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seijorhi · 3 years ago

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To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear.

But that was the world he came from. Violence and ruthlessness, cruelty masquerading as kindness.

By all accounts, someone like you – a lowly admin assistant living a very boring, mundane life – should never have crossed paths with a man like Getou. The irony, of course, being that it was precisely because of your job that he’d been drawn to you in the first place.

“I-I said no,” you stammer. “I’m not doing it.”

Getou sighs, long, pale fingers idly fixing the cuff of his left sleeve. “I had no idea the lives of your loved ones meant so little to you.”

“Please, I-” you break off, biting your lip as your hands curl into useless fists at your side, “I can’t. Anything else, I’ll do anything, I swear it, just… please.”

Men like Getou aren’t the type to be swayed by pretty words or tearful pleas, but there’s an unmistakable glimmer of interest that flickers in his eyes at the offer. Casually, he leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and regarding you with a smirk. “So you’ll bring me the list of witnesses then?”

The barely audible hitch in your breath is enough to make him chuckle.

“No? How about those surveillance tapes, hm?” Smoothly, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards you. “Careful, little one, first rule of negotiation is knowing when you have something to bargain with. Don’t promise me what you can’t give.”

“Getou–”

He raises a hand and you quickly fall silent. There’s only inches between you two now, Getou’s taller, broader frame looming over yours. He could kill you like this, you realise with panic – reach out and wrap his hands around your throat and snap your pretty little neck before you could so much as scream. The tailored line of his jacket hides the gun he has holstered at his side, but Getou knows you're aware of its presence, have been since the very first time he’d broken into your home and threatened you.

It’d take him only moments to draw the sidearm, even less for him to pull the trigger.

The walls of your apartment are thin, would your neighbours come if they heard gunfire? Would you, for that matter, if your roles were reversed?

Yet Getou makes no move for his gun, instead reaching for your chin, tilting it up with two curled fingers until you meet his gaze, “You understand, don’t you, that I make one phone call and that charming sister of yours and her fiance meet a very tragic, very untimely end?”

He pauses, waiting until you jerk a quick nod of assent before continuing. “You love them. There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with prioritising the ones you love over everybody else.” His voice is gentle, but the words make you shake, dread rising from the pit of your stomach as the pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip.

You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something to that, but even as you try, you can’t summon the words. The by now familiar scent of his cologne tickles your nose and invades your throat, the warmth of his touch burning through your veins. Your own heart hammers like a drumbeat in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger, but you don’t run, you don’t even flinch.

Getou smiles kindly, and perhaps if you hadn’t seen first hand the aftermath of his handiwork you might be tempted to believe it. His spare hand reaches into his jacket, but instead of the gun you’re expecting, he pulls out his phone, the screen flickering to life with a swipe of his finger. “So tell me, before I make a call you and I both know you don’t want me to make, why you’ve suddenly decided that their lives aren’t worth your compliance?”

Nanami. Your boss’s face flashes to your mind, the odd, fleeting glances he’d sent your way over the past few weeks when he’d thought you weren’t paying attention. Your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks unwittingly warming, but you just shake your head, “If I give you those files, you’ll kill them. You’ll hurt them.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not. It’s no less than those monkeys deserve, don’t you think?” He spits the word like it’s venom, the twitch in his jaw the only chink in his otherwise effortless composure. “You’re protecting them, even now.”

You make no attempt to defend yourself, terrified of saying the wrong thing and setting him off, but Getou seems entirely unfazed, laughing coldly at your stricken expression.

“Your boss, the one with the perpetual stick up his ass; Nanami,” potent disdain drips from his tone at the name, “Always so morally righteous, sitting up on his high horse. You think he cares for you, that he’ll protect you when all of this comes out? And it will come out eventually,” he says, his smirk widening at the sudden pallor in your face. “At some point there’ll be one too many unfortunate coincidences, and the higher ups will realise that they have a mole in their ranks. Fingers will be pointed of course, but eventually even those idiots will figure it out.”

A knot tightens inside of your chest at his words, constricting until it feels like you can’t breathe. You’re shaking your head, eyes filling with tears, “N-no–”

“Oh, little one,” Getou murmurs, dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your distress. “Surely you realised that they have security cameras covering every inch of your floor? There was no reason to look before, but once they do…” he trails off, letting go of your chin in favour of brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “They’ll throw you to the wolves.”

His voice is soft and cruel, belied by the gentleness of his touch, but it does nothing to quell the rising sense of dread inside of you. You want to believe it’s a lie, another threat meant to scare you into submission, but some deeper part of you recognises the truth in his words.

Nanami, who’d told you once that there was innocence and there was guilt and very little in between. Nanami, whose office you’d bugged, whose trial only weeks ago you’d all but derailed with a few misplaced documents. You think back to the late nights shared in his office, bowls of ramen and case files scattered across the desk between you. You think of the rare smiles, his oddly dry sense of humour, the pleasant fluttering in your heart–

“You’ll rot in prison long before I do, and there is not a soul among that insipid bunch that would lift a finger to stop that from happening to you.”

A soft, strangled noise leaves your lips as you fight not to sob, and Getou sighs, the corners of his lips twitching downwards in contrived sympathy. “Say the word and I’ll walk away tonight. I’ll still have to kill your sister – I am a man of my word, you understand – but I promise it’ll be the last you see of me.”

He slides his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, taking your face in both of his hands as tears spill down long lashes. “And when they come for you, you can tell them I threatened you, show them what little proof you have – if you have any at all. Maybe it’ll even make a difference,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Every word is like a knife, slicing away at the raw, bleeding, vulnerable parts of you.

“Please…” It’s weak and desperate, your voice cracked and broken. You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore; your sister’s life, for Getou’s mercy, or maybe just for him to stop saying such awful things. He must take pity on you though, because he sighs once more, his right thumb sweeping across your wet cheek to brush away silvery tear tracks.

“I’m not a complete monster, you know. I protect what’s mine.”

And in one breath, everything screeches to a standstill and a trickle of very real fear creeps down your spine. There’s no mistaking his implication, not when he’s holding your face like that, his eyes dark and simmering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“W-what?”

Getou closes the gap between you two, a startled noise leaving your lips as his hips press flush up against you. “Don’t play stupid, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a warning, “It doesn’t suit you.”

One hand slips to your neck, the other curling almost possessively around your waist. There’s no room for you to move, to back away or free yourself. For a moment, neither of you speak, the heavy silence deafening between you.

Does he notice the way your pulse races under his fingertips as they circle your throat, how you’re shaking like a leaf beneath him? Does he want you afraid? A scared little bunny rabbit cowering from the gaping maw of the big, bad wolf?

Judging from the bulge of his semi-hard cock pressing into the soft flesh of your belly, he’s not entirely unaffected, and for the first time it’s not Getou’s gun or his threats that you’re most afraid of.

It’s the selfish, twisted want that glitters and glints in those pitiless depths. You’ve never felt so entirely at somebody else’s mercy as you do with Getou now, staring you down like he wants to lay you bare, claim you again and again for all the world to see. And you don’t understand. There’s a thousand and one questions running through your mind, your insides twisted up into knots.

You know what it is he’s asking of you – though asking feels like a generous word when he can so easily just take – but none of this makes sense, not when he was threatening your family’s lives only minutes ago.

As if he can sense the turmoil and confusion raging through you, he leans down, his lips ghosting over the outer shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I am a man of my word.

His earlier statement rings through your head as you search his face for any sign of deception – you find none. But walking away means your sister dies. It means you’re left on your own to fend off the wolves when they find out what you’ve done.

Nanami might believe you. He might even defend you, but you’ve worked in the Prosecutor’s office long enough to know that duress isn’t the bulletproof defence people think it is, and for tangling with the likes of him…

You were screwed the moment he showed up in your living room, this- this is just the coup de grâce. The final damnation.

“Why me?”

Getou doesn’t answer, but when he draws you into a kiss, his lips moving torturously slow against yours, there’s an edge of… something there, lying hidden just beneath the surface. And it terrifies you, more than his words and his promises ever could.

But when your back’s to the wall, what choice do you really have?

It feels like defeat when he takes you by the hand and leads you into your bedroom, ignoring the uncertain glance you cast over your shoulder towards the living room. You don’t want any of this, but you can pretend that it’s just… business if he fucks you out there.

Not in the bed you sleep in.

It’d be easier, you think, if it was cold and impersonal. If you cried and it stung and the only sounds in the room were flesh hitting flesh, ragged breathing and an occasional rough grunt.

