of him?”

“She’s not around anymore.”

“Oh,” you say.

He just nods. The ‘why’ of the whole arrangement makes sense, but you’re still unclear on the ‘how’. Am I just supposed to stay in his house 24/7? Is he allowed to shower on his own? Do I have to cook or do laundry?

“Just check in on him. He’s not the most… personable, but don’t take anything he says to heart.”

Just check in on him. It sounds simpler than it will be, you know that much. Even keeping a plant alive takes more than ‘checking in on it’.

You arrive at his house around 10 AM. You assume he’ll be awake, but when you look around his living room and kitchen, you can’t find him. Oh God, you think. What if he’s…

He’s asleep in bed. You’re pretty sure. He’s lying there and there’s no evidence that anything’s wrong, but when you say his name from the doorway, he doesn’t move. So, you walk closer to him, just to make sure he’s breathing.

“Joel,” you say softly – because your other option is reaching out to touch him, and you feel that’s a little too personal, especially when he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Who the Hell are you and how did you get into my house?” he says.

“Tommy sent me.”

“Oh, so they’re making you watch me?”

“Yeah.”

You’re glad he knows about the arrangement. Maybe he’ll give you some direction on what to do with him.

“Must hate you if they stuck you with me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being ironic, but you hope so. Still, you don’t know how to respond. You decide on a simple, “I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

Though you’re alone in the room, you sit with perfect posture on Joel’s couch, looking around at the decor – or lack thereof – looking for clues about who this man is.

You think about making him breakfast, but you’d have to raid his cabinets to do so, and you’re terrified to make any missteps when it comes to Joel. You don’t think he’ll kill himself over burnt toast, but there is a persistent need lodged inside your brain to make him like you. It’s a little selfish when you should be focused on just keeping him alive, but maybe if he likes you, he’ll feel better, maybe you’ll feel better too. That’s still nothing but the ever-lingering hope in your heart. But it’s something.

He comes downstairs eventually, in a t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms.

“Good morning,” you say.

“No, it ain’t,” he says, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“Do you want me to help you with anything? Breakfast or coffee?”

“I can make my own damn coffee, kid.”

And he does. The first shred of kindness you get from him is an offer to pour you a cup.

“I’m alright, but thank you.”

He sits down in a chair across from you and sips his coffee as you watch him awkwardly.

“Are you really gonna do that all day?”

“Do what?”

“Sit there and stare at me.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“You could leave, for starters.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“What? You afraid Tommy’ll get upset with you?”

“A little.”

“He’s a softie. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

You are worried. Sure, you want Tommy to be happy with you, but moreover, you don’t want to leave Joel alone lest something happen to him. You might not know the guy very well, but you’d hate to see someone take their own life.

“Can I just stay here? I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

He shrugs, and you take it as a yes.

He does not need a caregiver or a watchman. He does not need you, but you look like a kicked puppy and there’s no way he’ll force you to leave. Another young girl he’ll reluctantly let stick by his side. It’s almost cruel of Tommy to send someone like you. Someone young and full of life. Someone he has a hard time pushing away.

He should’ve sent Joel a crotchety old bitch or a drill sergeant. Maybe Tommy thinks he’s doing Joel a favor by giving him a nice girl, polite and eager to please. It’s a good thing your chipper attitude irritates him. It’s the first item on the very small list of qualities that Joel dislikes.

At first, he insists on making his own food. You’re still a guest, even if he’s reluctant to have you as one. It doesn’t matter where he lives, he’ll always have been raised in Texas. He’ll always hear his mother calling him out on his lack of manners. His hospitality is force of habit.

Plus, if he lets you do anything for him, he’ll owe you something – at least in his mind. And he doesn’t want to owe anyone anything. He doesn’t want to give or get or build any kind of rapport with you whatsoever, especially since you seem to take all attention as progress, despite the fact that Joel is harsh with you most of the time.

The whole ordeal makes him feel like more of a failure than he did before. He couldn’t save Ellie, or Sarah for that matter, and now he’s being forced into his own retirement or held hostage depending on how you look at it, so he can’t even get the satisfaction that productivity brings.

He also finds himself pretty fucking bored without work. He became so used to being in constant battle, even in his sleep. One wrong move and he was dead. The worst injury he’s gotten in the past few weeks was a paper cut.

Reading was never his biggest hobby, but it’s not bad when you find the right book. Often, you’ll sit across the room from him and read a book of your own, and the silence as he relaxes into the couch is quite peaceful for a change.

No amount of peace and quiet can cure his boredom, though. It makes him antsy, and you notice. You notice a lot when your job is just staring at him, it seems.

“I found a book of crossword puzzles,” you announce.

“Congratulations,” Joel says.

“I thought since you were bored, I’d give them to you, and maybe you could do them…”

By the look on your face, he can guess that you’re regretting your words. Lest he make you cry, he accepts the book.

“Plus, it looks kind of old so I don’t know if I’d know how to do it myself,” you add.

He knows you don’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds like one, and it makes him laugh. The list of qualities Joel likes about you is already long — and buried deep in his subconscious — but he’ll have to add the fact that you can make him laugh.

“Are you calling me old?”

“Not in a bad way. You’re just older than I am.”

He flips through the book and finds that about 80% of them are done.

“Somebody did most of these already.”

“I’m sorry… maybe I could erase that person’s answers and then you could do them?”

“I think I’d still be able to tell.”

You hang your head in defeat.

“Gimme a pencil and I’ll try the ones that aren’t done yet.”

You look through his junk drawer, find a pencil, and hand it to him. He doesn’t expect you to sit on the couch next to him.

“I know you’re supposed to watch me, but you don’t have to watch that closely.”

You move away slightly, no longer looking over his shoulder.

“I was just curious about the answers.”

“I was kidding around,” he says (though, it’s only a half-truth). “Come back here.”

It takes him about a week to finish the book.

“Had to go back and fix some of the others,” he says. “The person who originally filled ‘em out was an idiot.”

“That’s not very nice. Maybe it was a kid.”

“Kid had great handwriting, then.”

You pause, hesitating for a reason he can’t pinpoint.

“What? You want me to say sorry for calling that guy an idiot. ‘Cause I will if it matters that much to you.”

“No, no, fuck that guy, he was an idiot,” you say, clearly taking after him.

“Language, Missy,” he says, jokingly scolding you.

“Sorry. I should stop swearing.”

“It’s okay. You probably picked it up from me anyway.”

“Maybe,” you agree. You’re fidgeting, holding something behind your back, he notices.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” you say, holding it out to him. “I just figured since you finished the crossword book, I should get you more.”

He only did the crosswords for you. He never really cared for them anyway. He just wanted to make you happy — he’d rather have you content than pissy or whiny. The only thing worse than your constant insistence on getting his approval would be if you just sat there and cried all day.

He’d tried to give the book back to you, but you couldn’t do ‘em on your own since you were lacking in 90s pop culture knowledge. So, he did them, with you watching over his shoulder the whole time.

He’s about to admit this to you and hand the new one back over to you when he looks at the pages – white paper, stapled together, all drawn up in pen.

“Did you make these?” he asks, in awe of both your ability to draw perfectly straight lines, and moreover, how much you must care if you’re willing to go to these lengths. Kiss-ass behavior, he tells himself.

You nod, and he gets the sudden urge to hug you, but opts for a thank you with a smile he can’t repress.

“You didn’t have to do all this, but it’s very sweet of you.”

He considers taking back the ‘very sweet’ comment when he finds that 3 down is four letters with the prompt “grumpy old man”. JOEL fits perfectly in the blank spaces.

You go on walks, read endless books, and Joel finally lets you start taking on some of the housework. It should be nice, but you get the feeling he’s not all that happy about this situation. Not that he tells you it outright. He doesn’t tell you much at all. And you’ve tried. It’s not like you’re asking hard-hitting questions.

“How old are you?”

“56.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

He doesn’t even bother to ask the same question back to you. Sometimes, he doesn’t even look up at you when you speak to him. You know it’s the depression of losing someone close to you, you know what that feels like – the problem is, you don’t know how to fix it. You only know how to hide it.

It’s quite simple, in theory. All you have to do is give him the desire to get out of bed every day. But you don’t even know what he likes. All you know is that your presence is not high on his list of favorite things. You try and try until you swear his shitty attitude is rubbing off on you.

Tommy checks in with you periodically, asking you how things are going with Joel, and this would be the perfect opportunity for you to get out of this position, which Joel would probably love, but to spite him, you tell Tommy it’s going well.

And it is, in a way – Joel is not actively mean to you. He doesn’t insult you or argue with you, he just mostly ignores you. So, you figure if you ignore him, maybe he’ll miss your attention. Stupid teenage bullshit mindset, acting like you have a crush on him, playing some sort of push and pull game that he’s not even privy to.

But that’s not like you. That brooding behavior is all Joel, so it lasts no more than a day or so until you go back to trying, and accept the fact that he’s just an asshole. Doesn’t mean you have to be one.

You never expected to win him over with the crossword puzzles but you see the look in his eyes when you give him the homemade ones, and you know there’s something in there besides all that pain. You know that look, can’t put a name to it, all you know is that it’s a good sign, one you had yet to see from Joel.

Joel wouldn’t have thought he’d get tired of hearing someone ask, “can I do anything for you?”, constantly begging to dote on him, to care for him. The last time someone did this for him was on Father’s Day, which is an ancient holiday now, almost mythical.

But it’s been weeks of the same old shit. It has nothing to do with you. In fact, you’re probably the best ‘caregiver’ he could’ve gotten stuck with. Thing is, though, he doesn’t want a caregiver, and he’s tired of said caregiver bombarding him. It’s enough to just have her watching him like a hawk, but yapping in his ear is another thing. Because he enjoys the quiet (and because the way you ask him questions reminds him of Ellie.)

It’s a joke, a stupid joke. It’s his patience wearing thin.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask.

“Sure. A beer, maybe. And a fuckin’ blowjob,” he mutters. Yeah, that’d be the dream but it’s a joke, bordering on a jab at you.

“I don’t think we have any beer,” you say. You both know damn well there’s no alcohol in the house.

“I know.”

“And, as for the other thing- is that something that you’d want… me to do?”

“Hey,” his tone softens. “Sweetheart, it was a joke. I was messing with you.”

“Okay, so you don’t want that, correct?”

“It was a joke. I’m sorry I even said it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, sheepishly. “It’s your house, your rules, right?”

The concept of free speech in his house was one he’d brought up regarding ‘swear words’— It’s his house so he’s allowed to say ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘bitch’, and every other word he could come up with, and he came up with some deep cuts just to make you laugh. Admittedly, it’s a nice sound.

“Yeah.” He thinks for a moment. “I just think that these sorts of topics aren’t appropriate for someone…”

“You know I’m an adult, right, Joel?”

“Yes, I know, but you’re still young and you seem a little innocent. I don’t want to put those types of thoughts in your head.”

“I know what a blowjob is, and I know what sex is. I just haven’t found the right person yet. That doesn’t mean I’ve never thought about it or whatever.”

You rarely snap at him, so he knows that word — innocent — must’ve been more offensive than he’d meant it. Maybe you’re not innocent. Maybe you’re just kind and a hell of a lot younger than him. Maybe it just seems like you should be.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just saying that I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“But do you want it?” You punctuate every word with a newfound annoyance.

“It’s not about that.”

“Yes it is.” You’re quite incredulous for someone who has been presented with the idea only a moment ago.

“Fine. Yes, in theory, if we were just two people who know each other, then, sure, if you offered, I’d say yes.”

“I offered.”

The way he calls you ‘sweetheart’ feels more like an insult than a term of endearment. You’d rather be ‘kid’ or nothing at all, anything less patronizing. It’s worse when he calls you innocent. You’re not innocent, you’re just nice — something that Joel is not. You’re painfully nice. You’ve heard it makes people like you. You’re still waiting on the results, though.

But, if he’d ordered you to suck him off, you’d have kneed him in the balls, and he would’ve thought twice about calling you ‘sweetheart’. The thing is, he doesn’t. Instead, he backs away from the opportunity, tells you it was a joke.

But you see two things behind his eyes: one, he wants this. He might not want to want this, but he does. More importantly, you see his genuine concern for your well-being override this desire and you realize you feel safer around him than you do around most men. That’s one of the reasons that you do give him ‘a fuckin’ blowjob’. The other being that, sometimes, before you go to bed, you can’t sleep, and a certain man comes to mind as your fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties.

When you reiterate that you offered, you exchange a long stare wherein you try to reach into each other’s souls and sort this shit out but when you both realize you can’t, Joel says, “Okay.”

And you say, “Okay.”

A new kind of tension bubbles to the surface as Joel sits down on the couch and you kneel before him.

You fiddle with his belt, eventually managing to get it undone, but Joel does the rest of the work it takes to get his pants down to his ankles, boxers too.

You’d imagined he’d be big, but that’s how fantasies work. Every man’s dick is big in your lewd daydreams, but it’s like you manifested it with Joel. You begin to feel like you’re in over your head, and though you aren’t innocent, you aren’t experienced enough to take him. But who are you to back down from a challenge?

Joel can see hesitation wash over your face for the first time. You pause, study the scene like you’re trying to decide your approach, and then you take his cock in your hand, looking up at him like you’re asking for the green light.

He gives you the go-ahead with the only piece of advice he thinks you’ll need. “Just don’t bite, and you’ll do fine.”

He probably should’ve mentioned another thing: don’t take too much at once or you’ll choke. His head lolls back and his eyes fall closed the moment your lips meet the tip of it. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t want you to feel intimidated by his presence while you’re exploring, so to speak. He lets out a low groan of approval to let you know he’s still with you.

But he’s fading into a beautiful oblivion until he hears you gag, feels you sputter and it shocks him out of that blissful feeling. His eyes snap open and he cradles the back of your head.

“Easy, easy,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

You pull away briefly and catch your breath.

“That’s good,” he says. “Breathe, baby.”

He can see you looking for instructions, so he takes your hand and helps you get a firm grip on his cock, sliding your hand up and down, and finally letting you do it on your own.

“Doin’ good, baby,” he says. “You gotta give your mouth a break sometimes.”

You’ve never gotten anything close to praise from Joel before. It’d warm your heart like nothing else if it weren’t so goddamn sexy in this context.

You nod, wipe the spit from your chin, and give your mouth a brief break, but you can’t hold yourself back forever. Soon, your lips are back on his cock, kissing from the base to the tip, flicking your tongue over the head, seeing what reactions you can get from him.

When you get into the rhythm of hand and mouth in tandem, you barely register him telling you that he’s gonna come.

You imagine it’s an acquired taste but it’s not awful. You can swallow it. So, you do, and you look up at him with a smile.

He looks like he’s woken up from a dream and he’s still getting his bearings straight, but he’s quick to stand up and take your hand.

“Where are we going?”

“To my bed.”

You’d follow him anywhere but bed does sound good to you right now. It sounds like an adventure. You don’t go into his bedroom unless absolutely necessary. You’d think he was hiding something horrible in there if you didn’t have a mutual feeling regarding your own bedroom.

“Are we going to have sex?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

“Then, what are we going to do?”

“You,” he begins. “Are going to lie back and relax.”

He coaxes you to lie down, and he doesn’t have to try hard.

“I,” he continues. “Am going to make you feel good.”

You’re fairly certain about what he means, so there’s nothing left for you to do but let him do the work. It’s just another part of the job you’ll have to learn from experience.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says.

You nod.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he says, playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Wait-” you say, sitting up, and he withdraws. “Can we kiss… first?”

He looks surprised for a moment, and you worry you’ve fucked up.

“I just feel like we should do that,” you say, much quieter.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

His hand cups your cheek and he looks you in the eyes like he’s trying to find answers somewhere in there.

“Has anyone ever kissed you before?”

“Not really, not the way I want you to kiss me.”

“Feels a bit rude of me to have put my dick in your mouth before you’d even been kissed.”

Still, he leans in and kisses you, but it’s soft, gentle. It’s not a peck on the lips, though, it’s more. It gradually gains momentum and passion. Eventually, he slips his tongue in your mouth and you take it in stride.

“You’re very good at this,” he says. “If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t think this was your first time.”

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, doubting Joel is capable of such things.

He ignores your question, and sighs. You know it’s not directed at you because you’re fairly sure he’s not listening.

“I know I said I was gonna do some things with you, but I don’t wanna take things too fast, okay?”

“Are you saying you’re just going to kiss me?”

“I think that’d be the right thing to do.”

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

You wish you could sound sexy, or whatever, but you probably come off like a bratty child.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not fair. You said you’d make me feel good. I thought you were gonna return the favor.”

“I was.”

“Then, why are you backing out?”

You’re shocked that he’s the pussy — pun-intended — in this scenario.

“I thought it might be too much for you.”

You grab his hand and slip it under the flimsy fabric of your shorts.

His eyes go wide.

Fucking hell, you’re wet, is the only thought on Joel’s mind. It makes sense. He’d be offended, maybe even worried if you were dry as a desert down there, but he’s barely touched you. Either you really enjoyed kissing him or you actually liked sucking him off too.

He gently presses the pads of his fingers against the wet spot on your panties.

“You’re right, baby. It’s only fair if I help you out.”

He’s able to get your shorts and your panties down in one swift pull. You look impressed by the action. Just you wait, he thinks. He’s not an expert by any means, but it’s not too hard to learn if you pay attention — and sex is one of the only times Joel does listen — it’s also not a skill you lose over time. It’s muscle memory, or maybe it’s innate.

His thumb rubs your clit lazily as he watches your face scrunch up in pleasure, your eyes fill with need. When the first finger slips inside you, he hears a breathy sigh come from above — it sounds like relief though he knows you haven’t come yet.

He’s never had a woman have such a strong reaction to his lips on her clit. It almost startles him at first. You’re frantic from the moment his lips meet your skin, crying out for him like you’re scared he’ll stop.

“Hey,” he says, “I’m right here. Don’t have to get so worked up. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He can’t say another word because his lips are occupied, so he relies on his hands, his soothing touch, to tell you that everything is alright. He gets the urge to tell you how good you are for him, how good you taste, how pretty you are like this, but he knows it’d be cruel to let up now. He’s callous often, sometimes harsh, but rarely cruel.

His instinct tells him to drag this out, to make your thighs shake, to have tears running down your cheeks, to tease you. To be the asshole that he tends to be when you’re around (and when you’re not). This is a version of Joel you might come to like.

He’s lived long enough to be well-practiced in this field of life. Doesn’t matter if he’s particularly romantic or even sociable, it’s just happened enough times over the course of fifty plus years for him to know the ins and outs. He can get you there quickly and lead you through it slowly.

He’s so used to you saying his name in a tone he considers pestering that he’s begun to hate the word itself. But when it’s drawn out and desperate like this, it sounds wonderful.

You’re at his mercy, he thinks. Which means he’s in control. And, as much as he’d hate to admit it, control does not mean he can kill you, control means he can care for you.

When you come down from your high, Joel is looking up at you from between your thighs with messy hair and kiss-dark lips. His smile looks like one of pride. Your cheeks heat up, only half-remembering what just happened. You could describe the event simply in a cause and effect relationship — he went down on you, so you came. You know what an orgasm feels like, but that was something beyond anything you’d ever experienced before. You fear an addiction may be coming on.

Your voice comes out shaky, which only makes your first words after a long silence sound stupider. “Thank you.”

He looks confused, and it takes him a moment to respond. “My pleasure,” he says, and you swear it might be when you see a semi through his sweatpants.

You’d offer more ‘help’ but you truly don’t think you can manage it. You can feel your body pulling you towards sleep. Your eyes have barely opened and they want to close again.

Joel notices because how could he not, you’re completely naked in every sense of the word.

“Get some rest,” he says before standing up.

He’s leaving.

“Where are you going?” you ask, instinctively.

“Downstairs.”

You do not want to say it. The fear of rejection is too strong, but so is the sudden urge to cry. Holding back tears is a strength of yours, though, so Joel never sees them. Somehow, after doing one of the most adult things, you feel like a baby in the wake of it. You are supposed to be taking care of him, and you are failing.

“What?” is his response to your refusal to meet his eyes.

“I just assumed you were going to stay. That’s all.”

“I can. If that’s what you need me to do.”

You don’t say anything. He climbs into bed anyway after picking up your underwear and handing it to you.

He doesn’t hold you but he doesn’t leave either. What he does do is kiss you on the forehead when he thinks you’re already asleep. It’s a compromise between your fear and your desire.

It isn’t as weird as one might think it would be — acting as if you’ve never done anything remotely sexual with one another. It’s easier because you don’t have to go back to being friends. You never really were. It was always awkward. What’s new? Only your knowledge that at least some of your feelings are mutual. Only the fact that you think about having sex with him every time he’s in front of you. It’s really just out of curiosity sometimes. What would he be like in bed? Does he want it too? How would you even broach the subject?

Sometimes, it’s not just curiosity. Those days are harder to navigate. You have to pretend like every little touch — most of them accidental — fuels the fire. It’s not the sensation itself. It’s just the acute awareness of his body, how close it is to yours, how easily you could reach out and touch him, that enters your mind.

“You’re staring.” Joel says from the other side of the couch.

“Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Got something’ on your mind?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon, what is it?”

“Why do you suddenly care about my thoughts?” About me.

“You think I didn’t care about you before? You’ve been in my house everyday for months now.”

“So?”

“And, I haven’t tried to kick you out yet.”

“You’re not allowed to kick me out. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Okay. How ‘bout this: I’m down here sitting with you because I know you don’t like to be alone.”

“So you pity me?”

“No, if I pitied you, I’d have told Tommy to give you a new job.”

“Okay, so, you expect me to believe you care but you refuse to talk to me half the time.”

“I’m not much of a talker. But, now that I’m trying to talk to you, you’re shutting me out.”

“I’m not— It’s just not a big deal. I don’t even remember what I was thinking about anyway.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I said, that’s bullshit.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk.”

You take a deep breath before speaking, one long enough that he gestures for you to go on.

“I was just thinking about what it would be like if we had sex.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, since we, you know, we did that stuff… it’s not like it’s a totally crazy thought.”

“‘That stuff’? Be more specific, honey.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I do, but you can’t be thinking about having sex with me when you can’t even use big girl words when you’re talking about it.”

