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finelinefae · 6 months ago

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sunshine girl (tutor!harry)

synopsis: y/n struggles to concentrate and harry offers to help

word count: 6.6k

contains: reader has adhd, fluff, mentions of mental health, brief mention of medication, shy harry

a/n: i haven't written a soft girl sunday concept in a while and this was requested on wattpad quite some time ago. I personally do not have adhd but I've tried my best to research as much as i could in order to write this. if there's anything wrong or anything i need to change, pls let me know as I'm completely open to understanding and learning more !!!!! <333

. . .

Harry’s eyes darted to the seat next to his as the professor stood in front of the class to begin the lecture. His notebook was open, his pen in hand already prepared to take notes on the current book they were studying for their literature class. He chewed the inside of his cheek, his left foot adorned by a high-top, black Converse shoe tapping against the floor.

His ears pricked when the door clicked open and his sunshine girl walked into the room, bringing the light in with her. “Hi,” Y/N blushed, bowing her head down in hopes it would divert people’s attention back to the professor and not to her tardiness, “Sorry I’m late,”

The professor didn’t seem surprised but was no more impressed by her lateness. He shook his head and returned to his place in the presentation.

Harry stiffened as she slid into the seat beside him, catching the sweet smell of her perfume. It smelt exactly like the cinnamon latte he had that morning and the salted caramel ice cream he ate after dinner last night. All the sweet things he came across reminded him of her.

Her baby pink ballet flat accidentally hit against the tip of his beaten, old Converse. He inhaled, sensing her attention on him and finally looking at her face. “Hi Harry,” She whispered, smiling. Her cheeks were still pink from how flustered she was walking into class. Her hair was in a messy braid, secured with a silk scrunchie on the end and she looked so cosy in the pink, knitted sweater and blue jeans she had decided to wear.

“Hey,” Harry replied. He wouldn’t often find himself replying to people in class - not that he spoke to many people anyway - but he’d always respond to Y/N, always.

Y/N grinned, pulling out her notebooks from her backpack and placing them on the desk. The corner of Harry’s lips tugged upwards when he saw each of her notebooks labelled in pink sharpie pen with the names of her classes scribbled across them.

“Oh no,” She huffed, “I left my literature notebook on my desk,”

Before she could even ask, Harry was already scrambling to tear out a few pages from the back of his notebook. “Here,” Harry offers, sliding the paper to the side.

“Thanks Harry,” Y/N beamed, taking out her pen which had a little charm dangling on the end and began to write the date in the top corner like she always did at the start of a new lesson.

Throughout the lecture, Harry remained wholly focused on the professor who began to go through Act 2 of Shakespeare's ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Literature had always been his favourite class not only because he got to sit next to Y/N but also because he loved to read. It was all he ever did whenever he had a moment spare, a book was never out of reach wherever he was.

Speaking of Y/N, Harry glanced across to see if she’d taken any notes during the lecture. He looked down at her piece of paper only to find her scribbling doodles along the lines and edges of the page he had given her. He wasn’t surprised, Y/N always seemed to lose interest midway through the lecture, but he was concerned especially since they were so close to exams.

“Um, Y/N?” Harry whispered, her head darting in his direction, “Do you want to copy my notes?”

She frowned, looking down at her piece of paper and then over at his notebook where he had filled up three pages with writing. “Oops,” She murmured, “I must have drifted off,”

“S okay,” Harry assured, “Y’ can take pictures of my notes if y’ want after class,”

“Are you sure?” Harry could sense her frustration from the dip between her brow, “I’ll take notes for the rest of the lecture.”

Harry nodded, turning his attention back to the professor, hearing Y/N’s pen scribbling against the desk as she vigorously took notes. Which lasted all of fifteen minutes.

When the lecture finished, Harry caught Y/N gazing out the window, her attention fixed on the clouds drifting across the bright, blue sky. “You can collect your assignments on the way out,” The professor dismissed the class, chairs scraping against the floor as everyone made their way for the door.

“Um, Y/N?” Harry tapped her shoulder.

“Hm?” She spun around, her big, pretty eyes looking right up at him.

Harry motioned to the front of the class where the students had emptied out, “The class is over,”

Y/N’s eyes darted around the room. She straightened her shoulders when she realised they were the last two people in the room like she had just snapped out of a daze, “Oh, already?”

Harry didn’t want to tell her that the class was two hours long so he just nodded. He waited patiently, even though he had another class to attend, not wanting to leave her behind. Y/N rushed to pack her things away, scrunching the paper he had given her which was covered in doodles and a few sentences as she tried to stuff into her backpack.

On the way out, they both collected the assignments they had handed in before the weekend. Harry sighed in relief to see the big 95 written in red ink on his paper. He wasn’t one to struggle often with the literature homework but this one had been particularly challenging.

“Oh no,” A tiny whimper escaped her lips as she held the paper in her hands.

Harry’s eyes looked down to see the 60 circled in the top corner of her paper. “How could this happen?”

“I-it’s okay Y/N,” He was terrible at comforting people, “A 70 is good, you still passed.”

“Barely,” Y/N whined, creasing the edges of the paper from how hard she was gripping onto it. “What am I going to do? I can’t seem to focus at all during the lesson, maybe it’s Newton being so boring but everything seems to go through one ear and out the other.”

Harry watched her flail her arms as she explained how much she struggled in all her classes, especially literature. He had noticed how she’d often drift off somewhere in her own head whenever they had a presentation or how she’d forget things or turn up late because she was wandering off somewhere or getting completely distracted.

Despite the little time he had on his timetable, Harry piped up, “I can tutor you, i-if you’d like I mean.”

Y/N paused, “Really? You’d do that?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I have a free afternoon on Wednesdays.” It was his only free afternoon throughout the whole week. Harry always looked forward to his afternoons off on a Wednesday which he dedicated solely to spending time doing things he enjoyed or relaxing.

“Are you sure? You must be so busy already with all your other classes and clubs,” His cheeks warmed, wondering how she knew he had very little time and whether it meant she watched him as much as he paid attention to her.

“O-of course, I really don’t mind.” Which was the truth.

Harry had been secretly crushing on Y/N ever since she had stumbled into their literature classroom on the first day of University. She was like a fresh breeze that cooled the last bit of summer humidity as she walked straight over to the seat beside him in the lecture hall and introduced herself to him. He didn’t know how all of a sudden he’d find himself all flustered whenever he was in her vicinity but for someone who wasn’t really a ‘people person’, he enjoyed her company very much.

“I can’t say it’ll be easy,” Y/N murmured, looking down at her shoes in what felt like shame or embarrassment.

“You can’t be that bad,” Harry joked but she just smiled awkwardly.

“I have ADHD,” She admitted like it was something to be ashamed of, “I-I’ve had it since I was little. It’s why I often find myself drifting off or forgetting things. I just can’t seem to focus on one thing. It's like my brain is constantly overlapping words and sentences and pictures and moments and I can’t organise them into their separate spaces.”

Harry’s face softened. He’d known people with ADHD before. A boy in his class back in high school who was constantly disrupting the class and was taken out of class whenever the teacher didn’t have the knowledge to know how to deal with it. “I’m good at literature Harry, really I am. I just struggle to show it. I started the essay the night it was set but then I lost track of time and I didn’t pick it up again until yesterday.”

“Y/N,” Harry said, “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. ‘S not a bad thing, it’s just something y’ have to learn to deal with.”

Y/N felt at ease at his words of comfort, a small smile curving on her lips, “Are you sure you still want to tutor me? It’s okay if not, I know I can be a little difficult but I promise I’ll try and remember everything and turn up on time and I won’t interrupt you when you speak or go off topic because I know I do that a lot. In fact, one time I was having a conversation with my roommate Lila and we were talking about what pizza toppings we preferred and I somehow ended up talking about women’s rights.”

Harry grinned at her rambling, “I still want to tutor you, Y/N. We can start tomorrow? Is that okay?”

She nods, “That sounds good. Thank you, Harry. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“Okay,” He nods his head once, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“O-Okay! Tomorrow,” She beams, “Oh! And do you want my phone number? Just in case,”

Harry’s lips parted, pausing for a moment to take in what she had just said, “S-sure, yeah sure,” He stumbled to grab his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. His fingers brushed against her soft hands as he passed the phone to her so she could type in her number, he watched as she put a pink heart next to her name.

“Okay, I’ve got to go but I’ll text you later!” She grins and rushes to get to her next class.

Harry stands in the same spot for a moment, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his phone screen. He looks down at her name almost in disbelief that he actually had her phone number. He then notices the time and curses aloud, realising he’s fifteen minutes late to his next class.

. . .

From, Y/N:

Hey Harry, completely forgot to ask where we were planning to study tomorrow ?? x

From Y/N:

That’s if you’re still up to tutor me. Totally okay if not !! x

From Y/N:

It’s okay if you have other things going on x

From Y/N:

It’s Y/N by the way x

Harry felt the vibrations from his phone resting right next to his head as he lay on his bed with his laptop propped open and an episode of Big Bang Theory playing quietly on the television screwed to his wall.

As soon as he lifted his phone, the screen lit up and he caught a glimpse of the pink heart emoji on his lock screen. He shot up in bed, reading the text messages sent to him only five minutes ago. His pulse hastened at the little kiss at the end of each message, he wondered if she sent those to all her friends.

From Harry:

Hey, it’s fine. I’m happy to tutor you Y/N :)

From Harry:

We can meet up at the library, I can reserve one of the study rooms if that helps?

It wasn’t long before he received a reply.

From Y/N:

Oh good !! The library sounds good. Thank you again for doing this Harry, I can’t thank u enough x

From Harry:

It’s okay! Honestly it is. Don’t need to keep thanking me love x

He didn't think twice before sending the message, and by the time he realised what he’d written, she had already read it.

From Y/N:

Thank you Harry xx

From Y/N:

Oops

From Y/N:

Can’t wait to see you ! xx

Harry released a long breath after reading her last text message. He threw his phone across the bed and fell back, running his fingers through his hair a few times.

He resumed his work on his computer, trying his best not to pick up his phone again as he eagerly waited for tomorrow to come.

. . .

Harry was ten minutes early to the library even when he had tried to be right on time.

The school’s librarian, Heather, was no stranger to his presence as he walked through the doors with his backpack over one shoulder and a tote bag on the other. He walked straight towards the study room he had booked last night for this afternoon in particular.

It was nothing but a desk and empty walls with a window looking out to the car park. Harry had thought it best to minimise distractions for Y/N to stay focused. He pulled out the things he had packed in the blue tote he carried, highlighters and sticky notes and an old planner he had in his desk drawer that he scribbled her name on.

Not long after he had set everything up, a small knock sounded at the door and in walked Y/N. She was wearing light blue jeans and a lilac hoodie that was covered in some kind of grey paint, “Hello,” She smiled, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her, “Sorry, I had a pottery class off-campus and didn’t have time to change,” She motioned to the stains on her clothing.

“That’s okay,” Harry’s heart palpitated as she stepped into his vicinity- that sweet-smelling perfume replacing the dusty air, “I didn’t know you did pottery.” He didn’t know much about her other than what they had talked about in class, a rush of excitement overcame him at the thought of getting to know her more.

Y/N sat down, putting her bag at her feet, “It’s just a hobby,” She shrugged it off, glancing at the things Harry had neatly laid out in front of her, “So what’s all this?”

A dusty pink glow spread across Harry’s cheeks, “I-I did some research last night,”

A dip formed between her brows, “Really?”

Harry nodded, “I spent some time researching the best ways for people with ADHD to focus and learn the best they can. A lot of it was setting realistic goals and breaking things down but it also helps to use colours which is why I bought my sticky notes and highlighters in case we have to take any notes.”

Y/N was pretty sure her pupils had carved into hearts as she looked at him and listened as he explained the things he had been researching. “I thought we could study for about an hour and a half today and work in twenty-minute increments with ten-minute breaks in between.” Y/N was at a loss for words. She couldn’t remember the last person who had gone out of their way to learn these things for her.

Harry waited for her to reply, seeing the way her eyes glossed over, “I-is that okay? No problem if not, we can always find a different way of working-”

“No,” She placed a hand atop his, the tips of his fingers flinched and brushed the palm of her hand, “It sounds perfect.”

Harry smiles, “Well okay, shall we start off with Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

. . .

“Hey Y/N?” Harry waved a hand in front of her face. They were coming onto the last twenty-minute sprint of studying and Harry had noticed Y/N suddenly starting to zone out a little more.

“Oh sorry,” She blushed, “I was thinking about the banana milkshakes they’ve put on the menu at the cafe where I do my pottery classes.”

Harry closed his notebook, “They have a cafe?”

“Mhm,” Y/N grins, “I can show you if you’d like. Maybe after we finish studying.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. This was their first time hanging out together off-campus. Something he had been daydreaming about whenever she sat beside him. He’d been mulling over the idea of asking her on a date for weeks and despite the fact she’d invited him to her favourite spot as a friend, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of nerves and excitement at the prospect of getting to spend even more time with her.

Harry pretended to glance down at his watch, “Seems like we’re coming to the end already, w-we could go now if you want to?”

Y/N closed her notebook shut, “Okay then!”

Harry tugged on his jacket and piled all his books into his backpack. Following her out of the library and towards her pottery studio.

He couldn’t help the smile on his face as she walked with a slight pep in her step as they walked side by side. Harry had never been much of a talker but there was never a moment of silence between the two as Y/N rambled and wandered off into every topic of conversation she could possibly think of.

“So I’ve started making plates for my mum’s birthday—oh, she got a new car, by the way! It’s an old, vintage blue Beetle. She sent me pictures the other day, and it’s so pretty. For a moment, I wanted to take driving lessons just so I could drive one, but I’ve got terrible coordination. Honestly, Harry, I can’t ever seem to tell my lefts from my rights these days and—oh, what was I talking about again? Yes, the plates I made for her birthday. So, I’m going to paint them baby blue to match the car and—”

Harry listened intently, hanging onto every word she said and mentally filing it away under her name. Occasionally, he would share his own stories, but for the most part, he was content to listen to her voice. In fact, it thrilled him to know how comfortable she was to talk about anything and everything with him.

They eventually stopped outside of a small building with ‘Paisley’s Pottery Studio’ written on a wooden plaque above the door.

Y/N pushed the door open, the bell chiming as she stepped inside with Harry close behind her. She offered to take Harry’s jacket to hang up on the coat pegs and switched it over for two aprons already covered in dried clay stains.

“Come on, I’ll show you what I’ve been working on,” Y/N said, a hint of excitement in her voice as she led Harry through the studio. The space was filled with shelves of pottery in various stages of completion, the air rich with the earthy smell of clay.

They reached a small workbench near the back of the studio where a few plates were laid out, each one uniquely shaped.

“Here they are,” Y/N said, picking up one of the plates. “This is the baby blue I was talking about. I’m trying to match it perfectly to my mum’s car. What do you think?”

Harry took the plate, admiring the soft, pale blue colour that coated its surface. “It’s beautiful, Y/N. You’ve done an amazing job. The colour is perfect.”

Y/N beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Thank you! I’ve been trying to get it just right. And look, this one has little daisies around the edge,” she said, pointing to another plate. “My mum loves daisies.”

Harry smiled, appreciating the delicate details. “You’re really talented. I didn’t know you were into pottery.”

“It’s kind of my escape,” Y/N admitted. “It helps me focus, you know? It’s one of the few things that can hold my attention for hours.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “I-I’ve been meaning to ask before we left to come here, did you find the study session useful today?”

Y/N immediately nodded, “I learnt so much Harry. I know you said I don’t need to thank you anymore but you’ve been so kind. My parents have hired tutors for me ever since I was little but they always got frustrated with me. I was worried you’d feel the same way.”

“No one should make you feel like you’re not worthy of their time just because it requires more patience,” Harry says.

Y/N’s eyes shine with emotion, “You might be the kindest person I’ve ever met,” She says, “Which is why I wanted to bring you here. I’ve never shared my pottery with anyone.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed, “Really?”

Y/N’s smile softened. “Really. And now I get to share it with you. Do you want to try making something?”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me? I’ve never done pottery before.”

“That’s okay,” Y/N chimed. “I’ll teach you. It’s fun, I promise.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, “Alright, let’s do it.”

Y/N led Harry to a nearby pottery wheel, explaining the basics as she set up the clay. Whilst he sat on one side, she sat opposite him, straddling the seat and grabbing a thick, piece of clay in her hands. “Just relax and let the clay guide you,” she said, her hands gently shaping the mound of clay on the wheel.

Harry watched, captivated by the fluid movements of her hands. He took a deep breath and placed his hands on the clay, feeling its cool, pliable texture.

“Like this?” he asked, glancing at Y/N.

“Exactly,” she replied but then placed either of her hands over the top of his. “Just keep your movements steady and even.”

Harry tried to remain neutral as the soft skin of her hand touched his fingers. He’d try to keep his attention on the way she moved the clay but every now and then he’d feel himself overwhelmed at the simple touch of the girl he had been enamoured with for far longer than he’d like to admit.

Minutes turned into an hour, and Harry found himself enjoying the process more than he expected. The feel of the clay, the steady rotation of the wheel, and Y/N’s gentle words of encouragement.