There’s nothing impersonal about the way he watches you strip out of your clothes at his command. His own join yours on the floor without much ceremony – his gun pointedly set just within reach atop your nightstand.

The first time you’d laid eyes on Getou Suguru, it was two months into your new job; a photograph pinned to a thick, heavy file Nanami had dropped on your desk. A surveillance picture, you’d gathered, snapped as the man was exiting some neon lit club downtown. And you remembered the smug smirk he’d had, staring directly down the lens of the camera like it was a challenge, but that wasn’t what had struck you most.

It was the flutter of interest that’d shot through your veins the moment before common sense kicked in. Tall and fit, with long, dark hair swept up in the wind, a sharp jaw and a handsome face, you remember thinking he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Now, standing naked before you, bright, colourful tattoos inked across his torso, accentuating the muscles that rise and fall with every measured breath, you can’t bear to look. It’s easier just to stare at the wooden floorboards, the corner of the shagged rug you’d bought at a thrift store when you first moved in. Easier to pretend Getou isn’t pulling you closer once more, pressing searing, open mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring words that are lost to you entirely as his hands wander. You can feel it now, the heat of his body as he cages you in, his cock, thick and heavy and flushed nudging insistently up against your stomach.

You expect him to shove you to your knees, to force his cock down your throat in some archaic show of dominance before he claims your cunt, but he doesn’t.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth catching lightly on the sensitive lobe as you shiver. “Like you do when I’m not here, those pretty legs spread, fucking yourself on your fingers…”

The comment feels too familiar to be entirely offhanded, striking a chord of panic somewhere deep inside of you–

But it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter now.

You allow him to kiss you again before climbing onto the mattress. Like a good girl, you fall back onto the pillows, let your legs ease apart, wrapping your lips around two fingers and sucking for a brief moment before gliding your hand down between your thighs.

His breath hitches, a soft curse sounding when saliva slicked digits spread your folds, the tip of your middle finger brushing lightly against your clit as you stroke your pussy. Your nipples harden and peak under the cool night air and you use your free hand to palm at your breast, pinching and teasing at the sensitive bud while one finger slips into the warmth of your cunt.

The mattress dips, Getou climbing onto the bed, settling himself back on his knees, your spread legs either side of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathes.

Your heart stutters, movements jerking as you brace for him to interfere, to touch you, but aside from nudging your thighs further apart to get a better view of your glistening cunt, he seems content simply to sit back and watch, his own hand lazily stroking at his cock.

Trying in vain to block him out, you squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the way your fingers feel between your legs, the pleasure–

(Not the shame, don’t think about that, don’t think about Getou watching you debase yourself for his enjoyment)

–that pools in your core as you rub the shining pearl of your clit. It’s a familiar dance, a routine you’d normally help along with a glass of wine and a few faithful toys, but you don’t exactly have that luxury here.

And even with the rigid tension in your shoulders, the unwanted presence of a man you’re terrified of impossible to ignore, you can’t help the quiet moan that slips past your lips, the way your hips stutter, grinding against the heel of your palm as your fingers hit that sweet, delightful spot inside of you.

Getou tenses at the sound, the last, fragile thread of his composure snapping–

He strikes fast. One moment you’re biting down on your bottom lip, your index and middle fingers knuckle deep in your dripping pussy, the next he’s braced atop you, one hand locked around your wrist, the other propping himself up. And as your eyes fly open with a startled cry, his lips crash against your once more – desperate and ravenous, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to taste you.

And you don’t fight it when he pulls your hand from your pussy and drags it to his crotch, his fingers entwining with yours as he wraps them around his heavy, throbbing cock and moans. It’s humiliating, the way he thrusts into your hand, tightening his grip so you’re forced to feel every shivery twitch of his dick while he sucks eagerly on your tongue.

This is the choice you’d made, the deal you struck. It’s too late to back out now, and even if you tried to…

“I want you,” he pants, his lips glistening with saliva, an almost manic look in those dark, pretty eyes, “to ride me.”

… you’re not so sure Getou would let you.

So you allow yourself to be manhandled, lifted and situated across his lap like a doll. Hands braced on his tattooed chest, you lift your hips just enough for him to guide his cock to your slick entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length.

Every inch hurts.

It doesn’t make it any less painful, the way Getou soothes you, his thumbs stroking gently at your waist as you whine and mewl, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffs you full.

“Fuck– good girl, taking me so well,” he purrs.

You’re not sure if it’s shame, pleasure, or some sense of twisted pride at the praise that has your pussy clenching, fire racing through your veins when Getou experimentally rocks his hips upwards. And if your cheeks weren’t already burning, the lewd moan that escapes you when the head of his cock hits your g-spot would certainly do the trick.

Ever observant, he wastes no time capitalising on your slip, lifting you up just to drive you back down onto his length at the perfect angle. You shudder around him, keening out a cry that has him groaning in pleasure.

There’s no illusion of control here between you two.

You might be the one on top, but Getou’s grip’s too tight, guiding every roll of your hips against his, his own rising in time to fuck his cock deeper into your warm, velvety cunt. And somewhere distantly you recognise that this could be a thousand times worse. How easily he could change the narrative in a heartbeat, flip you over, force your face into the pillows and fuck you like a dog until you’re gasping for air. He could use you, hurt you, probably kill you without ever needing to touch the gun he’d left on your nightstand – and you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of stopping him.

But he doesn’t. Lying back against your pillows, dark hair falling from his half up-do, cheeks flushed from exertion, Getou’s attention is wholly fixed on you - on your face, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he hits somewhere deep inside of you that has you seeing stars, on your tits, the way they bounce every time you sink back down onto his cock.

His eyes are hooded, dark and intense, searching for every hint of pleasure he’s drawn from you. You gasp his name, fingers digging into his chest, your cunt fluttering so deliciously around him – and he loses that last little bit of his self control.

He jerks upright, one arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him as he braces himself with the other, and before you can so much as gasp his mouth is at your tits, hot tongue laving at soft, supple skin there.

“Suguru,” he growls, hips snapping feverishly against yours.

“Suguru,” you parrot, head lolling back as heat coils tighter in your core.

You’ll worry about the consequences later, when he pulls you boneless and sated into his arms and you feel his heart thumping at your back as he kisses you and tells you to sleep. When tomorrow you arrive at work and Nanami stares a beat too long as the love bites scattered across your throat, no doubt wondering why you won’t so much as look at him.

For now, you settle for pulling him closer, gasping as you chase that quaking, blissful end.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere getou suguru #yandere getou #yandere getou suguru x reader #yandere getou x reader #yandere jjk #tw: dubcon #tw: coercion #tw: threats #tw: implied murder #yandere #deal with the devil collab

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niphredil-14 · 3 years ago

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Especially because I loved the angsty one with mozart and his s/o and this give me an idea, a kind of leonardo and his s/o had a bad argumnet and she is now sleeping in her own room but later that night a storm happened and she being scared from the thunder go in his room crawiling in his bed, it cna be eitehr sfw or nsfw espeacilaly for the make up part :) I hope you still take request and that you liked my idea otherwise I will change it :) Have a nice day ;)

Hey lovely!! Sure thing, I hope you enjoy!

Thunder and Cuddles (Leonardo/MC)

It's infuriating, how those you love can cause you the most turmoil, how those you know love you can cause so much anger and pain. Leonardo is a man who loves to tease, and though she knows that's exactly what it was, a tease, she had still felt the need to distance herself from her lover, to banish herself and her partner to separate, cold bedsheets. There are few tortures more grueling than the monster we call Loneliness, who was doing his best to show his presence, and Leonardo's absence. This monster was not alone tonight, having made a special call to his friend Fear, who dashed to Loneliness' side, armed with the booming of thunder outside the window. With each bang, a crack of lightning followed, and with this bombarding of noise, and the cold her lover normally filled, she sighed in defeat, and threw her covers off, giving in to her need. With her arms wrapped around her, she stalked don the hallways, her monsters following her, joining her with each fall of her feet upon the ground. The walls and floor stretched on, and it felt as though she would never reach the nightmare of a room that he occupies, but even so, she had made up her mind, and was not going to back down. After what felt like ages, she reached his door, and then and only then, did a third monster, by the name of Doubt, creep its way into her mind. She was the one who stormed off, she was the one who was angry. Should she really be crawling back to him so soon? What kind of resolve did that show? If she were to back down so quickly, would she ever be taken seriously? But the fear of returning to her cold, lonely bed after all it took her to go to him, she would not return. She needed to see him. She needed to feel him. She needed to be so surrounded and overcome with him that she could no longer think straight. With a deep, fortifying breath, she gave his door two sharp raps of her knuckles, and called out his name. "Cara Mia? Come on in." And she did. There he sat, on his mattress, fidgeting with some unknown gadget. Their eyes met, and not a word between them had to be said, and he quickly picked up his things and placed them on his bedside table, opening his arms for her. Tears began to build in her eyes, and she threw herself into his embrace, knocking them both down onto the bed.