“It doesn’t even matter.” Your face is burning. It so, totally, does matter. “I was just curious.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Go on thinking, I’ll get back to reading.”

“Wait, what? You just made me tell you that to make me embarrassed? You’re not even gonna—”

“What? Gonna fuck you?”

The word slips out of his mouth so easily.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Truth is: he’s been thinking about you every day since. He only caught you staring because he was doing the same. He tries to restrain himself because it feels like the right thing to do.

But he still, he acquiesces and takes you upstairs to his bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed and undresses you slowly like you’re a gift and he doesn’t want to tear the paper. He places your clothes atop the dresser, but leaves his strewn across the floor.

Wonder fills your eyes as he reveals his naked body. Hesitation and awe wrapped up in one.

“Wow,” you say, breaking the silence, “it’s, um, you know— do you think it’ll fit?”

It’s not the first time he’s heard that. It no longer brings him that bashful pride that it did when he was younger. It’s just a fact. A nuisance sometimes.

“Not if we don’t get you ready first.”

“Do you need to get ready first too?”

He looks down at his cock, rock-hard and eager.

“No, baby, just looking at you is enough to get me ready.”

A thought crosses his mind — one he thought he’d left in his teenage years — what if he comes too quickly?

He lies back on the bed next to you and reaches for you, waits for you to let him maneuver you.

“Come here,” he says.

You sit up and face him, slowly inch towards his arms that beckon you.

You’re fairly sure you know what he wants you to do. Sit on his face. But god, something about it seems awkward in the amount of control you simultaneously give up and are given in turn.

“You trust me, right?” he asks.

“Of course.”

An answer you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d give back when you first met.

“Then, come sit on my face.”

You swing your leg over him and steady yourself above his face.

He grips your thighs to guide you. You grip the headboard to save yourself from passing out the moment Joel’s mouth meets your skin.

Joel wouldn’t be the man you’d have thought would have such a talented tongue based on how little he uses it. You can’t blame him for not talking right now. Your moans echo off his bedroom walls and permeate the balmy summer air. The windows are closed and the curtains shield your naked bodies from the neighbors but even if you’d left them open, you wouldn’t have the sense to care.

You’re an incoherent mess of moans and half-words, trembling thighs and sweat. Your orgasm comes on strong, and if your eyes weren’t screwed shut, maybe you’d see the gates of heaven.

It’s been a while since he’s done this. Tess never liked it like this and the last woman before her was one from another lifetime, pre-outbreak, an inconceivable world despite having once called it home.

He’s not really thinking about that, though, in this moment, all Joel can think of is you. Your skin, your sweat, your heat, and the pretty noises you make. At one point, he swears he hears his name though your thighs are covering his ears. And he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I’m gonna pass out,” he hears from above him.

“No, you’re not. I’ve got you,” he tries to say, though surely his words are muffled.

“Don’t let me go.”

He doesn’t. He carefully helps you lie back on the bed. When he meets your gaze, he swears he’s never seen adoration like that in anyone’s eyes before. At least, not in a long time.

It terrifies him, but in spite of his hesitation, he holds you close.

A blanket of peaceful silence settles over your bare bodies.

You speak quietly, trying not to awaken Joel’s senses. The ones that pull him away from you. The moment feels like glass in your hands.

“Are we going to have sex?”

“Hm?”

“We were going to, right? You were getting me ready for it.”

“I thought I wore you out.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’d tell you if you were.”

He hesitates.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

Those are the words that awaken his arousal. In an instant, you find his body looming above yours. He kisses you until your lips are red and puffy. He doesn’t break your gaze as he positions his cock at your entrance. Your green light is your needy hips begging him to fuck you.

He starts slow, even the head is a stretch. You scrunch up your face and hold back the urge to squirm.

“It’s gonna be a little uncomfortable at first, baby, and that’s why we’re gonna take it slow.”

Slow is an understatement. It takes ages for him to give you another inch — or maybe you’re just antsy. This one makes you whimper, makes you clamp down around him.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

Joel’s voice is tender and sweet, and it gives you enough hope to ask for something you think he’d usually deny you.

“Can you hold my hand?”

He interlocks his fingers with yours. It feels oddly natural. He doubts he’s heard someone ask to hold his hand since— not now, he’ll go soft if he thinks about her. He’ll close in on himself and you need him — in more ways than one.

He continues slowly as he promised he would until he hears your moans of pleasure and your pleas for more, more, more. More is a little bit faster, a little bit harder, as deep as you can take it, and most importantly, his thumb tracing circles on your clit.

You squeeze his hand with yours as your inner walls clamp down around him.

“Just let it happen. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

When you come, he does too — the most blissful mistake he’s ever made.

Curses fly out of his mouth through his orgasm, stopping briefly as he catches his breath, and resuming when he pulls out and watches as his come drips out of you.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you insist. “I liked it.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Because I fucking loved it. “But, it’s dangerous. We’ve gotta be more careful.”

In the future — it’s implied. Another time is nothing when the lines have all been crossed and when the other side brings him a warmth the hot summer never could.

You have more power over him than the sun.

It becomes a routine — briefly — and you are more careful. You discreetly buy condoms, but when your next period doesn’t come, you fear it might be too late.

You don’t tell Joel, not at first. Sometimes, they’re irregular, and you don’t want to give the man a heart attack. But then a week passes, another week passes, and eventually you have to — especially when you’re beginning to feel a bit nauseous and have no other explanation for it. It’s better to say something before he asks.

“Joel,” you say, “I haven’t gotten my period yet.”

A look of horror crosses his face before he asks, “How late is it?”

You take a breath before admitting, “A few weeks.”

“How many?”

“Almost three.”

“Fuck.” He sighs in preemptive defeat. “Have you taken a test?”

“No, I thought it would come so I didn’t want to overreact.”

“We’re going to go get one.”

He stands up immediately and turns towards the door.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him in his tracks.

“I should probably get it. It’ll look less suspicious.”

No, it won’t. Those who suspect something is up with you, will have their suspicions, and those who don’t, won’t think to pay attention.

They recommend taking multiple because false negatives are common.

The first one is a clear positive, so clear you think it might be a false positive, so you wait to freak out until you see two lines come up on the second test.

Joel is silent, even when you hand him the test.

But, so are you, because what more is there to say? The tests say it all.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” he says, and you’re surprised until he clarifies.

“I doubt they’ll make you pay for the pill or the procedure — however they do it, but I’ll take care of you while you’re recovering. I’ll be there through it all. Promise.”

The pill or the procedure. The abortion that he expects you to have. Truth be told, you hadn’t really thought about what you’d do until now. It’s probably the right decision. Do you really want to bring a baby into this world? Can you even take care of one?

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll make an appointment.”

You save your tears for Maria. She approaches you in the clinic. You’d be delighted to see her at any other moment.

“Making an appointment?” she asks.

“Yeah, just a checkup,” you lie.

The woman at the counter clarifies with you. “Just a checkup? Is that what you’d prefer?”

You turn back and forth between her and Maria.

“Um, no,” you say, “keep it as is.”

Maria raises an eyebrow and there is nowhere left to hide. You might be able to outrun her, but she knows where you live and isn’t afraid to confront you at your doorstep.

She saves you some of your dignity when she whispers, “How about a chat at my place? I have some tea that helps with nausea.”

The tea is persuasive but you’d have to go anyway. You don’t speak on the walk to Maria’s. She brews the tea and you sit across from each other in the kitchen before she finally speaks.

“What’s the appointment for?” she asks. “And I’m not here to judge you, I just want the truth.”

You’re not my mom, you could say, but she’s the closest thing you’ve had to one since your own passed.

“An abortion,” you say quietly, looking down at the table, at your hands around the mug.

“Okay,” she says, gently. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You try to reply but all the comes out is a sob.

Eventually, she pries the truth out of you. You explain what happened when you told Joel the news.

“So, he made the decision, and then told you he’d be there for you if he did what you wanted?”

“I guess. But, I think it might be the right choice. I mean, it'd be hard to raise a child in this world…” You cut yourself off when you look at her bump. She’s gonna be a mom, a good mom. And, stupidly, you’re jealous.

Even though it’s not there yet, you swear you can see a high chair in your periphery. You could be holding a warm bottle instead of a hot mug of tea. Maria could be feeding her child his first bite of baby food next to you.

“Let me ask you something, and I want you to really think about it, and be honest with me.”

You nod and wait for her question.

“If Joel had said he’d support you no matter what, even if you wanted to keep the child, if he said he’d step up as a father, would you have made the appointment?”

“I don’t know.” Oh, but you do. Maria waits for you to come to a conclusion, for you to spit it out.

“I like the idea of having a kid. I love kids, and I sometimes think about what it would be like being a mom, but I know that I can’t be one. Not right now.”

If there is one thing Joel can’t be, it’s a father. Not again. He’s too old, too grouchy, too cynical. He’s not the man he used to be. He was never good at it anyway. He couldn’t save his own kid. He’s already a failed father — once, if not, twice.

You’d be a great mother, and that’s the greatest tragedy. He’s failed you already. He’s not good at the kinder things of life. He shouldn’t have indulged in you, in the love you gave him when he cannot give it back. There are a lot of things Joel can’t quite get right — being a lover, a father, a good man.

Every night since the outbreak began, he’s watched Sarah bleed out in his arms. Sometimes he sees Tess, Sam and Henry, Bill, even Tommy which feels like an augury. Ellie is there almost every night, losing consciousness. Only sometimes is she in that hospital bed, often, she’s lying in the show, with blue lips and almost no pulse. Now, you’ve begun to enter his subconscious. You’re always too far out of reach, screaming his name until he’s shot dead, and the last thing he hears is you shriek as you watch him die in front of you.

Another person is another tragedy once they have the misfortune of coming into his life. There cannot be another person, especially not a child.

You should be back by now, he thinks as he splashes water on his face for the umpteenth time, hoping it’ll wash away all the mistakes he’s made.

He can tell it’s Maria by the way her knuckles rap on his front door. He can tell she’s pissed too.

When he opens the door, he sees you in standing behind her, like you’re afraid of him.

“Unless you want to have this discussion on your doorstep, I suggest you let me — us — inside.”

He does, reluctantly.

“Joel Miller, when do you plan on becoming a man?”

“What?”

“You just told her to make an appointment, didn’t even give her a chance to think about it? You managed to run away from your problems while you’re on house arrest. Impressive.”

“I thought that was what we both wanted,” he says, looking past her, to you.

“I guess, maybe,” you shrug.

The one thing he’s grateful for is Maria’s suggestion that you talk privately.

You sit further from him than usual, you refuse to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask what you wanted. I thought I was making the right choice.”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know what I want.”

But the tears suggest otherwise.

“Do you want to keep the baby?”

“Maybe, but I can’t. It’s not a good idea.”

“That’s what I think, but Maria’s right, it’s your choice.”

“But I don’t know how to make that choice.”

“You’ve got a good heart. Follow it.”

You spend a lot of time thinking, remembering, and trying to convince yourself that there is no part of you that wants to be a mother. But, in your bedside drawer, there is a handful of photos — all from before the outbreak. You see your mom as a child on a swing set, and as a teen blowing out candles on her birthday. Her mom is in that one too, sitting next to her, smiling. You wish more than anything to have pictures of you and your mom.

You think about the little girl who pretended a ratty old stuffed bear was her baby. You can hear your mom telling you that you’re doing a good job, how you’ll be good at this one day. Your bedtime stories were never about fairy princesses, but about your family, the ones you didn’t get to meet.

“I wish I could have that,” you’d say.

“One day, you might be able to — the world is scary right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be like this forever,” she’d insist.

In retrospect, you wonder if she really believed that, if she really believed that teddy bear would one day be a baby that you’d be the one carrying, and she’d be the proud grandmother.

“I told her I wanted to be a mom like her,” you explain to Joel, and he understands.

You know about Ellie, but not about Sarah. Joel never brings either of them up to you. Until now. It’s a fair trade, he tells himself. Photos for photos, info for info. But it’s more than that.

“Hold on for one minute, I’m gonna go get something, and I’ll be right back.”

It’ll only take him a second to grab the pictures, but he’ll need a moment to compose himself.

“This is Sarah,” he says, pointing to the little girl in the photo. “My daughter.”

You’re silent for a moment, gazing at the photo, at a younger Joel you’ve never met.

You’re the first person not to tell him that you’re sorry for his loss, and he is relieved not to hear the empty sympathies once more.

“What was she like?” you ask.

It’s hard to explain, and for that reason, he talks for at least a half hour about Sarah. All her likes and dislikes, all his favorite moments from the day she was born until the day she died. He tells the story of that too.

When you try to tell him that he sounds like he was a good dad, he has to explain why he wasn’t.

“I couldn’t save her,” he says.

“I couldn’t save her either,” you say, pointing to your mother in one of the photos.

“You were just a child,” he says. “It’s not your fault.”

“And, you were just a man,” you say. “It’s not your fault.”

“A grown man.”

“Doing the best that you could.”

And you’re right. He did try his best. He stops arguing not because he’ll ever concede but because the weight of the present falls upon him all at once as he meets your eyes and remembers why you’re here.

He can’t have Sarah back, he can’t have Ellie back, but you’re right in front of him — and he loves you. It’s too late to turn back and kick you out on your first day, it’s too late to never speak to you, it’s too late to not love you.

It’s not too late to fail you like he’s failed everyone else. It’s not too late to do the opposite either.

You tell him your decision, and wait for his disagreement, for him to dissuade you. But, he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try my best.”

You cancel the appointment and make the final decision, but it doesn’t feel real until Joel finishes building the crib in the spare bedroom. The most unexpected part is how excited you feel even when you’re nauseous, even when your feet are bloated, even when your back is killing you.

You’re also terrified, particularly when you hear Maria’s account of her labor and delivery. For someone describing how painful it was, she seems oddly unfazed, happy even. She’s too focused on her baby boy, and you get it — he is pretty cute.

When the day comes, you find that you’ve underestimated the pain entirely. The wounds you’ve gotten in combat are nothing compared to this. Every hour that goes by feels like a full day for you. Every time the doctor checks your dilation it’s still not yet time.

Until it is. And everything becomes a million times more chaotic. You swear the only thing keeping you sane is Joel’s hand in yours. (You have to apologize later for squeezing it so tightly.)

Finally, the telltale cry comes, and it feels like you’ve run a marathon by how exhausted you are and by how proud you are of yourself for doing it. This will go down as the greatest feat of your life and you are more than satisfied with that fact.

The doctor announces that it’s a boy and though he said he’d be fine with either gender, Joel’s smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it. You’re smiling almost as big. It hurts your cheek muscles but you can’t stop, especially when they hand you your baby boy. Though he doesn’t know how to speak, his hand wrapped around your finger tells you that it’s going to be okay.

There is so much pain in this world, but not in this room.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction

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yunwangja · 1 month ago

Text

unrecognized

kenma kozume x fem!reader

kenma tells you something unexpected during a quiet moment away from your friend group—something that leaves you questioning everything you thought you knew about yourself. read part 2 here

genre: slow-burn, eventual fluff, introspective?

tags: kenma x fem!reader, quiet confessions, insecurity, self-perception, soft but meaningful fluff, univ setting

notes: might be ooc!

"i’m not like that at all."

you let out a small laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as sad as it feels. it’s not like you were fishing for reassurance or anything—you were just stating facts.

the conversation had started off harmlessly, just the usual back-and-forth that came with being in a room full of mutual friends.

you were at a friend's place, lounging in the living room with a few others, the air thick with warmth and familiarity. the coffee table was cluttered with half-empty soda cans and snack bags, the tv playing some random show in the background, mostly ignored.

you weren’t saying much—not that anyone noticed. you were fine with that. you were better at listening, letting conversations weave around you while you stayed comfortably on the sidelines.

tonight’s topic had somehow landed on people at school, and someone had pulled up an instagram post.

“oh, look—council president posted new pics,” someone said, turning their phone around.

a few of them leaned in to look. “she’s so pretty, right?”

“yeah, she’s really cute,” another agreed. “kind of unfair that she’s smart and looks like that.”

you glanced at the screen out of curiosity. it was a casual photo—maybe from some event—but she still looked effortlessly put together.

polished, but not in a way that felt forced. just naturally… striking. it made sense. she was the kind of person people talked about, whether they knew her personally or not.

you barely paid attention until someone nudged you lightly. “you kind of look like her, don’t you think?”

you blinked. “what?”

“yeah, i can kind of see it,” another added. “same vibe, at least.”

of course, you deny it. "uh, no way. she’s like… so effortlessly pretty."

"i’m not like that at all."

you were honestly flattered someone even thought to compare you to her. she was pretty, popular, and looked like a breath of fresh air. but what could you do? it wasn’t true. agreeing would be a lie.

besides, you were nowhere near this girl’s vibe—academically smart, sociable, and easy to approach. maybe your friends could say that about you now, but they definitely wouldn’t if they had known you back then.

when you were younger, insecurity clung to you like second skin. you were the type to blend into the background, to be passed over in a crowd.

no one had ever looked at you—really looked at you—and thought you were special. no one had ever told you, without a doubt, that you were pretty. or interesting.

and if someone had claimed to like you before, you would’ve known the truth: it was just their hormones talking. a fleeting crush based on a small moment.

but young adulthood gave you the time to adapt. to build a version of yourself that felt easier to carry. so you dressed up better. learned how to hold a conversation. grew into a version of yourself that could at least fake confidence.

it was enough to get you here—to a place where you could laugh, nod along, and let comments like that roll off your shoulders.

and maybe this new image of yours was why they thought you resembled someone like her.

fortunately, you didn’t bring the mood down. most of them didn’t believe your dismissal, insisting you were just being humble.

your friend shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully. "you’re too humble, y/n."

the conversation moved on, and you smiled, grateful they didn’t see through you.

well, at least that’s what you thought.

it wasn’t long before you finished your drink. standing up, you slipped away from the group, heading toward the kitchen where you could grab a cold soda from the fridge.

the voices from the living room faded into the background as you opened the fridge. the cool air brushed against your skin as you grabbed a can, cracking it open and leaning against the counter for a brief moment of solitude.

you were taking a sip when you heard footsteps approaching.

"why are you drinking that here alone?"

you glanced up. kenma.

his voice was quiet, lazy, like he was making an observation rather than asking a question. his headphones rested around his neck, dyed blonde hair slightly messy, catching the dim kitchen light.

you weren’t surprised to see him. kuroo was one of your closest friend’s boyfriend, and kenma, being kuroo’s best friend, often ended up tagging along.

still, he never really seemed present at these kinds of gatherings. just… there. like an observer who had no particular reason to be involved.

he was quiet, only speaking when spoken to. not that you two talked much.

"i just wanted to be away from the noise a bit," you said with a small smile.

he nodded but didn’t move, lingering in place for a moment, looking behind you.

noticing the slight awkwardness, you gestured and moved away from the fridge. "oh, were you going to get something? go ahead."

"oh. yeah." he blinked, like he’d forgotten his reason for coming here in the first place. walking past you, he opened the fridge, scanning the selection of drinks.

a brief glance in your direction. then, as if deciding something, he reached for a can,

"i think you’re pretty."

…huh?

you blinked. "what?"

he closed the fridge, leaning against it with one shoulder.

"you’re pretty."

your grip tightened slightly around the can. what was he talking about? where was this coming from?

you let out a nervous chuckle. "what are you talking about?"

"you looked so much more interesting than that girl," he said simply, cracking open his own drink.

the realization dawned slowly. he was talking about earlier.

you smiled, dismissing his attempt to compliment you. "you’re just saying that,"

kenma exhaled, shifting so he was fully facing you now.

"you said you were nothing like her. you were right, though. because you look much more beautiful."

your lips parted, but no words came out.

he crossed his arms, watching you carefully.

"but our friends weren’t trying to lie, yn. you’re wonderful. we all genuinely believe you light up the room whenever you enter. that's probably why they said that."

his voice was steady. honest.

you stared at him, trying to process his words.

you had never spoken to him like this before. never had a real conversation beyond quick greetings. it never once crossed your mind that he had thoughts like these about you.

especially him.

you swallowed, trying to laugh it off. "wow. never thought i would hear that from you, of all people, kenma."

he glanced away, but you caught the slight pink tinge to his ears.

"shut up. i’m being for real here."

he was serious. you could tell.

you shook your head slightly. "i just didn’t expect you would say something like that to me."

you gave a small shrug, and grab your soda can again, swirling it around with your wrist. "not that you have to, though."

his brows furrowed. "no. i wanted to."

there was something firm in his voice, like he needed you to understand that.

"i’ve always wanted to talk to you," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "but, well, i’m also an awkward person, so…" he trailed off, glancing down.

then, quietly, his voice softer than before—

"i just wanted you to know that you are not what you think. because i’m here."

his eyes found yours.

"and my eyes have always been on you."

his words sent a chill down your spine.

before you could even respond, he straightened up, his movements unhurried but deliberate. his gaze lingered on you for a second longer, before he turned away.

"i just wanted to prove you wrong, okay."

he cast one last glance over his shoulder, something softer in his expression now, with the smallest of smiles.

"i can’t stand being unrecognized."

and just like that, he was gone.

you stayed frozen for a moment, your fingers tightening around the cold can in your hands, but even that grounding sensation wasn’t enough to steady you. before you even realized it, your knees gave in, and you sank down onto the kitchen floor, pressing your back against the cabinets.

what the hell just happened?

#kenma x reader #kozume kenma #kenma #haikyuu kenma #kenma kozume #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyu x reader #hq kenma #hq #hq x reader #hq x you

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 months ago

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Yandere Streamer Boyfriend//////

Rules | Kofi | Masterlist

Streamer boyfriend who on the first date is really upfront about what he does. What seemed like a preview of transparency turns out to be a warning for the erosion of your privacy. As you begin to spend more time with your Streamer Boyfriend you’ll find just how much it’s beginning to bother you.

“Chat you guys are so mean! Their bathroom is a little messy but it’s not a red flag!”

Off-screen and whispering you ask, “Why are you filming in my bathroom?”

“Because chat wanted to take a look at your place? Why what’s the matter?”

“I don’t want these random people knowing the layout of my house!”

“Oh….well you can stay at mine if you want...for safety!”