“It’s good!” Y/N held the clay bowl up in the palm of her hand.

Harry scoffed but smiled, “You’re just saying that it looks more like a plate than a bowl.” His first clay creation was meant to look like a bowl but some might deem it to be a little more like a wonky flying disk.

Y/N giggled, “At least you could still eat food from it.” She walked over and placed it on a tray with Harry’s initials carved into the bottom. “These will be put in the kiln later. I can bring it to you in class once it’s ready?”

“O-okay,” Harry nodded, “Or I could just come by and get it? I think I’d like to have another try maybe,” That and he wanted to spend more time with her even if it meant taking up a new hobby in the little spare time he had.

Y/N didn’t mask the surprise on her face which gradually transformed into the biggest smile he had ever seen. He swore it hit him like an arrow piercing straight into his heart, “Really? You’d want to come back?”

“Of course, maybe I could teach you English lit and you could teach me y’ pottery?” He offered.

“I’d love that.”

. . .

Wednesday’s had become Harry’s favourite day of the week.

It was funny how quickly the days went by when you had something to look forward to. When it wasn’t Wednesday, Harry was always counting down the days until it was.

In the afternoon, he’d meet with Y/N outside of the library so they could walk inside together to their study room where he’d tutor her for a good two hours. Afterwards, they’d walk down to the pottery studio in the nearby town where Y/N would teach Harry how to make clay pots.

His own kitchen was becoming a museum of clay creations he had made and painted himself. Each one served as a reminder of a particular Wednesday he’d spent with Y/N, triggering a memory or conversation they had shared.

His feelings only seemed to heighten the more they fell into conversation, talking about everything and anything they possibly could. He cherished every moment he spent with her and even then he couldn’t get enough. Whenever it wasn’t Wednesday, he craved her presence and the sweet-smelling perfume she wore.

Harry was already heading towards the library one particular Wednesday afternoon when he received a text from Y/N.

From Y/N:

Hey Harry, I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to be able to make today’s session. I left all my work last minute and now I have three classes to catch up on before tomorrow. So sorry, I really wanted to make it xx

Harry frowned as he read the message, feeling a pang of disappointment quickly replaced by concern.

From Harry:

It’s okay! We can just pick up where we left off from next week. Is there anything you need help with?

From Y/N:Hm, don’t suppose you’re any good at poetry? xx

From Harry:

I’ve dabbled here and there ;)

From Y/N:

Dabbled? Perfect!! Would it be okay if you stopped by? I’m STRUGGLING xx

From Harry:

I’d be happy too

From Y/N:

Okay! I’ll text you my address. Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver truly xx

Harry felt a thrill of excitement as he watched Y/N’s address appear on the screen. He quickly typed the address into Google Maps and began making his way towards her apartment, anticipation building with each step.

Along the way, he stopped by a flower shop, the words ‘Sweet Juniper’ written on the window and a large display of beautifully arranged flowers decorating the front. He found it rather humorous when he saw the tattoo parlour next door, the dark aesthetic completely differing from the pastel colours of the flower shop.

Sometime later, Harry stood at the entrance, taking in the charming exterior of Y/N’s apartment building. As he pressed the buzzer, his excitement mingled with a touch of nervousness. “Hello? Harry?” Y/N’s voice crackled over the speaker.

“H-hey,” He said, “S me.”

“Oh! Stay there, I’ll come get you.” He did as he was told, standing beneath the porch as he waited for Y/N.

It wasn’t long before Y/N pushed the glass door open and stood in front of him. It was the first he’d seen of her all day and she looked so cosy and soft in her grey sweatpants and pink sweater, a pair of black slip-on shoes on her feet that she’d put on to come downstairs in.

“Hi Harry,” She smiles, the sight casting away the grey clouds.

“Hey Y/N,” He returns her smile and holds out the flowers for her, “I bought these for you, figured they might cheer y’ up.”

Y/N’s whole face lit up as she took the bouquet from him, “They’re beautiful,” She gasped, “I’ll put these in my room,”

He followed her upstairs and to her apartment, making light conversation along the way. He laughs at something particularly funny she said about a conversation she had with her mother last night which reminded him he needed to call his own mother, who he hadn’t spoken to nearly as much as he should have these past few weeks.

Closing the door behind them, Harry took in the exterior of her apartment. It was small, the perfect size for two people, most of the furniture was from the tenant who used to live there before they moved to France.

“My roommate is away so it’s all good,” She says, leading him to her room.

Y/N’s room was closest to the living room. As Harry stepped inside, he felt as though he was entering a cosy, intimate space that truly reflected her personality. The room was a soft haven of pink hues and delicate decor. The walls were painted a gentle blush, complemented by sheer white curtains that allowed light to filter through softly, casting a warm glow over everything.

“Sorry about the mess,” She cringed, kicking something underneath her single bed which was covered in papers and notebooks much like the small desk in the corner. She placed the flowers in an old vase on her windowsill, replacing the old ones that were losing their petals.

“S okay,” Harry stood awkwardly, not knowing where to sit.

Y/N made space for him on the bed, patting the spot beside her with a welcoming smile. Harry tried to play it cool as he sat down next to her, but inside, his heart was racing. The reality of being so close to her in such an intimate setting was overwhelming, and he struggled to keep his excitement in check.

The bed felt soft and warm beneath him, a perfect match for the cosy atmosphere of the room. He glanced at Y/N, who seemed completely at ease and took a deep breath, trying to relax. Her presence was comforting, and he reminded himself to savour the moment rather than overthink it.

She grabbed a purple spiral notebook which she seemed to have ripped a few of the pages out of and threw them in the trash can beneath her desk, “I have to write a poem to present to my creative writing class,” She says. Her sock-covered feet dangled off the bed as they sat next to each other with their backs against the wall.

“O-Oh and it has to be handed in tomorrow?” He asks.

Y/N huffs, “I thought I had way more time so I’ve just been putting everything off. I’ve also been given new ADHD meds which I don’t know have been helping very much.”

A wave of understanding rushed over him. Harry had never been prescribed daily pills before other than the antibiotics he was given in the winter when he had a chest infection that plagued him for almost two weeks. Although he couldn’t relate to her situation, he knew having to take pills repeatedly was no easy task especially when they had an impact on your ability to carry out day-to-day things.

He took the notebook and pen from her lap and ripped out a bit of paper to write on. “Well luckily for you, you picked just the right person to help you out.” He teased, trying to lighten the mood because he knew she was beating herself up over all of it.

Y/N’s lips quirked, “You’re that good at poetry?”

“I was writing poetry and putting them into girl’s lockers when I was seven years old. Let’s just say, I’ve had practice,”

“Okay Bukowski, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Harry chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Alright, challenge accepted," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He took a moment to think, twirling the pen between his fingers as he glanced around the room for inspiration. The soft glow of the fairy lights, the cosy blanket draped over the bed, and the serene expression on Y/N’s face all seemed to meld together into a perfect moment.

He began to write, the words flowing easily once he found his rhythm. He stole glances at Y/N as he wrote, drawing inspiration from her presence and the warmth she radiated.

After a few minutes, he put the pen down and handed the paper to Y/N. "Alright, here goes nothing. Don't laugh, okay?"

Y/N took the paper with a playful roll of her eyes. "No promises," she teased, but her expression softened as she began to read the words on the page written in his scribbly handwriting.

Every word she took in had her heart dancing within her chest.

‘She is sunshine, light pours from her’

‘She is sweeter than my own solitude’

There was beauty in every line. Everything he had written pulled and tugged at her, evoking this feeling that flooded through her that she had spent the past few weeks trying to keep at bay until she reached the final line.

‘I watch her hands create beauty from the earth’s clay,

Does she know I also spin on the wheel, feeling her hands mould me, shape me, bend to her desire any way she wants?

“Is it good?” Harry asked, not enjoying the extended period of silence they were in as she read the poem. He had only tossed words together in hopes of creating something good enough for her to present to her class, he wouldn’t be surprised if she hated it.

But instead, Y/N looked up at him, her eyes glistening with an emotion he couldn’t place. “D-did you write this about someone?” She asked.

Harry’s face heated, “U-um, not that I can think of,” He lies.

Y/N nods, “Do you know a lot of girls who do pottery in their spare time?”

Harry’s eyes lock with hers, an invisible connection passing through them. The air thickened around them, his heart suddenly pounding against his chest, desperate for something he had been wanting for far too long now.

“O-Only one,” He admits.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled looking like the fairy lights on the walls of her bedroom. Harry’s eyes darted down to her lips and then back up again. “Harry,” Y/N whispers, fiddling with the bit of paper with his poem written on it, “T-this is a really pretty poem.”

“Y-you think your class will like it?”

“I don’t think I want to show this poem to my class,” She set the poem aside carefully, as if it were a precious treasure, and shifted closer to Harry on the bed.

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice lowered, “It’s not very good anyway.”

“That’s not the reason,” Y/N's lips curved into a warm, genuine smile, “I think I’d much rather keep it for myself, if that’s okay.”

Harry's heart raced as he looked into her eyes, seeing the depth of her feelings mirrored in his own. "No, that’s okay.," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She set the poem aside carefully, as if it were a precious treasure, and shifted closer to Harry on the bed. Her eyes searched his, “Harry?”

“Wha’s wrong?” He swallowed the air he breathed.

“C-can I kiss you?”

Harry felt a lump form in his throat as he searched for the right words, his heart pounding in his chest. Every moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely, each breath feeling heavier than the last. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. He knew he couldn't hide his feelings any longer, not from her. With trembling hands, he reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch tender and hesitant.

“H-Harry,” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Unable to find the words, he leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest until their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. It was sweet and gentle. Whilst one hand cupped her cheek, the other moved to her waist gripping it hard and tugging her in closer. One of Y/N’s hands gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in so she could deepen the kiss.

He couldn’t help but smile the longer his lips pressed against the plush, soft touch of hers. Y/N felt his lips curve and smiled too, a breathy laugh escaping her, “What?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes hazy and lips pinker than usual, “Nothing,” He shook his head but his smile never faded, “Jus’... I’ve been dreaming of this moment for what feels like forever.”

“You have?” Y/N smiles, her cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” He kissed her again quickly, “I’ve liked you for so long.”

Y/N tugged on the sleeve of his sweater, fiddling with a loose thread, “I like you too Harry,” She admits and suddenly his world felt a little less lonely and a whole lot brighter.

. . .

“Sunshine,” Harry slurred against her lips as they moulded together. She was sitting on the table in an empty classroom with him standing between her legs. “We’ve got to get to class,” he murmured, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as his hands roamed her waist and hers tangled in his hair.

Y/N’s legs brushed against his as she swung them back and forth. If they were to leave the comfort of the quiet classroom, there was no doubt people would know what they had been up to. They had been walking to their English Lit lecture together when Harry recited a line from the play they were studying. Without warning, Y/N had dragged him into the nearest empty classroom and kissed him before he even had time to register what was going on.

“But we could stay here?” she heaved, pulling away and pouting.

Harry smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, but we’ve got a test coming up soon.”

“And you’ve already taught me all I need to know,” she countered, her eyes twinkling.

Despite dating now, their tutoring sessions hadn’t ended. They saw each other every single day, spending time at each other’s apartments and trying to meet up whenever they both had a free period so they could sit and eat lunch together or make out somewhere. But Wednesday afternoons were still dedicated to tutoring, and then Y/N would take him down to the pottery studio afterwards where they’d decompress.

He still hadn’t mastered the art of creating bowls or plates in the same way Y/N had, but the cupboards of his kitchen were slowly filling up with wonky cutlery and multi-coloured dishes.

Harry smiled lazily, feeling the cotton of her pink cardigan between his fingertips. “C’mon sunshine,” He murmured.

“Fine,” She huffed, pressing another kiss to his lips before sliding off the desk. “Oh no, I forgot my notebook again,” She huffed.

Harry laughed, reaching for her hand and threading their fingers together, “Don’t worry I bought an extra.” He always packed extra everything whenever he was with Y/N because it didn’t matter how many times he reminded her, she always seemed to forget.

“Thank you,” Y/N grinned, “I swear I packed it with me last night when we were watching that movie which by the way you’re going to have to explain to me the ending because I was too busy,” Harry was going to remind her he had tried to get her attention back to the film but she was focused on playing a game on his phone the entire time, “Oo and tonight when you come to my place we can finally try that new ice cream flavour I bought from the store and- oh yeah the movie, so I basically stopped watching at the point where the girl falls into the water. Wait, what was I talking about before that again?”

Harry smiled, “The notebook,”

“Oh yeah, the notebook.” She rambled, continuing to explain all the places she could have left it even though Harry knew exactly where it was.

By the time they got to class, they were ten minutes late. They took the walk of shame to their places in the back, holding hands beneath the table as Harry took notes and Y/N rested her head against his arm, rubbing her cheek against his soft, navy blue sweater.

He smiled, kissing the top of her head and basking in the warmth of his sunshine girl.

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lvnleah · 6 months ago

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Endo Struggles | AWFC x teen!reader

Based on this request :)

Summary: After struggling with your periods for a while, your teammates Leah helps you fight for a diagnosis. Eventually, you have surgery and your teammates Leah, Beth and Viv support you.

Warnings: mentions of hospitals, sick, surgery and pain.

Notes: I’ve started my own tag which can be found the end of the fic, make sure to follow it so you can see everything I post and my anon asks! :)

Word count is 3k, this is turning into a mini series :)

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You woke up feeling off, a dull ache rested in your lower abdomen. Last night you’d gotten your period, it was the first in a few months, and because you had no cramps leading up to it you thought you’d gotten off.

Your period was always something you’d struggled from ever since you’d gotten your first when you were eleven. They’d always been painful and irregular but your parents had always blown you off as dramatic and that it was a part of womanhood.

So far it hasn't affected your career at Arsenal due to them being irregular. You’d just turned eighteen when Arsenal offered you your first professional contract. Now, six months later, you were living with Beth and Viv.

The pair had taken you in and made their spare room your own. Your parents lived two hours away from the training ground and with you not driving and them working, you had no way of getting to training.

Despite not knowing you long, Beth and Viv offered for you to move in with them into their flat which you gladly took up. Since then the couple had basically become your parents, most of the time they were more caring and loving than your own.

You laid in bed for a moment, clutching your stomach, before slowly climbing out of bed. Beth and Viv were already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast like usual before you headed to training.

“You okay, Y/N?” Beth asked, raising her eyebrows curiously. “You look in pain…”

Beth and Viv exchanged a concerned glance as you sat down at the kitchen island, still clutching your stomach in pain.

You nodded, your lips closed tight, “Mhm…just super bad period cramp.”

“Are you alright to go to training?” Viv questioned her concern just as bad as Beth’s “it’s okay to have a day off you know.”

“I’ll be okay,” you nodded your head once again as Beth passed you a bowl of cereal, “I just need to take some pain relief and then I’ll be okay.”

The painkillers kicked in, dulling the ache in your abdomen for a while. After breakfast, you travelled to training with Beth and Viv. You had a quick team meeting before heading out to the pitch.

While the team went out to the pitch, you stayed behind to tie your boot laces up. Suddenly, a pain shot through your body, and you collapsed. Cramps twisted your insides, you fell to the ground and curled up into a ball. With your knees to your chest, the pain subsided a tiny bit, and tears started to blur your vision.

Minutes later, Kim and Leah came back into the changing room to grab something but concern etched their faces as they knelt beside you.

“What's wrong?" Kim asked, her voice urgent. “What’s happened, Y/N?”

"Just...period pains," You gasped, trying to downplay it. “I’ll be okay in…a bit.”

The changing room floor was cold against your cheek, and you clung to your knees like a lifeline. Kim and Leah hovered over you, their expressions a mix of worry and confusion.

“Y/N,” Leah said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “This isn’t normal. You shouldn’t be in this much pain.”

You tried to sit up, but the cramps tightened their grip. “It’s…it’s just my period. It happens.”

Kim exchanged a glance with Leah, her eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N how long have your periods been like this?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “Since I was eleven. My parents always said it was part of being a woman.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Your parents were wrong. This level of pain isn’t normal. You need to see a doctor.”

“But training—” you protested weakly.

Beth and Viv appeared in the doorway, concerned just as much as Leah and Kim. “What’s going on?” Beth asked, kneeling beside you.

“It’s Y/N’s period,” Kim explained. “She’s in agony and her parents have never taken her to the doctors over it.”

Viv’s expression softened. “You don’t have to suffer like this. We’ll take you to the doctor.”

You wanted to protest, to insist that you could tough it out. But the pain was relentless, and you were tired of pretending it was okay. Maybe it was time to seek help.

"These aren't normal," Leah said firmly. "We need a medic."

You groaned in pain, “I’ll be fine…it’ll end soon.”

The team medic arrived, assessing your pain and sending you home. Beth and Viv helped you hobble to their car. The journey was a blur of agony, and you collapsed into bed, grateful for the strong pain relief they'd given you. Sleep claimed you, but it didn't last long.

Before you knew it, your sleep was interrupted and the sharp pain was overtaking your body again. Your room was dimly lit, just a small bit of light peaked through the curtains.

A knock sounded at your door before it pushed open, a tiny bit of light peeked in and Leah stepped through the door.

“Hey kid,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of your bed, “how are you feeling?”