"Oh, Leonardo, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." She muttered into his neck.

"Don't be. I should be the one apologizing, i should know you well enough to know your limits. But c'mon, let's go to sleep. It's late and it looks like you need it." All she could get out was a mumbled agreement before they readjusted, and he pulled the blankets over them.

"Goodnight, Leonardo." She said.

"Buona notte, Cara, ti amo."

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mintmatcha · 4 years ago

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I want giggly cuddly sex with tadashi 🥺 where there’s no power dynamic just us two having a good time and wanting to make the other feel good :((

I combined these two little ditties into a fic!!! I hope you don’t mind!!!

CW: established relationship, praise, sex, fluff/smut.

yamaguchi x reader

(reader has a vagina- no pronouns or gendered language used)

first time

It's one of the pitfalls of a new relationship; everything the other person does is endearing.

"I'm just saying, it's weird that the fourth movie is so good!" Yamaguchi digs his hand into the bowl on your lap, picking through the entire bowl to scrape at the popcorn kernels. He tosses the bits into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, cracking through each kernel loudly, before pausing to suck the excess salt off of his fingers.

God, if anyone else did that, you'd probably be disgusted, or at the very least annoyed, but there's something about Yamaguchi that makes it unbearably endearing. Maybe it's the little shoulder dance he does every time he takes a bite. Maybe it's the way your heart skips a beat when his tongue swipes over his knuckle, catching a bit butter. "Name another series that has a good fourth movie. You can't. Scream 4 is one of a kind."

He does it again, crunching through the kernels happily, tongue peeking out once again to wipe across his fingertips.

God, you wished he would lick you like that.

"Tadashi, you're gonna break a tooth." you chide, even as you sink further into his lap. There was plenty of space on the couch, but you had somehow migrated to his lap sometime during the previous movie. The arm around your shoulder tightens, pulling you into a kiss on the cheek. It's greasy with butter residue, but somehow it still makes your heart flutter.

Fuck. Only 3 months into the relationship and you were wrapped around his finger, watching movies that you didn’t have any interest in. Any little annoyance was forgotten as soon as he flashed you that freckled smile. Every little nuance you discovered made you fall deeper into .... like.

Not love. Like. You weren't ready to admit to the 'love' word quite yet, but it was getting closer. You had been 'in like' with Yamaguchi since shortly after he moved into the cubicle next to yours. Maybe it had been the way he always remembered to grab you an extra sugar packet for your coffee, or the way he laughed at whatever podcast he was listening to that day, or the way he silently procrastinated at the end of the day so you could walk to bus together: whatever it was that won you over didn’t matter, what did matter was that Yamaguchi made you feel happier than anyone else. It felt natural to be with him, to be held by him, to be ‘liked’ by him.

...Your only complaint was the pacing. One of the best and worst things about the two of you was that you were both polite, constantly dancing around unsaid boundaries, trying overly hard to respect each other, avoiding any situation that could possibly make the other one uncomfortable. Which meant your physical relationship was nothing more than the occasional kiss.

Honestly, you were beginning to think he didn't want to. His hands never wandered, his texts never turned dirty, and you certainly never initiated anything. It felt like there was never an opportunity to start anything; even now, sitting on his lap while wearing a sweatshirt he had left at your apartment weeks ago, it felt wrong to interrupt a wholesome moment.

Not that you didn't want to. God. You wanted to.

"You know, I don't think anyone's ever worn my hoodie before." he comments, eyes never leaving the television. He’s enthralled with this stupid movie, even though he had seen it 'dozens of times.'

"Really? I’ve been wearing it as a shirt. " you grab at the fabric, "Do you want me to take it off? "

"Yeah, sure." he responds blankly, attention still glued to the movie. Then, he seemingly realizes what he said, face immediately erupting into a furious blush. He's quick to separate for you, almost spilling the entire bowl on the ground. You mirror him, unsure if you should laugh at his panic or cringe. "No! Do not take your shirt off! I do not want that!"

"Tadashi. Calm down." You laugh, even as disappointment settles in the back of your throat. Does... does he really not want to see you undressed? Is this why you guys having had sex yet? Did he just see you as a friend? For his comfort and not your own, you inch farther away, back against the opposite arm as him. "It's fine, I get it."

"No, I-" he takes a moment to settle himself, "You look phenomenal with my hoodie on, I just, I don't want you to take your shirt off unless you want to, because it’s totally something I want. I think about it-" he pauses mid sentence, ears burning so red that his freckles seem to disappear, " I mean, if- I'm not like that- if you're not ready- that's not why I invited you over. I'm not expecting anything."

He gives a nervous chuckle, widening the distance between the two of you more. You let his words sit, only the sound of the movie in the air.

"So." you begin slowly. "You think about me without a shirt on?"

“I mean, of course.” He is acutely aware of the edge of the couch, his body teetering at the brink, but he bares it. "Can I tell you something? You can't laugh at me. Or think I'm a pervert."

"I can't promise that. Are you, like.... sniffing my underwear or something?" you joke, a grin sneaking across your face.

He snorts and shakes his head almost violently.

"Okay, no! Now the real thing doesn't sound as pervy." he adjusts only slightly, his shoulders unbunching themselves. Most of the tension in the air has melted away. That's what was so great about Yamaguchi; even when things turned awkward, they quickly returned to normal. "Do you remember that time Yakki split that water all over you?"

You roll your eyes at the memory. "Of course."

"And you had that little white blouse on?" he swallows, "My productivity at work dropped about 50% that day. It was so bad that the boss scolded me."

"Yeah, because you were too busy worrying about me catching a cold!" you say, "You even gave me your jacket!"

"No, I gave you my jacket because your shirt was see-through.” he admits, “My productivity dropped because all I could think about was how I wanted to take you and that little see-through shirt into the storage closet."

Oh God. This is it. This is the opportunity.

You lean forward with a tilt of your head, the gapping neck of the shirt falling forward past your collarbone. His eyes are glued to the neckline, tracing over the hint of skin, silently begging for more. You tuck your knees up under you and begin to crawl, only half convinced that this is sexy. The closer you get, the more he can see down your shirt. His breath hitches slightly at the sight, but he doesn't dare to look away.

"Oh? What were you thinking about doing to me in that storage closet?" Yamaguchi lets his legs fall apart and, hesitantly, you place a hand between his knees, fingertips grazing the grey cotton of his sweatpants. The band of his bright red underwear peeks out from under his shirt and, without thinking, you trace over it with a pad of your finger. At the touch, he leans forward, lips tickling the shell of your ear as he speaks. Your heart is thrumming in your eardrum, so hard you can barely hear what he's saying.

"First, I would have ripped that wet little shirt off, button by button." he chuckles, reaching to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear. Your pussy clenches at the low rumble of his voice, so hard you feel like your stomach is cramping. "Then, I-"

A scream cuts through the room. The both of you jump forward into each other, knocking your skull against his jaw. Almost in unison, you both reel back: you clutching your ear, him clutching his lip. The bowl spills across your laps, scattering popcorn all over the couch and floor as you both frantically search for the source of the noise. The dramatic music of the movie drums through you as some damsel in distress is running across the screen, screaming for help.

One beat. Two beats.

Then, you laugh. It's one from the belly, that makes your gut ache from effort. You're trying to reach for Yamaguchi, make sure he's okay, but your eyes are watering, and your whole body shaking. He's giggling too, still covering his lip.

"The movie scared me!" you explain through tears. He nods in agreement, gesturing to the mess across his lap, including a huge butter stain across his crotch. It's not a funny moment, not when both of you are aching, but an intangible something has you both snorting and sobbing through giggles. The moment is way too long, way past the point of any humor, but Yamaguchi's snickering feeds into yours.

Finally, Yamaguchi manages to collect himself, scrunching his lips into a straight line. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards and you dissolve into giggles once again.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now." he breathes. His directness surprises you. "But not on top of the popcorn."

You pull a deep breath, trying to center yourself. "We could move?"