If it weren’t for his impossibly good looks and otherwise male wife behavior you would have left him then and organizing your schedules so that you’re not forced to be a part of his vlogging. It’s a little tiring because sometimes he ‘forgets’ or ‘slips up’ putting more of yourself on the internet than you were ever okay with doing.

“Everyone be sure to tune in four hours by then I’ll have eaten, slept, and finally get to tear up that cute jumper my baby’s got on.”

“Wrath!?”

“Sorry guys signing off! See y’all later!”

You give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s his livelihood, his business, his community, his hobby—you wouldn’t want to take that away just cause it occasionally makes you uncomfortable. So you excuse them all. His mistakes, his overreaching. It doesn’t really hit you in the face until something terrible has happened.

“Are you (Y/n) (L/n)?”

“Is there a problem officer?”

“I’ve been told to inform you…about your cousin's passing.”

“Oh my gosh!? No!”

“We’d also like to know when’s the last time you spoke to them…we suspect this is likely a homicide.”

Your poor cousin who you recently reconnected with has violently perished. Unfortunately because the majority of your family is out of the country or otherwise indisposed, it’s up to you to handle most of their investigation. Identifying her mutilated body and telling the detectives what you knew about each of their friends. For a while, the investigating officers are relieved to know you have a loving boyfriend to support you during this rough time only for that relief to turn into disgust when your boyfriend whips his phone out in the morgue….

“I’m going back to mine. I’ll have my friends come pick anything else I need.”

“B-but babe weren’t you worried about your place getting exposed? I-I’m okay if we take the break at mine–”

“No. I’ll be staying with a friend.”

“Who?”

“None of your business. Thanks for the…memories.”

It's a shame you are no longer dating the infamous WrathWarrior according to your more distant friends who ignore the reason you left in the first place. Thankfully a few good friends are all you need, you take on the funeral preparations, and the rest of the homicide investigation smoothly. When you aren’t crying your eyes out, brainstorming with a detective, or crying in your bed you occasionally venture to your ex-streamer boyfriend’s stream.

“Hey everyone it is Day 11 of being without the love of my life….Let’s have fun, with this game today.”

There he is still smiling and streaming as if he didn’t do this to himself. You figure it’s better off this way. If he had the camera in your face during moments of crisis, he may have never come to respect your desire for privacy and would one day cross a line that would change everything forever. It really was better off this way.

‘Go back to him. You don’t want anyone else to die.’

The cryptic message on your social media came a month after your breakup. Still recovering from your loss and suffering the sting of an unsolved investigation, you are puzzled over the message from what looks like a newly created account. Knowing better than to click on some scammer's link, you blocked the message, thinking that would be the end of whatever weird new scam this was. But alas, a newer account sent the same thing on everything, including your direct messages.

“See detective? Isn’t this weird? It wouldn’t let me take a screenshot but it’s in every app!”

SNAP

“Well, we’ve got a record of it now. Don’t click the link until I can get the team to hook up to this. Go home stay safe.”

Doing as you're told, you return to your temporary home. Waiting for your friend to return you end up looking at the message again, filling the hours with your theorizing at the mysterious link and the ominous tone of the words itself. Narrowing down who it could be there’s only one man you can think of needing to ‘go back to’ is none other than Wrath. When you think about it that way this makes sense that it’s some dedicated and deluded fan probably some mining link to get more of your private info. You sighed exiting the app and attempting to relax again while waiting for your friend to return…they should of got off work hours ago…

Ring. Ding.

Your phone rings with a new message and reading it makes your blood run cold.

‘You need to see this. It’s about your friend.’

It feels voyeuristic that this unknown person would have the answers to your creeping anxiety. The urgency of the message makes it that much easier to ignore the detective’s warnings, finally clicking on the link. Expecting to see your phone flash with a threat for your information you aren’t prepared for the video that loads. Seeing a blurry video of some incredibly familiar pixels squirming in a chair slowly becoming clearer.

“This is Day 34 of being without the love of my life and we’re getting ready for a very special night where we break-in some of our new arrivals. Especially this one.”

It’s Wrath unmasked and pulling at the hair of what is definitely your friend crying behind a ball of cloth. It’s horrifying and you almost don’t believe what your seeing is even real. The continued ramblings of Wrath fogging your brain as you try and piece everything together. The controls to interact were darker than the streams you’d looked at before, the url for the website was different, and most glaringly different was the oddly opulent room with furniture restraining your friend.

“On top of this thing,” he poked at them aggressively–no doubt puncturing with his nail.”We’ve also got an entire group. Silly little investigators looks like they’ve never heard of Wrath’s Colloseum! Guess we’ll have to show all of them what kind of fun we get down to chat!”

The familiar officers and the detective being wheeled in on chairs matching that of your friend’s. It looked like a row of electric chairs attached to one another, wood and dotted with the blood of what you guess must be from past ‘guests’.

Your phone rings again. It’s the anonymous user.

‘It’s up to you. If they live.’

The message was your last wake-up call. Wrath had pulled out a tray of tools, showing them off to the camera as he spoke about what gruesome bloody acts he could do. He kept turning back to your friend who wiggled in protest everytime, he decided to model what the tool would do. It’s then that you were finally able to do something about this.

RING–

“Hello?”

“...Hey, I really missed you and I was wondering if you could come over. Like right now.”

You tried to silence your trembling breath. Watching the man on his stream kick his foot up.

“Awww so cute! Are you drunk calling me? Ugh you’re just as precious as before!” You let out a relieved sigh, thankfully you could save your friend and the investigators tied on screen. “But Daddy’s got a wrap something up so I’m going to make it as soon as I get finished okay?”

No that was not okay! If he finished what he wanted to you wouldn’t have a friend or any local police dedicated to solving your case. So with bated breath you reveal your only card.

“Wait! Please don’t kill them! I’ll get back with you! I’ll do anything just don’t hurt them!”

You watched the wistful kicking from your streamer boyfriend stop slowly turning to the camera. Completely unmasked and wearing a leaver trenchcoat stained with dried crimson spots, he saunters over to the camera lens. Staring into your soul through the lens he smiles. Just like he used to when you’d chat from your alt account, or when you agreed to hold the camera for a cooking stream or when you told him you loved him even though he was a streamer. But it turns out that was the least of your worries when it came to your exboyfriend. In truth, your ex-boyfriend was the worst kind of monster–an untouchable one. A monster that can abduct and torture people without needing to cover his face. An entertainer who was so coonsumed by his career that he had no problem letting the talons of his lifestyle suffocate anyone who tried to impede it.

“So your watching, huh?”

The voice echoes from your phone and the stream playing on your computer. You barely have half a mind to see what the chat says firing off so incredibly fast.

‘Is that them?’

‘ is honey bun back’

‘KILL THEM ALREADY’

‘aw is this the end of the series’

Your exboyfriend giggles at chat’s messages, turning to look over his shoulder openly sneering at all of his victims. He quickly snaps back

“Alright sweetie, I’ll save one just for you. Even better I’ll give them the antidote to a little concoction of mine if you come and join us on stream!”

“But I don’t know where you are and–”

“I’ll come pick you up in a bit, after chat votes on what we’ll be doing to the unclaimed meat. Like that chat? A big bang to wrap up the worst series of my life? I think that sounds like a great idea, chat!”

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere original character #yandere ocs x reader #yandere oc #male yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere original character x reader #yandere streamer #yandere streamer boyfriend #Yandere streamer x reader #Yandere original character #yandere drabble

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tuesdayiminlove · 4 months ago

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i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 2/3

where jamie seems to remember everything, and you're just trying to navigate a stitch on your crochet flower (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

part one

A/N: here's part two!!!!! link what yall think, im so grateful for the feedback of the first part, it's super encouraging <33 tysm. also this is NOT proofread oops

word count: 4.5k

When you arrive back inside your home, you’re heavy-breathing with a heartbeat erratic enough for your heart to pop out of your chest. You place your keys down, reaching into your jean pocket for your phone, placing the first call you can manage to muster up.

Stevie is over within minutes, you think you might’ve heard her light jogging over to your house.

Her heavy pants echo the room as she tries to muster up the words. “I just got back from work, and I fucking ran! Tell me the emergency immediately.”

“I don’t even know where to begin!” you say. “I mean, I was trying to make some creamy vegetable soup, but I didn’t even get to chop the tomatoes, Stevie! The fucking tomatoes! I—“

“Okay, begin by getting the point, babe." She walks to your kitchen, you following close behind. It doesn’t come to a surprise that she opens your refrigerator, most likely rummaging for the cucumbers and your chickpea hummus. “I love you, but if this is dire, I’m gonna need to know now.”

You gather your thoughts as Stevie begins to look through your drawers for a knife. How do you even say it simply? “Jamie Tartt thinks I’m his girlfriend.”

Stevie drops the knife.

In any other situation, you would scold her for doing something close to a hazard in the kitchen. But you understand her actions completely. If you were holding a flower pot when finding out this information, you’d drop that shit, too.

“Continue before I absolutely freak the fuck out.”

That’s when you tell her about the call and the trip to the hospital. The words are coming out of your mouth at the speed of light, you’re surprised Stevie is managing to keep up. But she does, quietly chopping her cucumbers and dipping a few into the hummus. This is a more collected look than when she dropped the knife, but you’re sure the gears are turning in her head just as much as they are for you currently.

“I just left his house and I told him I’d be back with—soup!”

You don’t wait to turn the stove back on, shuffling Stevie away from the center of the counter while you go back to cooking.

She says your name slowly, eyes wide. “This is some romcom-movie-shit, babe.”

You fight a roll of your eyes. “This is real life!” you scold. “And the poor boy is concussed, probably mental!”

“Mental for thinking he’s dating you? Have you seen yourself? You’re fucking magnificent.”

“Thanks,” you drawl, not in the mood for a compliment. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s just a bit bonkers right now, and I don’t know what to do!” You stir the pot stressfully, watching the ingredients mix around the broth. You’ve put a bit more ingredients, and added more broth to make sure that the serving is good for two, and for any leftovers Jamie may want. You think you’ll have enough to send Steve home with, as well. “The doctor said not to startle him, but I’m pretty fucking startled. So I don’t know how to not startle him when I’m not in the right state of mind! This feels so stupid.”

“I think you should tell him the truth,” says Stevie. She’s right behind your shoulder, peering over at the pot. She takes a large whiff, and hums. “You making this for him?”

“And for you.” And me!

“Ah,” she says. “I see. A little compensation so I don’t out you to the press, yeah? Nice thinking!”

“Not funny,” you drawl. It was never a thought that crossed your mind that Stevie would go out, telling people of your current entanglement with Jamie. She’s an editor for a magazine company, and she has a problem telling you all the tips she gets about local celebrities, always trusting you not to tell anyone anything. You don’t doubt that she’ll do the same for you. “So I should tell him the truth, then?” you ask, getting back to the main point of Stevie’s visit.

“Mhm,” she replies. “Probably not today though, don’t you think? He’s overwhelmed enough as it is, he’s probably gonna be benched in Richmond’s next couple matches. That sad fuck is probably groveling as we speak. And he can’t even drink to cure the pain! … That’s how concussions work, right?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, don’t do it today. If I were you, I’d play it by ear, you know?”

You nod, having heard all of this from the doctor.

"And one more thing."

Stevie hums in questionn

“… He may have tried to kiss me.”

You think everyone in the neighborhood heard Stevie’s screech when she belts your name.

It’s later in the day when you ring Jamie’s doorbell. You’d successfully shooed Stevie out of your house, convincing her that she does not need to spy on you from your kitchen window in case Jamie tries to make a move (“I’ll be there in two seconds, ready to make that concussion worse. Just say the word.”). And now you have the soup in two tupperware containers, as well some carrots and dip in your tote bag because that’s what Jamie originally always used you for, right? The familiarity will hopefully make him happy.

When he opens the door, you’re not surprised to see all the lights are closed, as well as his curtains shut (so much for Stevie spying). The only thing you see that’s shedding artificial light is the lamp by his staircase, but even that looks as dim as it can be.

“Hey, love,” he says groggily, a certain warmth to it that makes the nickname seem more intimate. He rubs his eyes as he moves to create room for you to come inside. “Sorry I took so long. Took a bit of a nap.”

“Oh,” you frown, concern taking over the nerves of his sudden pet names, “I’m sorry for waking you. I can just drop these off and head out, if you’d prefer?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Don’t be silly. Come in.”

You enter apprehensively, though you’re trying your best to conceal it. This is the second time ever that you are in Jamie’s home. And it’s only been a day. The strangeness of that fact lingers in the air as you close the door behind you.

You trail behind him toward the kitchen, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood floors. Various football plaques litter the walls, as well as many, many photos of Richmond’s team.

“Why don’t you go sit down?” you say as you simultaneously take in his home. “I can prepare these myself and bring them to you.”

“Rubbish," scoffs Jamie, "I’m still mobile, and I’m not leaving my girlfriend to take care of me like you’re some sort of maid. I’m not bedridden.”

The word girlfriend, once again, catches you off guard, and your heart does a funny little stutter. You push it aside. “I just don’t want you to exert yourself,” you reason, brows furrowed. “You’re concussed, Jamie.”

“Who cares about that?” he jokes, waving off your concerns.

Your jaw clenches. You want to say I care. Because this concussion is affecting you more than you fucking know. But you bite your tongue, and instead ask him where he keeps his bowls and silverware.

Minutes later, Jamie and yourself are sitting on his couch. You took the liberty of sitting on the opposite end of his sofa, taking up as little space as possible. You’ve tucked yourself into the far corner, legs curled up slightly, trying to occupy as little room as possible. Jamie, on the other hand, lounges comfortably, his socked feet propped on the edge of the coffee table, though his posture is slightly more relaxed than it was earlier. You’d ask Jamie if it would be okay to crochet while you’re here, mainly so you can have something to do instead of sitting there awkward with today’s events before you.

So, soup now resting on Jamie’s coffee table (you stop every few moments to take a bite), you’re intent on the rose petal you’re making with your yarn. Jamie alternates between eating his soup and watching you, his gaze unashamedly direct, though there’s a softness to it that makes your heart flutter despite yourself.

To anyone else, the scene might look endearingly domestic: the two of you sharing a quiet moment in the living room, him eating soup, you crocheting, the occasional exchange of lighthearted banter. But there’s an underlying element to it. You don’t want to tip-toe around Jamie, because you’re supposed to be acting natural and all, but it’s hard.

“You’re the most thoughtful thing ever, you know that?” he says, after a minute of silence.

Your hands pause mid-stitch, your eyes staying fixed on the delicate yarn in front of you as you decide how to respond, stomach churning nervously. “A ‘thing’?” you joke lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “How very gentlemanly of you.”

“You know what I mean!” chastises Jamie.

Fighting the butterflies in your stomach as his words settle warmly around your heart.

“I do know,” you reply softly, finally glancing up at him. “Why do you say that?”

“The rose you’re knitting—“

“Crocheting.”

“Crocheting. Sorry, love. How many are you making for the old bloke’s grandson?”

The moment you take in Jamie's words, you pause, crochet hook in the air. “What?”

Jamie looks confused. “Mr. Taylor? That his name?”

You shake your head, mind still reeling. “No, I know who you meant. How do you know I’m making this for his grandson?” You don’t recall telling that to Jamie when you initially mentioned what you wanted to do here.

You currently have half of a rose petal done, wanting to make something special for Mr. Taylor grandson—Roman. The young toddler is allergic to flowers, getting all sniffly and itchy when you had brought over a hand-made flower arrangement for the Taylors (it had been their 37th wedding anniversary). But Roman had just kept looking at the flowers with such curiosity, despite his body’s affinity for them. When you had decided to take up crocheting (you wanted to make tiny plant plushies yourself—because why are stuffed plushies with cute faces on them so expensive these days?), one of the first things you learned was to make stuffed flower arrangements, just for when Roman would visit.

How could Jamie possibly know that?

“Because you’re you,” says Jamie. Blush coats over his cheeks lightly when he averts his gaze from hers, hand moving to scratch the back of his head.

“… And," he begins, "one day, I was in me car and I saw you walk over to the Taylors’ house with crochet roses. ‘Made it look like a nice arrangement, too. I wanted to ask you why you had fake flowers when you have fucking millions just in your front yard. Didn’t know if that’d sound weird, though, so…” he trails off, his words getting quieter, “So, I may have asked Mr. Taylor instead.”

You try to recall the memory Jamie spoke of. You do recall the last time you had headed over to the Taylors with the signature bouquet. Jamie had been at the front of his house, getting into his car. Of course she had noticed him immediately, spotting him just by her peripheral vision, but she hadn’t decided to spare him a look until she crossed the street to look back, but he had been preoccupied. She didn’t even think he saw her that day.

That day had been nearly three months ago.

Your mouth falls open. Jamie had noticed and asked about you that long ago?

Jamie glances at you nervously, mistaking your silence for something more negative. “I’m not some creep or anything, promise! I just—I dunno—I was curious! You’re always doing stuff like that.”

You shake your head. “I just never knew you noticed,” you mumble, your nerves growing. Even now, he remembers. You wish you knew what that meant for you two; you wish that the suspicions and hopes in your brain are true. “Or asked.”

Jamie’s cockiness kicks back in at your flustered nerves. “Like I said, I’ve always noticed you. And now I get to be the luckiest guy.”

Your eyes meet his. For a moment, you let yourself pretend. Pretend that this is real—that this is the relationship you and Jamie have built together. That you’re a couple, and this is just one of those moments you get to stumble upon—a sweet realization that Jamie had liked you long before either of you dared to admit it.

You let yourself hold on to the fantasy, just for a moment.

It has to be just a moment... you think if you stare any longer at Jamie your body is going to take over and grab him for a kiss, just to know what it may feel like. You just know you shouldn’t.

“Four,” you say softly. “I’m making four for Roman.” You turn back to the stitch you had laid on your lap, trying to get out of your frenzie and into your zone.

Jamie smiles, eyes still twinkling. “That’s his name? Roman?”

You hum. “He’s about to turn four. And he’s just the most adorable kid I’ve seen.”

“I’m being rude, aren’t I?" replies Jamie, "Prodding.”

Your head snaps up. “What? No.” You uncomfortably shift in your seat to hopefully look less odd. “Sorry if I’m being weird. I’m just… zoned out, I guess. Thinking a lot.”

“Yeah?” he says, staring at you intently. “What about?”

“Just… everything about today, I suppose.”

Jamie jokingly smiles. “Yeah, getting a call that your boyfriend got whacked in the head and is now concussed wasn’t really in your daily plan, was it?”

You let out a laugh. “No, it wasn’t.”

“It got in the way of watering radishes, I bet.”

Again, you laugh more, your stomach moving steadily at the action. From the limited conversation you’ve had with him, paired with now, you’ve deduced that Jamie is just a complete pro for lightening up conversations. When your heart races nervously, a quip comes out of his mouth that makes your body go back steady. You don’t even think that this is an individual experience; he seems like he does it a lot. You wonder how that balance comes so perfectly in his life.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “My gardening has to come to a pause today.”

“It’s a shame,” he says, grinning. “Would’ve loved to see you in your cute sunhat, or the giant yellow gloves you always wear.”

Your eyes widen at his words.

Seeing your shock, he adds, “You think I don’t notice these things? I always have.”

You try not to cough up the food you’d just digested. You would like to consider that Jamie is just making things up, but the description of your usual accessories when you’re out tending to your plants remain true. The giant yellow gloves belong to your mom, and there hasn’t been any reason to buy new ones if you’ve already got a pair.

And the sunhat—well, it’s not everyday you’re seen out with it. It’s usually if the sun ever comes out, glaring at your eyes while you try to focus on a task at hand. You’ve probably brought it out maybe a couple of times since Jamie had moved in next to you; none of those times being as of recent.

It’s a shock Jamie can even recall it.

He remembers the little things. I always have.

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. “Have I creeped you out? Don’t mean to sound like a prick, but I thought what I said was pretty fucking cute. But I understand if it’s creepy again. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, Jamie, I’m not creeped. ‘M kinda just shocked that you notice things like that.”

He shrugs. “It’s hard to not pay attention. You live right beside me. And you’re you. It’s pretty fucking impossible for me not to notice things about you.”

Your heart is back to racing. All of Jamie’s confessions of things he’s noticed can only insinuate that he’s genuinely seen things about you, whether he had gotten hit in the head or not. They’re not fabricated in his mind from his belief that you two are dating. He’s not like Holy shit, do you remember that time we had dinner together? You think if he started recalling specific memories that never happened, you’d check him straight into the nearest mental institution.

But he’s saying things that are so undeniably true; things he’s noticed about your being.

If you aren’t already so conscious and confused of the actual problem at hand, you’d sit here and pretend that he’s yours—just as much as he claims to be. You wish this moment to be real, but it’s not. The sadness and guilt that weighs over you with that fact can overtake any other feeling in this moment.

“Jamie,” you begin, “I need to tell you something.”

You think about Stevie’s advice, to not tell him today. The doctor saying not to overwhelm him. You know they’re right. You don’t want to. The poor bloke is probably already stressed enough as it is. You want to be here for Jamie, to help him get better because even with your limited experience around him, you care very deeply about his wellbeing. And maybe your feelings are skewed by the crush you’ve been harboring on him, but that’s hardly the point anymore.

But how are you supposed to keep this up? Pretending to be someone you’re not, filling a role in his life that isn’t truly yours—it feels wrong, no matter how much you want to help him heal.

You don’t think you’re cut out for pretending.

Jamie looks at you expectantly, a small smile on his face and your heart just breaks.

“Jamie… I don’t know how to say this,” you admit, your throat tightening. “But I’m not your girlfriend.”

For a second, Jamie looks beyond confused. “The fuck? Did we break up?”

“I got the call today,” you explain gently, shrinking down into the sofa with a racing heart. “When I heard you were in the hospital, I was worried—God, I was worried—but I didn’t understand why they called me. And then Roy said… he said we’d been going out.” You bite your lip, carefully choosing your next words. “It made me realize something had gone wrong. That maybe you hit your head and got things mixed up.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything, his brows knitting together as he processes your words.

“I wanted to do what was best for you,” you continue, your voice growing quieter. “Everyone kept telling me not to startle you, not to stress you out. But I can’t keep pretending we’re in a relationship when we’re not. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel honest. “I care about you, Jamie. I care about you getting better. But I can’t pretend, okay? I’m really, really sorry.””