“So..so much pain,” you scrunched your face up, tears threatening to spill once again.

“Y/N have you ever looked into these period pains?” Leah asked. You shook your head, all of your concerns had always been ignored, “Do you think it could be endometriosis?”

You knew Leah had struggled with endometriosis, she’d always been open about it, but being eighteen years old you had no clue what it truly was.

You shrugged, “I don’t really know what endometriosis is, Le.”

Leah sighed, “Well I have stage two, there’s four different stages, so mine is bad but not bad bad. My symptoms started at thirteen, the pain used to be my enemy.” Leah joked.

“I used to roll around in pain, kid,” She said, brushing fallen hair away from your face, “I ended up in A&E so many times, for ages it was just blown off as stress and me being dramatic but after a while endo was brought up. A few years later, and my mum arguing with many different doctors, I was finally diagnosed.”

“Do you think I have it?” you asked, “The pain is so bad.”

“I’m not saying you do,” Leah shrugged, “but it’s worth looking into.”

You nodded your head, still clutching your stomach in pain before nausea overtook you, “I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay okay,” Leah said, gently helping you up, “It’s okay, c’mon let’s get you to the bathroom.”

The room spun, and you barely made it to the bathroom before your stomach rebelled. The pain had escalated from a dull ache to a full-blown assault on your insides. You clung to the toilet bowl, heaving, tears streaming down your face.

Leah was there, her hand on your back, soothing circles. “Easy,” she murmured. “Let it out. I’m here.”

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t even form thoughts. The nausea subsided, leaving you weak and trembling. Leah helped you rinse your mouth, then guided you back to your bed. She tucked the blankets around you, her touch gentle.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’ll figure this out, Y/N.”

You nodded, grateful for her presence. The room felt less lonely with Leah sitting beside you. She didn’t shy away from the messiness, the vomit, the pain. Instead, she held your hand, her eyes filled with empathy.

“Leah,” you croaked, “thank you.”

She smiled, brushing hair from your forehead. “No need to thank me, kid. You’re going to be okay.”

You closed your eyes, exhaustion pulling you under as sleep claimed you once more. The next day, Leah took you to the doctors. At first they were dismissive, putting it down to being stressed and just a teenager.

Leah fought hard, she argued with the doctor and demanded they do a laparoscopy to see if you had any endometriosis growing around your womb, ovaries and pelvis.

They tried you with different medications and birth controls but none of them did anything. Your periods and pain remained the same. The doctors did multiple ultrasounds and none of them showed any signs of endometriosis.

Finally, after some back and forth trips to the doctor, she finally gave in and added you to the long waiting list of other women who were waiting for surgery as well.

Days blurred into weeks and weeks blurred into months as you waited for surgery. You continued to be in pain with your periods, even when you were ovulating you were in excruciating pain. Your pain had been affecting your football career and it was ruling your life.

Finally, your surgery date rolled around after four months of waiting. Beth and Viv were taking you, Leah had promised to be there once you woke up. As for your parents, they told you you'd be fine and didn’t need them there.

“You ready, kid?” Beth asked, as you pulled up outside the hospital.

You nodded, swallowing a lump in your throat, “I guess,” you shrugged, “I’m just nervous.”

Viv turned around in the driver's seat so she could face you as you were sat in the back, “There’s nothing to worry about, you’re going to be just fine.”

“We’re right beside you,” Beth reassured you, “and Leah will be there when you wake up, she’s promised that she will be.”

You nodded and before you knew it, you were in your own private room, waiting to be called in as you sat in the bed with Beth and Viv beside you. You’d been nil by mouth since last night, you couldn’t eat or drink meaning that you were absolutely starving.

“I’m so hungry!” You whined, tilting your head back, “this is so cruel, they’re starving me!”

Beth and Viv both chuckled at your whining, “you can’t eat before surgery, kid.” Viv said, “remember me and Beth were the same before our acl surgeries?”

“Don’t worry,” Beth smiled, “the food after when you wake up will be amazing. We’ll get you whatever you like.

You waited around for at least an hour and during that hour you saw different people. It started off with the anaesthetist coming in to see you. She was a nice lady, she explained the whole process to you and how they’d put you to sleep but it was far too much to take in all at once.

They gave you the option of either anaesthetic through the cannula or through the mask. You opted for the mask, hoping it’d make you less anxious.

Then, your surgeon came in. She ran through the procedure and told you what would happen. She explained that they’d look for endometriosis and if any was found then they’d remove it there and then.

Finally, they did your final basic checks. They weighed you, took your height and blood pressure as well as asking you a range of different questions. After all of that, you had to wait around for another hour and then it was finally time to go down.

“Don’t be scared,” Beth whispered to you as she pulled you into a hug, “you’re going to be fine, I promise. We’ll be here when you wake up with Leah.”

You nodded, letting go of Beth before Viv pulled you into a hug, “I’m so proud of you, kid. We’re going to be right here waiting.”

“I love you both,” you whispered, “thank you for being here.”

“Love you too,” Beth smiled before they rolled you away on the bed.

You entered the operating theatre and there were many people around. There were multiple nurses as well as the surgeon and doctor you’d met earlier on. The nurses helped transfer your onto the operating table before the anaesthetist quickly went over things again.

“Okay Y/N, just count down from ten for me,” she said, placing the mask on your face. You began to count down, your eyelids became heavy and you soon drifted off into what felt like a sleep.

Two hours into your surgery, Leah arrived at the hospital. She made her way upstairs to the room where Beth and Viv were waiting for you.

“Still no Y/N?” Leah asked as she entered the room, a little gift bag in her head.

Beth shook her head in response, “Nope, they said surgery could be anywhere from an hour to six hours.”

“Yeah, mine was two hours long,” Leah nodded, “Hopefully she’s out soon, how was she when she went down?”

“Anxious and scared,” Viv explained, “what’s in the bag?”

“Just some of Y/N’s favourite things,” Leah said, “My mum put one together for me when I had my first endo surgery so I thought it’d be nice for her to have one.”

Eventually, you were rolled back into the room. You were still fast asleep, your braids that Beth had done now slightly falling out.

“How was the surgery?” Leah was the first to ask, concern written all over her face.

“It went well,” the nurse nodded, “she has four incisions but the doctor will be round to give the rundown and results when Y/N is awake.”

Thirty minutes later, you finally woke up. Your eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, you weren’t sure where you were. The harsh white hospital lights hurt your eyes as you peeled them open, you covered your eyes with the palm of your hand as you let out a groan.

The pain came next. A dull ache that radiated from your abdomen. It was a familiar pain, one you’d felt before during endometriosis flares. But this time, it was post-surgery pain, and it carried with it a sense of relief.

You tried to move, but your body protested. Wires connected you to machines, monitoring your vital signs. The room seemed to tilt, and you closed your eyes, willing the dizziness away.

You tilted your head and Beth and Viv’s faces appeared, Leah soon walked round and joined them.

“Hey kid,” Beth smiled, her voice gentle. “You’re awake.”

Viv squeezed your hand. “How are you feeling?”

You tried to speak, but your throat was dry. Leah grabbed the cup of water that the nurse had left and lifted the straw to your mouth. You took gentle sips of water, washing away the metallic taste and dryness.

“I feel amazinggg,” you sang happily, still a little high from the anaesthesia. “Where am I?”

Beth, Viv and Leah bursted out into laughter, “That good, kid.” Viv nodded. “You’re in the hospital, remember?”

“Oh yeahh! Leahhhh,” you whined, sticking out your tongue. “My tongue hurts, Is it still there?”

Leah nodded. “Your tongue is intact, kid. They didn’t go anywhere near it.”

“Phew,” you sighed dramatically. “Good to know. Now, where’s Myle?”

Beth chuckled. “She’s at home, darling. You’ll see her later.”

Your lower lip jutted out in a pout. “I miss Myle so much! That surgeon better not have taken her.”

Viv squeezed your hand again. “Hey, hey, it’s okay! Myle is safe at home. You’ll be reunited soon.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. “I love Myle. She’s cute.”

As the anaesthetic wore off, you drifted in and out of sleep. The pain in your abdomen dulled, thanks to the nurses’ timely administration of pain relief. You felt a little more like yourself when the doctor finally entered the room.

“Hey, Y/N,” she greeted, her smile warm. “Is it okay if I discuss your results? Are your friends comfortable staying?”

You nodded, grateful for their presence. “Yes, please. They’re staying.”

The doctor pulled up a chair. “Your surgery was quite extensive,” she began. “We delved deep and found stage three endometriosis. It was growing around your ovaries and pelvis. The pelvic endometriosis explains your back pain, and the ovarian involvement is likely why ovulation has been excruciating for you.”

“But you removed most of it?” you asked, your voice shaky.

“Yes,” she reassured you. “We removed as much as we could. There’s a tiny bit left, but it shouldn’t cause as much pain.”

The room blurred over as tears welled in your eyes, “Will this affect my future?”

The doctor sighed, “I can’t say anything for sure but when the time comes and if you want to have kids you may have some issues conceiving naturally. I’ll leave you to rest up, you should be home before the evening is out.”

You nodded your head and tears began to slip down your cheeks. Leah climbed onto the bed and sat next to you, she pulled you into a tight hug. Leah’s hug was warm, comforting. She knew how to be there for you without saying a word.

“You’re going to be fine, kid.” Beth tried her best to reassure you.

Viv nodded, “Yeah, you’ve got everyone supporting you. At least you can start on getting the pain sorted now.”

“Do you want a goody bag?” Leah asked, “I put you one together!”

You laughed through your tears and nodded your head. Leah handed you a small bag and you opened it up. Inside was a range of different things that you loved. There was your favourite chocolate, some hair ties, fluffy socks, soft pyjamas, chocolate cookies, lip balm and a little stuffed highland cow teddy.

“You guys are amazing.” You smiled, brushing the fluffy highland cow with your hand, “Thank you for today, I’d have been alone without you.”

“You’ll always have us, kid,” Viv smiled, “We’re not going anywhere.”

The days that followed blurred together, a mix of pain medication and soft blankets. You laid in your bed at Viv and Beth’s house, movies played on your telly as Viv, Beth and Leah took it in turns to sit with you.

You had one brief phone call with your parents, one that hurt a lot. You explained what the surgery had resulted in on the phone, you expected at least a tiny bit of sympathy but your parents had none to give. You cried over it, a lot, but as promised Viv, Beth and Leah were right beside you. The three of them made you feel more loved than your parents had ever made you feel.

#awfc x reader #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #awfc #lvnleah #lvnleahasks

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emmyrosee · 1 year ago

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Bakugou gets invested really easily.

He loves to pretend that he doesn’t care about things, or get super interested, but you know better than anyone that when he wants to get his focus on something, it's almost impossible to break it.

When it's in your favor, it's addictive always having him hang off of you, burrowing his face against you, relishing you in affections only his closest friends would believe and having him eat out of the palm of your hand.

When it's on something else, however, it's torturous.

And yes, while you adore Kaminari Denki's enthusiasm for the first book he's read in four years, it now has Katsuki's full enthusiasm that he covers under a shroud of "like hell he's gonna read more books than me."

He's so full of it, it hurts.

Katsuki's read books in three days or less, tearing through them with ease after work; now, its his one-sunday-a-month off, and he seems completely content in sitting on the couch reading his damn book for hours.

At first you had no issue curling into his lap to rest, his big hand resting on your head and massaging your temple while you drift in and out of sleep.

But it's been four hours. You've woken up three times.

You try for a round of kisses, but he merely returns pecks with his eyes still on the book. You nip at his ear, but his shoulders hike up to nudge your face away. You offer him mewls of 'love you''s, and he grunts back.

You're dying here.

Huffing softly, you push yourself up and off of the couch, shuffling to the kitchen for a glass of water. There’s a small part of you that hopes he notices how annoyed you are and he’ll chase after you.

This, he does not.

With a soft snarl in your throat, you finish off the glass and toss it haphazardly in the sink, once again hoping it’ll rise some form of reaction from Katsuki.

He merely sniffles in the background.

You pace in the kitchen for something to break his laser focus. The closest you've come is when your phone rings back in the living room and he grumbles an annoyed 's' the fuckin' nerd.' You stomp into the living room for your phone, and Katsuki barely spares you a glance over his wire glasses.

Izuku's phone call keeps you all of 3 minutes, and your eyes watch for Katsuki's annoyed grumble and slamming of his book to stop reading and scold you.

No dice.

"Sorry, the oven's on fire, I'll call you later," you interrupt whatever he was saying and hanging up, tossing your phone on the couch next to your boyfriend.

"Why's the oven on fire?" He mumbles, turning the page.

"Because you won't give me attention," you snip.

"Ah."

God, you hate his rare nonchalance sometimes.

Out of options and minimal patience left, you move one of his crossed legs to rest flat on the floor and crawl into his lap, which automatically situates itself to keep your perch. Despite his subconscious action, he smacks his lips in frustration and merely turns the page in his own act of defiance.

“Can I help you?”

“You’re being annoying.”

This, finally, has currant eyes flicking up to you, a brow quirked in confusion and, maybe, just maybe, a glimmer of bothersome.

“I’m literally sitting here, reading. I’ve maybe taken a sip of my water and kissed your forehead while you napped. How the hell am I being annoying?” At his snap, you pout and cross your arms childishly, and he groans in the back of his throat with exhaustedly. “I didn’t mean to snap, baby. You brought that shit out of nowhere, I didn’t know sitting in silence could be annoying.” He dogears his page to give you finally give you his attention. You pout, and he gives you a small sigh, “come on baby; fuckin' talk to me.”

You huff petulantly, but you soften as massive paws smooth over the slopes of your hips. “It is annoying, when you’re ignoring me.” His hands stall, and you avoid his gaze. “I wanted to spend some time with you today, and all you’ve wanted to do is stay in and read… I know you like quality time and everything but I want to do something fun before you’ve got your hands full with work again.”

He rolls his eyes before rubbing his hands up and down your thighs, “so this is something you tell me, not pout and whine. I ain’t a fuckin’ mind reader.”

You turn your head in defiance, “wouldn’t have to say something if you’d stop focusing on your stupid romance novel.”

“It’s not a romance novel,” he says, trying to hide his amusement. “And don’t be fresh. I ain’t the only one at fault here.”

“But here I am- blaming you.” You try your hardest to fight back the smile tugging your lips.

“And you just can’t let me live for five minutes, can you?” He snarls, lips curled in a smirk as he leans forward to bite at the softness of your jawline. “Always gotta have my fuckin’ attention don’t you?” You giggle and shrink back slightly, but his arms tighten around you to keep you from going too far. “Nah. You wanna make a fuckin’ scene about how you want my attention? You’re goin’ no where.”

“Katsu, no!” You whine around giggles, his nose bullying past your tucked chin to nibble and playfully suckle at the tender skin of your neck, making the signals in your brain cross at the silly affections. Your hands shove at his broad shoulders in an attempt to make some distance, to no avail.

He’s got you right when you wanted to be.

“This is all you wanted huh?” He mumbles into your neck, scooting forwards on the couch to hook your legs around his waist. “You just needed me to snuggle and tease you soooo bad.”

“I do not!” You squeal, and your own fingers try to tickle his neck; it manages to get a few snickers before he gathers them in his own large palms and pins them between you.

“Fuck you,” he sneers. He does stop his torment before resting his head against the curve of your neck, and you mewl happily when you worm your hands out to wrap around his shoulders. “Cant have one fuckin’ second of peace.” He kisses the delicate skin of your neck lovingly this time, letting his hands soothingly run up and down the planes of your back. “Don’t get why you don’t fuckin’ talk to me about this shit, we’ve been together for years.”

You huff dramatically, “because you should know.”

“Yeah, we’ve established that I don’t.”

“Shinsou would know,” you poke, smiling as he tenses up and fists the shirt you’re wearing.

“Don’t you fuckin’ start.”

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jaicey · 4 months ago

Text

Hidden Desires

Oneshot

Summary: You come home late after hanging out with Lonnie and she's jealous.

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: angst? Idk, not proofread and unresolved feelings. Doesn't follow the descendants plot, let's all pretend they all still share dorms okay pookies?

A/N: made this in 3am when I randomly got a brain fart, 10 yr old me would be so proud of embracing my gayness for Evie, also so glad the fandom is alive again.

The cool night air nipped at your skin as you tiptoed towards yours, Evie's and Mal's dorm—though, considering Mal mostly slept at her boyfriend Ben's dorm, it might as well have been yours and Evie's. But Tonight, you prayed for her presence, a silent plea to the universe to spare you Evie's wrath for your tardiness. Holding your breath, you gently turned the door handle, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine. You nearly sighed in relief when you found it unlocked, but your efforts to sneak in quietly went to waste as the door suddenly swung open, blowing stray hairs out of your face. Your heart pounded as it revealed, Evie. Her striking blue hair seemed to amplify the icy coldness of her expression

"Where have you been?" The dark blue-haired woman spoke in a flat voice, her expression stony. You knew what this meant.

Or did you?