"My roommate is going to kill me when he comes home to this mess." he says, but he stands anyway. You follow and his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you into him softly. He presses a kiss against your lips, warm and gentle, and then pulls back with a grimace.

"I think you bruised me.” he touches his lower lip gingerly, as if testing it.

“I’m sorry, we don’t-” he silences you with another kiss and now you can feel the swollen corner of his mouth, gritted slightly with salt. He clutches on to your top as he steps backwards, dragging you along with him so the kiss doesn’t break. Each step is rocky and unsure (you barely miss colliding into the wall) but you stay embraced, your hands clutching into his dark locks, partially to keep your balance as blindly follow. His hands trace up under your shirt, thumbs digging into the soft of your hips, pulling you flush against him, forcing you deeper and deeper into him until-

“Oh, shit.” he breaks away suddenly, pushing you back slightly. “I- my room- I need you to stay here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My room’s a mess, I really didn’t expect that you would- that we-” he shakes his head. “Gimme 30 seconds- please. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

You don’t object as he scuttles away, clicking the door firmly closed behind him. You can hear the muffled sounds of drawers slamming and objects being tossed about as you wait. It feels like you have been standing there, starting at the generic art hanging in the hall, for ages. It’s much longer than 30 seconds, but not quite the eternity it feels like.

The door creaks open and your favorite freckled face peeks out. “Hi.”

“Hi.” you repeat. Somehow, every amount of tension had returned in the scant amount of time you had been apart. Both of you knew what you wanted to do, but, the knowledge seemed heavy. It was an explored territory, sleeping with someone new. No matter what your past relationships were, each new experience with a new person (especially a new person you CARE about) brought its own pitfalls and challenges. It seems so serious, so scary, until you tear your eyes away from the floor and actually look your boyfriend in the eyes.

"Did you just brush your teeth?" you reach out and brush a little bit of white foam from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. He leans into your palm with a smile.

"I didn't want to taste like popcorn." he says and you can't help but laugh as he leads you into the room. It’s his brand of organized chaos; there’s clothes peeking out from the closet, miscellaneous knick knacks on the nightstand (including a still foamy toothbrush) and half hung posters across the walls. . You break away to sit on the bed, tracing over the pattern of the bedspread.

“I like this.” you comment, “Very nice.”

He nods, frozen in the doorway. Slowly, he reaches up to the lightswitch and flicks the light off. The darkness feels heavy with anticipation and worry as he pads around to the other side of the bed. He feels it too, you decide, as you watch his adam’s apple bob in the low light, this insane mixture of pressure and excitement.

For Yamaguchi, it’s the thoughts that usually plague his mind at night that grate away his confidence. The dreams of your skin between his fingers, your taste on his lips, are so close to reality, but he can't bring himself to make the first move. Even in the low light, he can see the curve of your waist, slowly contracting with every exhale. His own breathing matches your pace and, for some odd reason, that realization makes his chest burn with longing.

"I'm not expecting anything. If you don't want to." he reiterates as he lies down. How pathetic, he thinks. He really wasn't expecting anything, but, god, was he thinking about it. He'd been thinking about it since the first time he had seen you from across the If he could just reach out, just grab your collar and pull you to him, he could finally-

"Tadashi." his skin jumps at the sound of your voice and the sound of you shuffling, laying across the mattress. It's enough to knock him out of his thoughts and back into reality. He swallows back the tightness in his throat as he inches closer to you, his knees brushing against yours. He feels the gravity of the mattress shift as you shuffle closer and closer, until you're within inches of him. You're almost face to face now, close enough that he can feel the way your breathing picks up as his hand finds your shoulder. You hum at the contact; he's warm. Even through the thick cotton, his skin is unusually hot against you.

"You're like a little space heater." you whisper. Yamaguchi blinks, thinking, before his lips peel into a smile.

"Is that a good thing?" He doesn't wait for an answer. He squeezes gently and you let him pull you forward, nose pressed against nose, hip against hip. His own shoulders shake with a silent laugh and you can't help but join him. It's something about the novelty of the situation, the joy in doing something new, breaking an unspoken boundary, that makes you laugh. You both dissolve into giggles, shifting closer and closer until you're laughing in each other's arms, fully pressed against each other. Even through your sweatpants you can feel the suggestion of his cock pressed against you, heavy against his thigh.

" ’Dashi." you whisper into the thin space between you.

"I- Yeah?" he lets out a shaking breath. You take his hand and guide it to your chest, his fingers immediately cupping the flesh, massaging the flesh with a surprisingly steady touch. The way he sucks in air, fast, surprised, and hungry, sends heat pooling to your core.

"There's no popcorn here." you joke, "If you wanna fuck me."

It's enough to break through his anxiety and he's against you again, this time with no laughter to keep your lips apart. His mouth finds yours, hungrily catching your lower lip between his teeth, tugging it ever so slowly. The sharpness makes you gasp and he uses the opportunity to kiss you deeper, tongue against yours. He tastes like his brand of toothpaste- soft and sweet mint. It's unexpectedly hungry, unexpectedly rough.

The kiss doesn't break as he rolls over on to you, pressing your back into the down of his bed. His heart is already racing, battering against his ribs, as he continues tugging and teasing your breast, but he can't find it in himself to slow down. His free hand pushes up the hem of your shirt (his hoodie) to expose your chest. The kiss ends as he pulls away, forcing the short in-between your teeth, holding it up to give him free reign of your body. His head dips to join his hand, breath hot against your nipple. The cloth muffles your moan, but not enough to hide it from your lover.

He pauses, mouth open and tongue lulled out of his mouth, gazing up at you through his eyelashes. "Is this okay?" he's not touching you, but you can feel the low vibrations of his whisper against your skin.

"Yes, please." you whine through the sweatshirt, wrapping your hands into his hair. "Please, Please."

His tongue traces over your nipple delicately before he pulls back, just far enough to watch it pebble under his touch. He returns to work, clamping down and sucking, leaving the dull pain of a blossoming bruise behind. Your hips rut up into nothing, looking for any sort of friction.

He continues like this, leaving scattered marks across your skin as he worships you. Yamaguchi seems so content, just learning the scape of your body, but the building tension in your core is wearing thin.

Trailing touches down his body, you slipped your hands under the band of his sweatpants, gripping him through his boxers. Yamaguchi breaks, resting his forehead against your collar bone with a swallowed groan, as your fingers trace around the crown of his cock. Unwilling, he bucks into your light touch, dragging his length through your grasp. You tighten your fingers as he continues fucking himself against your palm, his own hands drifting to grasp your hips, pushing down your shorts just a fingers-length. Finger pads traced against the newly exposed skin, dipping lower and lower until tracing over the lace of your underwear.

"Wow." he breathes, lifting his head up to press a kiss against your chin. "Lift your hips for me, beautiful."

You comply, letting him peel off your shorts and underwear in one pull. The cool night air made you shiver, but his warm hands soon returned to explore the newly exposed skin.

"Oh, you're so..." his hand dips in between your legs, dragging a digit through your folds. The sound of your slick against his fingers makes his cock pulse in your grasp. He leaves his thought unfinished as he starts circling your clit with a steady touch. The pressure sends you keening, hips rolling into his touch eagerly, but he remains steady, patient.

He's building you up embarrassingly fast, leaving you sweaty and panting under his touch. Just as your legs start shaking, your body right on the brink, he withdraws. His tongue darts out to wipe away your fluids from his hand and he groans at the taste, eyes fluttering.

"I'm sorry, beautiful. You can't cum until I'm inside you." he whispers, sitting up to peel off his shirt. Clusters of freckles dapple his shoulders and it's all you can watch as he scrambles away to the nightstand drawer. He returns a moment later, eager tearing through the tin foil packet with his teeth.

"Tadashi! Be careful!" you scold as you throw the blankets aside.

"It's not ripped!" he says, grabbing the bunched up shorts from the crook of your knee and tugging it completely off, dragging you a couple inches down the mattress with them. He tosses them aside as he pulls off his own; even though you just had your hand around it, the sight of his cock makes you anxious. It's thick, much thicker than you anticipated, and around leaking, a bead of precum catching at little light in the room.

As he begins rolling the condom on, you peel off your top and Yamaguchi's mouth falls open, eyes darting around the entirety of your body.

"Holy. You-" he sighs happily. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." He surges forward, pressing you down into the mattress once again. His mouth is against yours, swallowing your whines. His hands are at the small of you back again. but now it's about but pure. He's forcefully angling your hips back and forth against his cock, dragging your clit against his spongy head and spreading your wetness against the plastic film.