It’s been nearly two days since you’ve seen or heard from Jamie. You’d practically bolted after your admission, your chest tight with guilt and your hands trembling as you no longer felt worthy of being in his home.

You hadn’t looked back, and he hadn’t stopped you.

It’s all you think about as you sit in the kitchen with your morning coffee, trying your best to catch up on the emails about work that have been piling up while you wallow.

Your work is interrupted when the doorbell rings.

You immediately think it’s Stevie; she’s been wanting to see you since you had texted and said that you couldn’t even last the night without telling Jamie the truth. You purposefully left out the parts where Jamie pointed out the crocheting for Roman, and the gloves, and the sunhat, and Jamie just noticing you. God knows Stevie will be the first person to jump up and say he’s in love with you, and you’re not ready for that delusion in your head to be spoken out into the universe.

Especially after Jamie has not spoken to you since. He’s probably freaked out, never wanting to speak to you for as long as he possibly can.

You close your laptop and head to your front door, not even bothering to check who may be on the other end because—duh—it’s Stevie.

Only, it’s not her.

Instead, three boys stand on the opposite end of your door, gaping at you from the moment you lay eyes on them.

They look vaguely familiar to you, and judging but the sweatsuits they’re wearing with the AFC Richmond logo, they’re Jamie’s teammates. You swallow your anxiety and give them a confused look.

“You’re real,” the man in the middle says, tall and broad with a commanding presence..

“Shut up, bruv,” the man to the right elbows the other. “We don’t even know if it’s her. ‘Could be the girl two houses down…”

“Mi amor,” says the final man, eyes light. His warm, melodic voice is unmistakably Spanish, holding up a bottle of wine like a peace offering. “What’s your name?”

You frown, wanting to ask so many questions when a shout intercepts the trio that has lined up at your door.

“Oi!”

They boys all turn, and you manage to peek your head out the door, to see Jamie stomping down the steps of his home, clad in sweats and… cow slippers?

Despite the grumpy set of his face, the sight is almost endearing.

“Jamie!” the trio chorus in unison, like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“You didn’t answer the door,” one of them says, “we figured you’d be at your beautiful lady’s.”

“Don’t mean you can go knocking on doors of people you don’t fucking know,” huffs Jamie, finally reaching them. He doesn’t spare you a glance.

The boys look ashamed. “We’re sorry, bruv,” says the tallest one, voice gruff and guilty. “Dani made Birria tacos, and Colin’s brought fuzzy socks. I just wanted to say sorry for whacking ya.”

Jamie’s eyes soften at his words. He sighs. “Thank you, mate. I appreciate it, I really do. But I stand by what I fuckin’ said. You can’t go knocking at random doors.”

“But it’s not random!” says the boy you’ve deduced to be Colin. For the first time since they’ve knocked, he turns to you in acknowledgement. “It’s lovely to meet you!”

“The flowers are gorgeous,” says Dani, eyes g;azing dutifully at your front lawn. “And we apologize for the interruption.”

Jamie nods at them, like a mother watching over their child at the playground after a petty fight breaks out.

You grin, awkwardness dissolvong. “It's okay. And—I love birria tacos, by the way. Good choice.”

Dani blushes. “I’m sure Jamie wouldn’t mind sharing it with his lady. Wouldn’t you, Jamie?”

Jamie sputters, looking between the boys, and sparing you the first glance since he’s got here. His mouth opens, then closes. Repeatedly.

“Um,” you interject, “I would much rather let Jamie enjoy it. Thank you, though!”

Isaac frowns. “That’s how you’re gonna treat your girl?” he grumbles at Jamie.

“She said it!” argues Jamie. “Not me!”

Isaac shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about no chivalry these days, but he claps Jamie on the shoulder. “Alright, bruv, we’ll get outta your hair. Just make sure you enjoy the tacos. And, uh…” he glances at you with a cheeky grin, “Be nice to your lady, yeah?”

Jamie groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Colin pipes up, “It was lovely meeting you!” His voice is warm and genuine, and he flashes you a smile before jogging after Isaac, who is already halfway down the steps.

Dani lingers a moment longer, holding out the wine bottle to Jamie. “You deserve this,” he says with a knowing smile, his gaze flicking between you and Jamie.

Jamie takes the bottle “Thanks.”

“And don’t worry, we won’t knock on any more random doors. Adiós, mi amigos!” Dani trots after the others.

And then it’s just the two of you.

“‘M really fucking sorry ‘bout them. I didn’t think they’d come knocking at your door when I decided to fucking ignore them.” He stares down at the endearing cow faces at his feet, sighing.

You shrug, a harmless smile tugging at your lips. Jamie looks awfully nervous, which you don’t understand. “Makes sense, honestly. And I don’t mind. Now that you’re here, though, I just wanna ask how you’re doing.”

He looks briefly surprised. “I’m doing alright,” he says eventually.

“Okay, because I never intend to pry, but I’ve just been pretty worried. And—“

“You don’t need to pretend to care.”

The abruptness of Jamie’s cutoff has you wondering whether or not it actually occurred. His frown, however, only solidifies that those words did indeed come from his mouth.

“Excuse me?” you reply, voice sharper than intended.

“Listen, I was a fuckin’ idiot and a borderline creep to you. When you left, I really thought about it and how fucked up that whole day was. I can’t imagine how it made you feel; being put into a position where you had to be in a relationship with me.”

You frown. You wonder now if this is why Jamie has chosen not to speak to you; if his guilt for the situation has kept him from reaching out. You refuse for that to be a reality.

“Jamie, are you serious? I just wanted you to be okay! And that’s still what I want for you.”

His eyes peek up from his slippers to you. “… So you don’t hate me?”

You laugh. “I have no reason to hate you, Jamie.”

“You have every reason to believe that I’m a stalker-creep, by the way!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to see you as one?”

“Obviously fucking not!

“Then stop trying to drill it into my head!” you laugh.

Jamie stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to argue but can’t find the words. Finally, he lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, softened by the small. And, for the first time in days, the tension between you feels like it’s starting to ease.

“If it’s not obvious,” he begins awkwardly, “I like you. A lot.” He laughs at himself. “Enough to reach stalker status. And clearly my fucking fantasies wanted to take over with me fucking head… but I wanted to do it all the right way. ‘Kinda cheated didn’t I?”

For the first time in two days, the churning in your stomach isn’t anxiety, and instead something entirely more manageable. You grin at him, teasing, “Maybe a little.”

He huffs a laugh, the sound a mix of relief and something hopeful. His eyes meet yours, more sure now, though his voice remains gentle when he says, “I want to do it right. All of it. If you’ll let me.”

The way he looks at you—open, expectant, like he’s giving you the choice and trusting you to give the truest response.

Your smile says everything he needs to know.

(You already know Stevie’s going to lose her mind when you tell her.)

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine

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bomber-grl · 1 year ago

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General Percy Jackson dating hc⋆°🌊

~ ⋆｡‧𖦹 Percy Jackson x Gn!Reader(no pronouns)

Percy is so sassy

I think we as a fandom have established that, however sometimes you underestimate how far he’ll go.

No matter how long you’ve been dating he’ll still be sassy 😔😭

Of course it’s downgraded though

He chose mercy today

Anyway

Although he can get sassy sometimes, there is without a doubt that he loves you.

If there are 100 people who love you Percy is one of them. 1 person who loves you? Percy is that person

Zero? Percy is dead

He absolutely adores you, even if he can be a big idiot sometimes.

Now, when the two of you got together it was pretty much the same as when you were friends

Just romantic

You’d get reminded of your relationship when he calls you his girlfriend/boyfriend/partner

Especially in front of others

Or when he starts holding your hand and kissing you

It’s definitely a change

But not necessarily a bad one

Hes the type of guy to make being your boyfriend his whole personality

(Not actually but let me explain)

He’ll def wear those shirt with “I love my [insert your preferred title]

And he won’t care who sees it 😭

He’s proud no matter what

And is an absolute menace if anyone says anything about it

Or to you, for that matter

He’s powerful and we all know that

You can obviously defend yourself however sometimes he just can’t hold back

If anything were to ever happen to you

Let’s just say the opposing side will be as if it never existed.

I don’t see Percy as the jealous type ngl

I’ve seen many others say he would be and I think he could be, but only sometimes

He knows you’re just as loyal to him as he is to you

However if he sees anyone flirt and you don’t notice or tell them to back off-

He will for you

He won’t hesitate to slide an arm around your waist and ask what the hell the other person is doing with a raised eyebrow

He sasses the other person so much he leaves no room for argument 😭

Percy trusts with everything he’s got

So if you were to ever betray him he’d be crushed

Especially if you really know him

Just don’t betray him 🤷‍♀️

Percy follows you around all the time when he’s got nothing to do

He’s strong and independent

…wheeennn he’s away from you

He’s always by your side

And he loves to spend time with you too

He can’t say goodbye without hugging or kissing you

That’s a definite quirk of his

He’s technically not supposed to exist but it makes you glad he’s the only demigod child of Poseidon

And the only other person who shares his cabin is Tyson, so that way you two can sleepover and cuddle.

Ofc you guys get to actually do that once Tyson stops talking to you guys 😭

Only when Tyson goes off do you guys have time to chill in his cabin and the sleepovers you have are almost endless

I say almost because you eventually got caught by the harpy’s and luckily Chiron came in time to prevent you guys being ripped to shreds :,)

Before all that happened tho, you and Percy would cuddle and you’d play with Percy’s hair

He LOVES having his hair played with and his scalp massaged

And he accidentally insinuates that he misses that the most out of you getting banned from his cabin

The audacity for him to miss your massages rather than your presence

He let you have his share of desert as an apology for as long as you want 😭😭

You felt guilty so eventually you stopped 😭

If you are a sword fighter like him, you both often spar together.

You hit two birds with one stone

You practice your skills, and get to hang out together

What could be better?

Even then, if you specialize with daggers or a spear then it still works out

Sorry if you’re an archer 😭

Before you’re even introduced to Sally she already loves you!

And vise versa

Percy talks so much about you guys to each other that you practically already met her

And she already knew about you before you guys even started dating 😭

Percy told her (albeit a bit reluctantly) that he had a crush and the rest was history

When you finally meet it’s an automatic click and the both of you hit it off

Honestly Percy’s happy to see two of the most important people in his life getting along.

So, we’re all aware of how much of a menace Percy is, right?

Well he absolutely teases the fuck out of you

If that’s how you’re comfortable with

It’s not bad but it’s definitely silly and makes you smile at his antics, especially when you’re pretending to be mad at him 😭

You’re so weak for him lol

As is he for you

Mans is a simp and a so called “free thinker”

That changes when you step into the room and start talking to him

So after you guys got banned from going into each others cabins for unplanned sleepovers you guys had to make the most of the time you had together during the day

Just imagine an innocent camper walking by and seeing “beat ares, stopped two wars” Percy

The thing is, Percy is absolutely putty in your hands and has his head resting on your lap with your hands in his hair

Some would usually tease but with his reputation nowadays, nobody dares

With the exception of close Ally’s and ofc, Clarisse

It’s little moments that get you guys closer than ever like when there’s campfires and you can just enjoy the moment

Or when you can go into the lake

Which is where you guys had your first kiss

And it was sweet and spontaneous

And then awkward afterwards because of the walk back to your cabins 😭

Even then Percy gave you a quick peck and ran off

Best believe he was kicking his feet once he got back to his cabin 😭

you awoke the next day with being the new hot gossip in camp so that was… interesting

Anyway

I’m aware that I’ve made Percy to be a bit a menace

Although he is exactly that on the regular-

He really does care about you

Sometimes whenever he looks at you he can’t help but think about how lucky he got

He’s glad to have met you and tries his best to let you know at every chance he gets

Even if the things he might say come off as cringe, he means it

Maybe to a less cringey extent tho lolol

Bro can’t help it, he’s a romantic at heart

But only ever for you

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callizinc · 8 days ago

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Ena in Dream BBQ and Work Culture

HELLO Dashboard!! Ever since i first played DBBQ i've found the entire game endlessly interesting (as have most people, LOL) But one of the most interesting, and in my opinion, most Potent things, is Ena's character and how she relates to the game's commentary on modern work culture.

So for anyone as much of a #SICKO as me 😭 Here's an embarrassingly long analysis of just that! There's SO much to talk about with this game, and even when I'm trying to focus on one specific idea with this post, I'm sure I'll still miss things, so just stick with me best you can OK? 😭 😭

My aim for this post is to allow you to understand Just how deep in the torment nexus Ena is, and to want to say "she should be at the club" Only to realize she can't even go to the club. She can't even go to the club. Because of Job. (Among other, hopefully more intelligently articulated things!)

SO, Let's just jump right in :D

First, to state the obvious—Ena's literal entire life is her job. The only moods she expresses under normal circumstance are "smooth talking salesperson where every line is about working or trying to sell something" and "Stops keeping up the veneer and gets frustrated and pissed because she hates her stupid job."

This permeates every aspect of her character—I don't think there's a single line in the game so far where she says like, Anything about herself. There's nothing about what she may want or what she may like. It's all about her fuckass job or the fuckass Boss.

And of course, even in gameplay aspects, you literally don't get a chance to choose whether you accept a job or not, like the thought of doing anything besides giving her time and energy for other people or her job's benefit doesn't even occur to her (Or, it can't occur to her—I doubt the Boss would want to allow her reprieve from anything at all, and I'm sure Ena would know this).

(^ Ena's reaction to being told to find a mythical figure that she maybe didn't even know existed cause Froggy sure as hell didn't to do a stupid job for Froggy's stupid ass. Like)

Maybe i'm reaching here, but I even find it interesting how her red hand has no fingers (besides a thumb). I feel like that represents a lack of individuality she has when she's in Salesperson mode, or at least, a lack of individuality she's been allowed. A lack of having a defined being cause it's all about this stupid job.

There's lots of avenues to go from here, but let's start with another big point of the game: Everybody hates her. Except for like, three characters, every NPC in the game either insults her, talks down to her, blatantly doesn't respect her, or Literally tells her nobody should be punished for being born except her. Typical day for Ena.

I'm not going to get into why I think this is—for me there's not enough evidence to speculate with surety right now—but I think this does tie strongly into her commitment to her job. Ena working her ass off in every aspect of her life and earning nothing but disrespect for it is very reminiscent of real life work environments.

Think of how almost every NPC claims they are "the Boss" in such a way that many of them seem to want to be the Boss, like he's some kind of well-known or respected figure. The description for the game on Steam even says as much: "Play as ENA as she searches for the Boss that everyone wants to be."

(eg: "I am the B-O-S-S!"):

People wish they were the Boss, they want to be some kind of rich capitalist with power and fame, but when looking at someone who actually works for him, and probably is the reason the Boss has profit and success in the first place, they insult her and demean her no matter how much she gives herself to them and the Boss. I'm sure you can see the real life parallels here.

It's even possible one of the reasons Ena works so hard in the first place is as an attempt to earn respect from these people, or to make up for whatever everyone thinks she did that made everyone hate her so much. Especially considering...

Our society is one that tells its people that Work is unequivocally Good. Committing yourself to work is what everyone, no matter who they are or what they face, is what you have to do to be a valuable member of society, and to have any respect from other people in the slightest. It tells its people that you only have value as a living human being at all if you give your life to work.

Even though this blatantly isn't true. If people think you're the Wrong type of worker, or if people think your work isn't valuable, helpful, or that it doesn't require skill, you can work as hard as you want but you'll still be treated like shit. But, hey, work is still your duty as a member of society, right? Stop bitching and whining and pull yourself up by your bootstraps, right?

Needless to say, it's easy to see how this whole idea is being represented in DBBQ. She even knows how much she's sold herself to this, she just... Seems to have extremely casually accepted it all LOL, which, I mean... What else does she have the power to do?

This very casual and nonchalant acknowledgement of her lack of autonomy connects to another big point: Ena doesn't value herself, nor does she even know how to exist without being in a constant state of working.

Let's talk about the Purge: There's a LOT to get to here in terms of Ena herself LOL, but the intrigue starts before she even enters the party. Literally Froggy just saying she's about to enter an "Event" stops her in her tracks and worries her. Not to mention the next line...

This feels like an indication that despite how much she commits herself to it, Ena does "crave freedom" from her shitty job, although she can scarcely admit this anywhere else so far. Then, if you talk to this slime guy, you get some strange text.

As far as I know, the text for interacting with things doesn't look like this anywhere else in the game. And given that it looks exactly the same as how Ena's lines do in the Purge, it's seemingly the only peek we get into her internal monologue, and it is. Quite worrying! She literally can climb up a hellish freezing floating mountain and yet this is by far the most freaked out she gets in the entire game.

And then to actually get into the Purge, an Evil eye Ball tells her that she needs to give a literal arm or a leg to get in. And she just does it. Like no hesitation no further questions she just gives it away to the evil eye ball. Presumably for Good? Because the only reason she regains the arm later is because of Genie magic? Like Ena. Girl. Are we gonna talk about this at all.

But so many real life work environments expect you to give every part of yourself in order to be allowed to exist and live in society, including your physical being and critical parts of your personhood at all.

(Let me also say I find it intentional that she gave away her white arm. Whereas her red hand literally doesn't have fingers, the sharp claws she has on her white hand represent the individuality and unique identity she Does have. However, it's also the part of herself that's in conflict with her ability to be a Good Worker, that always does exactly what she's supposed to do, and never complains, and never gets in the way of her duties.)

She was already very distressed here, but it's a clear indication of how little she values herself. It was a motion to lose a part of herself just to reach the Genie, both for her stupid job, and possibly for the possibility of "freedom" from it all. And your average job these days—no matter how important you are to your cause—will drill it into you that your ability to be a good worker is infinitely more important than your existence as a person. It's easy to see how Ena may have internalized that.

And then she goes to the club one time and this happens

I won't get too deep into her dialogue with the NPCs here because I think their intention is pretty clear; Being in a place so antithetical to a work environment, and a place where she's supposed to let loose and have fun, is so distressing and impossible to even fathom for her that This Happens.

(see: "H-How can I leave this stupid event? M-my lame schedule is full,")

Like, everything at the Purge is insane, but this is a particularly heartbreaking line for me. One because of her job's shitty environment that's broken her down so much—do you think she EVER gets a break, because I sure don't—but also because of how it's conditioned her to not even believe she can "afford another minute of joy." Ena :[

Note how she's covered in these branches that started growing during Froggy's phone call, which look very similar to how she looks in this gag with the Shaman—it's literally her nervous system. In her scene with Mitu she even says she's feeling "sick," She's literally freaked out of her flipping Gourd with her goddamn Nerves On The Outside

Hell, even though Meanie's speaking (which, I mean, no shit, in another line she literally describes her job as "deplorable" 😭), these sprites in the files are actually labelled "Anxiety", suggesting that she's SO freaked out by being somewhere supposed to be so opposite to her work she's become another variant of herself, a la Drunk Ena from Season 1.

I won't get much more into this, because @cube-cumb3r has a PHENOMENAL post I'll link in the notes that goes deeper into this stuff from the Purge and the "Anxiety" thing, And also gets more into theory territory than I do here! Please please go read that post, it is so damn good.

In any case, I think the scenes with the Purge NPCs are the biggest examples in the whole game of how much she hates her fuckass job, yet she can't be allowed to be anything besides a wage slave to it. And just as she's internalized everybody in her world's dislike of her, she hates herself for it.

So:

We've established that Ena's shitty job parallels the real life work conditions that plague our world, and that these conditions have caused her to devalue herself and believe she can't have any reprieve from them... but, what even is her job?

Apparently she's a salesperson, but what is she even selling? She tries to offer a "divestment opportunity", and tells the Witches she can show them how to "grow [their] own [boss]" which definitely falls in line with the Sales thing, but besides that it's still not clear, even when she talks to Froggy.

I suppose the "grow their own boss" line does sound a lot like the phrasing used in MLM schemes, with how they lure people in by telling them they can "be their own boss." The Receptionist also calls Ena a scammer and a conman, so maybe she is a sort of scammer, but, I also don't exactly think the Receptionist think she has the most reliable opinions of Ena LOL

She also calls her a "pink-collar slug", pink collar meaning a job traditionally associated with women, which. ??? I don't fully know where to go with that.. like ...Nothing she does harkens to... Any kind of job expected to be done by women, imo?? Um. Yeah idk i just thought that may be significant??/ 😭😭😭😭 Listen man I can't know it all

Anyway. Maybe I'll be proven embarrassingly wrong when we receive more information in future chapters, but I think the lack of clarity on what she's supposed to be is representative of the games themes. The constant disrespect Ena receives makes her seem likely to be a low-tier worker, someone at the bottom of the ladder that people have no problems walking all over.

Because these types of jobs will treat you the same no matter who you are or what you're supposed to be doing. She's doing what the world tells her she needs to do in order to be a respected member of society, and yet she's also someone people feel comfortable treating poorly because she's at the bottom—because has no power of her own. It doesn't matter what she's supposed to be doing, it matters that she's the Wrong type of worker.

And how is she supposed to ever say anything for herself? It seems virtually baked into her Salesperson side to completely ignore past all the rude things these assholes say to her. After all, not only would that probably just make most people ruder to her (and impede her ability to complete jobs for them) isn't the customer always right?

...OK I will say her whole "Understood! Aim for the target!" line DOES seem like her overall job here is to fucking kill the Boss, but this is long enough already and the likely theme of Ena having a violent streak and whatnot is another beast entirely that I am NOT getting into here 😭😭

Besides, maybe she has no clearly defined job because we've already seen exactly what it is. To sell her life, time, and emotions to whatever all these clowns ask of her, and to receive no reward besides another goddamn job to do.

I think future chapters may delve more into Ena's true feelings on her situation, and possibly even how she'll get freedom from it. Allow me to mention the scenes with Theodora, wherein if you try to "aspire to receive a blissful life" Theodora just tells Ena "You can't aspire for more than what you are capable of." (LIKE OKAYYYY.... RUDE MUCH????)

Until, finally:

How is her mind—containing a desire for freedom—supposed to be in harmony with the letters it spits out, when she's been so conditioned that the only thing she's allowed to be is a worker?