Your body went slack under her intense gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

There was a strange contrast between her imposing figure and the ethereal glow cast upon her by the moonlight filtering through the window. She looked... Hot breathtakingly beautiful- You're doing it again! A wave of heat flushed your face as you shook your head to clear your thoughts and quickly averted your gaze to look over her shoulder, spotting one lit lamp and no sign of the purple-haired girl. You cursed under your breath and looked back at Evie. Your breath hitched as she tilted her head, eyes half-lidded, expecting an answer.

You sighed and finally gave in. "Me and Lonnie were hanging out at her dorm... and I didn't realize how late it got."

"Of course, you were at her place again." Evie rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"You were supposed to help me tonight. You promised." she reminded you, and you missed the slight quiver in her voice.

"I'm so, so sorry, Vie! I got really caught up in—" your mind raced, trying to find a plausible excuse. 'You got really caught up in ranting your growing feelings for Evie to Lonnie,' your inner voice taunted.

Crossing your arms against the chill of the hallway, you wondered if it was the cold seeping into your bones or Evie's icy glare that made you shiver, or maybe both.

As if sensing your discomfort, she grabbed your arm and dragged you into the room, slamming the door behind you. Your body gradually warmed, but Evie's cold stare remained fixed on you.

She turned away with a sigh, heading towards her bed. There, she grabbed a stylish blue jacket accented with black before returning to hand it to you. Hesitantly, you slipped it on, finding solace in its warmth and the lingering scent of her.

"I can still help," you offered, your gaze wandering over her surprisingly tidy desk. It was odd. Usually, it was a chaotic mess of patterned papers, colorful threads, and half-finished projects. She always cleaned up the next day.

Weird.

"It's fine. You should rest. You look exhausted from whatever you and Lonnie were up to," she said, her voice dripping with barely concealed disdain. You didn't notice it though, of course you didn't.

Had their fencing match really been that intense? You attempted to fix your hair, though you doubted it made a difference. A vivid memory surfaced of your earlier debacle with Lonnie, where you’d spent the entire session hitting her with the blade while rambling about Evie, all on the misguided advice that it would help.

Clearly, it hadn't.

"Vie, are you okay?" You ventured deeper into the room, her eyes holding an unreadable emotion.

"Yes,"

"Are you sure? You don't look it. If it's about not being able to help you like I promised, I'm really sorry, Vie. I'll make it up to you, I swear! I'll even make Lonnie—"

"Yes! I'm sure!" she interrupted, plopping down on her bed. "Sleep."

"Alright...if you say so," you muttered, letting the matter drop. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you flopped onto the bed beside hers. You rolled onto your back, facing Evie's turned form.

Five minutes later, sleep remained elusive. You tossed and turned, counting imaginary sheep to no avail. Frustration gnawed at you. Opening your eyes again, you found Evie still restless, her body shifting as she searched for a comfortable position. With a creak of the bed, you gave up and stood up.

You hesitated, biting your lip as you leaned towards her seemingly sleeping form. A gentle tap on her shoulder was your next move. This couldn't be weird, right? You two had done this countless times as kids. You're doing this platonically, Right?

"Can I-" Your words were cut short as a strong hand yanked you onto the bed beside her. She rolled over, facing away from you, a muffled "yes you may" escaping her lips. Relief washed over you as you slid under the covers. Her warmth was comforting, a familiar sensation that brought back memories of countless childhood nights spent huddled together against the cold. This was how it was supposed to be, you realized. You'd do anything to preserve this moment, even if it meant burying your growing feelings deep down. For now, this was enough.

Evie turned to face you, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched you sleep. Your mouth was slightly open, and you were snoring lightly. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, a dangerous impulse to kiss you. But it was quickly dismissed as she reached out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. a gentle gesture that belied the turmoil within her.

Her mind raced back to earlier. Why were you so insistent on spending time with Lonnie? What could she possibly have that Evie didn't? She was prettier, smarter—well, at least in her own mind. And yet, you'd broken your promise to help her with her shop, a lie she'd made just to keep you close. It was a desperate plea, a transparent attempt to cling to your presence. Was she jealous? The thought was absurd. She didn't like you...or did she? No, it was just protectiveness, pure and simple. If only you knew how she truly felt.

Her gaze drifted to your lips, and she found herself tracing their outline with her thumb. A wave of fear washed over her. What if you left her once you discovered her feelings? The thought of losing your friendship was unbearable. She would do anything to maintain this fragile balance, even if it meant burying her emotions deep within.

I might or might not make a part two idk

#descendants #disney descendants #evie x reader #evie #evie grimhilde #evie grimhilde x reader #evie grimhilde x Fem!reader

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solarmorrigan · 1 year ago

Text

They aren’t high, but they might as well be.

It’s so late that it’s early, sitting in those odd hours of motionless night when exhaustion throws a ridiculous filter over everything and it’s an effort not to laugh loud enough to alert Robin’s parents to the fact that there’s an unauthorized boy in her room.

She and Steve have been lying side by side on her bed for the last hour, both knowing they should probably go to sleep if they’re going to wake up with enough time for Steve to sneak out and actually drive home safely, but they’re not quite ready yet. Instead, they’re content to be pressed together, shoulder to ankle, hands intertwined between them, content to feel the other secure and nearby.

Robin lifts their hands and uncurls her fingers, spreading them open like a star and prompting Steve to do the same, until their hands are pressed flat together with their fingers outstretched.

“Your hands are bigger than mine,” Robin says, looking at the way her palm fits into Steve’s with room to spare and the way his fingers extend past hers by almost a whole knuckle.

“Probably because I’m bigger than you,” Steve says, also lazily gazing at the way their hands fit together.

“Yeah, but they’re, like, way bigger than mine,” Robin insists. “You have really big hands.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “They’re not that big. You just have stubby fingers.”

“Rude. You just have giant hands.”

“I do not.”

“Like mittens.”

“No.”

“Banana hands.”

“You are literally the only girl who has ever said something bad about the size of my hands.”

Robin smacks her free hand against Steve’s chest. “Ew.”

Steve is laughing. “You started it.”

“Lies,” Robin says, taking Steve’s hand in both of hers so she can continue examining it. “Why are your nails so nice?”

Steve watches as Robin traces the tips of her fingers over the even cuticles and neatly trimmed ends of his nails. “Because I take care of them, and I don’t bite them, unlike some people.”

“I never bite your nails,” Robin says, smiling as Steve groans dramatically.

“That was terrible. You’re terrible.”

“Nope, you love me.”

“I can love you even if you’re terrible.” Steve turns his hand so he can catch one of Robin’s and look it over for himself. “You’ve been biting your nails a lot lately.”

Robin shrugs. “Stressed,” is all she offers; she doesn’t really have to say much more for him to get it.

Steve frowns, threading his fingers back through hers and squeezing. “You used to paint them, didn’t you? Like, to help you remember not to chew on them so much?”

“I did, yeah,” Robin says thoughtfully. “It’s been a while since I’ve even thought about doing that.”

“You should do it again. Give your nails a chance to heal,” Steve says.

Robin hums, as if she has to think it over. “Only if you let me paint yours, too.”

And maybe it’s the fact that it’s after two a.m., but all Steve does is shrug and say, “Yeah, sure.”

Robin sits up on the bed like Dracula popping up out of his coffin, turning to stare at him with her bedhead flying wild around her face. “Seriously?”

“You want me to say no?” Steve asks.

“Well I didn’t expect you to just say yes!” Robin says in a hushed yell. “I thought I’d have to argue you down.”

Steve grins. “Go get your nail polish before I change my mind, Buckley.”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice. Robin swings her legs off the bed and goes to her dresser, digging through her makeup case and returning with a handful of black-capped bottles.

“Pick your poison, Harrington.” Robin gestures to the array of colors.

Steve is slow to sit up, stretching and groaning before he turns to sit cross-legged in front of Robin. “You pick. I’ve never had my nails painted before, so we’ll have to go with your expertise.”

“Hmm.” Robin clasps her fingers together under her chin, tapping her lips with her index fingers as if this is the most serious decision she’ll ever have to make. Finally, her hand flashes out and grabs one of the bottles, holding it up and wiggling it for Steve to see. “How about a little navy blue, sailor?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he can’t tamp down his smile. “Why not?”

“Okay, gimme your hand.” Robin holds her hand out for Steve’s, palm up and fingers making grabby curls.

Steve puts out his left hand and lets Robin place it on her knee, fingers outstretched while he waits for Robin to shake the bottle of polish thoroughly and unscrew the cap.

“Try to hold still,” Robin instructs him, biting the tip of her tongue between her teeth in concentration as she applies the brush to his thumbnail.

Obligingly, Steve holds as still as possible, content to watch as Robin works her way from his thumb and onto his index finger, coating his nails in shining wet navy blue.

He pulls his hand away for a moment when Robin has to dip the brush back in the bottle for more polish, looks over her handiwork, and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow,” he says, putting his hand back down on Robin’s knee when she gestures for it. “You really suck at this.”

Robin lets out a surprised bark of laughter, narrowly avoiding streaking nail polish down the length of Steve’s finger. “Fuck off, I do not!”

“You kinda do, Rob,” Steve says, his voice full of warmth even as he denounces her skill with a brush.

“How would you even know?” Robin jibes. “You said you’ve never had your nails painted before.”

“I know the nail polish isn’t supposed to go over the edges of the nail,” Steve shoots back.

They both pause to look at the way the polish has been laid thick over the skin on either side of Steve’s nails and has even dribbled a little bit onto the tip of one of his fingers.

“Shut up. It’s a process,” Robin finally says, taking the brush to his ring finger.

“A process, huh?”

“Yes! You paint the nails, and then you use nail polish remover and, like, a Q-tip to clean up the edges.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re just fussy, that’s all,” Robin pronounces, grinning at Steve’s little noise of offense.

“I am not fussy,” he insists.

“You kinda are, Steve,” Robin replies. “Anyway, I’d like to see you do a better job.”

“Deal,” Steve says, maybe a little too quickly for Robin’s liking. “I’ll do your nails next.”

“Well that, I have to see,” Robin says, putting the brush back into the bottle and motioning for him to switch hands.

True to her word, Robin quietly retrieves the nail polish remover and some Q-tips from the bathroom and neatens up her paintjob once she’s finished, and Steve appraises her work like a jeweler looking over and handful of gems.

“Not bad, Buckley,” he says, shrugging his lips.

Robin rolls her eyes. “What are you now, a fashion critic? Hurry up and paint my nails so I can make fun of you.”

Steve’s answering grin is unsettlingly sharp, but Robin still lets him pick the color. He settles on red—“To accent the blue, obviously”—and shakes the bottle before pulling the brush and starting on Robin’s left hand where it rests on his knee.

His strokes are smooth and even, not once straying over the edges of her nails, not even over the bitten, ragged ends, and he moves from one finger to the next with a kind of practiced ease.

“What the fuck!” Robin barely remembers to keep her voice down in her outrage. “Why are you good at this?”

Steve ducks his head, clearly holding in a laugh. “I used to paint Carol’s nails for her all the time.”

“Carol Perkins?” Robin asks, brows furrowed.

“Did I spend a lot of time with any other Carols?” Steve shoots her a look from beneath his lashes before turning back to his work.

“Why?”

Steve shrugs. “She tried to get Tommy to do it one day and he refused, so she asked me to do it instead, and… I dunno, I figured, why not? I did suck at it at first,” he admits. “But I think she just liked having someone’s focus on her for the time it took to do her nails. And I guess I just – like, it felt good, I guess. Taking care of someone else, even just in that little way. And I liked how the nail polish looked when I finally got it right.

“Any time we hung out at her house, she’d ask me to paint her nails for her, or she’d steal my mom’s nail polish if we were at mine. It was, like… our thing, I guess?”

For a moment, Robin sits in the knowledge that Steve and Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins had actually been friends.

From the outside, the three of them had looked like a toxic hurricane of derision and unfairly nice bone structure; they were rarely seen without looks of condescending amusement or lounging around being too cool for everyone else. It had been easy to think of their arrangement as some kind of superficial bond of mutual bitchiness, but at the same time, everyone distantly knew that Steve and Tommy and Carol had been a package deal since at least middle school.

Tommy and Carol had been the only two people Steve routinely hung out with, now that Robin thinks about it. People from basketball and swim and other hangers-on came and went, but those two had been fixtures. They’d probably been his best friends.

And midway through Junior year, Steve had left them.

He’d realized they weren’t who he thought they were, or maybe he’d realized they weren’t who he wanted to be, but the fact is that he’d left behind the two people he’d known the longest and had stepped uncertainly forward without knowing if he’d have anyone at all after that.

For a while he’d had Nancy. Then had come Henderson and all the other rugrats – but as much as Steve loves them, that isn’t quite the same as friends your own age, is it?

But now, he has Robin.

And she’s going to make sure that’s worth something.

“I can’t believe I’ve had some kind of professional manicurist under my nose this whole time,” Robin laments, grinning at Steve when he glances up at her with a huff.

“I’m pretty sure you have to get paid to be a professional. Are you gonna pay me for my services?” he asks.

“I will pay you in love and affection,” Robin declares. “Money can’t buy you these things, Steve.”

“That’s convenient,” Steve shoots back.

“Isn’t it? And I’m going to paint your nails yellow next time,” Robin says.

Steve glances to the side, where Robin’s collection of nail polish sits. “You don’t have any yellow.”

“I’ll buy some.” Robin shrugs. “I think it would look good on you.”

“And you just assume I’m going to let you paint my nails again.” Steve raises an eyebrow at her as he dips the brush back in the bottle to rewet it for the last couple of nails.

“Yep,” Robin says easily.

Steve looks back down, like he really needs to focus that hard on getting the nail of her ring finger just right, but she can tell he’s biting down on a smile.

“Okay,” he finally says, quietly.

“Okay,” she echoes back, giving him a sleepy smile when he glances up.

It’s late, and it’s going to be even later by the time they can go to sleep without ruining their nails, and in fact they’re probably not going to get any sleep at all, but somehow, Robin doesn’t mind.

Even being sleep deprived together with Steve is better than anything she can think of doing apart.

[Prompt: Comparing hand sizes]

#disclaimer: I don't know how big either of these people's hands are just roll with it #stobin #platonic stobin #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #solar wrote #robin paints nails like I paint nails and she is valid <3

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scara-meow-che · 2 years ago

Text

then they were roommates ┃ sweet deception with thoma

CW. NSFW (MDNI), afab! reader with no set of pronouns, roommate! thoma, use of sedatives, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it!), pervert! thoma, noncon, he takes pics of you, male masturbation, pervert and a bit ooc thoma ♥︎

AN. another reposted work. i promise that i'd be posting new ones soon <3 just a little more from my part on actually editing the drafts that i have here but anyway, enjoy our ooc pervert, roomie thoma!

thoma is the sweetest roommate you’d ever ask for!

besides the fact that he constantly reminds you of the tasks you have absentmindedly forgotten or prepares breakfast in the morning, he also helps you with your projects whenever he has some time to spare.

you also want to take note of the tea he always makes!

“hey thoma! you haven’t told me what brand this tea is.”

the weekend had just arrived and you were left sprawled in the comforts of your blankets while watching another rom-com with thoma. he was laid adjacent to your side, the two loveseats occupied by your tired bodies.

“silly, how many times do i need to tell you that i handmade this! you can help me pick up the ingredients tomorrow morning if you want,” thoma offers with a smile. he can see how you immediately perked up in interest, nodding your head in agreement. “well, just make sure that you sleep early now since i often leave around 5.”

and he hears you grunt afterward.

“come on now, you wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this, yeah?” he encourages you, standing up from his seat. he eyes you, taking a huge sip of your tea before dropping down the cup on the nearby table. he shudders, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips before he reaches out both his hands to help you stand up.

as you do, you can feel your body slipping into a relaxed state, almost stumbling and falling back into the seat. but thoma was fast and had an arm wrapped around your body, gently cradling you in his warmth.

“easy now,” he mumbles. it felt quite nice to be wrapped in his embrace as the nature of his being caring seeps through while he guides you to your room. “getting sleepy now, aren’t you?”

you hummed, feeling the softness of your blanket caressing your skin as thoma gently lays you down on your bed. as each second passes by, you find your eyes can barely keep themselves open. and before you were consumed by sleep, you can hear the faint whisper from your roommate, a sweet smile etched on his face.