"I can't believe I get to fuck you." he says in between kisses. Yamaguchi continues to fuck your folds, his calm pace finally losing it's rhythm. "I can't believe I get to play with this perfect pussy. Can't wait to see you cum around my cock." With a trembling hand, he reaches down and presses his tip against your entrance, hesitating before sinking just the head inside you. The pop of his cockhead entering your cunt makes both of you gasp in unison- and another wave of giggles over takes the both of you. As he dips down onto his elbows, eyes screwed shut, he doesn't make a move for a long moment, the only sound in the room is his steady breathing.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-." he presses a kiss against your neck, another laugh bubbling up, "You just- ah, you're so pretty. I can't believe this is real."

Your hand catches his jaw, pulling his face up into yours. Your thumb traces over his cheek, tracing over the subtle dimpling of his pock marks. The freckles scattered across his cheeks, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes as he smiles- he's the beautiful one here. At your touch, he pushes further into you, steadily feeding your tight whole inch by inch, watching the way your mouth gapes and twists at the pressure. Once he's fully seated in you, he pauses, watching your chest move with each breath.

"Dashi," you whine, hooking your ankles together around his waist, "You're so thick."

"I know, you're doing such a good job." he presses a kiss against your forehead as he begins rolling his hips against you. Each thrust is rough, your hips angled up for him to sink his full length into you. "Keep being good for me, baby."

With an unexpected strength, he tugs you closer, lifting your hips off the bed. Each stroke is steady, pumping his entire length in and out of you at a tantalizingly slow pace. His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer, begging for more, but he doesn’t oblige. It stays sinfully slow, building you up in a controlled burn. Each kiss, highlighted by the mingling of your hot breaths, is further raking the coals.

“Is my pretty baby gonna cum for me? Look how great you’re taking me.” he groans. He’s praising you blindly now, neither of you sure of exactly what he’s saying, all of his attention focused on grinding into you.

Your back arches further, and you’re seeing stars as he fucks you just right. You can barely keep your vision focused on him, those grey eyes clouded with concentration Your orgasm knocks the breath out of your lungs and you come undone with a strangled laugh, fisting the sheets desperately. The way you clench down around him makes his hips finally stutter, a hiss escaping his gritted teeth. Your chest is filled with a flurry of emotions as you sling your arms around his shoulders, unable to wipe away the goofy grin in your face.

A few more snaps of his hips has him melting into you as he cums. He tucks his head under your jaw with a hum, dropping you on to the mattress. His hands find their way back to your chest, giving you a final squeeze.

"Fuck." he whispers into the soft of your neck as he withdraws. He's quick to peel off the condom and tie to off, discarding it off the side of the bed. Yamaguchi rolls onto his back, holding his arms open expectantly. "You're so hot when you laugh, you know that?"

Curling into his arms, finding some sort of gross comfort in his sweaty warmth, you can't help but suppress another giggle.

"Hey, be careful. Keep laughing and we'll have to do that again." he grips your jaw, tilting your face towards him to capture you in a kiss. "Don't test me; I'll fuck you so hard you'll need a standing desk on Monday."

"Oh yeah?" you tease, your hand tracing down his chest, connecting his freckles. "Prove it."

"Oh, I will, come here-"

The distant sound of a door slamming catches your attention. "Yamaguchi, what the fuck?" a familiar voice echoes through the apartment.

Yamaguchi shoots up, frantically searching for his pants in the sheets. "Fuck, I forgot about the popcorn!"

#yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi hc #yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #karasuno #mint's musings

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myherowritings · 4 years ago

Text

so in love

— “I’m so in love with them, I don’t know what to do.” Requested by @apollochjld.

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader word count: 1.8k genre: fluff, timeskip iwa in socal

a/n: wow writing this made me wanna be in love; someone make me fall in love with them pls,, jkjk...unless FHDJKFD kidding,, i hope u enjoy reading!! [p.s. i was listening to “i love you 3000 ii” while writing if you wanna match the vibes hehe] xx sof

「 hq masterlist 」

Iwaizumi had been in love approximately once before.

It was in high school when he dated a girl who made his heart race and face flush. She was quiet and dependable, cheerful and kind. Although it didn’t last after he left for university in the States, he enjoyed the relationship while it lasted. It was sweet, it was comfortable. It was what he needed at the time.

But what he felt then paled in comparison when he thought of you. If she made his heart race, you made it soar.

Iwaizumi found himself thinking about you at the most random times of day—wondering what you were doing, wishing he could be doing those things with you… Whenever his phone buzzed, he would hope it was a message from you. And he’d be embarrassingly disappointed if it wasn’t.

Since the two of you started dating, you had taken over most of his mind. Things he once thought of as ridiculously mundane now reminded him of you. (How could fuzzy blankets and Christmas lights even conjure up the image of one specific person? He wasn’t sure. But when he saw them, he smiled while thinking of you cuddling him during the colder seasons.)

He had never felt this strongly about someone and it almost scared him how deep his feelings ran.

A mixture of anxiousness and excitement filled his stomach at the realization and he decided to call his best friend for advice. Though Oikawa could be an ass, he was one of the two only people Iwaizumi felt comfortable enough to confide in about everything (the other person being you, but he couldn’t exactly go to you to ask for advice about you).

“Oi, Shittykawa, you asleep already?”

There was a mocking sigh on the other side of the line. “Iwa-chan,” he chided, “haven’t you learned by now that’s not the proper way to greet someone?”

He grunted.

“Fine then,” Oikawa pouted. “To answer your question, no, I’m not asleep yet. Did you need something?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi was silent for a while, thinking of how to phrase his feelings. “I… Y/N…”

“What about Y/N?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Let me guess— You finally acknowledged you’re madly in love with them and you need help coping with the fact you’ve realized your emotional range is now bigger than a baby carrot?”

Iwaizumi blinked. How—?

Apparently his pause was enough for Oikawa to figure out he was right. “Holy shit. I actually got it?” He cheered and Iwaizumi could picture him dancing around the room smugly. “That’s great, Iwa-chan!”

He chuckled at his friend��s enthusiasm, Oikawa’s reaction surprisingly helping soothe his nerves. Maybe it wasn’t abnormal to have these feelings? But then again, Oikawa didn’t know just how intense these feelings were.

“Is it weird?” Iwaizumi found himself asking. “It feels weird. It’s like… I’m so in love with them, I don’t know what to do.”

That was the first time he had ever told himself he was in love with you out loud. Hearing it with his own two ears made his stomach clench and his palms get clammy. When he pictured his future in five years, he couldn’t imagine one where you weren’t there. He wanted to see your smile, hear your laugh, be there for you when you cried. He just wanted you. And he hoped you wanted him too.

“Did you just realize that?”

“Yeah. Just earlier.”

“Hmm. And have you told them yet?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then why are you still on call with me?!” Oikawa chided. “You should be driving to Y/N and getting ready to tell them how much you love them like a gushy fool in love.”

Iwaizumi winced at Oikawa’s blunt wording. The thought was weird. The thought was uncomfortable. He’d never been a guy who was particularly in touch with his emotions. He could rarely admit his feelings to himself— And it was even more uncommon to share those feelings with someone else. That required vulnerability and trust.

It was terrifying.

But for you, it was worth it.

“Go get your beauty sleep now, Assykawa,” he said, grabbing his keys and getting ready to hang up. He shrugged on a sweater and headed out the door, heart almost bursting from nerves.

“Not that I need it,” Oikawa huffed haughtily, and Iwaizumi could just picture him flipping his hair to the side. “But I will. You go tell Y/N how you feel now.”

“I will.” He started his car. “And Oikawa…?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Oikawa laughed dismissively. “Don’t mention it, Iwa-chan. It’s my duty to help ugly, hopeless losers who somehow managed to make someone beautiful and kind-hearted love them back.”

“Fuck you too, Trashykawa.”

And with that, Iwaizumi ended the call with an amused eye roll. He gripped his steering wheel in determination as he let out a deep sigh, driving over to your apartment. In hindsight, maybe he should’ve given you a text before showing up unannounced, but in this moment, his thoughts were so occupied, being rational didn’t end up crossing his mind. It wasn’t uncommon for you to surprise him with an impromptu visit and he would always welcome it, but randomly dropping by with no plan had never been his style.

He hoped it wouldn’t bother you.

Iwaizumi was so lost in his worries, he almost didn’t notice he was already parked in front of your complex and walking towards your door in minutes’ time. Slowly, he found his knuckles rapping on your door before his brain could rethink his decision and drive back home.