Now, even I still have a lot of questions after this. Like: What has happened in Ena's past that made her this way? How and why did she take this job in the first place? What is up with the "Guys wait, I'm not doing what you say I'm doing" scene I literally didn't even mention that once here. Why should nobody be punished for being born except poor damn Ena, and does it relate to any of the themes I just talked about?

I... don't know. Like I actually truly have no idea. But I have confidence, even if it's in a delightfully vague and abstract Ena-typical way, that we'll find out eventually.

#ena dream bbq #ena #ena joel g #dream bbq #analysis #dbbq #ena dream bbq analysis #ena dbbq #calli.txt #WIPES SWEAT OFF FOREHEAD.#FINALLY. IM FREE #If i left any typos in here besides any proofreads. Im so sorry 😭#AND I HOPE EVERYTHING IM SAYING HERE ISNT AS. OBVIOUS AND SURFACE LEVEL AS I FEEL LIKE IT IS AT THIS POINT #BUT NO MATTER THE CASE. Well . I had fun :]#i hope you enjoy my funny words + PLEASE FEEL FREE TO TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS ON THEM PLEASEEE ^_^#In conclusion:#She should be at the club. But she cant. She cant even go to the club.#My poor dear enaur :[#dream bbq spoilers

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andypantsx3 · 2 years ago

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ALL IN A DAY'S QUIRK : SERO HANTA x READER

summary: Sero gets hit with a quirk that makes others see him as the person they are most attracted to. Which you really wish you had known before you opened your mouth and gave him your usual, “Hey, Sero!” tags/warnings: pro hero au, fluff, misunderstandings, quirk accident, not actually unrequited feelings, smut, thigh riding, fem reader (no pronouns but AFAB genitalia terms used), aged up characters, 5.3k

It was approximately four thirty-three p.m. when Sero Hanta returned from patrol and blew your peaceful day to bits.

Before his arrival, the Todoroki Agency had been relatively quiet, as it usually was around this time, everyone but the on-call staff winding down for the day. You’d been hearing the telltale rustling of jackets and scuffle of feet in the office behind you since the clock ticked past four.

Not long after, a couple of your friends from the analytics department had wandered over to your desk, clearly deciding they were not going to get anything else done, gossiping and stealing the candies you kept in a glass bowl on the reception counter.

“I heard Shouto’s manager is considering signing him up for a shirtless charity calendar,” Mari told you immediately, wiggling her eyebrows. “Hana from brand management said she was asked to do research on the impact the calendar had on other pros’ careers, so I think this is serious.”

She looked beyond pleased, her cheeks pink and her ears tipped red, the way they always were when she contemplated her massive crush on your agency head, Todoroki Shouto.

You couldn’t fault her–Shouto was incredibly handsome and kind, if a bit spacey–but you’d always been drawn to a different pro hero on the agency roster. Someone just a little bit taller, with dark hair and a half-moon grin, a razor sharp sense of humor, and the most inconceivably mouth-watering thighs in the pro hero business.

Not that you had been giving them attention. Much.

You suppressed the urge to ask if anyone else from the agency was being considered for the calendar, wiggling your eyebrows back. “Well I know you’ll be the first in line.”

Mari’s blush deepened, and Kimiko laughed around an orange-flavored candy, which you stocked for many reasons other than a certain tape-themed hero’s predilection for oranges, thank you very much.

“I just hope they include Uravity-san,” Kimiko said. “I mean–not shirtless shirtless, but like, god would I kill for her in a little sports bra.”

Kimiko sounded unaffected, but you’d literally hidden her beneath your desk the time pro heroes Uravity and Deku visited for an agency team-up with the Todoroki office. She’d spent the entire time peering out with big eyes, muttering under her breath, “I am so gay. So very very gay.”

You didn’t doubt if Uravity were included in the spread, Kimiko might even beat Mari out for the first spot in line.

“You both have such kind hearts,” you laughed. “So eager to give to charity.”

“I’m a lifelong philanthropist,” Mari agreed, picking up your pen and doodling hearts all over your office stationery. You noticed she colored in only the left side, and suppressed another laugh.

Whatever. You knew what it was to be that whipped, even if you’d never do anything about it.

As huge as your thing was for Sero, there wasn’t a chance in hell he returned your affections. He was incredibly friendly, but over the past few years, he’d never even given a hint that he was into you like that. He’d treated you with the same easy cheer and subjected you to the same good-natured roasting he did everyone else in the agency.

And now was not the time to go looking for more, anyway. You’d recently become close enough to see Sero outside of work and you were not about to endanger that–you’d been invited to a house party of his a couple months ago, gone to drinks with him and a couple of agency people after work, and even grabbed dinner alone a few times over the past few weeks. You’d been texting memes practically nonstop this entire week alone.

He was so much fun, always quick with a joke, a wink, or an interesting story, and he wasn’t afraid to tell things like they were. You forgot time was passing when you were with him, and sometimes when you went out, you stayed out long enough that you thought he might, too.

So you were finally reaching a stage in your friendship where Sero clearly felt close and comfortable—you would not press for more.

It was just, sometimes, when he smiled down at you with that clever, mischievous grin, your heart felt like it was experiencing some sort of medical event. Sometimes, when he put his dark hair up into a messy half-bun, those biceps cording as he did so, it felt like someone had just vacuumed all the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Sometimes, when he leaned down to whisper something to you in his most conspiratorial tones, it felt like someone had spiked your brain into a blender and pureed it into mush.

But it was cool.

You knew how to play it cool.

Mari pulled you back to earth with the promise of more gossip—this time, about her arch nemesis in accounting—and Kimiko leaned in, offering her own commentary over the unwrapping of another of your candies.

And then the clock struck four thirty-three, and Sero Hanta returned from patrol.

You heard the telltale mechanic ping of an agency badge passing checkpoint, and peeked around Kimiko to see Sero trudging through the doorway, looking strangely contemplative. He was covered in dirt and his uniform was slashed in several places, including a great deal of shredding about the thighs, which you would have been happier about if he didn’t look so unusually subdued.

He didn’t look hurt at any rate, so that was good. But you couldn’t help but call out to him.

“Hey Sero!” you said, curious about his demeanor. “How’d patrol go? Something happen?”

Kimiko and Mari turned around, and you watched as both of them seemed to freeze up. Kimiko’s hand slapped against the reception counter, the sound echoing through the room, gripping tightly as though she’d suddenly seen a ghost.

“Ur–Uravity-san,” she said, dipping into the most formal bow you’d ever seen her make. “What’s brought you here?”

You felt your mouth pull into a frown, staring at the back of her head in absolute bamboozlement. Was she seeing things? The only person in the doorway was Sero, and he was very much unaccompanied.

His helmet was propped between his hip and his elbow, so his face was clear too–so Kimiko didn’t even have the excuse of not being able to see his face, different though his costume was from Uravity’s.

Sero blinked, his mouth pulling into a semi-puzzled grin. “Uravity?”

Mari was slapping Kimiko before you could inquire the same thing, hissing, “Are you losing it? That’s fucking Shouto.” She turned back to pin you with something between a glare and a concerned, assessing gaze, as if you too had lost your marbles.

You frowned back, your own concern deepening. “I’m sorry–are you guys seriously telling me that Shouto and Uravity are here with Sero?” You peered back around Mari at Sero, quirking a brow at him. “Did they get hit with some kind of invisibility quirk or are these two experiencing some kind of hallucination?”

Maybe too much shirtless calendar talk had gotten them too hot and bothered.

Sero’s dark gaze pinned you, and he quickly came tromping over, his boots echoing on the stone flooring. He leaned over the reception counter, pointing to his face with one long, pretty finger. “Wait, you can tell it’s me?”

He smelled like cement and sweat and dust, and something vaguely minty, like he’d been chewing gum recently. You tried not to let your expression show how much you liked the look of him up close, those hooded dark eyes, his wide, charming mouth.

“Um, yes? I have eyeballs?” you wondered.

Sero blinked, leaning in closer. Your heartbeat ticked up. “You’re sure?”

“Should I not be…sure?” you asked. “Are Shouto and Uravity really with you and I’m the only one who can’t see them?”

Sero shook his head, “Nah–it’s just me.”

You frowned up at him, curious. “Then why are they calling you Shouto and Uravity…?”

Sero shook his dark head. His hair was pulled into that half-bun you loved, the way it usually was under his helmet on patrol, and all mussed from whatever run in he’d had. You tried not to think about what other activities might get his hair all mussed like that.

He smiled, something wide and conspiratorial. “Got hit with some kinda illusion quirk. People have stopped me like a thousand times on my way in to ask for All Might’s autograph, or Hawks’, and even Bakugou’s. They’re lucky it was just me, he’d have thrown a shit fit getting cut off in the street like that.”

Sero’s features shifted into something slightly more contemplative again. “But you’re somehow immune, huh?”

You frowned. “Shouldn’t you get checked out at medical, then?”

His eyes softened, and another grin made its way onto his mouth. “Yeah yeah, I’ll head right there.”

Kimiko and Mari were still gaping over at him like he was a miracle, and some strange feeling came over you, a concerned little squeeze of your heart. You grabbed Mari, plonking her down into your seat in your stead. “Cover me for a couple minutes? Just say people are unavailable and take notes and I’ll figure it out when I get back. I’m gonna run down to medical with Sero for a second.”

Mari nodded dumbly.

You pulled Sero’s helmet out of his grip, resting it in the crook of your own elbow, and gestured him down the hall with you. Sero fell into step beside you, keeping up easily with his long stride. He grinned down at you, seemingly unperturbed that he’d gotten hit with a quirk that had all but erased his identity in the eyes of others.

It was something you admired in him, his inherent good-naturedness.

You wondered why you were the only one who could tell it was him.

“Any good gossip while I was gone?” he asked, like he really couldn’t be fussed about his predicament. “I was starting to hear shirtless calendar talk before I had to head out on patrol.”

You suppressed a flush and fought down the urge to ask if he’d been asked to be in it too.

You did not need to know.

“Whatever the hell is going on with you is the spiciest bit of gossip all day,” you told him, rounding a corner and badging into the stairwell down to the medical floor. You clung to the railing carefully and most definitely did not watch his thighs bunch as he took the stairs. “Want a drink after work? It seems like you could use one, after this.”

Sero smiled, an eyebrow raising. “Trying to get me drunk, huh?”

You wrinkled your nose. “As if I’d need to be so underhanded.”

You did. You did need to be so underhanded.

Sero had to angle himself carefully through the door, his shoulder pieces liable to snag on the doorway with the breadth of those pro hero shoulders. The medic on staff took one look at him and flushed, mumbling out a name you didn’t know.

You piped in before she could say more. “Cellophane’s been hit with a quirk that makes him appear like someone else. It’s not whoever you think!”

She blinked curiously, but then nodded, probably having seen much weirder things in her time as a hero agency staffer. She gestured Sero to a cot on the side of the room. “Alright, please sit down, Cellophane. We’ll do a couple quick tests and then get you sorted with the right quirk cancellation.” Her cheeks seemed to heat again as she spoke, but she made good on her promise, disappearing down the hall, calling to someone for quirk testing strips.

Sero hopped up on the cot, swinging those long legs, grinning at you from eye-level, now. “Think I should prank a couple people before they cancel it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only you would be having fun with this. No one in the world knows who you are!”

The corner of Sero’s mouth pulled wryly. “You do.”

“You don’t know if that could change, dude. Better get it over with before you get stuck as like, Endeavor forever.”

Sero laughed, light and airy. “Shouto wouldn’t hang with me anymore.”

You nodded. “Exactly, and none of the rest of us read the same weird manga you guys are into so you’d be all alone with no one to fanboy about it to.”

The medic returned with a thick silvery strip, pulling on blue nitrile gloves as she did so. Sero held his arm out obligingly, the lean muscle flexing in the fluorescence of the office lighting. She peeled off the backing of the strip, pressing it to Sero’s forearm, pushing it down firmly.

She attached a cable to some screened device, and you listened to the beep of various buttons. Sero watched you over her shoulder, his easy smile still in place.

Finally, the device in the medic��s hand beeped, and she pulled back, announcing somewhat shyly, “An attraction-type quirk.”

You blinked, mystified. A what?

Sero’s grin seemed to freeze on his face, and his thin brows furrowed the tiniest bit.

The medic continued, oblivious. “This quirk creates an illusion. External parties will perceive the affectee with the traits or as the person they are most attracted to.”

Sero’s dark eyes snapped to yours, widening, and you fumbled a step back, almost tripping over yourself. You threw out a hand, barely catching yourself on the counter.

No.

Oh fuck no.

If people were seeing who they were most attracted to…and you had just seen Sero the whole time…

That would mean—that would mean—and he had heard you say—

“Oh my god, I just remembered I have to get back to Mari,” you said, offering Sero a wave of your suddenly numb hand. “Can’t, um, strand her at the desk for too long. I’ll leave you guys to it. Uh, yeah. Thanks–bye!”

You quickly threw yourself out through the door, leaving Sero alone with the medic. You dashed back up the stairwell, your heartbeat shooting into your mouth.

How could this be happening? How unbelievably embarrassing was that? You’d worked so hard to play it cool in front of Sero for all this time, for years, really, and you’d finally just made it to a comfortable place as friends.

And then—and then—some attraction-illusion quirk goes and blows your cover, just like that? For real?

And he’d heard you, too. Heard you say, “Hey, Sero!” as soon as he’d come through the door, before anyone had revealed anything about who else they thought he might be instead. Before you could have possibly had any clue that he’d been quirked.

You could die of mortification.

You shooed Mari and Kimiko away from the desk when you got back, quickly readying your things to get the hell out of the office as soon as your night replacement arrived. You cleaned up all the bi-colored hearts Mari had doodled on every available surface of your desk and refilled the candy bowl Kimiko had apparently seen fit to devastate in your absence, your ears heating with the thought that Sero could catch on now, why you stocked orange candies.

God, could your replacement hurry the fuck up before Sero got back here?

But the night receptionist was predictably late, of course, and by the time you finally saw him badge through the front entrance you could hear quick, booted steps across the tile behind you.

Sero’s voice sounded over the back of your chair, just as a long-fingered hand closed around your wrist.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice more careful than you’d ever heard it. “Still up for that drink? I think maybe we could talk over it.”

The night receptionist nodded at you and Sero as he made his way over, and you gave up your chair to him, collecting your bag with Sero’s warm fingers still clutching your wrist. You slowly worked up the courage to look up at him, face heating as you took in his uncharacteristically intent expression. His face had been cleaned and it looked like some antibiotic had been applied to some of the scrapes along his jaw.

You knew then you’d trapped yourself. Though it was probably also better to get things over with now than avoid the subject forever.

“Okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice normal. “Yeah, let’s talk.”

Sero was the nicest dude ever, you had to remember that. Even when it came down to a rejection, he would still be completely kind and friendly. Probably not too much would change on his end afterwards either. You couldn’t imagine him avoiding you or treating you any differently.

“My place okay?” Sero asked as you shrugged on your bag.

You nodded, and he smiled, nearly as wide and silly as he normally did, tinged with only the slightest bit of shyness.

You’d originally planned to take him out somewhere fun, but this conversation was probably best had in private. And Sero’s place was close, an apartment only a couple blocks’ walk, in a charming little neighborhood fringed by a park and a variety of interesting bars and cafes. Sero chatted away with his usual friendly ease as you walked, still in his shredded hero costume, waving to the couple people that recognized him as you did so.

Your stomach flipped as he opened his front door, gesturing you inside under his arm. He was tall and lanky enough that you fit easily, and you caught a whiff of that minty scent again under all the dust that coated his uniform. You tried not to look too closely at the lines of his bicep as you passed under it.

His apartment was just as you’d remembered it; spacious, casually decorated in neutral tones with splashes of interesting patterns spread across the rug, throw pillows, and his collection of wall hangings. It smelled cottony and clean, and Sero gestured you to his couch as he dumped his helmet and boots in the doorway, shrugging off his shoulder pieces.

“A beer cool?” he asked as he made his way into the kitchen. “I’ve got a couple of good ones.”

“Sounds great,” you told him, listening to the sounds of him cracking the caps.

To your surprise he plopped down on the couch next to you as he came back in, handing you a bottle. It was cold, and your fingers made little prints in the condensation where you touched it.

“So,” he said, turning to you, a sly look in his dark eyes. “You wanna talk about what just happened?”

Your face flamed, and you took a quick sip of your beer to give you time to recover yourself. It was sour on your tongue, a hint of orange peel in its profile.

“No,” you told him honestly, giving him a self-conscious smile, which he returned. “I think it’s pretty clear, actually. You got hit by a quirk that shows people the person they’re most attracted to and I, uh, obviously saw, um, you.”

Sero’s grin pulled wider at the edges, surprising you. If you didn’t know better, you would think he liked hearing that. Although maybe it was a little bit of an ego stroke to hear you were someone’s fantasy man, even if you didn’t return their feelings.

“Not All Might and not Bakugou,” he said, something pleased in his tone.

You blinked at him, disturbed by those insinuations. “Definitely not,” you sniffed. “I am a paragon of taste.”

Sero laughed, his fingers flexing on the side of his beer. Then he took a sip, seeming to contemplate something as he did, and you drew yourself together, preparing for the inevitable. That was definitely a look that said he was thinking hard, probably about the best way to let you down.

But then Sero grinned back down at you, leaning in collusively. “You wanna know something?”

You could feel your brows raise curiously, even as your heartbeat picked up with his proximity. You looked down, then accidentally spied the strips of tanned thigh where his costume had torn, and had to quickly reroute your gaze for fear of staring. “That depends.”

Sero’s grin went even more sly. “I think if you’d been hit with that quirk, I’d have known it was you too.”

Your heartbeat slammed to a halt in your chest. It was only when Sero threw a hand out that you realized you’d lost your grip on your beer, his quick reflexes the only thing saving his carpet. You startled at the sudden move, making a weird arm-flinging motion somewhere between grabbing for your beer and grabbing onto him, ending up accidentally smacking him in the chest instead.

“Fuck, I—sorry!” you garbled out, stunned by his sudden proximity and the fistful of his costume you’d taken. His skin was warm against the side of your hand.

Sero blinked, looking taken aback for a moment. Then he shifted, and you heard the clink of two beers being deposited on his coffee table. You swallowed, unable to look away from him, and you watched his dark eyes rove over your face, before dipping down to stare at something just under your nose.

A shiver prickled up your spine.

“So when you—with the quirk—” you tried, but your brain had gone offline, and the right set of words were not coming to you. “Um, when you say—you would have known—?”

Sero’s grin crept back across his mouth. “I mean that I’d have seen you, because I’ve been wanting to ask you out and trying to figure out if you're into me for months.”

It had to be the shock of this admission that registered you so stupid. “You—months? Try years.”

Sero’s laugh beat back the instant wave of mortification that overcame you in the next second, when you realized what'd you'd just said. You could only smile back helplessly, equally pleased and embarrassed. He looked so good right then, too, grinning toothily, his hair a mess, his costume torn to shreds. He really was the most gorgeous guy you had ever seen, that quirk had totally had your number.

It suddenly dawned on you that you had little else to lose now, with everything out in the open. And when Sero looked like that—sly, pleased, and a little bit of a mess—you thought you were done trying to bury things.

A thrill zinging down your spine, you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.

He’d been laughing, and you only caught the edge of his mouth, but Sero quickly corrected. You could feel his lips go slack in surprise for a second, and then he was schooling himself and returning your kiss with abandon.

Long fingers came up to take your chin, holding you firmly in place. It was so unexpectedly bold that you shuddered, kissing him harder. Your hand tangled further in the fabric of his costume, gripping onto him for dear life as his tongue met yours, twisting and teasing. It was so like him, the way he kissed. Teasing, playful, easy. Your head spun with how much you liked it.

“Aw fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Sero said, when he finally pulled away far enough to enunciate the words. He shifted against you, putting a large palm against your back, pulling you to him. You followed his guidance, climbing into his lap, chasing his mouth again. You wanted more—more now that you thought you could have it.

“I’ve been wanting—for years—” you said, squeaking in surprise when Sero guided you down onto a strong thigh. It was hard and thick and way too muscular to be allowed, and your breath left you in a harsh hiss. And because this was the most embarrassing day of your life, Sero clocked it immediately, leaning forward in interest.

“You—like that? My—thigh?” he asked curiously.

You could feel your face burning, like someone had just dunked it in a bucket of hot coals. “I–yes. I like everything about you. Including your thighs,” you admitted.

Sero’s hand guided you back down against him, pressing his knee up experimentally. A thrill sang through your veins at the feeling of a piece of him so warm and firm right up against your core. You barely bit back the noise you wanted to make.

“Fuck, this is weirdly hot,” Sero said, leaning in to take your mouth again. You could feel him growing hard against your knee through the fabric of his costume, as his tongue flicked against yours, making your brain go a little woozy.

His arms came around you, holding your waist as he ground his leg up into you, sending a wave of pleasure striking through you like lightning. The moan you’d been trying to hold in finally broke free of you. “Ah—Hanta!”

The sound seem to spark something in him. Sero surged up, his hands making quick work of your shirt as he kissed you, still rocking you against his thigh in a way that made you see stars. You had the wild thought that everything about him was more than you’d ever imagined it would be, from the delicate press of his fingers to the warmth of his thigh to the way the strands of his hair that had escaped brushed across your forehead. Embarrassingly fast, like he knew exactly how to play you, he worked you up to the crest of your pleasure.

You had to put a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Hanta, if you—I’m going to cum if we don’t stop—” you said.

“Oh my god please,” was his only answer, and he pulled you down onto his thigh with renewed vigor. Sparks of pleasure pricked all over your body as he kissed you again, his hands roaming every inch of exposed skin. He left bruising kisses down the side of your throat, fingers playing with your nipples.

Another few rocks into his thigh sent you right over the edge, and he held you against him as you rode it out, squirming against his thigh.

“This is the hottest thing that has ever happened to me,” he said, something in his tone making it clear he was not done with you yet.

He helped you wiggle out of your pants, freeing himself of his own costume, and laid you out over his couch, grinning. He was golden with a fading summer tan, and his smile was so wide and charming and white against the dimming light from the windows. He was gloriously lean, hard with dense, compact stretches of muscle, every single inch of him honed from years of hero work. He was perfect—so stupidly, handsomely, perfect.