“sweet dreams f/n.”

it was truly sweet, thoma had always been like this every day and you barely notice the patterns. he is someone so kind, dependable, selfless, and caring so you trust him. there’s never a reason to doubt him, not when he had you gullible just as he wanted to.

don’t get him wrong but thoma genuinely cares for you. he likes you, a lot. but the intensity of his emotions quickly becomes too much for him to handle. you were so pretty, so perfect in his eyes that he can’t help but give you what he thinks you’d want, what you’d like, what you’d find worthy of your affection.

but he thinks that fucking you when you’re asleep is something you wouldn’t approve of.

when he sees the steady motion of your chest, lungs pumping air in and out of your relaxed and vulnerable state, he’s quick to adjust your body, letting you lie flat on your back and your legs pressed on each side. you’ve always looked beautiful to him, no matter what you wear, no matter how unkempt your hair was.

and he finds you most beautiful spread out like this for him to take. an angel you are in his eyes.

he groans when he feels his cock ache inside his tight pants. you’re just that perfect, fuck, he’s so damn lucky that he’s the one who gets to share this apartment space with you and not just a random bastard who wouldn’t treat you like he does.

he just hope you wouldn’t find out the debauched person he can be.

thoma wants to put all the blame on you. you should be held accountable for how adorable you are, and how your beaming eyes always had him hooked whenever you tell him what happened in uni. you should know that he’s utterly smitten from how much you cling to him, trusting him to the point where you don’t even notice that the tea he makes was the very reason why he had you pressed down like this.

of course, he wouldn’t dare hurt you. he’s not an asshole who just takes advantage of you like this and ends up hurting you in any way or form. thoma would spend the time preparing you, holding you, and pleasing you before he could even please himself.

as he had your legs spread open, he would gently remove your pants, revealing you in your underwear. he finds it cute how you wear this particular pair every weekend, the soft pastel red cotton undies he always love!

then he would notice how you’d shiver, feeling the cold gust of wind welcoming your flushed skin. thoma would cover you up with the blanket he made for you, smiling as he remembers how you were elated to receive this from him.

as he provides you a source of warmth, he would continue and leave kisses on your thighs, his large hands pressing down to spread your legs wider. he dares not leave any hickeys, as much as his mind tells him to mark you already. he can do that later when you’re finally sober enough to know what the hell he’s doing.

after leaving feather-like kisses on both your thighs, thoma would press two of his fingers between your clothed cunt, sliding up and down your slit. he can hear the gentle hums of satisfaction escaping your lips.

“even when you’re in deep sleep, you’ve always loved being pleasured like this, huh?” he whispers, putting in some pressure that the tip of his finger glides down your clit. “we wouldn’t want to mess this though,” he adds before he hooks two of his fingers to the band of your underwear and slowly pulls it off your body.

with your lower half exposed for his eyes to feast on, thoma almost came at the sight of your cunt slightly shimmering from your slick. he curses under his breath, impatient because he just wants to shove his cock but had put an immense focus so to mentally stops himself.

before he even loses control, he moves his head down and has his lips close in your cunt. he hums, satisfied, tasting you as his tongue laps up and down your clit. he can finally taste you, so sweet against the sensitive flesh of his mouth. you were addicting, thoma can’t help but give your pussy lips a kiss before he had his whole mouth sucking on your poor cunt.

he felt your thighs occassionally close back from the sensation, your eyebrows furrowing that your sleep-induced state tries to focus on the pleasurable feeling you’re receiving between your legs.

“you’re so damn cute,” thoma mutters before he goes back on assaulting your sensitive clit. he wants to hear you moan, to hear you whimper about how good he’s treating you, how good he was on eating you out, on pleasing you but that can wait.

after flicking his tongue on your sensitive nub, he had two fingers slowly pumping in and out of your hole. you were so wet, so ready for him to take but he wants to make you cum first. thoma goes back on sucking on your clit as his fingers smoothly go in and out of your hole, adjusting it to reach the most sensitive spot inside that he knew by heart. you were so warm, so tight around two of his digits.

the pleasure he gets from fucking you like this had him rutting his hips down the bed, cock itching to shove itself inside your warmth and have your tight walls snuggle it closer. his pants' already ruined from his pre. he groans as he does so, eyes peering up to witness how your back softly arched from the vibrations he had let go on your clit. thoma can feel how close you are, your warm walls sucking him in with fervor.

“that’s it f/n. go on, cum for me,” he says even if you won’t even hear him or know that it was him pleasuring you like this. your walls clamped on his fingers, your hole gushing out so much slick as thoma didn’t stop sliding his digits in and out to ride your high.

your body was still shaking a bit from the aftermath of your orgasm when thoma swiftly moved up and pulled his hard and aching cock out of his already-ruined pants. he hissed as the warmth of his hands made contact with his skin, quickly rubbing the bulbous head on your cunt to relieve himself from the pain.

“‘want you so badly, f/n, just let me—” slowly, he pushes himself inside your walls, grunting at the sudden tightness engulfing him. he eyes your body, those emerald hues watching every twitch of your eyebrow and how your chest lets go of a shaky breath as he finally pushes all the way in. “fuck, you feel so good around me.”

thoma’s head was spinning at the view he’s getting of you even more when he looks down to where you’re both connected. his long girth feels just perfect to be inside you, smoothly sliding in and out. hell, he wanted to roughly bend you in half and shove himself as deep as he could but you might wake up. he doesn’t want that but fuck, you’re making it so hard for him.

in seconds, he rocks his hips against your body, his thighs softly smacking against your butt as he slowly ruts himself in your core. thoma bites down on his lips, focusing on being gentle while getting the most out of your cunt. he closes his eyes, savoring how your walls sucks him in, tightening every time he bottoms out. he was so big yet he had managed to have you adjust to his size perfectly, molding you to have his cock alone.

he was close, the pleasure so intense on bis lower half he had somehow let go of his focus and started a rather quick pace in fucking you. he hears you whimpering, his mind thinking that you’re awake and was ushering him to go faster, that you’re close too, that you want him to make a mess out of you.

“anything for you, f/n. fuck, i’d do anything for you,” he utters with a moan, sweat glistening on his forehead, his balls slapping oh so loudly against your thighs covered with your slick. and he pulls out, groaning as his cold hands started to jerk on his sensitive cock before he lets out his thick cum just right outside your hole.

thoma could barely keep in his moans, shivering at how he coats your pussy lips with his load that you looked so damn messy but fuck, you’re just so beautiful in his eyes.

“i love you,” he whispers but gained back his focus in seconds when he hears you humming. his eyes darted back to your face only to see that you’re still fast asleep.

thoma sighs, shaking his head, and went back down to look at your cum-stained cunt. he could just jerk again at the sight but doesn’t want to wake you sooner than he’d think he might. but, before he puts your legs back down and it let relax, he pulls out his phone from his pocket and quickly took pictures of your body, more on how he ruined you below, angling it where he can see how he had claimed you to be his.

with this sweet smile on his face, he bends down and slowly left a kiss on your forehead.

“sweet dreams, angel. i hope that we can spend more time soon.”

#⇲ full streams #nsfw.txt #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #thoma smut #thoma x reader smut #drugging tw #tw drugging #noncon tw #tw noncon #tw somnophilia #somnophilia tw

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homelanderbutbig · 5 months ago

Text

The Feeling Of Love (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1554 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You give Homelander's hands a once-over.

It's been a stressful afternoon at the penthouse. Homelander has been sitting in silence while he intently watches the television, tapping his index finger impatiently on the couch's armrest. The voice of Victoria Neuman reverberates through his ears, as she has yet another rally rattling on about the dangers of Compound V. She spares no expense with her pot-shots at Vought, and the formidable power that Homelander possesses as the world's strongest supe. His face twitches from his growing anger, hearing her compare him to the biblical warrior Goliath, a giant inhuman monster that must be taken down by David… by the people of New York.

And to top it all off, Stan Edgar has forbidden him from interfering. They knew about this televised assault in advance, but the board insisted he make no appearances until his PR team has a chance to formulate an appropriate response for him. Instead, he is forced to sit and watch like a dog held back from doing its only purpose, and correcting these mudpeople from harming its 'masters'.

Suddenly, Homelander hears your familiar heartbeat coming out of the elevator and into the living room. Although he usually enthusiastically greets your arrival, he doesn't even tilt his head to look at you right now. But it doesn't take some Sherlock-level detective work from you to tell that he is pretty on edge about something.

"Hi hun," you say, as cheerily as you always are, the only real constant positive in his life. "Whatcha watching?" you enquire while you hop onto the couch cushion to the right of him.

"Press conference," he states bluntly, barely acknowledging you as he refuses to tear his eyes off the screen.

"Can I watch with you?" you ask. He finally glares down at you, slightly annoyed that he can't engross himself in these attacks against his character in peace, but he can't stay mad at your innocent expression.

"…Fine," he relents, sighing under his breath. "Just… be quiet if you're going to stay."

"My lips are sealed," you promise, beaming up at him as you make the motion of zipping your mouth closed. He rolls his eyes at your child-like theatrics before refocusing himself to the broadcast, earning a giggle from you in return.

After a couple minutes of hushed viewing, you're starting to feel a tad bored. Victoria's speech isn't very interesting to you; all of the political jargon flies over your head. However, Homelander wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he'd never admit it. Just a glimpse up at his face is enough for you to see the rage bubbling up to the surface. His uncontrollable twitching and fidgeting are failing to keep his emotions in check.

When he's in this kind of mood, he can be a bit stubborn to accept some relief, especially when it's offered to him. He wants to keep stewing in his frustration, and be alone to sink further into his own hostile thoughts. Smiling to yourself, you have an idea on how to keep yourself silently occupied and quell Homelander's fury all in one fell swoop.

Slowly, you reach over and place your hand on top of his right one, which is clenched into a tight fist. You completely catch him off guard as you lightly stroke his knuckles with your thumb, rubbing the leather of his glove. He gazes at you through his side-eye, but quickly looks away when you angle your head up at him. You can't help smiling at how he fights his inner yearning to give in to your love, trying his best to be coy and not let you spot him sneaking glances.

His fist gradually begins to relax from your tender caresses, until it's laid flat on the couch cushion. Now you can initiate phase two. With both of your hands, you methodically pull his glove off and place it on the adjacent cushion. Although Homelander still won't directly look at you, you can see that his body has completely tensed from your actions. And yet he still doesn't stop you, and waits noiselessly for you to make the first move.

With the utmost care, you start exploring his hand. The entire length of your own hand fits into just his palm, and even then it is still larger. Hell, practically any of his digits are taller than your hand. His fingers are long and slender, nails well-manicured. His skin is immaculate, as smooth as polished marble and without a callus or scar in sight. He has Compound V to thank for that, whether he'd like to or not.

Running your fingers along his skin has the exact effect you were hoping for, as you feel the tension and displeasure drain from his body. He's let his limb go deadweight, permitting you to pick his hand up to rest it on your lap. Luckily it's considerably light compared to the rest of his body mass, weighing only a few pounds on your thighs. It's still massive enough that it takes up more space than your lap allows, but that's never really been a point of concern. You lay his hand facing palm-up, and start tracing the lines with your index finger. Each crease tells its own tale, of a life marred with insurmountable pain and the longing to be appreciated despite its many faults.

At first he tries to continue ignoring you, but he finds it impossible to focus on the television anymore. Feeling your kind touches is awakening his deep-seated desire for affection, buried within his subconscious. The need to immerse himself in unconditional love, which you are currently doling out in spades.

From now on, Homelander's eyes are solely fixated on you.

"Y'know, I never realized how big your hands are," you remark, flipping his hand over so you can splay your palm on the back of his hand for comparison.

He swallows hard at your comment. Of course his hands are big, he thinks to himself. They're gigantic, just like the rest of him. They're freakish instruments designed to kill, maim and destroy. Even when he was a child in the lab, the scientists would flinch in fear when he would dare reach his hands over to them. He was forbidden to lay a finger on them, lest he break their fragile human bones.

He was forbidden to touch them, or be touched by them.

"But you know what else?" you continue, inadvertently cutting off his spiraling train of thought. "That's what makes them special. They're soft, and warm, and gentle too," you add, lifting his hand up to kiss his knuckle. "They're perfect, just like you."

Your words are so earnest, so heartfelt, that he can't stop the tears from welling up in his eyes. Homelander wishes his brain could connect with his mouth so he could say something, any words at all. Everything in his mind is so jumbled, so thick in a jungle of murkiness that he can barely process the barrage of memories seeping in and out of his psyche.

He would be in a state of overwhelm right now, except for the one thing bringing him back down to reality, cracking through the armour his trauma wears to shield itself from healing. And it's not even anything grandiose. It's just you. You and a simple touch to his ungloved hand. The feeling of your skin on his skin, the feeling of acceptance… the feeling of love.

As he cannot find it in himself to speak, he does the only thing he can think of and offers you his left hand. You waste no time removing that glove as well, and allow him to return the favour by engulfing your hand in his hold. It might seem intimidating to anyone else, but you aren't afraid, you know he would never hurt you. The level of precision Homelander has over his strength is something he's honed over the years, as the amount of politicians that he's had to shake hands with over his tenure at Vought has made handling human hands basically child's play. But it's not the same currently; it's a trade-off of trust.

This moment is about the trust you give him, and the trust he now gives back to you.

Delicately, he wraps his right arm around you and pulls you in closer. Your body slots so perfectly into the side of his abdomen, it's almost like you were always meant to be there, right next to him. You make him feel things he never expected to experience. You embrace his vulnerabilities without a second thought. You care, because you love him.

"Why don't we watch something else? Maybe one of your movies?" you suggest.

Your question brings a smile to his face; you know he's never been one to miss an opportunity to show off his accomplishments. He relinquishes your hand from his grasp, only briefly, to change the channel to one of his personal favourites: 'Homelander: Rise of a Hero'.

The rest of the afternoon is spent watching the movie, cuddling with Homelander, and him making the occasional declaration about how well his acting is in certain scenes. Your secret mission is a success, as Victoria Neuman's rally against him has been totally forgotten. And all it took was for you to hold his hand.

#the boys #the boys tv #homelander #homelander x reader #g/t #size difference #my writing #this started out as something silly but episode four made me die inside #he needs comfort and love 🥺

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the-cauldron-witch · 4 months ago

Text

To quote @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

for real though

You have a really tough day

and Raph is like, hey let's hit the gym

and while he's lifting you're telling him about your day

and how frustrated you are

and he offers to let you use the spare boxing gloves (april's old set) and he'll put on the pads

and you just take out everything, and he cheers you on, giving you some pointers but mostly just encouraging

and when you finish and take the pads off, he swats you on the butt with a big hand

and you turn around to give him a look and he's just smiling at you, proud smug look on his face

and says "that's my girl 😏 "

as he walks out of the gym

and you're just like

*blushingggggg*

So, here’s a scenario I wrote off of this!

Today can frankly end at any moment, you think. Be it by either teleporting you into the future, the earth opening up and swallowing the entire city of New York whole, or the sun simply exploding, you would take any end to today. It had started off with waking up to a flat tire on your locked bike, the tube punctured somewhere along your ride home the previous day by a stray roofing nail, which forced you to take public transportation. Of course, due to some reason unknown to you, the bus was running behind schedule which meant you were coming to work fifteen minutes late.

Something about the previous shift put a hair across your boss's ass that day it seemed, as he decided to completely rail into you the second you clocked in for your shift. He doesn’t listen to any of your explanations, simply telling you off on the spot as other coworkers awkwardly stroll by passing you a sympathetic glance. You finally managed to start your shift after being set back another fifteen minutes, despite the fact at least four or five other coworkers are late regularly. It wasn’t something you really could argue about though, you needed the hours and talking back to your boss would hinder that.

Then came your worst nightmare right on queue. He was only scheduled for half your shifts normally, but this one coworker made that time especially hellish for you. Constant shameless flirting, pick-up lines, and attempts at physical contact- you finally shouted at him today after the morning you had just had. Snapping at him you spat that you were very much taken and very much happy about it, so he better back the absolute hell off before you called your man to beat his ass. Even though that was a lie, you couldn’t call Raph to deal with this creep, he was thankfully just smart enough to leave you alone for the remainder of your shift.

Which brought you to the end of your day, right now. A storm had blown in from the south, cascading sheets and sheets of rain down over the city from heavy thick clouds. Trudging to the nearest and safest manhole cover, jeans soaking wet and clinging suffocatingly to your lower half made moving incredibly uncomfortable. Your shirt attempted to strangle you as it hugged to your frame like saran wrap, the dampness quickly chilling you to the core as you descended into the sewers cool air.

Storming past his brothers, soaked to the bone and squishing with every step you took, Raph was a little surprised to see you barge into his room from the end of his workout bench and slamming the door shut behind you promptly. You hadn’t even greeted his brothers as you breezed past them, frankly you didn’t feel your mood was of any good company to anyone other than the one person you wanted to be around.

Normally when you strip in front of Raph, he would comment and attempt to get his hands on you or convince you to get into bed with him. With how you slammed the wad of wet clothing into the laundry hamper with an irritated grunt, Raph chose to stay quiet and allow you to explain yourself. He continued his repetition, curling the barbell in his tridactyl hand to his bicep and bringing it back down with control.

It didn’t take long for you to start ranting loudly about your day, snatching a dry towel from his shelf and tousling your hair as you stood stark naked in his bedroom. His eyes didn’t falter from your frame, shamelessly raking over your body, but he still nodded along as you bitched about your boss being an absolute knob head and giving you shit for being late. Finishing his routine Raph got up and walked to his wrack, placing the dumbbell in its rightful place.

You stormed over to your boyfriend's dresser with a huff in silence, your hair sufficiently dry enough for you to get dressed. Raph had insisted on giving you a drawer to yourself, which you were rather grateful for as you grabbed a quick outfit. It was a work-out outfit to no surprise, mainly because whenever you wanted to change it was to work out with Raph in the first place.

“Hey,” Raph called to you, catching your attention as you rummaged for clothes. “Why don’t you go grab April’s old gloves, I'll put on the boxing pads, and we can work out more of this anger” Smiling warmly at you Raph hoped his offer would steer your foul mood in the right direction. Taking a moment to think you agreed, dressing yourself rather quickly and following him out of the room and into the dojo.