The front door cracked open and he heard a cute little surprised noise escape your lips.

“Hajime?” you said curiously, though your eyes lit up as you invited him in. “Did I miss a text from you? I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.”

He scratched the back of his neck, face suddenly heating up in embarrassment. A heads up would have been the courteous thing to do. What if you were busy? Or what if you didn’t want to see him at the moment? The second thought made his stomach drop.

“Not that I mind though!” you quickly amended, smoothing out the furrow between his brows with your thumb and placing a soft kiss on the lips. Iwaizumi smiled into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into a hug as his worries melted away. “My day always gets better when I see you.”

His fingers ran down your spine and planted his lips on the top of your head before pulling away. Smiling, you led him to the couch where you leaned into his touch.

“Did you have something you needed? Or did you just want to hang?”

“I just wanted to see you.”

You smiled, a shy look suddenly befalling your face as you drew circles atop Iwaizumi’s thigh. “Yeah? I was actually just thinking of you when you showed up. I thought I might’ve been daydreaming, but I guess it was just a wish come true.”

He let out a short chuckle at your sentimental words, the blush on his cheeks betraying his true pleasure at hearing them. “I can never think of anything to wish for when you’re around. It feels like I already have everything I could want when I’m with you.”

The repetitive, gentle movements of your finger on his thigh halted as your eyes widened. “Really?”

His first instinct was to take back what he said and distance himself. A nagging part of him told him that he said too much and shouldn’t have been so forward. But Iwaizumi swallowed his insecurities and the discomfort he felt from being vulnerable and nodded.

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff. “Really.”

Taking note of the serious tone he spoke in, you straightened up on the sofa, angling your body so you could see his expression directly.

“I know we’ve only been together for a few months, but I just...had to tell you that I’m in love with you. And it feels so strange to say,” he admitted, cheeks blazing red. He couldn’t even manage to bring his gaze directly to your eyes or he knew he’d grow too embarrassed to continue on without stumbling. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and, at this point, I don’t know if I��d ever feel this way about anyone else. And this in no way means you have to say you feel the same already. I just thought I should let you know how much you mean to me.”

When he finally met your eyes, he saw they were filled with unshed tears, making your irises look like they were shining. You looked up at him with such an endearing look on you, as if Iwaizumi promised he hung up all the stars in the galaxy by hand just for you.

“I love you so much— No, I’m very much in love with you too, Hajime,” you responded, sounding overjoyed as you threw your arms around him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck while he planted a kiss on your temple. “I’m so relieved you said something now because if you hadn’t, I might’ve just blurted it out one random day.”

He snorted, teasing. “Like I did just now, you mean?”

“Well, yes, but probably not as eloquently,” you laughed. “You know, I never understood movies or shows that talked about true love or finding someone you’d actually want to spend your life with. That concept seemed so foreign to me, or like it was something so far out of reach… Until I met you.”

Spend your life with? His heart soared out of his chest at your words. He felt like he could touch the sky if he tried.

“And it sounds so cheesy to say that!” you whined, burying your head in your hands. Iwaizumi chuckled at how cute you were as you peered through your fingers. “But though it’s cheesy, it really is the truth.”

He hummed. “Sometimes cheesy is good.”

“Mhm.” You nodded in agreement. “I guess loving someone enough to want to be this cheesy with them is something special in itself. Because I could never imagine having moments like this with someone other than you.”

“I couldn’t imagine this—being here, feeling this way—with anyone else either.” Iwaizumi laced his fingers through yours, stroking your thumb so softly, it was light enough to leave a ticklish tingle. “And I wouldn’t want to.”

“Then I guess we have no choice but to make more of these cheesy memories together.”

Iwaizumi leaned in to place his lips on yours, the both of you smiling into the chaste kiss. Even the smallest touches could light a spark within him that he never wanted to die out.

Making memories didn’t seem so hard. Especially when they were with you. “I think we can manage that just fine.”

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

Text

After all, Moon is just a rock without Sun.

Trigger warning: Mentions of failed attempt suicide, blood and hospital, Angst.

It’s a chirpy day. Though, there are grey murky clouds in Y/N's apartment and she doesn’t know from where all of it came from, but this is the end.

She badly wants this to be an end.

She stares the brown envelope sitting at her nightstand and all of it comes crashing upon her tiny head and drowning her into depths and sorrows and guilt and agony of her past and present, reminiscing the cracks of happiness she got here and there.

Her breath shudders. The excitement of valentines day glittery outside and she smiles, happy for everyone out there getting to be loved and cherished and pampered.

She gets all of that too – with Harry she gets to pool into all of the giddiness but —- there always buts with Harry because she isn’t his person, she never was.

He’s always gonna be her true bezzy as he describes in true Harry fashion.

She’s grateful for that.

But, she thinks it’s enough for her. She has reached where everyone human wants to – getting to feel loved after many hardships and now when she has enjoyed it and got to know what it feels like to have it all -- she thinks it’s time for her to go.

To get rid of the loneliness that resides inside her, she was never able to overcome and she pinches the blade in between her fingertips and bunches Harry’s hoodie towards her nose smelling it and it warms her heart, it warms every part of her and she really really thinks that the apology in that letter will be enough for him to move on.

She whimpers. Staring blankly as the blade inches into the thin skin of her wrist slowly and painfully and to make it less painfully she tears her delicate skin apart in one swipe and bites down a cry, putting the blood coated life taking thing on the couch and stands up a bit wobbly letting the thick dark droplets fall on the carpet.

She walks towards her bed and flumps into white sheets. Eyelids fluttering and lips parted shallow and they snap open upon the beep of her notifications and when she looks at it – a sad sob tugs out of her lungs.

She lays on her side not focusing the way blood seeps into white sheets and spreads like roots, making a horrific past of her tragedy. Instead, she keeps on watching the video Harry sent to her with hooded tired eyes and a beautiful peaceful smile.

Snuggles into sheets that smells like sunnies and peonies and the cinnamon musk he wears.

His skin soft and curls bouncy and everywhere, his gorgeous face on display and his dimples coveting adorably as he tries to hover the camera at the tray of red velvet cupcakes just as she likes, “Look ducky made cupcakes f'you – two batch in total —--,” She really wants to know for whom the other batch is for but she just shakes her head and giggles wetly, letting her tear tickle her nose when he pouts and shows her the frosting, “Ruined the tops – tried to make frogs on it —-- remember you asked me to? I still’ve some naked ones we could try some froggies on it later —---- .....” His words spins soothingly in her brain and her blurry gaze fills with panicked tears; because she just realised that this isn’t what she wants.

What did she do?

Oh my goodness what did I do?

It’s late and I can’t go back and I’m really gonna miss Sparkly and he'll be so sad to see me like this, but it’s too late Y/N – her heart thumped and it jumps when something pounded loudly and it’s her head maybe.

Harry waits at the door. His grin big and gleeful. He jumps on his toes a bit and he couldn’t believe he's about to do it today, but no matter what happens he’s gonna confess to her and he frowns a tad when no response comes from inside – not even the hum of her sweetness and the prattle of her steps --- there's eerie silence and Harry doesn’t like that.

He waits and ponders over. Then sighs and was about to retreat back but he knows that he’s too lazy to walk all the way back and come back again, so he shimmies her door's key from under her lavender pot.

When he stumbles inside he grins seeing his sleepy head –-- snoring in broad daylight, his ears perking at his own voice echoing through the speaker of her phone and it makes his heart flutter and he has this evil plan to bounce on her mattress and annoy the shit out of her.

But.

When he comes to stand over her and his eyes falls over the bloody sheets and her wrist cut open, her body limp and lifeless – her cheeks soaked with tears and her mouth gasping for oxygen his grin falls drastically into a frown as he went blank for a moment.

Nothing.

Just pitch darkness.

His heartbeat drops.

His breath getting sucked out of his lungs and he feels like fainting.

The white noise that stings his ears and the heart that stopped working a second ago revives back and he wished it didn’t – the tray falls from his trembling hand onto the floor and he’s turning her over and his tears are falling from his throat down to her skin and he’s tripping on his knees and cradling her face trying to jostle her unconscious body.

“Baby ---.. wake up please ....” He weeps and tries to shake her with all the frailness he was left with and he's despising how her usual glowy skin is getting paler by every moment.

She isn’t his Y/N. She'd never do it without giving a second thought for him because she cares about him and he screams hoarsely trying to lift her up and into his chest to hug her – but everything has got so heavy for him.

He's feeling so small.

So helpless and vulnerable.