Between his thighs, his cock was just as long and lean, heavy and flush with arousal. It made you dizzy to think that this man, who you’d crushed on for so long, wanted you like this—wanted you back in the same way you’d always wanted him. You motioned him closer, too eager now to be self-conscious about it.

Sero laughed, a happy noise. “Fuck, you’re so pretty though.” He stretched out over you, sliding in between your thighs and guiding himself into you. His chest pressed to yours, hot and slick with a light sheen of sweat already, and you hissed with the feeling of him slipping inside you.

You felt drunk with arousal, crazy with want. You clutched him to you as he moved, thrusting carefully at first, as if testing the feeling of you, and then more firmly. You let out soft noises you hadn't meant to, which Sero seemed to appreciate.

“God, look at you. Listen to you,” he said, grinning down at you, his dark eyes tracing over you. “I can’t believe I got hit with that quirk. This is the luckiest day of my life—you’re so cute. So—fuck—so perfect.”

He slid into a frustratingly sedate pace, strokes long and languid, stretching out almost teasingly. You wrapped your legs more tightly around his hips, trying to press him into you, but his smile just widened. He moved leisurely, setting his own pace, just on the wrong side of too slow.

It drove you insane, somehow working you up even faster than if he’d been doing what you wanted. You muffled the sounds of your own moans against his lips, gripping onto those broad shoulders. Sero’s own fingers slid down to your clit, playing with you just as lightly and teasingly as his thrusts.

You could have killed him, but all you could do was hold onto him, slurring his name appreciatively.

He worked you like that for a while, bringing you close but never too close, drawing out the feeling into something warm and fizzy, like soda left in the sun. But eventually the band of his control seemed to snap, and he began thrusting into you harder, faster. Those long, lovely fingers circled your clit with more intent as he did, murmuring a steady stream of praise.

“Please—cum with me,” he panted into your mouth, as his fingers drew ever-tightening circles over you. “I want you to come with me, Y/N. Can you—can you do that?”

You nodded frantically as his thrusts grew faster, sloppier. He was so good inside you, so good over you, his fingers such a delicious pressure against your clit. It only took a few thrusts more, a few strokes of those careful fingers, and then you were squirming against him in earnest, your veins going molten with pleasure.

“Hanta—I’m going to—!”

“Yessss,” he hissed, and then he was orgasming too, spilling out his pleasure inside of you. His hips slapped yours in a stuttering pattern, half-crazed, and you shook against him, gasping. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you crested the wave, until finally—finally you went limp against him, just as his own body relaxed over you.

“I want to be hit with a quirk all the time,” he said, ridiculously.

You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling into his shoulder. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

Sero hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. If this is what I get every time, then…” he trailed off, smirking down at you.

“I’m not going to bang you if you’re going to be irresponsible,” you told him.

He perked up, however, those dark eyes peering at you hopefully. “But you’ll bang me otherwise?”

You laughed again, pinching him lightly on the arm where you held him. “What do you think having a crush on you for years means?”

His grin went all sly and pleased again. “Then I’ll have to lock it down, of course. I haven’t spent months wondering just to let you get away. Starting with dinner this evening, maybe. Do you—would dinner be okay?” he asked. The sound of genuine, eager hope in his voice was so gratifying it made you want to kick your legs in the air.

You settled for nodding instead. “Dinner sounds amazing.”

“Then I’ll arrange the finest takeout just for you,” he said, which you knew from experience meant the empanadas place around the corner. You laughed again, feeling full already with the promise of an easy meal, and a relationship to come.

“Whatever you want sounds good to me,” you said, even as he began to slide off of you, helping you up alongside him. “You’ve had a crazy day today, empanadas sound like the perfect cap.”

Sero leaned in, his expression as mischievous and charming as always. “It’s nothing,” he said, even as he carefully held out your shirt to you again, guiding you into it in an unexpectedly gentlemanly move. You let him stuff you into it, laughing, smiling into the kiss he gave you as you emerged.

He winked at you as he found his phone and dialed, smiling as you heard the call connect. “After all, I'm a hero," he said. "And it’s all in a day’s work.”

#sero x you #sero x reader #sero x y/n #sero hanta x reader #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero x you #bnha x reader #sero smut

5K notes · View notes

finelinevogue · 1 year ago

Text

notes on love

summary - harry attends the football and you attend the baftas

pairing - fiance!harry x famous!reader

word count - ~1.5k

*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*

It was the first time Harry had made a public appearance in months.

Sans a hat on his head.

After braving a shave to solidify a new chapter in his life, Harry had decided that enough was enough and he just wanted to be seen again. Gain some new publicity.

“I can’t do this.” Harry’s voice rang through your phone.

Your phone was currently propped up on the vanity in front of you, whilst your stylist gracefully worked around you to get your hair and makeup done.

“H, baby. You’re going to a football match where over half the population there will be white bald men. You’ll blend right in.”

You took a sip of your apple juice in its carton as you suppressed a laugh. Harry rolled his eyes at you, taking the joke like the good sport he is.

“I actually have more hair than them. I’m not bald anymore.”

“See! Embrace the new hair, H. You look really good.”

Harry smiled at you then, his eyes which had previously been darting between watching you and looking out the moving car window were now permanently on you.

“Not as beautiful as you, though, love.”

“Don’t even have my makeup on yet.”

“Never needed it.”

You blew him a camera kiss for those words alone.

“Where are you now?” You reached for a slice of pineapple from the bowl of fruit you’d ordered from room service.

“About five minutes away I think. Are you still in the hotel?”

“Yeah. Don’t need to be ready until 5.”

You were getting ready for the BAFTAS, which Harry had hoped to be there with you for but you’d decided to take your nan as your date instead since she wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

Harry was more than happy to let Nana, as he liked to call her, be your date to the BAFTAS. Plus, it meant that he could go see the football.

“You’re going to look so pretty.”

Harry had helped your pick out your dress, which was a sophisticated black to contrast the red carpet you’d be walking down. The dress itself was beautifully cut and shaped you in all the right places, making you look elegant and regal.

“I’m nervous.” You picked up your phone so the conversation felt a little more intimate, even though it was still over face-time.

“Why, love?”

“Don’t normally do stuff like this without you.” You pouted.

Harry wished he could kiss that pout away, “And yet the times that you do, you always end up winning! It’s like they never want you to win when i’m there.”

It was a running joke that Harry was your ‘bad luck charm’.

You didn’t believe that though. It’s just that other actors performed better and won, over you, because of it. If anything, you always won because you got to go home and drink hot tea and eat popcorn with your Harry.

“I’ll miss you.” Your face was so close to the camera that Harry could probably see up your nose.

“I miss you. Send me photos when you’re getting ready. I wanna see you before anyone else.”

“Okay.” You smiled. It was routine at this point to always show each other’s public outfits before anyone else.

“Have you got your ring?”

You held up your left hand and wiggled your ring finger in front of the camera. You blushed thinking about the moment that you got given the piece of delicate jewellery, with Harry on one knee.

“Always.”

“You going to wear it on the carpet?”

“Of course. Not going to draw attention to it though. I’ll let people discover it for themselves.”

Harry laughed at the thought. You two were practically the biggest, most A-List, celebrity couple around at the moment and so when people watch sight of you with the ring there’s no doubt it’s all people will talk about for weeks.

Someone told Harry they’d arrived at the venue, then.

“I have to go, honey, but text me updates please. Wanna see you get ready through photos, okay?”

“Okay.” You promised. “Text me to let me know you’re safely home later, please.”

Even though he was going back to his Manchester home, you still liked to know that he was safe and sound. Especially since you were in London and weren’t going to get to be with him tonight.

“Will do. I love you.” Harry kissed his fingers and then dotted them over the camera.

You returned the gesture, “I love you. Bye, bye, bye!”

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

You were just finishing getting ready and scrolling through Twitter.

Harry was trending worldwide for showcasing his new hair. His growing hair. No one had seen him like this since the end of Tour last year.

You pouted because you missed him a lot.

People were absolutely loving it. As always, a lot of people were losing their shit over Harry content. You were too, because you missed him.

“Oh, he looks so good!” Your stylist, Jamie, gasped behind you.

Jamie was currently fixing your hair and you had to say they had done an impressive job.

“I know.” You smiled to yourself.

“He looks like a sexy CEO.”

You laughed out loud at that, “When he puts on his glasses he does.” You agreed.

“Harry wears glasses?” Jamie gasped.

“Yeah, hang on..”

You started to go through your camera roll. It was only a few days ago that he had gotten new glasses, because he’d managed to lose his old ones. Typical.

You stopped on a photo of Harry sat in bed with the duvet up on his chest, a book in his lap and his glasses on. He didn’t realise you had taken the photo of him, but it was now one of your favourites.

“Oh damn…” Jamie gasped. “If your marriage ever goes south, tell him I’ll be available.”

You laughed again, shaking your head in dismissal but also approval.

You went back to Twitter to see if any of the Harrie accounts you follow have tweeted anything. You make yourself laugh as you look through their feral comments.

And just because you like to cause a riot on the internet you liked an insane tweet.

harriesmiles: the way that this photo makes me want to cling onto harry like a koala bear and never let go

It wasn’t long before you were trending with Harry.

Then the face-time call comes through from him.

“Am I done?” You asked Jamie quickly.

He nods, knowing you routine with Harry, and allows you to slip into the bathroom next to the bedroom.

You answered the call shortly after locking the bathroom door.

“Hellooo.” You said in a weird voice, feeling hyper from the Twitter craze.

“Hi, babe.” Harry was obviously outside and trying to watch where he was going, more than looking at you.

“Has the match finished?”

“Yeah.” And you honestly didn’t care enough about football to ask how it went. “Are you ready?”

Harry’s eyes flicked down to his screen momentarily, smirking when he catches sight of your glammed out makeup.

One thing Harry loved more than anything was you in a red-lip, so of course you had to make sure you had one for him - despite the fact he couldn’t kiss it off you tonight.

“What?” You giggled, watching him trying to suppress his smirk in public.

“You’re so annoying. I’m trying to act all cool and mysterious here and you’re making me smile like an idiot.”

You dipped your head and smiled, accentuating the blush that was already powdered onto your cheeks.

“H, honey, you’re walking through the streets of Manchester. No one cares about how you act. They’re probably all drunk anyways.”

“True, true.”

“Did you have a pint?” You propped your phone on the counter.

“Uh, yeah.” He said whilst trying to cross a road.

“Love, do you want to call me back when you’re at less risk of being hit by a car?” You sarcastically asked.

“No!” He yelped. “No. Needs to be now.”

You gave him a confused look but carried on regardless.

You shuffled back in the bathroom, giving him a full angle.

You watched in anticipation as Harry looked at you through his tiny screen, wishing it were ten times bigger.

“Wow.” Was all he said and you giggled like a girl having a high-school crush. “I love you so much.”

“So you like?” You swished your dress from side to side.

“Mhm. Wishing I wasn’t so far from you now.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll have all the kisses for you then.”

“Tomorrow it is, then.” Harry smirked to himself, kissing the camera.

Little did you know that tomorrow was coming a lot sooner. In fact, Harry had been running for the earliest train out of Manchester and down to London for the duration of the phone call. Because Harry was always going to show up for you.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic rec

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lanasheart · 4 months ago

Text

LOV members and their love languages ~

★~`

Shigaraki ~

DEFINITELY an Acts of Service man.

Do NOT expect this man to try and touch you.

If he really loves you, I doubt he'd dare touch you as he wouldn't wanna accidently decay you.

Plus, this man absolutely hates it anyway. The only person he wanted to touch was his mama.

He would totally kill anyone you ask him to, either if he's jealous or if he has the urge to kill.

Or, he'd just invite you to play League Of Legends or Fortnite with him and Spinner.

(which isn't bad because he could definitely carry you in fn)

He would try and learn everyday how to be a good boyfriend. (He pays way more attention to you than you notice.)

He enjoys receiving Physical Touch, but to an extent.

You could touch his face, or anywhere really, but definitely not his hands.

He just doesn't want to lose you.

Touya ~

Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation.

He'd probably be super surprised if you told him your feelings

But he'd be open to a relationship since he'd be down to try something new.

SECONDS into the relationship he's making up so many nicknames for you.

'Babe', 'Darling', 'Hottie', you name it, he's calling you it.

And, he'd definitely kill someone for you.

I think he'd be more down too than Shigaraki would be.

He'd probably be all of the other love languages too, because don't tell me this man won't steal you a thousand dollar ring.

If you were also a villain, he'd totally BEG Shigaraki to let you go on missions together.

He likes Quality Time the most, since Endeavour never gave him any.

So, if you watch this man shoe you his special moves, he's gonna fall 2x as much in love with you.

Toga ~

Himiko literally seeks acceptance through unconventional love.

So I'd think her love language is Physical Touch or Acts of Service.

Along with the others, she'd be more than happy to kill someone for you or more likely impersonate someone for you.

Plus, she'd definitely have to avoid the temptation of using her knives on you.

So, if you told her she could use them, she'd be the happiest girl in the world.

She would be turning into you everyday.

As a means to show her love for you.

She'd want to be you, and feel what your body feels like upon her own accord, like if she was you.

If not, she could find out every little detail about your body by Physical Touch.

She definitely cuddles. (no one can change my mind!)

She likes receiving Words of Affirmation the most, so if you call her beautiful or pretty, she'll go feral for you.

Jin/Twice ~

Quality Time man.

Even a few weeks into your relationship, he'd be down for you to move into his little apartment, if you wanted to.

This would literally be so big for him, he'd spend every single day next to you, even if you were just cooking or cleaning.

If you were showering, he'd literally comes in and sit on the sink to talk to you.

You would definitely have some deep chats about the state of society, or the people you both retrospectively spend your other time around.

I think this man would somewhat enjoy Physical Touch.

Even if it's holding your hand on a busy subway, or leaning your head on his shoulder as he smokes his cigarette.

He would go feral.

It would be difficult to keep his clones' voices under wraps, but if you love him for them too, he'd be happy enough.

Iguchi/Spinner ~

Gift-Giving, definitely.

Although this man spends probably all of his time playing League Of Legends with Tomura, he'd definitely put some time aside to get you presents.

Whether it's something expensive that he's stole, or something small that he's recently heard you talk about.

Such as a new plush, or figurine.

He probably thinks it's more romantic to actually buy the gift, instead of stealing it, so trust me when I say this man has multiple piggy banks in his room.

He would try and ask Tomura for help, but we all know this man wouldn't give good advice.

'buy her League' shut tf up Tomura.

He would buy you both games he'd think you'd like, and would help try to teach you to play.

If you already play games, he'd buy you everything in the game, like DLCs or extra skins.

He most likely enjoys receiving Words of Affirmation.

He didn't get complimented much growing up, so when you do it for the first time, he's super confused.

But, he relaxes more into it and loves when you call him pretty.

Mr Compress ~

ATSUHIRO MY BABY

He'd totally be into Gift-Giving.

I mean, this man comes from a bloodline of thieves, and you think he won't steal you everything you want?

He would literally go to every store in Japan to buy you the most perfect rings, or necklaces, or clothes to make you look even more stunning than you already are.

He'd make sure you had matching things too, like jewellery or clothes, or even small little trinkets to remind yourselves of eachother.

Your room would literally be filled to the brim of everything he's gifted you, also because you would never throw it away.

He'd swear he doesn't need anything in return, but he'd be more into receiving Acts of Service.

Even if this is making him food or coming to see him if he lives a long way away, he'll appreciate every little thing you do for him, no matter how important it is to yourself.

Muscular ~

Muscular would probably just be into Physical Touch.

This man is 6"6, so if your any shorter he would be making fun of you everyday, by ruffling your hair or leaning his arms or head down on your shoulder or head.

Even though he is huge, he'd love to hold hands, if you even can.

He'd LOVE showing off to you, by picking you up or throwing you over his shoulder with ease.

He might have a small feeling that you dislike his muscles or eye, but if you disregard that, he will be all over you again.

Just make sure that you don't get smushed underneath him and his muscles.

Because we all know he would not be careful at all.

He'd be into Physical Touch too, as he would definitely like having his muscles appreciated by your hands.

If you ask him to flex or show his muscles, he will be down within a millisecond and will show you them in every position possible.

hey guyss this is my first proper post to give you a taste of what I wanna do [even if this is not a lot or very detailed so far], so pleasee give me some feedback, and help me so that I can grow my account. feel free to ♡ !!

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emeraldserenade · 1 month ago

Note

hii!! i have a request for joaquin :) reader is joaquin’s wife that he told bucky & sam abt but they thought he was lying and she eventually meets them in person & they’re shocked 🩵🩵

Real ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Sam and Bucky never thought you were real, until you were in their eyesight.

tw: fem!reader, FBI!reader, limited use of y/n, barely edited

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi Reese, I hope you like this! If you've seen Criminal Minds, then you know what a profiler is and that's the job I gave her. I also didn't know how to end this so sorry for the odd ending.

➽──────────────❥

It wasn't uncommon for Joaquín to talk about you, your name and the words "my girl", "my wife," or "amor de mi vida" tumbling from his lips like you were the goddess he worshipped. It wouldn't surprise anyone who saw the two of you together if he did worship you, he looked at you like you made the world go round. And you did the same, the love you two had for each other made your own world go round.

Bucky and Sam though? They have never seen you, they've heard about you. Joaquín spending any time he can talking about you, about your smile, the way you hold yourself, anything he could think of was mentioned. That's why the two of them were convinced you were fake, they had never met you, let alone see a picture, yet he was always talking like he was trying to convince them you were real.

"Are you sure the kid isn't lying?" Bucky questioned Sam one day, they were all waiting on you. You said your plane was running behind because your 'case' had run a little longer than expected.

"Why would he set this whole thing up if he is?" Sam tried to defend Joaquín at any chance he could. While he didn't particularly believe you were real, he wanted to give Joaquín the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh, she's here!" Joaquín announced, bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for you to appear. It only took a moment, then you were in his eyesight. He made a beeline to you, the mostly empty airport helped him not having to weave through people.

To say Sam and Bucky were shocked was an understatement. They assumed, had you been real, that you were going to be pretty. But this was something else, you looked ethereal and they understood by Joaquín basically worshipped you. It didn't help that they saw the way you looked at Joaquín, the amount of love that could never be faked.

"Sam, Bucky, this is y/n, my wife," Joaquín introduced you to the others and you shook their hands.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you two," your eyes twinkled with your smile, your genuine happiness at meeting them making them both feel at ease around you.

"Likewise," Sam was the first to recover, his shock still evident on his face.

"You two thought I was fake," you announced and watched them both scramble for an excuse. "It's ok, my job doesn't really allow me to be around as often as I'd like," you admitted, pressing into Joaquín's side.

"And what do you do for work? I'm pretty sure I could tell you your own favorite color before your job," Bucky joked, you laughed knowing that Joaquín would tell someone your favorite color before your job.

"I'm a profiler at the FBI's behavioral analysis unit," you explained. "I use the behavior pattern, method of murder, and a whole other things to find serial killers. And the occasional kidnap or bioweapon attack," you gave them the longer answer to the question since most people tend to not know what the BAU is. The four of you started to walk out of the airport and to the car, Joaquín holding your bag for you.

It wasn't anything new, the looks you got when you walked with Joaquín but these one's made you smile. You were talking with the boys, getting to know them as you talked. It was fun, you noticed that Joaquín was quiet most of the time but you also knew that with the drinks he would soon be talking, a lot.

"I love you," Joaquín mumbled as he leaned into you, you glanced at him with a smile. "Sam, Bucky, have I ever told you how much I love y/n?" Joaquín looked over at the two. You laughed at the way he tried to make it subtle but with the way he was leaning on you, and his not so quiet whispering, you could hear all his words.

"All the time," Sam answered.

"What about how when she smiles it's like time stops and the world is just revolving around her?" Joaquín had moved to wrap his arm around you, but was still stage whispering.

"That one's new," Bucky said, a smile gracing his face.

"Or, or, when I was immediately drawn to her laugh at the college party. She was playing beer pong and she laughed when her friend missed," Joaquín retold the story of the first time he saw you; however, you've never heard it.

"I didn't know that," you told Joaquín who looked at you weirdly.

"You didn't?" Sam was the one to ask.

"No, if I have the right party, then we didn't meet until a few days later in a shared class. We just happened to sit next to each other the one day that the professor made us pick our partner based on who was next to us," you explained, looking down at Joaquín who was staring at you with heart eyes.

"Well, we didn't know that one either," Sam told you and you smiled and let out a little laugh. You four talked a little bit more before Joaquín started to just ramble about how much he loved you.

"I guess we should get going," you laughed after one particularly loud declaration of love from Joaquín followed by a kiss to your cheek.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #mcu #cabnw #cabnw spoilers #marvel mcu

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cherryxbooo · 4 months ago

Text

We are a team

Summary: Y/N and Jungkook’s secret three-year relationship is exposed by Dispatch, leading to a wave of hate toward Y/N. Overwhelmed, she distances herself and spirals into self-doubt, but Jungkook’s unwavering love and public defense bring her back.

Note: First time writing for Jungkook even though I've been in the fandom for ages (ikr it's a shame). I tried giving it my own spin, so let me know what you think! Have a nice reading time cherries!

Reader x Jeon Jungkook

Genre: fluff/angst

I always knew my life was different, but I never really understood the full extent of how different it was until I started dating Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook wasn’t just any person; he was an idol, an icon. One of the seven members of BTS, the global sensation that had taken the world by storm.

He was everything anyone could dream of. Beautiful, talented, and charismatic beyond measure. And somehow, against all odds, I ended up with him. The truth is, it still doesn’t feel real sometimes.

But before all of the glitz and glamour, before the screaming fans and flashing cameras, there was just him and me.

It started like any other relationship, but it quickly turned into something that felt different from all the others.

The quiet dinners, the stolen moments at his apartment or mine, long talks about our dreams, our fears, and everything in between. We shared the same kind of energy, an unspoken understanding that didn’t need to be explained.

He could say so much with just one look, and I could do the same. It was a beautiful dance of balance—where I didn’t need the world to know us, where our love didn’t need to be validated by anyone.

For the first year, it was perfect. We kept our relationship private, just the way we wanted it.