Snagging the yellow scuffed gloves dangling from their ties against the wall you slipped them on quickly, more than ready to unleash your pent up frustration. Strapping all the appropriate gear on Raph made his way to the open space with you, holding up the pads and readying himself. Holding up your fists and planting your feet in place you readied yourself, taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself.

“So, what’d that chump say when ya told ‘im the bus runnin’ late?” Raph questioned you, readying himself for the onslaught but also making sure you knew he was listening to your problem. A small but sweet gesture, one that tugged at your heartstrings a little but didn’t extinguish the flame within you.

“Oh, just told me that it ‘wasn’t his problem’-” You began swinging your fists left and right just as Raph had shown you many times before, “And kept telling me that it was my responsibility to the company to get there on time and make sure I call ahead if I’m going to be late!”

“Because you planned to be late, right?” Raph fueled your fire as the sound of blows landing echoed off the dojo walls. As you took two more quick jabs at his right hand the left pad suddenly swung at you, swiping for the top of your head. Ducking with ease you dodged the attack and launched a counter.

“Exactly! Not to mention no one bothers to pick up the damn phone there anyhow, so even if I called it’s useless!” Executing a surprisingly quick three piece set of punches, Raph grinned from behind his boxing pads shielding his face, flashing his sharp canines in a way that always sent a warm glow up from the pit of your stomach to the rest of your body. The feeling was enough to make you pause for a moment, gasping for air after exerting so much energy.

“Nice moves, you’re getting better” It was like Raph knew when to pull you out of your rampage, just long enough for you to center yourself and focus on the task at hand and not lose yourself in the anger. With renewed vigor and a smile that split your face nearly in two, you began swinging and aiming for the pads on Raph’s hands a little faster now. Testing your reflexes and hand-eye coordination Raph began moving the pads for you to focus on, watching you carefully so that he didn’t receive a black eye.

“And then- mmph! That creep at work kept flirting with me again today,” You spoke through your teeth as you remembered the way that vile walking talking HR report sauntered into your personal bubble. “He had the nerve to put his arm around my waist and try to hit on me!” Emphasizing the burning rage inside your chest with particularly harsh punches you continued attacking his moving hands, imagining the disgusting face of your ‘admirer’ was beneath each blow.

“I threatened to call you to beat his ass if he kept it up, it was the only way to get him to leave me alone” Exhaling in a way that felt like a weight lifted off of your chest you took a minute to breath, the cool underground air soothing the burn in your lungs. You had honestly expected a snarl followed by a physically threatening promise towards your coworker, or even for Raph to blow up into his own fit of rage.

“With those swings? I won’t need to beat him, doll. You could whoop his ass all on your own, but I’d love to watch” He gave you a wink, rolling a growl in the back of his throat flirtatiously. The laugh that barked out of you nearly knocked you over, completely caught off guard by Raph countering your anger with his own flirting. He couldn’t help but join your laughter, thrilled with himself at how quickly he turned your mood around from when you blew into the lair like a furious storm ready to strike whomever crossed you.

“Okay, last round,” You held up your hands at the ready, wanting to finish off strong this round. Eyebrows raising in surprise at your eagerness Raph got into position, the smile on his face wordlessly praising your commitment to training. Now that your mood had taken a better turn you no longer had the energy to rant and spit your anger, instead choosing to focus on the training session. In between instructing you to adjust your elbows or watch your footing, Raph encouraged you to try that punch just one more time. Listening and obeying his advice you continued, alternating pads with each swing of your fists.

Two final, harsh, affirmative punches and you both decided to call it a session. Unfastening the gloves from your hands you turned to hang them back on their hook, walking past Raph with a satisfied smile curling your lips and sweat dripping down your cheek. With one pad-covered hand Raph swung low, catching your entire ass with the glove with an echoing WHOP!

Turning to look over your shoulder and peg Raph with a half-hearted glare, you opened your mouth to snip some sort of retort to him. While your mouth remained open, words seemed to have failed you, Raph’s half lidded gaze boring into you with emerald green fire. A toothy grin dimpled his cheeks as he looked down at you with admiration.

“That’s my girl,” He purrs at you proudly before leaving the dojo, heading for his room to return the boxing pads. There is thankfully no one to witness the blush bloom across your cheeks and to your ears and neck, three simple words sending a shiver through your spine.

@thelaundrybitch Message me if you want to be apart of my tag group!

#Raphael x Reader #Raph x Reader #chat inspo #TMNT #No specific iteration #Raphael #Raph

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live-laugh-lenney · 9 months ago

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What about George when his girl is insecure?

oh, he'd be the sweetest. you cannot tell me otherwise. he's a big old softy when it comes to her feeling insecure...

"oi, you. why are you hiding in here?"

yn tears her attention away from her phone and she directs her eyes over to the bedroom door, the quietness of the room being broken by her boyfriend's hushed voice. his head being all she could see as he peered into his bedroom, with the door being kept ajar so she could still hear the commotion of arthur's housewarming party from down the hallway, loud music and heavy chatter bouncing off the walls.

with a spare room going at george's, with arthur hill and chris taking the other two, they had offered it out to 'mister television' and it was an offer he took kindly. immediately making the flat his own from the moment he had started moving in.

"i just needed a bit of peace," yn replies softly, "everything okay?"

george nods softly and steps into the room, a bottle of peroni in his hand and, as he sat down beside her, she could smell the booze on his breath; intoxicating to her because there was something about drunk george that she couldn't get enough of. the way his eyes would darken after each beer, the way his lips got wetter and wetter, the way his hands would wander her body... it was something special and she longed for a night out where the two of them could let loose.

except, this night, she just wasn't feeling it.

she just wasn't feeling herself.

her relationship with george had been common knowledge for over a year now, his followers welcoming her in with open arms and the sweetest of messages, and she thought she'd gotten lucky in barely coming across any hate and messages that were simply posted out of pure jealousy and rage... until that morning, when she was sat at the kitchen island in george's flat, scrolling through her twitter and her instagram on her laptop and spooning porridge into her mouth, taking advantage of the quiet flat before any of the boys had woken up.

and, for some reason, the majority of her 'recommended' tweets were about her. the top comments showing on her most recent instagram post were hateful towards the way she looked. the most retweeted and the most liked comments were about how george should be with someone else because she was boring and holding him back from his career.

'anyone else feeling bored of her now? george needs someone better'

'george isn't so active on here anymore... we haven't had a video from him for months. single him was so much better'

'him and gkbarry were my endgame. i hate how yn came into his life and ruined the dream'

'she's so ugly... why her?'

she knew that reading one bad tweet would drown out the majority of the nicer comments but those comments were hard to ignore. if they were said out of spite, and if they were said to hurt her, then they were achieving exactly that... and it was silly because they were from online outlets.

"is that really the reason?"

"what?"

"that you needed some peace. baby, you've been off with me all day," george states, his bottle of beer being placed on the bedside table next to his side of the bed, freeing both hands so he could hold hers tightly, "if something is bothering you, you can tell me."

"i know," she smiles softly and he leaves the space beside her and kneels down in front of her, resting his arms on her thighs and her hands being kept in his tight hold, "i know i can."

"then talk to me."

she lifts her head from her lap and she can feel her chin wobbling as soon as she made eye contact with his eyes, concern and confusion flooding his orbs as he sees her demeanour drop from her usual self. the bubbly personality having gone missing that day. no jokes being shared, she didn't tease arthur for something he'd said, chris couldn't even make her laugh and she didn't break into song with arthur hill when she saw him.

"what's happened?"

"i just," she huffs out a heavy and shaky breath, her head rolling back and she looks up to the ceiling, "people are so mean online, george."

"i thought we spoke about not going looking for those kinds of tweets and messages," he reminds her, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles in a soothing manner, "there's no point getting sucked in to the hate and the negative tones on social media. blacklist the words."

"but i didn't go looking," she states, "they were just there. right when i opened twitter this morning. on my instagram. people were saying you could do better than me. that i'm ugly. that i'm stopping you from doing your job. it just made me feel bad. insecure, almost. like, i know you can have anyone you like. just look at you."

he tuts and shakes his head, a displeasing look on his features and he squeezes her hands in hopes she would look at him in the eye. which she did. in a manner that was slow and cautious because she knew she was being silly, dealing dramatically with the situation, yet she just couldn't help it. she had feelings and when they got too much, she just needed a relief in letting them out before she felt better.

"george-"

"you have nothing to be insecure about, alright? i love you," he says with the cheesiest grin on his lips, "i love you. always. everything that i do, it's done so that i can spoil you and take you away with me and treat you so well. not them."

"but-"

"no," he interrupts her and stops her from continuing, bringing up a finger to hold against her lips, "you're gorgeous. you're beautiful. you are my favourite person in the entire world, okay? yeah, they may have gotten me into this whole crazy dream of mine but, i get to live that dream with you."

her heart triples in size, thumping hard in her chest, and her lips curve into a smile against his finger.

"i'm so lucky to have you, baby. my number one fan, my number one tiktok commenter, my number one."

"that was cheesy," she murmurs and he rolls his eyes, standing to his feet and holding his hands out, "you know i'm going to tell them you just said that."

"don't," he warns her, pulling her to her feet and bringing her to his chest, her cheek resting against the t-shirt on his upper body and his lips pressing against her forehead, "you ready to come back out? the others have been asking for you."

she nods and looks up at him, standing on her tiptoes and placing a kiss to his lips.

"i love you too, by the way."

short and sweet for our georgey boy there. thank you for sending this in! i do love a bit of fluffy and boyfriend-y george fics - he just screams simp for his girlfriend, you can't tell me otherwise. xx

#george clarkey #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey blurbs #george clarkey fics #george clarkey headcannons #george clarkey x female reader

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stormyelliotwritez · 4 months ago

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Could you write a hobie x male spider man reader who got kicked out, and since Hobie and them were friends before, Hobie offered to let Y/N stay at his flat, which is how Y/N is able to steal all of Hobie’s clothes, and really anything that fits him..

If u could pls and tyy!!

YES I CAN AND I DID (i'm not quite sure if it's exactly what you wanted so feel free to send in another request to get more of what you wanted)

FICLET UNDER CUT

It had been a normal day, and everything was going good. Then it all went downhill. Y/N’s parents kicked him out. All he was able to grab was his suit and a backpack before they threw him out with nowhere to go, well he had one place to go.

So that’s why he’s now on Hobie’s front doorstep with his suit in one hand, backpack in the other and his watch flat.

Hobie opened the door and stared at him. He raised his eyebrow and opened the door wider. Y/N walked inside and dropped his bag and suit on the floor.

“What happened, luv?” Hobie asked quietly as he closed the door.

He ushered Y/N into the dining room and sat him down on a chair and then sat on the table. He took the other boy’s hands in his and smiled softly.

“Luv, you gotta tell me what happened.”

Y/N glanced down at the ground and then back up at Hobie. He smiled awkwardly.

“My parents,” he looked back down at the floor, “they kicked me out.”

Hobie’s eyes softened, and he traced circles on Y/N’s wrists. “So, you’ve got nowhere else to go?”

Y/N nodded as he looked back up at Hobie. “I used up my watch’s energy to get here.”

Hobie nodded before speaking again. “The backpack and suits all you got?”

Y/N nodded. Hobie stood up and wandered over to his bright blue couch and grabbed a hoodie. He turned around and threw it at his friend.

“You can stay here but London’s cold, you muppet,” he said affectionately.

Y/N caught it and smiled. “Thanks, punk.”

A few days later, Hobie was looking around his apartment for his leather jacket. He looked in his wardrobe where it should have been and then he dug through the dirty washing. He threw blankets off the couch and pillows all over the apartment. He searched through the whole apartment before hearing the front door open. He slid to the front and his jaw dropped.

Y/N was wearing his jacket.

He burst out laughing and leaned against the wall. He slid down it and couldn’t even talk. Y/N walked up to him and leaned over as he placed the grocery bag on the floor. He stared at Hobie for a moment before cracking a smile.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asked curiously.

Hobie sat up straighter and tried to stop laughing. It didn’t work.

“You’re wearing my jacket,” he sputtered through laughter.

Y/N looked down at the jacket and raised an eyebrow. “You’re weird, Hobie,” he chuckled.

Hobie smiled. “So are you, muppet.”

Hobie stood up and helped Y/N take the bags into the kitchen. He pulled out ingredients for dinner and got started. They had dinner and shared meaningful glances and joked about Y/N stealing all his clothes.

A few weeks later, Hobie was rushing around to get ready for a gig. He ran around the house just like a few weeks before and looked in all the usual places. He checked the wardrobe for his vest and didn’t find it. He checked the pile on the chair for his jeans, but they weren’t there. He checked the laundry basket for one of his many shirts and most of them were there but then he remembered why they were. Ew.

He thought to try and find his boots when he heard stomping. He sighed and slid to Y/N’s bedroom or well the spare room he had that had turned into Y/N’s bedroom. He opened the door and was bombarded with loud rock music and the bright colourful lights he’d stolen for Y/N.

“Muppet?” he chuckled as he leaned in the doorway and crossed his arms.

Y/N turned around, and they were in his full gig get up. He smiled awkwardly at Hobie.

“Hi. Do you have a gig?” He asked nervously.

“Yeah, get changed. You said you’d come actually,” Hobie laughed.

Y/N’s eyes widened, and he slammed the door shut. He got undressed in record time and opened the door. He shoved Hobie’s clothes into his arms. He then closed it again and got dressed into his own clothes. He then opened the door again and found Hobie at the front door.

“Let’s go,” he smiled.

Hobie smiled back and picked up his guitar case.

“Yeah, let’s go, muppet.”

#x m!reader #x male reader #x reader #stormy writes things #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x m!reader #spider-punk #spider-punk x reader #REQUESTS #requests are still opennnn #across the spiderverse #spider-punk x spider-reader

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avocado-writing · 1 year ago

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Hello, hope you're doing okay! 😊

About that good omens requests 👀 how about reader finding out Crowley has been living in his car so they offer for him to move in? At first it's all awkward but they quickly fall in a weirdly domestic routine?

Would also love to see Aziraphale's reaction when he finds out the two has been living together. 😀

notes: avo don’t mention bakeoff in a fic challenge level impossible

pairing: crowley x reader

rating: T

Day 1:

“Your car?! Crowley, you can’t be serious.”

He’s certain he’s told you about his living situation. Well. He was certain. You’re looking at him now with such horror it’s like he kicked a puppy in front of you, and he wonders if perhaps he let it slip his mind.

“I don’t have the flat any more, do I? Where else am I meant to go?”

You open your mouth to retort and then realise… where can he go? Aziraphale’s? God, you love the angel, he’s one of the best friends you have — but he is a bit obtuse when it comes to social things. And you’re not sure Crowley actually has any money, so he can’t rent anywhere else to live.

Well, no matter. You shan’t let it stand for a moment more.

“You’re moving in.”

“What?!” he looks appalled. You put your hands on your hips.

“I’ll have no complaining, Crowley. That car is not a home. You’re coming to live with me.”

You’ve been with Crowley for a couple of months now. This is perhaps expediting the process of a relationship - the moving in stage usually takes a bit longer - but you’re pretty sure this constitutes an emergency. He is, for all intents and purposes, homeless.

Besides, having a live-in boyfriend might be nice. He could make you tea.

So that evening finds the two of you unloading his few possessions from the car and finding space for them in the flat. He takes a long while to work out where the best place is for his house plants, but eventually the two of you are left sitting on the couch surrounded by your joint belongings.

“Would you like a room to yourself? The spare is my office at the moment, but I can always move my desk into my bedroom.”

“Do you want me to have a room to myself?” he asks, arching an eyebrow over his sunglasses.

“Well, no, I want you to share the double with me—”

“Then there’s no conflict of interest, is there?”

You smile and he kisses you.

Day 2:

It doesn’t feel strange, waking up with him next to you. He’s slept over a couple of times at this point. What does feel odd is the way he doesn’t head off as you start to make breakfast, instead he asks to borrow a towel and use the shower.

He doesn’t even have any bloody towels, you think, but acquiesce to his request.

He spends a lot of time in the shower. You’re not sure how hot he has it running, but by the end of the affair steam is leaking out from the gap between the bathroom door and your stone tiling. When he emerges with the towel wrapped up on his head, it is with a billow of clouds.

“Have you turned the extractor fan on?”

“Hmm?” he asks, looking up from drying his hair. He hasn’t manifested anything on his body, so he’s smooth as a Barbie doll - it’s a bit disconcerting just having him stand there like that. You try not to look at the featureless mound.

“Extractor fan!”

He sighs and moseys back into the bathroom, walking into the wall a little where his glasses have fogged up.

As you watch your flat fall foul to condensation, you consider that this might take some adjustment.

Day 3:

“Bake-off tonight.”

“Must we?”

“We must.”

Crowley groans and flops onto the sofa. It occurs to you that you’ve never actually seen him sit. He’s always flopping, like everything is constantly far too much effort for him.

“Please, it’s a show made with the sole purpose of torturing me. It’s so… twee.”

“Well buckle in, matey. We have ten weeks of it.”

“Ugh.”

“You can go and read in the bedroom if you prefer.”

“Fine. I will.”

But he doesn’t move an inch and complains throughout the whole program. However he does swing his legs up onto yours for comfort.