“Baby!!! I said wake up, pet --- s'not fair ---... y’ve to —- y've t'.... brought – brought you yer favourites .. now don’t be mean and open yer eyes, I know you’re teasin’ me.” He has officially lost it. He thinks he’s going crazy and hallucinating things – trying to avoid the reality.

He cries patting her cheek and his breath hitches in his throat when he plants his ear to her chest and there’s feeble thump of her heart.

He’s lunging quick and picking her up in his arms and squeezing her protectively to himself, slipping outside through her door in rush and panic – her head bobs and her wrist dangles from his forearm as he doesn’t wait for elevator and flies down the stairs with shouts for people to fuck themselves away and breaking every speed limit to reach hospital.

His grip on her hoodie loosens with each step they take towards the ER and he pleads them to let him in but the doctors pushes him out of the flapping doors and he’s tumbling back and onto the tiled floor, almost straining his ankle in attempt.

They told him she’s okay. But, needs a good rest since she lost alot of blood and visitors aren’t allowed –-- before five hours so he waits – he waits alone and with dire pain just to get a single glimpse of her and asking the doctors again and again if she’s okay.

Next he knows the sun is leaving him and he’s left in company of darkness before his friends are surrounding him – comforting and consoling him.

He doesn’t need it. Because, he isn’t feeling anything. He’s numb to his stomach and when they look down at him in sympathy – everything comes churning in his throat and he’s pushing everyone away and tumbling towards the washroom sliding against the floor knees first and throwing inside the bidet with loud groany noises.

He feels like all of his organs will come out and spurt infront of him at this point.

He tries to grab onto something and almost falls back, walks on his wobbly legs towards the sink and splashes water harshly on his face that it hurts.

His eyes struck at himself in the mirror and he can’t recognize himself ... his eyes hollow and his skin crumbled and his flimsy shirt sticking to his chest from dried blood and he doesn’t give a fuck unless his baby is alright and he’s griping the edges of the sink hunching forward as more cries squelches out of him.

He doesn’t wipe the tears away and when walks outside Sarah is rushing to help him but he’s gesturing her to stop and falling on the bench. Throwing his head against the wall and his chest heaves as he mutters gaining everyone's attention, “She almost died ...”

“She’s okay now, H.” Luna tells him but he kisses his teeth and grunts angrily.

“No. No, you don't get it!! She. Is. Not.” He pushes the heels of his palms against his sockets and rubs them in frustration, “I was the only one she got ‘n –-- I wanted to make her feel loved not — fuck, I failed her. I failed the only person that matters to me, ‘course I lacked somethin’ s'why she didn’t tell me what was goin' on with her.” Fresh tears brims at his lashes and Sarah squeezes his shoulder.

“When I saw her all blue ‘n bloody, was so scared to even touch her ---... thought I died at that mo' ‘s worse than dyin' Sarah ... watchin' ye’loved one slip from yer life ‘n – ‘n that you’ll never have ‘em again —--...” He stutters and runs his palms down his face.

“I’m in so much pain watchin' her suffer on that ventilator ...” His bottom lip wobbles and he rocks back and forth on the bench, hair falling in his eyes but he doesn’t do anything to push them back.

Luna doesn’t have a heart to give him that letter. Not knowing how he’ll take it considering he’s already broken to pieces and dust, lingering on bit of a hope.

But, when the nurse comes and tells them their time is over and only one person could stay with Y/N, Luna's handing the letter to Harry leaving him confused and frowning.

Though, he’s glad when they let him inside the room and a shiver runs down his spine upon seeing thick tubes pricking and poking the delicate skin of his ducky.

Her unconscious body looks peaceful and halo like and it’s scary.

He doesn’t make a noise. Tries to be as quite as possible and bites down at his lip to avoid from tearing up but he ends up so, caressing her flushed cheek and kisses her temple feeling her light breath hit his neck.

“’M so sorry, ducklin'. I’m baby. Fo' being late in everythin’ ....---” He sniffles. Wiping at his nose and sits beside her as close as he could – feathering his finger pads at her knuckles and flinches back when the finger she has a heart rate monitor on twitches and he’s afraid that he hurt her.

He keeps on watching her not blinking an eye and when he couldn’t sleep he takes a look at the letter sitting in his lap.

He shakes his head and ignores it. Then his trembly fingers are opening it and raising it infront of his eyes and he recognizes the writing right away and it makes him whimper pathetically.

He recites the words. Not able to feel the moisture ticking down his throat, the pet name she used to call him rattling in his brain and he remember the night they met – he can never forget that night.

Dear Sparkly, I know you’ll be very grumpy and angry with me when you’ll get this letter -- but, it’s okay. Yeah? I’ll be looking at you from above don’t worry —-- so you better not be silly with yourself.

And he could imagine her sweet eyes getting all big and concerned.

I just wanted to let you know that I love you. I’ve loved you .... since that night when you were sitting at those steel stairs opposite to the rooftop of the vacant building I was sitting at and you eyed me peculiarly when I stood at the edge waving at you – just because you had your earphones plugged but you weren't wearing them --- it was cute because you were too engulfed, staring at the moon.

He’s baffled that she remembers the smallest detail. Harry wasn’t feeling very well and came to that empty rooftop to relax, only to get interrupted by a cute girl.

She trailed behind him like a ducklin' after that -- as if she got the cute orange beak to chatter his anxiousness away.

I want you to be careless and free and never feel like you’re struck inside your own body and I want you to love -– to make sure you feel loved.

I hope that you’ll have someone with whom you could gaze at moon for hours, listening to Beatles together sharing one headphone (I hated them by the way) and when they sit beside you, it feels like they’re the moon -– like they glimmer your insides, when you touch them it’s all heavenly and pretty and it makes you feel loved and jittery.

His heart clenches into fist and clots at that and he bites the inside of his cheek.

Heartbroken.

Sad.

Terribly sick.

He isn’t liking it reading it. He’s hating it infact. He was about to stop. Tear it in pieces and dump it in trash. But, then again he couldn’t.

Because Harry. I’m not your moon. I’m the sun. That’d irritate you and you’d never be able to look at it with full heart eyes –-- I’m too hot for you, pun right there. My touch will burn you instead of filling you with jitteriness. You’d wait for me to go and yearn for the moon to come back --- Always on your toes because everything becomes too much of a heat for you and I don’t want that –- I love you but that doesn’t mean I’ll take you down with me.

I’m not that selfish, Harry.

I love you and I was too embarrassed to tell you this in person.

I hope you forgive me.

Yours Sun.

He’s cornered up and sobbing into his elbow, as the paper written with her whole soul hangs from the tips of his fingers and he takes a look at her with cloudy eyes and digs his nails into his knees.

He hiccups jumping forward and towering her when she stirs with a whine and Harry’s cupping her cheeks, “Oh my ...,” He’s pressing the button to call the nurses and doctors and gives her an eskimo kiss before pulling away and examining her closely.

Her eyes are pink floods of tears and humiliation. Even though they’re unaware of her presence and exhausted.

Her lips chapped as she rolls her tongue to mumble some words, “’m sorry ...” She whimpers as her arm shoots with pain and Harry’s shaking his head, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Shhh. Shh. Baby ducky, ‘s okay. Tell me you’re okay, please tell me you’re not leavin’ me again.” She slip shuts her eyes and nods. She’s weak and frail. Even if the doctors checked her and made her drink some fluids she’s still not able to move without Harry’s assistance.

She has her eyes closed. Head sunk into pillow and they flutter when Harry speaks, in the most softest voice and draws circles on her knee while doing so.

“I love you.” He croaks out. Gulping down the bulk choking him alive and she stares him, her heart pausing for a bit and his eyes widen seeing the monitor going weird and it makes her cheeks heat up.

Embarrassed she looks away and Harry takes her chin between his fingers and gazes her with profound intensity and fondness.

“You’re my sun. You’re. I bask in yer warmth and y’make me feel warm everywhere, it oozes from me every pore in adoration and love. Even when you don’t appear I feel your presence and the clouds could never be pink without ye' ‘n my skies would never be cherubic if it’s not you my darling —... I gaze moon only for Sun to peek from the hues and I always wait fo’ ye’ —-- always gonna be there on that rooftop counting the seconds you shine up my world.” His fingers shaky as he slips it between her palms lingering to get relief from her touch and she sniffs, blinking the tears away accepting him and kissing the inside of his palm.

“After all, Moon is just a rock without Sun.” He whispers and that was enough for her to close the distance between them and place her cold lips against his and he embraces her tenderly -- pecking her upper lip twice then kissing her whole mouth to whisk out all his love into it and her fingers brushes over his jaw muttering against his taffy lips.