His fame was an overwhelming beast, and my life, simple as it was, didn’t need the attention of the public.

Our love existed in these hidden pockets of time, these quiet, beautiful moments where only we mattered.

We could escape from the world and just be. And I loved it.

I had never expected to fall in love with someone like Jungkook. He wasn’t just a celebrity; he was kind, grounded, and so incredibly caring.

He was the type of person who would send me a message in the middle of a busy day just to ask how I was.

Or send me a random picture of something he thought I’d like, just because he knew it would make me smile.

I remember the first time he told me he loved me. It wasn’t a grand gesture or an elaborate confession.

It was on a rainy evening, curled up on the couch after a long day of practice. He looked at me with those deep, dark eyes, and said softly, “I love you, you know.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand in mine. “I know. I love you, too.”

It felt so simple, yet in that moment, it felt like the most important thing in the world. And that’s how it always was with him. Everything was simple, but it was everything.

But things change, even in the quietest of lives. The world has a funny way of pushing itself into places where it doesn’t belong.

It was the end of the year, a time when the media and Dispatch were notorious for revealing celebrity relationships.

Every year, they’d release the identities of new couples, always making headlines. I knew it was coming.

The pressure was mounting. People were starting to whisper. I had seen articles, blogs, and even fan accounts speculating about my relationship with Jungkook.

But none of it felt real. They didn’t know. No one did.

Then came that one fateful day. It was just like any other morning until I got the message.

I had just finished breakfast, my phone buzzing on the kitchen counter. I reached for it, not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

But there it was.

A picture of Jungkook and me, a candid shot from one of our rare outings in public. We had gone to a quiet café to grab some coffee, and somehow, someone had managed to snap the photo.

And just like that, Dispatch had their story. They had their moment.

It was one of those things that hit me like a freight train, a hard, cold reality. As soon as I saw the post, I felt the room spin. The caption was simple, yet it felt like a wrecking ball:

BTS’s Jeon Jungkook and his mystery girlfriend revealed!

dispatch

Liked by kpopteagiver, jungkookupdates, and 1,232,458 others

dispatch BTS’s Jeon Jungkook and his mystery girlfriend, revealed! Here's what we know: Jeon Jungkook member of BTS has been spotted several times with the same girl. Our sources confirmed the two to be a couple. The girls identity is also revealed, she's a normal university student that goes by the name of y/n. The pair has been together for 3 years apparently. Why Jungkook chose a regular girl instead of an idol is still a big mystery.

View all comments

jjk97lvrrr Ew what the hell?! Who is that. 🤢

bangtan4rver Jungkook can do so much better 🙄

boraaajk1 💔🤮

btsmylovly7 I can't believe this my babyyy jk 😭😢

jkfancam2019 Yesss fandom cleanse 🤭

hobixtaetae7 Some of you need to grow up smh he isn’t going to notice you so sit down damn 💀

chimschubbycheeks1 Nah fr, I mean we all saw it coming these fine men can't be single forever besides she seems nice

jinnymytime77 I agree, the ones that act like that are such a shame to our fandom.

The comments flooded in almost immediately.

“She’s so basic, why is he with her?”

“Doesn’t she know she’s just using him for fame?”

“I’m so disappointed in him. He deserves better.”

I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t even notice the tears that had started streaming down my face until I felt them drop onto my phone screen. It was like the world was collapsing around me.

I threw my phone onto the couch and buried my face in my hands. It wasn’t just the hate; it was the fact that the world now knew.

My private, peaceful life with Jungkook was no longer private.

The silence that had once surrounded us had been shattered.

The days that followed were a blur. Jungkook tried reaching out to me, sending me texts, calling me—but I couldn’t bring myself to answer him. I couldn’t find the words to tell him how broken I was.

I tried to ignore it. I tried to push it all down. But it was hard, so hard to ignore the flood of comments, the constant reminders of the hate and judgment that had suddenly filled my world.

I didn’t leave my apartment much. I spent most of my time locked in my room, scrolling through the endless comments that tore at me piece by piece.

It wasn’t just the hate from strangers, though. It was the pressure, the weight of it all. Jungkook had always been in the public eye.

He was used to it. But me? I was just a regular person, living a normal life. The spotlight that had never once been on me now seemed like a blinding floodlight, burning away every bit of my peace.

I distanced myself from everyone, even from Jungkook. I didn’t want him to see how weak I had become, how much the hate was getting to me.

I didn’t want him to feel guilty. I didn’t want to burden him with my pain.

But Jungkook wasn’t about to let me do that.

I was lying in bed one evening when I heard a soft knock on the door. I didn’t even have to guess who it was.

“Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Can we talk?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to lock myself away and pretend everything was fine. But I couldn’t do that anymore. Not with him.

I stood up slowly and opened the door, and there he was—his face drawn, worried, but still, unmistakably, the same Jungkook. My Jungkook.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his gaze never leaving me. I could see the worry in his eyes.

“Y/N, why are you doing this? I’ve been trying to reach you. You can’t just shut me out like this.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“I just... I can’t handle it, Jungkook. I can’t handle the hate, the comments, the constant pressure. I feel like I’m suffocating. I’m not strong enough for this. I don’t know how to handle the spotlight. It’s too much.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently cup my face. “You don’t have to handle it alone. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“But it’s not just about us,” I said, looking away. “It’s about you too. You’ve worked so hard for everything, and I’m just... messing it all up.”

He shook his head, his fingers brushing away the tears from my cheek.

“No, you’re not. Don’t you ever think that. You mean the world to me. The hate... It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re together. That’s all that matters.”

I felt the weight of his words in my chest, and slowly, I let myself lean into him, resting my head on his chest.

“I’m so scared, Kook. I’m scared of losing you, of ruining everything for you.”

Jungkook held me tighter, his voice soft but firm. “You won’t lose me. Never. I won’t let the media or anyone else get between us.”

I looked up at him, the tears still falling. “But what if it’s too much? What if I can’t do this?”

“You can,” he whispered, his hand gently stroking my hair.

“You can, because we’re a team. And I’ll be right here beside you, every step of the way.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to believe that everything would be okay.

That maybe, just maybe, we could get through this together.

Jungkook and I spent the next few hours sitting together, his presence a balm to the sharp pain in my chest.

He didn’t try to force words out of me or ask for any promises. Instead, he sat beside me, patiently waiting, letting me gather the strength to speak.

We didn’t need words to communicate. It was as if he knew exactly what I was feeling.

His hand, warm and reassuring, held mine, grounding me in the chaos of my emotions.

But even though he was here, with me, I still felt the weight of the world pressing down.

The constant barrage of notifications, the insults, the assumptions. All of it was suffocating.

I had always tried to live a quiet, unassuming life, away from the public eye.

I hadn’t signed up for this level of scrutiny. Yet here I was, caught in a storm I had no control over.

The following days were no easier. Despite Jungkook’s gentle reassurances and attempts to keep me grounded, I felt more alone than ever.

He would send me messages, voice notes, and even pop by my apartment when he could, but the pressure of it all was too much.

I couldn’t bring myself to face the outside world.

One day, I woke up to an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. The weight of the previous weeks had drained me, physically and emotionally.

The constant tension in my body had made it hard to sleep, and my mind felt like it was on a never-ending loop of worst-case scenarios.

I could hear the voices in my head telling me that maybe I wasn’t cut out for this life, that I was never meant to be a part of his world.

I looked at my phone. The notifications were still there—more comments, more articles, more people voicing their opinions. Some were kind, but many were filled with venom.

I read one comment that stood out:

“She doesn’t deserve him. She’s just another girl trying to ride his coattails. When is she going to leave him?”

I wanted to throw my phone across the room. The hurt was unbearable, and no matter how many times Jungkook reassured me, I couldn’t escape it.

The world was so quick to judge me, and I felt as if every part of my life was under a microscope. Every action, every word, every gesture was scrutinized.

I felt like I was drowning, and the shore was so far away.

But then, Jungkook did something unexpected. Something that, in that moment, I never knew I needed.

It was late in the evening, and I was once again buried under a mountain of blankets on the couch, staring at my phone.

The silence in my apartment felt suffocating, the glow of the screen the only thing that kept me company.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. I saw Jungkook’s name on the screen.

“I’m coming over. We need to talk.”

I knew he could sense my distance. He had been trying so hard to break through my walls, and for the most part, I had been shutting him out.

But this time, I couldn’t ignore him. My heart ached just at the thought of his face. I needed to see him.

I threw the blankets aside, quickly running my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself presentable.

By the time the doorbell rang, I was standing in the entryway, a mixture of relief and dread swirling inside me.

“Jungkook,” I whispered as I opened the door. He stood there, looking at me with a mixture of worry and determination.

His expression softened as soon as he saw me, and he immediately pulled me into a hug. His arms enveloped me, warm and familiar.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I should’ve noticed sooner. I never should have let you go through this alone.”

I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, and in that moment, I knew he was just as scared as I was. We were in this together.

No matter what the world said, we were a team, we are a team.

“Jungkook, I—” I started to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. The tears I had been holding back for days finally began to spill over.

My body shook with the force of my sobs, and I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to handle all this hate. It feels like I’m losing myself.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. His fingers gently wiped away my tears.

“You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. Always.”

His words didn’t magically make the pain go away, but they made me feel something I hadn’t in days—hope.

A small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could get through this with him by my side.

“I don’t want to lose you, Kook,” I whispered.

“I don’t want to be the one who drags you down. You’ve worked so hard for everything. I don’t want to be the reason your career is affected.”

Jungkook’s expression darkened, a fierce protectiveness overtaking him.

“Don’t you dare say that. We talked about this already. I don’t care about any of that. You are my priority, Y/N. Always. What they say... what they think... it doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that we’re okay. That you’re okay.”

His voice was firm, unwavering, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a sense of calm wash over me.

He was right. The world could say whatever they wanted, but as long as we were in this together, nothing else mattered.

The following weeks were a battle. I tried to keep a low profile, but the world seemed determined to keep me in the spotlight.

The media, the fans—everyone had an opinion. The comments never stopped, and the hate continued to pour in.

But Jungkook refused to let me face it alone. He was by my side every step of the way.

He would show up at my apartment, bring me food, hold me when the weight of it all became too much. He knew when I needed comfort, and he never hesitated to offer it.

There were nights when we would just lay together, talking about everything and nothing, trying to distract ourselves from the world outside.

He kept reassuring me, telling me that this was just a phase.

“People will come around,” he would say, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“They’ll see the real you, Y/N. And when they do, they’ll love you as much as I do.”

And slowly, over time, I began to believe him.

A turning point came when I received a message from one of my close friends, who had been keeping an eye on my social media accounts.

She told me that there was a shift happening. People were starting to see me for who I was—not just as Jungkook’s girlfriend, but as a person.

The comments started to change. There was more positivity, more support.

“I don’t know how this happened, Y/N,” she said, “but you’ve become something of an icon. People are really starting to love you. Your personality shines through. Keep being yourself. That’s all you need to do.”

It was a revelation that hit me like a ton of bricks. In the midst of all the hate, there was love.

There were people who saw beyond the headlines, beyond the rumors. They saw me. And that made all the difference.

As time went on, the media’s obsession with me began to fade. People who once tore me apart started to support me, praising my strength, my resilience.

The negativity was still there, but it no longer consumed me.

Jungkook, too, seemed to find peace in the shift. As he saw the public warming to me, he grew more relaxed, even a little playful.

He would tease me, jokingly asking if I had become the “queen of social media” now that everyone loved me.

“Don’t get too big-headed now,” he would say with a grin, pretending to be jealous of all the attention I was getting.

I would laugh, playfully nudging him. “Maybe I should start charging for autographs.”

“You’re already stealing the spotlight from me,” he would joke, but there was always a warmth in his eyes. “I’m the jealous one now.”

And in those moments, everything felt right again. I knew we had weathered the storm, and no matter what the world threw our way, we would face it together.

The day finally came when I stood in front of the mirror, ready to face the world again.

The pain, the heartbreak, the endless nights of crying—everything felt like it had been worth it.

I had fought, and I had come out stronger. The world had tried to break me, but I wasn’t going anywhere.

And Jungkook? He was right beside me, as always. Together, we had survived.

Months passed, and life seemed to return to some semblance of normalcy.

The media had moved on to other scandals, other stories to report. The spotlight on Jungkook and me had dimmed, but the consequences of the past still lingered like a shadow that refused to fade completely.

Jungkook and I had become experts at navigating the delicate balance between public attention and private moments. We’d learned to take the good with the bad.

On days when the media tried to spin stories that were less than flattering, we laughed it off, knowing we had each other.

On days when the weight of the world felt unbearable, we leaned on one another and found comfort in our shared silence.

It wasn’t always easy. There were still days when I would scroll through my social media and see a comment that hurt—something cruel, something unnecessary.

The pain would flare up, and the temptation to retreat back into myself would always be there.

But Jungkook’s words echoed in my mind: “We’re a team. Together, we can handle anything.” And with him by my side, I slowly began to believe it.

One afternoon, we sat together in our favorite café, a quiet little spot hidden in the heart of Seoul.

The world outside was bustling, but inside, it felt like we were in our own little bubble, away from the chaos.

Jungkook leaned over the table, his gaze soft and tender as he reached for my hand.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice serious yet filled with a hint of playfulness.

“We should go somewhere. Just the two of us. No cameras, no distractions. Somewhere where we can be ourselves, without all the noise.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Where?”

He smiled, that mischievous smile that always made my heart flutter. “It’s a surprise. But I promise it’ll be perfect.”

I didn’t need to ask any more questions. I trusted him completely. Jungkook had always been someone who knew how to make me feel special, even in the most ordinary moments.

It was one of the reasons I fell for him in the first place—his ability to turn every moment into something meaningful.

Days later, we found ourselves on a private jet, heading to a secluded beach on a small island far from the hustle and bustle of the city.

It was just the two of us, free to be whoever we wanted to be without the weight of public expectations hanging over us.

The air was warm, the sky a perfect shade of blue, and the ocean stretched out before us in a shimmering expanse.

It felt like we were the only two people in the world.

Jungkook took my hand as we walked along the shoreline, the sound of the waves crashing against the sand filling the air.

“This is it,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “Just us. No one else.”

I looked at him, a sense of peace washing over me. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe freely again.

The media, the hate, the drama—none of it mattered in this moment. All that mattered was that we were together.

“You’re right,” I said softly. “This is perfect.”

Jungkook stopped walking and turned to face me, his expression soft and earnest.

“I know it’s been hard, Y/N. I know I can’t take away all the pain you’ve been feeling, but I hope you know that I’m always here for you. Through everything.”

My heart swelled with emotion as I looked into his eyes.

“I know, Kook. And I’ll never take that for granted. You’ve been my rock, even when everything seemed impossible.”

He smiled, pulling me into a tight hug. “You’re stronger than you think. And you don’t have to face anything alone. I’ve got you, always.”

We stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s arms, surrounded only by the sound of the waves and the soft rustling of the breeze.

It was a moment of pure tranquility, a brief respite from the chaos that had ruled our lives for so long.

The following days were filled with laughter, adventure, and a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in months.

We explored the island, tried new foods, and spent hours simply enjoying each other’s company.

There were no cameras, no headlines—just us, living in the moment.

On the last night of our trip, we sat on the beach, watching the sun set over the horizon.

The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, and the air was thick with the scent of saltwater and sand.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” I murmured, leaning my head on Jungkook’s shoulder.

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arm around me. “Maybe not forever. But I’d like to come back here with you someday. Just the two of us.”

I smiled, the warmth of his words filling me with happiness. “I’d like that too.”

We sat in comfortable silence, watching as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky. For once, the weight of the world felt light. It was just us, and that was enough.

When we returned to Seoul, the world seemed to have shifted. The media had, for the most part, stopped hounding me.

I was no longer just Jungkook’s girlfriend. Slowly but surely, I had carved out my own space in the public eye, not as a reflection of him, but as my own person.

People began to recognize me not just as an idol’s partner, but as someone who had her own strengths, her own dreams, and her own voice.

It wasn’t easy. There were still days when the negativity would creep in. But now, I was able to handle it with more confidence.

I had Jungkook to thank for that. His unwavering support, his belief in me, and his constant encouragement had helped me rediscover myself.

One day, as we were walking down the street, hand in hand, a group of fans approached us.

They were excited, but this time, instead of shying away, I smiled and waved. They returned the gesture, some of them even shouting how much they loved me.

It was a surreal feeling—a far cry from the hate and venom I had experienced not long ago.

Jungkook squeezed my hand, his grin wide. “Look at you. You’re practically a star now.”

I rolled my eyes, playfully shoving him. “Stop being dramatic. I’m just me.”

But in that moment, I realized something. I had become more than just “Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

I had become my own person—someone people admired, someone they saw for who I truly was.

Jungkook chuckled, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Well, I’ll admit it. I’m a little jealous of how many people adore you now.”

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Jealous? You? The Jeon Jungkook is jealous?”

He smirked. “What can I say? You’re a hot treasure.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re the only one who matters, Kook. Don’t forget that.”

As time passed, our relationship continued to thrive. The media, while still watching us closely, began to accept us.

People no longer saw me as an outsider, but as a part of Jungkook’s world, and in many ways, a part of the K-pop community.

I wasn’t just his girlfriend—I was Y/N, a woman who had fought through adversity and come out stronger on the other side.

And through it all, Jungkook remained my rock. He never wavered in his love for me, and I never wavered in mine for him.

We had weathered the storm together, and we knew that, no matter what came next, we would face it hand in hand.

One evening, as we sat together, watching the sunset from our apartment, Jungkook turned to me with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft,

“I don’t think I could’ve made it through all of this without you. You’ve taught me a lot. You’ve shown me that love isn’t just about the good times. It’s about sticking together when things get tough.”

I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. “I think we’ve both learned that. And we’ll keep learning, together.”

He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering for a moment. “I love you, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know.”

“I love you too, Kook,” I whispered back. “And I always will.”

"You're such a sap when being emotional."

"Shut up y/n, you love it."

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yourusername Little last months photo dumb 🫶

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jjk97 🩷 Liked by author

j.m Did my invite get lost in the mail?

thv Seems like mine got lost too

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jimjimtae_1 She's so prettyyy

euphoriajk7 She's living the life purr 💅

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joonieslicenses12 Get your negativity out of here 🤦‍♀️Jungkook isn't going to pick you 💀

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jin Relaxation 🤨? Get back to work.

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mirohlayo · 1 year ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/mirohlayo/736270231017865216/my-introvert-girl-ln4?source=share

Is it bad I wanna see avas reaction andl her showing everyone she hates reader?

okay so i didn't intend to write a part 2 for my introvert girl but many anons asked me for ava's reaction so here is it !! 🫶

MY INTROVERT GIRL | LN4 (pt2)

( lando and you are finally together, but it seems one girl still hates you no matter what )

warning : slight angst, insecurity, fluff, like a lil innuendo but that's all, soft lando

note : not gonna write a part 3 because i think it's useless, but already pretty proud of these 2 parts !!

word count : 4k

!! english not my first language !!

lando and you are dating for quite some weeks now. and everything is going wonderfully. he has never been so in love, and therefore the same for you. he loves you so much and he's never tired of showing it, you being overwhelmed by his affection.

he doesn't hesitate to show the entire world how precious you are to him, and if he has to prove it until everyone notices that you are his he will do it for eternity. and you would do the same for him without a doubt, he is your first boyfriend ever and certainly the last of your life.

your love is so intense and can be feel wherever you two go, that necessarily it does not go unnoticed. especially in the eyes of the pretty blonde who obviously feels the same feelings for lando as you. even if it's always good to remember that lando only has eyes for you and only you.

and it gets on ava's nerves. when she knew about you dating, her jealousy towards you has only increased. she saw red. she was horrified by this sudden new. she was sure lando would ends up dating her because there was no world in which he would have ended up with an introvert like you.

she finds you so bland. uninteresting. you're not comfortable with people and being shy you're not talkative. and you're always stuck on lando's side as if you were going to die if you didn't stay close to him.

and the fact that lando doesn't see anything wrong with it and isn't even a little annoyed by your behavior because he adores when his girl gets clingy. he always ends up staring at you with tenderness like you are the most beautiful thing in the world.

you here, you there. ava hates it. she detests you. if we would offer her the choice to break your couple she would do it without hesitation. and this is obviously what she intends to do. because since she sees no point in lando dating his complete opposite, such an introvert girl. no, he needs an funny and extrovert girl like ava to match him.

winter break allows the f1 drivers to relax and to rest, to spend time with their loved ones. lando was looking forward to it since it's his first winter break with you, so he wants to make the most of it to spend as much time as possible with you.

he organized many trips, one of them is a trip to vietnam. some of his closest friends will take part in the trip, including ava. normally, she wasn't supposed to come but ria had an hold up so she ended up replacing her. to her greatest happiness of course.

for your part, you weren't comfortable with going on this trip with the blonde girl. you know very well how much she hates you and that she wants to ruin your romantic relationship. you don't want to alert lando or anyone else, you don't want to create problems because it's not in your nature unlike ava. so you just decided not to say anything.

you told yourself that putting up with her presence and her stupid remarks for a week wasn't going to be that complicated. and then you'll be with your lover most of the time, so ava won't be able to speak to you much. ignoring her will be the best solution.

you arrived two days ago now, and after eating you all decided to spend the afternoon on the beach playing games like volleyball or even mini football. nothing but just activities for fun.

everyone is excited to play games, but you're not really in the mood. you're feeling a little tired and you just don't feel like having fun right now. on the one hand, your shyness also forces you to stay locked up in the hotel. you like playing games but you're afraid of making a fool of yourself in front of others. especially in front of ava.

so you inform lando about it, that you weren't coming, and he told you that he wasn't going to leave the hotel and stay with you either.

"baby it's okay, i'll stay in the hotel room. go play with the others" you say to him before slip in under the blanket. "no. if you don't go then neither do i. i’ll stay with you" he retorts, joining you in the bed.

he places himself above you, his chest on yours and his arms tightly wrap your waist. "please lando. i know how much you want to spend time with your friends so i would never refuse that to you. i don't want you to stay locked up because of me" you say to convince him.