Day 7:

You’re falling into a routine.

You wake up, perform your ablutions in the bathroom, then start on breakfast. The sound of the kettle lures him out of bed and into the shower. He spends so long in there you don’t bother making him a drink, instead you wait until he deems it fit to emerge and he reboils the leftover water. He takes his coffee black and the two of you chat about your plans for the day.

Unfortunately you have to work. You have a pretty well-paying job so the slightly increased energy bill and thoroughly increased water bill aren’t too much of an issue, but it does mean you can’t spend as much time with him as you’d like.

At least the flat is always spotless, though. To be fair to him he is an efficient housekeeper. There’s always a new configuration for the plants, too, as if botanical feng shui is all he does while you’re away.

It’s nice. It’s… domestic. And it’s utterly Crowley.

Day 30:

His belongings are mingling with yours now. Combined bookshelves with his new purchases. His record player set up on your side table with a mix of records. He has a special blend of tea which sits right next to your earl grey, and a single black mug which stands out against the rainbow of your collection.

At night he wraps around you and tangles his legs with yours. His hand slides onto the plain of your stomach and you thread your fingers through his while he feels you breathe.

He no longer wears his sunglasses around the flat.

It is wonderful.

He still claims not to like Bake-off.

Day 45:

“Crowley? Why can I smell burning?”

You know he’s opening his mouth to lie, deciding against it, and instead making the choice not to say anything at all. Bracing yourself, you walk into the kitchen.

“Oh! Crowley…”

“Not a word,” he says, trying to finish the decoration on the chocolate cake. It stands three tiers tall and, though the kitchen is a mess and he is somehow covered with buttercream, you can tell he’s actually pretty proud of himself. One last squeeze of the icing bag and he’s done, triumphant and grinning at his creation.

“Why all this?” you ask. He shrugs.

“You said the cakes looked good on Bake-off last night. Figured they couldn’t be that hard to do.”

“And do you still stand by that assessment?” you wipe some icing off of the tip of his nose.

“Just eat the bloody cake.”

You laugh, and you do. It’s delicious. But not as delicious as the kiss he gives you.

Day 64:

“You’re living together?!”

You peer up at Aziraphale from over the top of your novel, then exchange a glance with Crowley.

“Well, yes.”

“For a couple of months now actually, angel.”

“You never told me!”

You’re certain you did, but don’t object. He’ll get all persnickety if you do.

“Did you not think it was strange we always took the Bentley ‘home’ together?” is what you say instead. “And that we always arrive at the same time, too?”

Aziraphale fumbles for words and comes up empty. He settles on:

“Hmm. Well, I expect to be invited over for dinner.”

“Of course. Crowley will make dessert.”

The angel’s eyes light up, and Crowley looks at you as if you’ve cursed him.

Taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@specter-soltare@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@willbedecided@cool-iguana@this--is--music@ilyatan@lxsm2@clarina04@wtfhasmy-lifecometo@mrgatotortuga@wereallbrokenangels@night-affiliate@kimqueenofhell@chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t@am-i-obsessed---maybe@bakerstreethound@darktealrat@chaospossum@belilwen@rex-ray@hunterispunk

#crowley x reader #david tennant x reader #my writing #request

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saintrocklee · 8 months ago

Text

*:･ﾟ✧ RESTRAINT ╰┈➤ part 03 of 05

masterlist | pairing: itachi x reader publish date: 04.11.24 warnings: itachi pines. reader is oblivious, until you're not. there's alcohol, it's a party!

You're in slight awe as you're whisked up the stairs and through the archway that led to an oversized ballroom. No expense had been spared in furnishing and decorating the space. The fast moving wait staff along with being face to face with more famous people than you can count has you feeling lightheaded. There are pops of light lining your vision from all of the cameras and you're grateful for the warm hand guiding you through the chaos. You're not sure when Itachi had familiarized himself with your bare back but you immediately miss the contact when he takes a step away, only to fight back a smile when he offers you his arm.

If you were being honest you were out of your depth. Judging by how stiff Itachi felt as you slid your hand through the crook in his arm, you assumed he felt the same and took a steadying breath as he led you around the edge of the ballroom. There was a live band playing a soft song amidst the chatter of the crowd and three different bars scattered throughout the room serving drinks. Guests were still arriving and you can't help but pick out the people you recognize from some of the movies you've seen along with those you actually knew from working with Itachi. Multiple standing tables were set up all around the room, leaving a curious space in the middle you assumed was for dancing. You both come to a stop at an unattended table and you place your purse down on the black cloth cover before letting out a shaky laugh.

"This is ..." You trail off, failing to find an appropriate word for what you're feeling. Itachi hums.

"Overwhelming?" He supplies and you suck in your bottom lip to keep from grinning, nodding to a couple as they walked past.

"Over the top?" You counter and you're rewarded with a derisive snort.

"Excessive."

"Excruciating."

Itachi pauses and shifts to face you fully.

"Excruciating." He repeats and you rest your elbow on the table.

"Absolutely agonizing." You tease and there's a flash of displeasure on your boss' face. You let your smile come through and impulsively reach forward to feign adjusting his jacket, far too caught up in the moment to fully register what you were doing. It brings you a step closer to him and you miss the way Itachi's hands clench.

"It's too noisy in here, my shoes are kind of tight, my so-called date has already threatened to fire me -"

"With good reason -"

"For no reason, mind you -"

A girlish squeal interrupts you both and you blink, recognizing the sound immediately. Your fingers fall from Itachi's suit jacket just in time for a beautifully manicured hand to appear in your line of vision, jingling excitedly, bracelets twinkling under the lights. You turn and are enveloped into a comfortable but heavily perfumed hug while being chastised thoroughly.

"I can't believe you're here and you didn't text me, I have been begging for you to come to one of these with me for years!"

You pull away and smile warmly at Ino, an old friend of yours that you met when you started working for Itachi. She held a position equivalent to yours at a law firm and was currently working on passing her bar exam. It had slipped your mind that she would show face at events like this in place of her boss, and you keep still as she doted on you.

"You look ravishing, this has to be new - and I love the color. And your shoes, I honestly don't think I've ever seen your toes."

You smile and swallow a laugh when you glance back at Itachi, who seemed just uncomfortable enough to be in pain. One of your favorite things about Ino was how much she irked your boss and his face went from slightly tense to exasperated as she turned her attention to him.

"Finally letting her out, huh?"

Itachi's lip curled response.

"Ino."

His greeting is flat and rewarded with a roll of baby blue eyes.

"You're no fun." A flip of blonde hair. "I came over here to steal you." A pout of red painted lips. "I haven't seen you since that conference in Sedona."

You nod with your consent, having just spotted a couple of men making their way to your table. Whatever bubble you and Itachi had been in earlier was now popped and soon you'd both be surrounded by people, men and women alike, desperate to talk to him. You shoot him an edged smile as you grab your purse and let yourself be whisked away by Ino, partially grateful for your friend's obnoxious arrival.

Itachi's gaze follows you as you left with the boisterous blonde, tracking you across the room to one of the open bars that were now serving wine. Two men he barely recognized came to a stop next to him and he found himself participating in a rather dull conversation about a recent stock increase on a company he knew little to nothing about. Their time with him was short lived and soon they were replaced by another potential client, and so on it went. Itachi lost track of you in the crowd but he trusted Ino enough to know that you were in capable hands. After his fifth introduction Itachi finds himself alone and is about to find you when a drink is placed in his hand.

"Fair warning, it's not great scotch, but it's not awful."

Kisame grins down at him with more teeth than normal and Itachi sighs before taking an experimental sip. His friend's assessment was correct, but he's sure it's better than the wine they're serving and hums his thanks.

"Figured I'd wait till the sharks left you alone." Itachi ignores the obvious joke and Kisame continues, lips curling knowingly. "Saw who you came in with though."

Shrugging noncommittally, Itachi neither confirms or denies what Kisame was alluding to, and is rewarded with a barked laugh.

"So, what? Testing her out to see how the public reacts? Dazzle her with all the lights and -"

"Kisame." Itachi warns, but there's no venom behind his tone, and the larger man snickers into his half empty glass.

"Dinner and a movie would probably be easier than all this." KIsame pauses and looks at Itachi with eyes wide. "Don't tell me you made her come with you for work."

The frosty look he receives from the Uchiha has him grinning again.

"Of course you did."

Itachi opens his mouth to say no he did not but is interrupted by yet another group of people. Introductions and conversation flow much easier with Kisame next to him and time passes before Itachi is left alone with his friend again. This time Kisame avoids bringing you up and entertains himself by showing off pictures of his brand new baby daughter.

Itachi finds himself minutely distracted from the barrage of pictures as he tries to find you. He's become proficient at keeping you in his peripheral over the years and locates you quickly, off to the side of the crowd with Ino. You're both standing close together, shoulders brushing as you no doubt gossip behind almost empty glasses of wine. There's an easy smile on your face and he can tell by your posture that you're relaxed. Unwinding. Maybe even having fun.

Itachi taps his finger against his own empty glass as he wrestles with the unsettling realization that he is, in fact, more than a little jealous of Ino. Your lips are practically against her ear as you pull your wine glass down, just shy of your mouth, and whisper something that has her throwing her head back with a laugh. Kisame pulls at his attention once again and Itachi finds himself inappropriately agitated at the lopsided grin he receives. Deathly Uchiha eyes narrow and Kisame chuckles, motioning for Itachi's empty glass.

"Looks like you're in need of a refill."

With Kisame gone, he plays with the idea of collecting you when the music suddenly stops. Someone makes an announcement inviting couples on to the dance floor and slower music begins to play. Itachi's eyes find you again, idly wondering if you'd dance with him, and arches an amused brow when he sees you coming toward him. You're struggling not to smile and there's an anticipatory tingle in his chest that's making him work to keep his hands still.

"Long time no see." You breathe as you approach, standing closer than you were before. Itachi inhales a deep breath and hums, enjoying the soft scent of your perfume as you practically bounce in your heels. There's a twinkle in your eye that has Itachi weighing the consequences of running his thumb across your lip, just to see how you'd react, but he pockets the thought as Kisame rejoins the table.

Your face lights up when you see the older man, two glasses of scotch in his hands, and your smile turns devious.

"Good, you're both here."

Both men exchange a quick look as you shuffle in closer, leaning against the table and craning your neck forward. Kisame furrows his brow and hunches his shoulders down at your insistence.

"Okay, right behind me. You both see Hiruzen Sarutobi?"

Itachi could see him out of the corner of his eye and Kisame grunts in confirmation.

"Okay, okay. You see who he's here with?"

Kisame snorts into his drink.

"His wife?"

Your smile sharpens.

"Nope."

Kisame blinks.

"He's getting divorced. That is his daughter's babysitter."

The older man's mouth parts in surprise and Itachi snorts into his glass.

"They went public weeks ago."

Kisame and you both turn towards him in disbelief. He can see the betrayal in your eyes as you nudge him.

"And you didn't tell us? Rude."

Kisame nods in agreement and then jerks his head to the left.

"Notice Tsunade came alone?"

You and Itachi glance at the woman Kisame was referencing and you sigh, feigning boredom.

"Oh please, everyone knows she's sleeping with old man Jiraiya. I'll bet you fifty bucks they leave together."

Itachi hums a breathless laugh and Kisame groans, running a hand through his hair.

"She could do better. Did you hear about the Inuzuka family?"

"Yeah, there was something about the sister, right?"

"No, actually, her brother."

You cock your head in surprise as Kisame fills you in on the latest scandal and Itachi keeps himself entertained by watching the way your eyes widen and your lips part in surprise. He commits every detail to memory as he sips his drink, completely aware that he's fully enamored with you. Charming, he thinks to himself as you continue to relax and gossip with his friend. You were charming, eyes crinkling when you laughed, throat bobbing when you sipped your wine with a smile. He shifts, the back of his hand brushing against your side, and fights a smile when you lean into his touch. You're both shoulder to shoulder now, legs nearly touching, and Itachi slowly drags his knuckles up and around your waist to rest his hand on the bare skin of your back. Your glace at him as if confused and Itachi holds your gaze as Kisame pulls out his phone, excited for any excuse to talk about his daughter.

To his immense relief, you don't pull away as you turn your attention to awaiting baby pictures. That consuming and irritable tingling in his chest returns and to relieve some of the pressure, Itachi begins to stroke your skin with his thumb. You're soft and warm and he fights the urge to just grab you, call his driver, and leave. He'd take you back to his home where you both can finally be alone and confess everything against the unblemished skin just under your jaw. He'd watch the way your pupils would dilate as you finally understood the depth of his feelings, would weather whatever snark you'd throw at him, and maybe catch that stubborn bottom lip between his teeth. Itachi wants nothing more than to be gentle with you, to ease you into this and to take the time he knows you deserve, but you pulled at his patience like no other and he's prepared for the worst.

Itachi is pulled from this thoughts as Kisame is interrupted by a phone call from his wife. His friend excuses himself and before Itachi can say anything, you turn toward him, mouth set in a firm line. His hand moves from your back to your waist and he struggles with the urge to pull you even closer.

"I think I need some air." You tell him and Itachi nods once. Stepping out into the cooler air would help, he was getting too ahead of himself, too comfortable. He leads you towards a large door at the edge of the ballroom that is covered by a thick black curtain. The door knob clicks as it's opened and you sigh in relief when it leads to a balcony. It automatically swings shut behind you and Itachi lets you step away from him, eyes straying towards your chest as you inhale deeply. The area is empty, save for the two of you, and the light that peaks through the windows is faint.

"Thank you." You murmur as you turn back toward him. Itachi only hums in response and you roll your eyes fondly. His lip twitches in amusement and you let him see your smile. You're not sure if it was the wine, the fact that you were both alone, or the way your body was buzzing from the brief physical contact - but you felt a little giddy. Confident.

"And thank you for inviting me. This is actually kind of fun."

Your sincerity has Itachi's chest burning and he takes a step closer to you, unwillingly to be so far from you any longer.

"Of course." He murmurs, tone deepening as he lets himself feel. It's just the two of you, you're glittering and happy and responding positively to all of his advances, and that irritable tingling is back. He wants now, wants to tell you that you're beautiful, wants to drag his knuckles against your cheek and your jaw, wants to pull at your numerous hair pins and take in the scent of your perfume, he wants -

"I mean it. You could have brought anyone. So, thank you."

Your bright smile fades as you take in the way Itachi's mouth settles into a displeased line.

"I've already told you." He speaks and the finality in his tone is startling. "I prefer you."

You blink and what you say next slips out, pushed by the glasses of wine you've had and the sudden realization that you very much want him to mean what you think he means.

"Because we work together." You offer. A way out.

Dark eyes narrow.

"No."

The world must stop with how still you've become, with how silent everything else is. You're afraid to move, to breathe too harshly, afraid that you'll interrupt whatever spell you had been caught in. You're struggling to do anything but truly take in the man standing in front of you that just confessed he ...

Oh.

Dizzy.

You feel dizzy.

Maybe lightheaded was the proper term. If not for your feet definitively touching the ground below you, you could argue that you were floating.

You can almost see it carved into the wood underneath you. The line you'd carefully avoided had materialized in front of you again and you're caught, caught in what feels like a trap but ...

But you're not trapped, you're with Itachi and your heart is stuttering in your chest and your throat is tight and you watch in anticipatory fascination as he steps over it like it was nothing. Crowds into your space like it was second nature and your pulse threatens to split the delicate skin right under your jaw. There's something so familiar about being here with him but the fear of not knowing what was coming next has you fighting the urge to run. To break the spell with an ill timed jab, to push it away yet again because -

"You're nervous."

It was like someone had snapped a rubber band against your skin.

"No." You immediately argue, going more off of habit than actually responding. The careful look Itachi had been giving you melts away into something soft and you can see the fond look in his eyes, in the way his face relaxes. A soothing warmth begins to take over the initial panic and you sigh, fighting back an embarrassed smile.

"Fine. Maybe a little."

Itachi exhales, mirth glittering in his eyes. They're lighter than you've ever seen them and the implication that it's because of you has your breathing catching.

"Why?"

You shrug and turn your head. If you were going to speak honestly you couldn't look at him. The sarcasm and bravado you've wielded as a shield for years were long gone and being vulnerable was challenging.

"I guess I don't," you pause and swallow, gathering courage "know why you're doing this."

He doesn't respond immediately and the wind tugs at you, causing you to reach up and brush stray hairs out of your face. You catch his eyes and blink at how open his expression was. He's searching your face and there's something raw about it. About him. You weren't standing in front of your employer anymore, you weren't standing in front of your friend; you were standing in front of man, a man that looked at you like he -

"I would think it was obvious."

Of course he would. The genuine confusion in his tone has you fighting back an exasperated smile.

"Obviously not."

You're barely whispering now, the light breeze taking most of your bravery with it, leaving you feeling bare. Open. Exposed. Itachi makes another move toward you, more of a half step, and you glance down to see your feet almost touching. His black polished shoes were a mere centimeter away from your heels and you can't think of a time you two had been closer. The line was nonexistent now. He'd done more than step over it, he'd gotten rid of it entirely. You couldn't even visualize it anymore, had no idea where it was to begin with, and blink when you watch his fingers twitch before disappearing into his pocket.

"I find myself growing increasingly fond of you."

You freeze, unable to look away from where his hand had slid into his pants. There's something rushing through you, adrenaline maybe, and you find yourself unable to respond. Itachi continues, either completely unaware of the turmoil you were feeling or enjoying the way he managed to stun you into silence.

"My intention is not to force you into this. I understand the delicacies of our working relationship and I do not want to make you feel obligated. I cannot, however, hide my feelings from you any longer. You have become," he pauses and your head flies up to see him. Dark eyes find yours and you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. The absurd urge to cry is from the glasses of wine you'd had, surely, and Itachi's gaze drops to your mouth. You find yourself nodding, blinking back the ridiculous tears that had started to gather, words thick with emotion.

"I feel the same -"

You're cut off by lightning fast hands on your jaw, by his thumb just under your lower lip. He grazes the soft skin there, eyes somehow going darker, and his next words come out strained and rushed.

"May I?"

You nod again, mouth opening to say yes but he's once again too quick and your eyes close just as his mouth presses against yours. It's you who makes the next move, parting your lips just enough to catch his bottom lip and pull. The hand on your jaw moves to your hair and tilts your head up, while his other hand finds the bare skin on your back and pulls you against him. Itachi takes the lead almost instantly, lips moving and pulling as he devours you. Your hands meet his chest and slide up to his neck, to his hair that you've longed to run your fingers through. It's soft and thick, free of tangles, and a noise catches in your throat when you feel the hand on your back tighten in time with your ministrations.

He likes it you think distantly and you wonder if you could get away with taking it down. Your train of thought is cut off when Itachi pulls away to kiss the edge of your mouth, the line of your jaw, and the noise in your throat turns into an audible gasp when his lips seal against your neck. Your body automatically arches into him and his grip on you turns to steel, his chest heaving in time with yours. He's working his way back up, lips continuing to dance along your skin, before claiming your mouth once again. He doesn't let you straighten and seems content to keep you pressed against him. You have to drop your hands from his hair and rest your forearms on his shoulders to keep yourself upright and whimper when you feel his tongue dip into your mouth. Your knees began to shake, you were having trouble breathing, and the heat pooling in your abdomen was sure to catch and burn you from the inside out.

He pulls away only to change the angle of his head before catching your mouth with his again. Confident hands move, one trailing down the side of your body to clutch at your upper thigh, gathering you closer. There's no space left between you and your dress rises as Itachi brings your leg up against his hip. You're on one leg now, completely at his mercy, and the kisses you're sharing turn more fervent. A whine leaves you as he grips the muscle there, his other hand tightening in your hair, fingers no doubt making a mess of your hard work.

We should stop, you think, but the reasonable side if you is gone, no doubt having melted under Itachi's touch. Your head falls back as the man begins to explore the skin of your neck, letting the heat of the moment consume you. There would be time for rational thought later. In the meanwhile, you're content to let Itachi have his way with you as your nerves buzz pleasantly under your skin.

Wait.

You blink away the fog clouding your judgement and frown. Something was buzzing. It takes you a second longer before you realize the source is coming from the inside of your boss' suit.

His cellphone. His cellphone was buzzing. Someone was calling him.

"Ignore it." Itachu murmurs against your skin, teeth catching just above your collarbone. A very unladylike groan leaves you.

"Itachi." You breathe, hoping to sound chastising. There was an entire event happening inside and people would no doubt be expecting to mingle with him. Your efforts have the opposite effect and you shudder at the absolute sinful noise he makes.

"Say it again." He practically purrs and you shudder once more, mouth accepting another heated kiss. The buzzing stops and your focus returns to Itachi's tongue curling into your mouth. He doesn't seem to be pushing you any further than this and it's perfect. You're almost completely lost in him again when the buzzing picks back up.

You tilt your head away and Itachi heaves an agitated breath against your ear. Fighting a smile at the borderline tantrum your boss was throwing, you adjust your position to reach inside his jacket. His hands keep you where you're at which earns him a glare as you wobble awkwardly. Judging by the smirk curling at his mouth, you're intimidation tactic was not working.

"Annoying." You huff, finally pulling his cellphone out. Eyes twinkle at you mischievously as you check the caller ID.

Kakuzu.

Your jaw drops in surprise as you show Itachi who's calling.

"You have to take this."

Itachi doesn't move or let you go.

"I thought it was Saturday."

Your nose crinkles and you bringing the phone to your ear with a scowl.

"Itachi Uchiha's phone."

Your tone is clipped and professional and Itachi sighs irritability as he finally lets your leg go. You shuffle away from him as presumably Kakuzu's assistant asks if Itachi is free for a brief chat. You turn your back to the man in front of you who's impassive face promised punishment if you didn't hang up the phone and confirm that yes, Itachi was free, please hold on. You mute the call and turn back, arm extending out for him to take the phone.

"If he's calling you now, it means he's considering -"

"I'm busy."

You glare at him and jostle the phone. Itachi's lips thin and you can't decipher if he's hiding a smile or a frown.

"I just checked your schedule and you're free. How convenient."

A snort.

"Maybe I should fire you."

Your lips pull upward.

"If you do, I'll report you for sexual harassment."

Your quip earns you a chuckle that sends warmth through your chest. Itachi finally accepts the offered phone and puts it to his ear.

"I will find you later."

You nod, biting back a smile at the promise in his tone, and turn to go back into the ballroom. Shaking hands attempt to smooth the wrinkles in your dress and you delicately pass your fingers over your hair. Surprisingly, most of your up-do held and you decide heading straight to the bathroom was your next logical choice. If Ino got wind of what just happened, it'd be on the front page of every trashy tabloid by the next morning.

Your hand is on the door when quick footsteps stop you along with a hand on your elbow. You turn, ready to give Itachi a piece of your mind, when his lips crush into yours. It's bruising, hot, and quick. He pulls away, phone still next to ear and hums in agreement to whatever was said on the other side. You blink owlishly at him as his thumb wipes away any wetness left under your bottom lip. His eyes scan your face before turning away, tone clipped as he told Kakuzu that was not what they agreed upon. You're frozen in place for a breath and then another before you pull the door open, not wanting to get swept up again, and rejoin the event inside.

#this is my favorite chapter #y’all are lucky I almost ended it when he said ‘no.’ but it made the whole thing too short #itachi x you #itachi uchiha x you #itachi x reader #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi fanfiction #itachi fanfic #itachi uchiha fanfic #itachi uchiha fanfiction

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tw1l1te · 8 months ago

Text

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 13

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Dorks in love, SMUT, NSFW, 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

₊˚✩⊹

“I think my Zelda would like to know.”

“Yeah, I know, she’s an expert on Hylian history, but this is, like, unheard of, even for a fanatic of history like me.”

Wild looks out onto Hyrule Field, the wind starting to pick up a bit. You and the Chain were making your way towards Hyrule Castle, which was less than a day’s walk from your location if you didn’t stop for inns or camp.

“...Are you not freaked out by this? I mean, your entire destiny and 'hero’s purpose' relies on the balance of a triforce… not a tetraforce.”

Wild shrugs, “I mean, I wouldn’t consider myself a blind follower of Hylia, or whatever was set in stone for me, but it is strange.”

You nod, you knew some of the boys weren’t too keen on the idea of Hylia and her ideologies. After all, almost everything they’ve been through was directly from her prophecy.

“You think the castle has spare clothing or something? I can feel my entire body chaffing from how torn up my clothes are.”

Wild smiles, “You… do know you could’ve just asked me for some spare clothes, right? We’re the same height, practically.”

“Yeah, I know, but I feel bad. I don’t like taking stuff from you guys.”

“I’m offering.”

“Still.”

By the time your group made it to the gates of Hyrule Castle, it was downpouring. You could feel the clothes sticking to your skin, your bones practically shivering. You felt terrible for Twilight, his pelt probably made his clothing ten times heavier.

“Din’s tits, I’m freezing.” Legend mumbles, wringing out his tunic on the floor. His bangs were stuck on his forehead, the pink hue turning brighter when wet.

Zelda suddenly enters the room, eyes widening at the state of your party.

“Oh goddesses! Link, what happened?”

“We were caught in the storm, came out of nowhere. Do you have any spare clothes and blankets?”

She nods, ushering him to follow her.

Four walks up to you, sitting down on the carpet next to you. You don’t say much, but the silence is comfortable. You look around the large room, the walls lined with shelves that reach the ceiling, each filled to the brim with ancient Hylian literature. The wall in front of you had an ornate fireplace, a godsend in your freezing, wet clothing.

You look over to one of the velvet couches, Time and Twilight sitting down and ridding themselves of their heavier armor. You don’t realize your staring until Time makes eye contact with you, causing you to appear very interested in the fireplace. He smiles to himself, busying himself with polishing his chestplate.

You look over at Twilight, noticing he’s still in his soaking pelt.

“Oh for the- Twilight get that wet pelt off of you, you’re gonna freeze or die of stinkyness.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

You give him a look.

“Okay okay, here. Don’t put it too close to the fireplace though.”

You nod. You set it out flat on the stone floor, making sure it wasn’t too close to the embers, but close enough that it would dry relatively quickly.

“Y/n! I’ve brought some spare clothes for you, Link mentioned that you needed them. You can change in the room down the hall, first door on your left.” Zelda smiles. You thank her, taking the bundle of clothes to the other room while the boys get warm and comfortable.

Closing the door behind you, you shed your layers, wincing at the cold nip of the air on your bare skin. You quickly change to avoid someone walking in the room, bundling up your wet clothes to warm in front of the fireplace.

You can already hear some of the boys talking as you walk back into the main room.

“Goddesses, you smell like wet dog, Twi-”

“One more dog joke and I swear-”

“Oh, hey Y/n!” Wind exclaims, making everyone shut up.

“Hey, squirt, you guys all warming up?”

He nods, pulling you along so you could join the circle. Before you sit down, you lay out your wet clothes in front of the fire, making sure your panties are somewhat discrete so you don’t get any comments from the others. Not like they would say anything anyways.

Time, Wars and Twilight were all on the couch, armor and outer layers shed. Hyrule, Legend and Four were elbows deep in some card game, a few rupees and trinkets in the middle used for gambling.

Sky was wrapped up in a blanket, reading some book that he picked from the shelves. Time was looking into the fire, embers reflecting in his eye.

You sit in between Wind and Sky, placing your chin on Sky’s shoulder to look over what he was reading. You couldn’t read Hylian, much less Ancient Hylian, so you were just there for support.

“Whatcha readin’?” you softly ask, eyes glued to the writing on the pages.

“Some love story about a knight and a girl. Quite a long story though, so I definitely won’t finish it.”

The evening continues, the only sound being the fire crackling and some of the boys talking. At some point, Zelda brings dinner for you and the Chain, pulling Link away again to talk about something. No doubt about your discovery, but you choose to ignore the strange feeling in your pit for now.

After finishing your dinner, you climb onto the couch in Wars’ spot, as he joined the enticing card game on the floor with the others. You were in between Twilight and Time, already feeling the call of sleep. Before you doze off, you feel someone drape a soft blanket on top of you, your senses drowning out the rest of the waking world.

“Do you think they know?”

“Know what, Pup?”

“Our… attraction towards them.”

The Chain’s banter and games have since died down ever since you fell asleep, Wind cuddling to Hyrule on the floor.

“I think they know, in some sense. Not fully.”

Sky sighs, deep in thought. He suddenly speaks up, eyes on the fireplace.

“I think we should tell them, before something happens or if they leave. Assuming from what everyone’s been saying, it seems like we all feel the same towards them.”

The Vet scoffs, “Yeah and we’ll scare them away.”

“What makes you think that?”

“How would you react if 8 men told you they have the hots for you?”

Sky blinks, he has a point. It would overwhelm you.

Time clears his throat, “Although I agree with the Veteran, I do think we need to be honest with them. We would be hypocrites if we lied to them or made them believe an illusion.”

Nods go around the group, each one lost in thought.

“From what you told us, Old man, it seems like they already have romantic interest for some of us and have hinted towards the others. I don’t see why we shouldn't tell them some time soon, perhaps at the Winter Festival.”

Wild looks at you, eyes soft.

“I care for them so much. So so much. I’m just so scared of losing my friendship with them. They mean the world to me.”

The Old man nods.

“They mean everything.”

You wake up with a jolt. You don’t feel panicked, so you didn’t have a nightmare. Weird.

You tried going back to sleep, but after tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity, you decided to get up and move around a little. You tiptoe out of the room, leaving the door propped open for when you decided to return.

Walking down the hallway, you hum quietly a song from back home. It makes you homesick, but it makes the castle feel less eerie. Trailing your fingers along the stone walls, you look up to see very interesting paintings.

They were portraits of each era’s hero and princess.

You chuckle, this was so unlike them. Each one was resembling their appearance in game, only with minor differences. Time was younger, which was so strange to see after spending over a year with them. Twilight didn’t have his markings, Legend’s hair wasn’t pink, and Wind still wore his green hero’s garb.

Their past lives. Lives that aren’t forgotten. Lives that still loom over them.

Suddenly, your vision is blocked. Someone is behind you.

“What the-”

“Shh. You don’t want to wake the others, do you?”

“Time?”

He just sighs in relief. You turn to look at him, his face just barely being visible from the lanterns lighting the hallway.

“What are you doing up? You know Zelda’s guards take watch, right?”

“I know, I couldn’t sleep. I presume you’re in the same situation, no?”

You nod, suddenly hearing footsteps from the opposite end of the hallway. Not wanting to end up being caught in a misunderstood situation, you grab Time’s wrist and run to a small alcove just at the end of the alcove, hidden under a heavy tapestry.

“Sorry, I-uh didn’t wanna deal with him.” You whispered, panting slightly from running.

Now that you can focus, you realize the alcove is way smaller than you thought. Time was practically caging you in, feeling his breath on your forehead.

“I’m not.”

“Wh-”

He propped you up on one of his knees, his hand pulling you in by your neck, interlocking his lips with yours. This kiss felt desperate, like he had been waiting for days, weeks. Well, you suppose he has.

You pull away panting, looking at where you thought he was based on his breath, “What’s gotten into you? Needy all of a sudden-”

He shuts you up again, pulling your hips closer to him until there was practically no space between the two of you. At some point he starts kissing downwards, inhaling your scent in the junction between your neck and shoulders, exhaling reverberating through his chest. The action in itself felt possessive, dominating. It was addicting.

“Can I…”

“Please.”

Without a word, he continued mouthing over your exposed skin, still carefully holding you on his lap like he did oh so many moons ago.

He slid one hand slightly under your tunic, warm hands pawing at your skin.

“You’re so warm. So soft.”

He slid his hands back down, flipping you around so your back was to his chest. His hands dragged back under your tunic going upwards to your breasts. Thank god you hardly ever wore a bra anymore.

He rolled your hardened buds between his thumb and pointer finger, you whimpering slightly when he tugged lightly on each of them. His palms firmly cupped your chest while he played with your nipples, chuckling lowly in your ear.

“You like that, hm?”

You just whimpered loudly in response, light grinding on his legs. He shushed you quietly, reminding you of the guards just down the hall.

He kept one of his hands on your chest, trailing the other down to your trousers, unlacing the cord that held them up. He slowly started rubbing small circles over your clothed heat, teasing you.

“Time, stop teasing-ah!”

“Say my name, darling. Please.”

“Ti-”

“No. My name.”

He tilts your chin up, the highlights of his eyes being the only thing you can see in the dark alcove. You can almost make out his half-lidded gaze drinking in your form.

“Link. Link, please- fuck!”

He slips two fingers under your panties, rubbing sensual circles over your bundle of nerves.

“Good girl. Such a good girl. Be nice and quiet for me, hm?”

You nod, biting your lip as he continues his touches. He then slides his fingers into you, stretching you open with his thicker digits. When was the last time you’ve been touched like this? Almost two years-

Time nudged his fingers deep in you, hitting the spongy spot that made you keel over in pleasure. He licked the shell of your ear, cooing at your desperate noises, like music to his ears.

In just a few moments, you can feel the knot in your lower stomach tightening, your head starting to feel dizzy from how euphoric you felt. Time was like a drug. Addicting.

“L-link I’m so close oh my god-”

“I can tell, my little Mouse. You going to cum all over my fingers? Such a dirty girl.”

With a silent scream, you buck your hips up, cumming all over Time’s fingers. He firmly held your hips in place, not letting you go, pushing you over the edge. He slowly pulls his fingers out just as the overstimulation sets in, a pathetic whimper leaving your lips from the emptiness you felt.

You panted, calming down from your high. You reached up to brush your fingers through Time’s hair, his forehead slumping onto your shoulder.

“This was-hah, not what I was expecting for tonight.”

He hummed, pressing a firm kiss to your shoulder.

“As much as I would love for us to continue, you need to sleep. We can continue where we left off… another time, if you’d like.”

You pause.

This wasn’t a one-time thing?

Smiling to yourself, you mumble “I’d love that, Link.”

You press a kiss to his lips, taking a few extra moments to savor his musk and the warmth of his chest. Once you pulled away, you fix your tunic and pants, brushing through your hair to seem less disheveled.

“Goodnight, Link. I’ll... see you later.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

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#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe au #final promise au #linked universe smut

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