"but that's the point, i want to stay locked up with you baby. you’re the one i want to spend time with the most. i don't really care about the others for now. if you stay here, then me too. i just want you with me” he pouts, and places his chin on your stomach.

you look down to plant your eyes in his gaze and he shows you his prettiest smile. what an adorable man. "okay fine. but i don't want you to be mad at me for that later" you warn him. "never. i would never blame you, love” he said before hiding his head in the crook of your neck.

"love you" he muffles and his breath tickles you. "i love you too lan" you says before pressing a soft kiss on his hair. you start playing with his curls, while he's here holding you close, leaving some kisses here and there on your shoulder and neck.

an hour passes like this, you two cuddling close to each other. a text from max makes lando's phone vibrate and he groans. he extends his hand lazily and grab his phone to read the text. "what he's saying ?" you ask, sounding sleepy. "if we're going to join them or not" he replies sounding the same as you.

you think for a few moments. lando was going to put his phone down on the nightstand when you finally suggest that you must go out and join the others on the beach. "are you sure? do you really want to go outside?" he asks you cautiously, his tired eyes scanning your face. "yes. i want to stretch out. your body made me sag" you tease him and he rolls his eyes letting out a laugh. “just say i'm too heavy” “no you’re perfect baby”.

he can't help but blush so hard. god it's the first time that a girl has had such an effect on him. and it seems that it flutters him even more coming from an introvert. "fine. let's go then my girl" he says and in a second you're already outside, walking hand in hand to join your friends.

“it looks like the sloths are back” pietra says, nodding towards the couple arriving on the beach. “we didn’t even sleep” lando responds defensively. “oh so you must have done dirty things then" max said playfully, giving implied glances to the two lovers.

lando can feel himself blushing really hard, just like you. “shut up you muppet. you're saying bullshit" you reply embarrassed. everyone seems amused by the situation except of course one person.

ava.

she seems to be killing you with her gaze, looking you up and down like you're the plague itself. of course lando doesn't notice, too hypnotized by the beautiful girl walking beside him. he almost falls to the ground because of you.

“well, looks like y/n finally got the guts to show herself. which is rare with her, we almost wonder if she even exists sometimes.” ava looks at you and displays a fake, hypocritical smile. no one seems to laugh at her remark and the atmosphere becomes uncomfortable. you don't know where to go or how to react. you feel a little humiliated to tell the truth.

"huh, what did you say ?" lando remarks, a little confused by what the blonde just said. the girl sighs and rolls her eyes before showing her smile that you dream of making her swallow. “oh it’s okay, it was just kidding. we all know that y/n isn’t comfortable with people but i love her anyway” she finally added.

you feel like shit. she's talking like you're the worst scumbag on earth and you don't even have the strength to defend yourself. your shyness seems to be taking over. "um well. okay ava just stop talking and instead start playing. you've been losing every round since a while ago" martin says to lighten the atmosphere because everyone seemed disturbed and embarrassed by the situation.

you sigh and slowly drop lando's hand, but he holds it tightly and looks at you. “don't worry baby, i'm going to stay with you. we can relax on the deckchairs if you prefer” lando kindly offers you, he wants to make you feel comfortable.

“as you wish” you shrug your shoulders trying to hide your sadness and pain and lando smiles at you before leading you towards the deckchairs. he lays down comfortably on one and you move towards another one close to his. but he grabs your hand and makes you sit on his legs. “lie on me love” he begs you with his eyes.

you smile shyly at him and stand up. "nah. we're in public lando, i don't want to receive all the teasing from our friends" you declare before lying down on another deckchair. he pouts, disappointed not to feel your body against his. he even brings his deckchair closer to yours so he can hold your hand, or play with a few strands of your hair.

the sun is strong and the beach umbrella protects you, with of course the sunscreen that you put on before. the waves dance loudly and the laughter of your friends fills the atmosphere with joy. it's calming.

well, it was calming for a little while. ava noticed that you weren't with them playing a game of volleyball and while scanning the surroundings, she spotted you on the deckchairs, silly smiles on your races and lando being extremely touchy with you.

she hates this view. she hates you. she would like to tear off your smile and make you disappear. she already imagines herself in your place, laughing loudly with lando. you are not in your place. it's her. you don't deserve lando.

she walks briskly towards the two of you, and your faces turn towards her. the blonde smiles hypocritically and without any hesitation, she sits on the edge of your lover's deckchair. which you don't like at all. and neither does lando, since he doesn't wait a single second to gently push her with his leg.

she seems hurt and shows it openly, putting her hand to her heart to express her pain ironically. "you hurt me lando. i thought we were friends" she said in a sad tone. “we kind of are. but this place is reserved for my girlfriend only” he answers, holding your hand tighter.

you feel more reassured and you feel your heart soar at the words of your lover. he knows when to show others that it's only you who matters. this comment makes ava roll her eyes, but it's subtle enough that only you notice. she sits on another deck chair and turns to you.

“why don’t you come play with us?” she starts to start a conversation. “y/n doesn’t really want to and neither do i, so i'm staying with her.” lando says and she lets a mocking laugh come out of her mouth and you look at her surprised. “it looks like you’re babysitting her” she says, laughing.

did you hear that correctly? is she serious? you can't let this go. “what did you say?” you ask with a frown. she lets another laugh escape and it also attracts lando's attention. "you seem like you're a baby who always needs lando's attention. he looks like a babysitter because of you"

it’s lando’s turn to frown. he holds your hand a little more firmly. “what do you mean ava?” he says, he knows something is wrong. the blonde sighs deeply and rolls her eyes, glaring at y/n.

"look, she's not even capable of playing with others and having fun. she's stopping you from having good times. she's so shy and... introverted that she's ruining your holidays, even your personal space. she's always stuck to you, it seems like she doesn't know how to cope without you it's just... pathetic." she unpacks it all while looking at you with disgust.

oh you feel so humiliated now. you feel tears coming but you hold them back, crying in front of her will only make things worse. you feel so weak and worthless. you blame yourself for being so insecure, being so shy and reserved. because maybe it's the truth.

maybe lando is finally fed up with you and he hates being around you, stuck with an ordinary and shy person like you. he probably can't have the fun he wants because of your shyness. maybe it's true, you're like a child who's ruining his life.

"don't ever talk about her that way again. you really disgust me ava. you don't even measure up to her and you dare open your fucking mouth to say bullshit" lando starts to raise his voice. you can tell he looks extremely angry.

“oh because you also want to defend her?” she asks mockingly. "i defend her and will defend her no matter what happens. you don't have to talk to my girlfriend like that when she is everything you will never be" he spits his words in her face and gives her a cold look.

he jumps up and holds your hand tightly. when his gaze falls on you, it softens. “come on y/n. let’s go back to the hotel” he pulls you towards him and walks you to the hotel pushing ava out of the way. “get out. i don’t want to see you anymore.” he says his last words to her.

the blonde remains standing, alone. a strange, painful and hurtful feeling takes hold of her. the rest of the group stopped playing, observing the scene. now it's ava's turn to feel humiliated. why did she do that?

for your part, you and Lando return to your hotel room. it's silent. he opens the door and you run to take refuge in the bed, so that he joins you a few seconds later. "don't worry baby. don't listen to her, she's talking nonsense. she just wants to destroy you" lando tries to reassure you and you just nod your head.

you smile at him to reassure him in turn, although deep down you are still a little worried. you're still a little hurt. a part of you tells you that it's true, that Lando doesn't like being constantly stuck to you. you don't like it at all.

the rest of the afternoon passes quickly for your boyfriend, but slowly for you. you can't stop overthinking, thinking about ava's words. part of your brain still makes you believe that you don't deserve lando and that he will be better off with ava. it eats you from the inside. you don't like to doubt lando but ava makes you feel vulnerable and insecure.

and your boyfriend noticed it. he noticed that you had become quieter, you only spoke to him very recently. and he starts to worry about you. he suspects deep down that it's because of earlier that you seem off. so he knows exactly what to do.

he proposed, well more like forced you to watch the sunset, just the two of you, him and you on the beach. no group of friends, no ava, no games, no, just the two of you on the beach. you weren't for it at first but you love sunsets and night walks on the beach, so you finally gave up. especially if it's with lando. you walk hand in hand on the warm sand. the waves rock your ears and the sun slowly begins to set on the horizon. how beautiful. you find a comfortable spot and sit down, lando still holding your hand in his.

he gently caresses it with his thumb, pressing a few random kisses on the back of your hand. he rests your head on his shoulder, and you admire the magnificent landscape in the distance. it's soothing, it's romantic.

"beautiful right?” lando murmurs against you, staring into the distance. you smile to yourself. “very beautiful” “just like you” he responds quickly and you can tell he’s grinning. you laugh softly and shake your head. “how cheesy” you blurt out and it’s his turn to let out a soft laugh.

oh his laugh.

although you still hide it, lando knows he needs to talk to you. that he must reassure you. that he has to make you sure how much he loves you and that he would literally do anything for you. because you're the only girl who makes it feel this good.

“y/n” he whispers your name so softly, and it warms your heart. “hmm babe?” you hum. he moves to get a little closer to you and rests his head on yours. "i know what you're thinking about since this afternoon” he begins cautiously not wanting to rush you. he knows your nature.

"w-what ?" you try to hide. but you know very well that he knows you by heart. “please don’t try to avoid the subject. you know what i'm talking about.” he ends up saying.

you sigh. you know you have to talk to him about it, it will only do you good. “yes sorry.” "don't feel sorry love. take your time". he said in such a caring way. he presses a soft kiss against your hair. and another on your cheek. he loves kissing your face so much.

you take a deep breath. you press your hand a little more against his. "it's just... it's just that i feel so insecure when ava talks about me like that. i keep telling myself that i don't deserve you, that you deserve someone who looks like you and who is not your opposite. like ava". you pause but you know he continues to be attentive and listen to you.

"i..." you continue "i keep thinking that it must bore you to stay constantly and always with me. that my shyness surely prevents you from having fun and enjoying your life to the fullest. that i'm like a drag and dating an introvert like me is a bad idea” you finish, tears soon escaping your eyes.

now he faces you. he looks at you with so much gentleness, so much affection and love. his gaze becomes sadder when he hears what is on your heart and his heart suddenly tightens at your words. he hates hearing you talk about yourself like that, devaluing you when all he loves about you is what you're insecure about.

“my baby…” he whispers and places his hands on your cheeks, caressing them gently. he wipes with his thumb a tear that has just escaped your eyes. he places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and smiles affectionately at you.

"i wish you could see you through my eyes". he places another kiss on your forehead. the sun illuminates his face, the waves seem to transport you.

"i fucking love you. like fucking fucking love you. it's me who doesn’t deserve you. it's me who should hate myself for not always making you feel secure about me and our relationship" he explains. "i don't care about ava, you know that. she is absolutely nothing compared to you. it's not her or someone like her that i want. it's you. you're the only one i want and need so badly".

his hands slide to grab yours. "being constantly by your side is the best thing in the world. i don't care if we are in the worst place in the world, in the worst possible situation, as long as i am with you and by your side i know that everything will be fine. there's nowhere i'd like to be without you. it's just impossible. all i fucking want is to stay with you as long as possible."

he smiles brightly at you before finishing. "and your shyness will not change my love for you or how i live my life. i fell in love with you because of this side of you, because you are introverted and you are so much my opposite that i am extremely attracted to you. it's like that. so don't blame yourself, because i don't want you to change that even though it doesn't even bother me a little bit. i love it. i adore you. i love you and i love you. love you and i will always love you"

you sure you look like nothing now. your eyes must probably be puffy and red but that's okay. lando doesn't care too. you can't help but smile at him with all your teeth. “i love you so much lando. i love you with all my heart and that will never change” you whisper against his neck.

he places thousands of kisses on your head, caressing your back. god how much he loves you too, your love is so deep and strong. “hope it'll never change then” he adds and puts his arms around your waist, bringing you as close to his body as possible.

and without a word, in a calming silence, you stay in each other's arms until the sun sets completely. a starry sky now paints the night. you are still glued to each other, your head on your lover's stretched out legs. you admire the stars while he admires you. it's perhaps one of his favorite activities. just looking at you, like the most beautiful paintings in the world. but soon you notice that he doesn't pay attention to the sky and you point this out to him, teasing him.

“look at the sky, it's so pretty” you hum “but you're prettier” he simply retorts, telling the truth. you roll your eyes and let out a small laugh. “never tired of being cheesy” you laugh shyly. “never” he adds while smiling. but he ends up raising his head towards the sky. it is true that the stars are infinitely beautiful. they shine so much, and he can't help but describe them like that, as he describes you the same way. he runs his hand through your hair, eyes anchored to the stars.

“do you see all these stars?” he asks and you hum in response. "i would hunt them all for you if you asked me. i would bring them all to you if that's what you want. ask me to bring down the moon and i would do it without hesitation just for you" he said softly, a silly smile on his lips.

you can’t help but burst out laughing. “how romantic” you tease him but deep down you melt, feeling so confident after all those sweet words. he lowers his head to look at you, smiling fully.

he admires you for a moment, take in your features. his heart never stops beating faster at the sight of you, even after weeks of being in a relationship. and he leans down to finally kiss you, his lips capturing yours perfectly. gosh he loves kissing you so much, he might never stop. he pulls back and pecks your nose.

“love you always, my introvert girl” he smiles softly.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #ln4 x reader

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sturnslutz · 1 month ago

Text

longing

2k words, cursing, fluff mainly, the start of something new, it feels so right, to be here with you, ohhhhh!!!! (high school musical reference and if u didn't get it, pls educate urself bc matt and goldie both have a unknowing love for high school musical)

you hated being an outsider. sure, it was nice to get some quiet time to study, or to edit your pictures. but other times, it was just plain lonely.

photography has been your passion for who knows how long. you had begged your parents for a camera when you were younger, and you loved taking pictures. it was something you were good at, and you loved doing it.

when you learned that one of the triplets had joined the photography club as another member, you couldn't believe it. you were the first and only member of the club for most of high school, but nick joining made it even better.

you and nick quickly became friends, and he loved the fact that the both of you were so passionate about photography and that he has someone else that he could geek over taking pictures with.

it didn't take long for him to tell you almost everything about him. you had already known somewhat about him, because how couldn't you? his brothers were some of the most known people in the school.

matt and chris. star lacrosse players. the ones who first started the lacrosse team. once their team grew, which was oddly quick, you were quickly called to start taking pictures for the school website, the team instagram, the yearbook, etc.

that's how your crush on matt became. he was beautiful, and he moved with such ease. he was both goalie and defense and you took the most pictures of him, without even realizing it.

once nick and you became friends, he quickly caught on to your crush on his brother. it was blatantly obvious, anyway. whenever matt had passed by you and nick talking in the halls, sometimes sparing a small glance at you, nick saw how you traced matt's movements with your eyes.

nick wasn't against it at all either, more so trying to get the both of you together. more likely the whole school knew about matt and his messy past relationship with his ex, violet. she was the school "mean girl" as some call it. she just loved attacked the quieter kids, and that included you.

matt and her have been together and broken up more times than people can count, and some even have a bet on when they're getting back together. this time is currently the longest they've been broken up, and it's been about 4 weeks. it's clear that violet has been trying to get matt's attention again, but you've noticed he isn't really reciprocating it.

"she's like all over him again. he was telling me how he's getting so fucking annoyed and- fuck sorry this sandwich is too good." nick said as took a bite out of his turkey sandwich while talking. you two were currently at the local cafe, one that everyone goes to whenever they're free.

"don't choke on me now, i don't know the heimlich." you giggled softly before taking a small sip out of your iced coffee. "knowing that if i choke and possibly die, and the most you can do is just stare at me hurts my soul, goldie. cmon now." he exaggerates as he shakes his head, before taking another bite.

"but as i was saying, he's sick of her. he wants them to be officially done, and he's told her, but she just keeps ignoring him. you would be so much better for him, i'm telling you." you sigh, looking down at your cup, swishing it around softly.

"we don't even know each other like that, and i doubt he even knows who i am." nick scoffs, laughing. "he knows who you are, bitch. i talk about you all the fucking time with them, you guys just need to actually talk, he'll warm up to you soon enough."

you shrug softly, looking around at the people around you. "i don't know. you know i will freeze if i ever talk to him, to anyone really." he laughs, nodding. "trust me, i know. remember first day i walked into photo club and you looked at me like you saw a ghost? had me overthinkin' and thought i had shit on my face."

you were about to say something, but the cafe door opened, the bell on top ringing indicating someone entered. you and nick both turned to look curiously, and your heart dropped.

matt, chris, violet, and some other lacrosse players and some of violet's friends walk in, them all loud in conversation. nick turned around, eyes wide. "i did not know they were going to be here. fuck-" his words are interupted as chris yells his name loudly, getting some stares from others in the cafe.

"nick! we didn't know you would be here!" he says as he walks over, ruffling up nick's hair a bit, before looking up at you. his face twists a bit in confusion but stays silent. "um, you're... maddie? no- wait. sophia? fuck no. i'm sorry, what's your name?" he asks, genuinely a bit embarrassed that he didn't know your name, or even nickname.

"her name's goldie. and can you guys not walk over here? we were having a private conversation." nick says, answering for you. chris smiles a bit at you at the remembrance of your name, giving you a small nod before looking down at nick. "didn't mean to interrupt, my bad. matt's probably gonna say hi, then we'll leave you alone."

you look up once again, past chris, seeing matt walking over. violet trails behind him, seemingly talking to matt but he's just ignoring her. he meets your eye for a second as he's walking over, before breaking it and looking at chris and nick.

nick looks at you again, having an apologetic look in his eyes. your heart begins racing, and you can't miss the way heat rushes to your face, before desperately drinking your iced coffee, something cold to at least try to bring the heat down a bit.

"yo, what's up kid." matt mutters as he pats nick's back, slightly turning his head to see if violet is still behind him, and when she is, he rolls his eyes, gaining a small snicker out of chris.

matt looks over at you, with almost the same confused face chris had, but he talks. "you're goldie right? we have pre calc together." he says softly, examining you. your face is probably red as a beet right now, but you still manage to nod. "y-yeah. we do." he nods, looking over you once more, smiling softly before engaging in a bit of small talk with chris as violet remains glued behind him. "that drink looks good as fuck, goldie. what is that?" chris says abruptly, but softly not to spook you.

"um, it's the iced vanilla coffee with extra caramel." chris looks at matt, who's looking at you, nodding. "that sounds really good." matt says softly, running a hand through his hair before looking down at his phone for something.

nick looks at you with wide, happy eyes and smiles. you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before looking back down into your drink, the ice seemingly becoming more interesting than everything else.

matt says something to nick before talking to you again. "me and chris are gonna go buy some shit then we'll leave. nice seeing you, goldie." he says, before walking away with chris. you nod, smiling up at him as your eyes follow after him. what you didn't notice was violet's glare at you as matt walked away, before she quickly followed after him.

nick lets out a quiet, high pitched squeal, grabbing your right hand tightly. "you talked to him! that's such a big step, gold. and he knew who you were, and recognized you. im freaking out for you." you giggle softly, nodding. "i know, im probably as red as a fucking cherry though."

he shrugs. "who even cares. not like they haven't blushed before. did you see violet's face when he was talking to you?" you shook your head. "she was looking at me? i didn't even notice." you say softly, smiling at your joke. nick laughs, "she's such a fucking attention seeker, always starting shit for no reason. i'll watch out for you, though. who knows what that wicked bitch could do."

your eyes drift back to matt, and watch him as the barista called his name. "matt, medium iced vanilla coffee with extra caramel!" that's the exact same thing you got. matt looks over a bit, feeling someone's stare on him. once he notices it's you, he smirks a bit, taking a sip of the drink and nodding, before turning back around to his friends.

"he got the same thing i got." you whisper so quietly, nick almost didn't hear you. "what?" he said, as your eyes look back over to him. "chris asked me what drink i got, and matt said it sounds really good, and he ordered the same thing. when he noticed i was looking, he smirked and nodded. that can't be a fucking coincidence, right?"

nick shakes his head no while smiling. "maybe he's longing for you too."

a little bit after that, matt and chris and their friends head out, nick and you leaving a short time after that. you were currently in bed, doing some homework while on facetime with nick. "i just had the craziest fucking idea, and you might hate me for it." nick says, after some silence between you two.

"i won't hate you, what is it?" you say, paying no real attention to him as your fingers continued typing virgoursly across the keyboard. "when i came home, matt and chris were talking about him and violet, and chris was saying how matt needs to date someone else, and matt said something along the lines of, "i mean i think i'm ready, i just don't know who it would be. every girl in the school is friends with violet." so guess who i thought of? you. you aren't friends with her!"

nick's words spike interest in your head, as you look over at him with a confused look. "okay.. and your point is?" nick set up his phone on his desk, smiling. "i want to give matt your number."

you stop typing completely, with your breath caught in your throat. "no, nick. absolutely no way." "cmon, goldie! just hear me out. i mention to him i have a friend he could be interested in, and i give him your number. but the twist is, i don't tell him who you are."

"how the fuck is that going to work? he's never gonna talk to some girl who he doesn't even know." nick tsks, shaking his head. "he has a secret he doesn't tell anyone, not anyone besides me and chris. he loves that slowburn, mystery shit. y'know the movies where it's like longing and sappy romance shit? he loves that. actually obsessed with it, even. so i don't have any doubt he'll actually be against the idea."

"nick, i don't know. is that not weird?" you say softly, fidgeting with your hair. "relax, it's not. and i'll even tell him that you know, and it's only him that doesn't. it'll give you both the opportunity to get to know each other, and you won't be as scared as much to talk to him. who knows, maybe it'll be love." he smirks as he moves his eyebrows, as you let out a little laugh.

"okay, fine. let's do it." nick cheers. "okay, when i go back downstairs, i'll ask to talk to him privately so it won't be weird in front of chris. knowing matt, he'll probably be just a teensy bit hesitant, but i'll get him to warm up to it. this is going to be great, goldie."

"yeah, let's hope so." after a bit more time, nick hangs up, letting you know that he's going downstairs to go talk to matt.

after about 20 minutes, your phone vibrates. you still, not making a move to check it yet, but when another text comes in, you can't help yourself.

***-***-**** | 23:43

"hey mystery girl"

"it's matt but u prob know that already"

divider creds: @sisterlucifergraphics

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