“I love you. Even when I was dying all I could think about was ye'sparkly -- but it was too late and I was aware of how much pain you were in but it felt like I was struck inside a cage —---...” She rambles. Coughing when it hurts her throat and Harry shushes her kissing her hair gently and mutters against them – smoothing his palm down her back to calm her down.

“You’re ‘ere. In me arms is what matters.” He keeps her face tucked under his chin and keeps on pecking her skin.

“’M g'na take care of you, baby.”

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hopelesshunny · 4 years ago

Text

the love languages part ii: physical touch (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred has always felt the need to touch y/n and after a drunken night he realizes he can't sleep without her.

warnings: very, very light profanity, drinking/underage drinking, kissing, bed sharing.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: my second instalment is here - i did in fact say i would wait until monday but i was really excited to write this one!! i am so grateful for all the love i have received on this series so far, i cannot thank you guys enough. i still feel like i have a ways to go in improving my writing - but as always my ask is open if you have comments, questions, concerns, luv or just wanna chat:)

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part i // part iii // part iv

For as long as Y/N had known Fred he had always been touchy. Fred’s need to constantly touch her was never unwelcomed, she relished in the way he’d wrap an arm around her shoulders when he’d walk her to class or how he’d lean into her when he laughed uncontrollably. However, she had always assumed that he was like this with everyone he was friends with, that he just needed to touch people in some way in order to feel close to them. This was very true but Y/N never knew that it was her touch that he craved the most, that as soon as he saw her, he longed to feel the soft skin of her cheek, the way her shoulders shook when she laughed or the rise and fall of her chest while he laid on her stomach in the common room, gentle sighs leaving her mouth every so often.

Fred couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times he almost told Y/N his feelings for her, the words sat on his tongue so often that he was starting to believe that they felt more comfortable in his mouth which is why they never launched themselves into the air. He didn’t know why he couldn’t force the confession out, there was always just a cloud of doubt and fear that swarmed his mind whenever the thought presented itself. But alas, here he was sitting across from her watching her flip her hair over her shoulder and let out a light laugh as she found whatever George was saying quite amusing.

“Y/N! You have to come, you literally can’t miss a party like this!” George practically shouted, a shocked look on his face.

“I’m so behind on my studies.” Y/N started, resting her chin on her hands. “I’ll be practically chained to the library all weekend as is, I can’t go to a party.”

“Y-You’re not coming tonight?” Fred questioned, his eyes hopeful as if he had heard the conversation wrong.

“Sorry Freddie.” She pouted. “You can tell me all about it at breakfast tomorrow.” At that Fred reached across the table to run his finger across her knuckles, relishing in the way her skin felt under his calloused fingertip, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how they would feel against his lips. However, he was pulled out of his daydream by the sound of George making gagging noises to the side of him as Y/N giggled.

“In that case I’ll have to drink a little extra.” He threw a wink her way. “To make sure I don’t bore you back to sleep tomorrow morning.”

“You never bore me, Trouble.” She smiled before saying her goodbyes to the rest of the table and making her way to the library. The nickname brought a gentle smile to his face, it was the first thing she’d ever called him. During her first year Y/N had been studying in the common room when the twins busteled in, laughing and hollering about another successful prank. When she asked what they were so excited about, the two boys were more than happy to explain, Fred wildly acting out the look on Snape’s face before George asked her name and introduced himself in response. Before Fred even had the chance to open his mouth to follow suit she stopped him.

“You sound like trouble, that’s what I’ll call you.”

George laughed at his twins new-found nickname but it made Fred’s heart swell - the fact that she had specifically given him a special name, the smile on her face when she said it and the way she never left their side since that day, produced a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Now, here he was, years later, with the same girl, same nickname, same smile and the same butterflies.

Fred kept his promise to Y/N, he was drunk, very, very drunk. He stumbled through the Gryffindor common room, his feet feeling like they were trying to carry him off in different directions until he finally found an armchair to ground himself with. Plopping himself down into the chair he looked out into the crowd of people, some laughing others whispering, couples hanging off each other, it made him miss Y/N. If she was here she’d be sitting next to him, his arm slung around her shoulder as she giggled over the way he slurred his words and she’d always made sure he got to bed safely before finding her way to her own room. Fred groaned as George sat in the chair across from him, pushing a glass of water towards him, causing his twin to chuckle at his annoyed state.

“At least you’ll have something funny to tell Y/N in the morning.” He laughed. “Tell her all about how your drunk ass could barely walk straight.” Fred leaned his head back on his neck.

“I should go see her.” He spoke quietly, just loud enough to convince himself of the idea but hopefully not loud enough for George to hear. He knew that his drunken state failed him however, when his brother quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And do what? Spill your guts?” George chuckled. “Either by finally telling her you’re bloody in love with her or literally?” This earned another groan from Fred as he shot daggers at him.

“That’s it.” Fred started, chugging the glass of water that was placed in front of him. “I’m going.”

“Best of luck mate.” George spoke as he watched Fred stumble his way through the crowd.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked, suddenly appearing by his brother's side.

“On a death mission.” George responded.

Fred let out a sigh of relief when he finally made his way out of the common room and began the trek towards her dorm room. But his mind was running rampant, what if George was right? What if he was just better off going to bed? Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him, she was probably tired from studying all night and the last thing she wanted was him keeping her up. But despite his doubts his feet still carried him towards her, the walk was sobering, which he would need if he planned on getting a coherent sentence out when he finally made his way to her.

“Y/N?” He called softly when he opened her room door, trying his very best to keep quiet to not wake her roommates. He recognized her frame immediately, bundled under bed sheets, her hair messy and lips slightly parted. He stood over her, watching the way her chest rose and fell as soft breathes left her mouth. “Y/N.” He spoke again, shoving his hands in his pockets, fearing her reaction to his sudden visit. Her eyes shot open but when they found his, her face softened, a small smile forming.

“You scared me, Trouble.” She laughed lightly. “Are you okay?” She asked, the concern that laced her voice made him have to restrain from kissing every square inch of her face.

“I’m okay, just a little drunk.” He hiccuped, his response earning a bright smile from her as she scooted to the side and patted the bed, signially for him to sit next to her. He graciously accepted her offer, his hand immediately finding her knee, needing to touch her. She leaned into his touch as he slurred on about how Ron tried to flirt with Hermione but failed miserably and how red Harry turned when George dared him to kiss Ginny. Neither of them could remember falling asleep, they were too caught up in each other's whispered stories and soft giggles.

When Fred woke the next morning, his head pounding, his legs feeling as if they had carried him across the entire country, he looked down to find his best friend fast asleep on his chest. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around his middle with his hand tangled in her hair as she shifted slightly on top of him. He felt like he should panic and apologize for last night’s antics but she looked so peaceful and he was so close to her that he couldn’t bring himself to worry about barging into her room at who knows what time.

“Mornin’ Trouble.” She spoke, her voice groggy and flooded with sleep. “How are you feeling?” She asked genuinely, pulling herself from his embrace to stretch her arms above her head, making him curse himself for ever moving and waking her.

“I’ve been much better.” He groaned, sliding his hands down his face. “Guess I don’t have to fill you in on last night's events at breakfast anymore.”

“No, you did a sufficient job of that last night.” She giggled. “But we can still go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Y/N pulled him out of her bed, still fully clothed in what he was wearing the night before.

He grumbled his way through breakfast as George and Ron cracked jokes about how drunk and lovesick he was, Fred throwing warning looks their way as Y/N laughed seeming unbothered by the way they were pulling her into they’re jokes, taking it all as a way to poke fun at Fred. But his head was still swimming, the feeling of her weight on top of him and her hands pressed against his chest, all he wanted was to be back in that position again. He couldn’t get it out of his head for the rest of the day and no matter how many times he attempted to distract himself from her that night as he lied in bed his mind kept travelling back to Y/N. He lay awake staring at the ceiling thinking about how empty his arms felt without her in them - she was addicting, he had always known that, since the moment he met her he had not been able to pull himself away from her. But now he was in too deep, he needed to be there with her.

So, here he was, in his pyjamas, on his way to her dorm room once again, all shame and guilt left long behind, just needing to be near her. Fred padded into her room, his hands rooted in his pockets once again, fully expecting to have to wake her just as he did the night before. But she was wide awake, sitting on her bed, a novel clasped in her fingers, a smile forming on her face when he came into her line of vision.

“Did you miss me?” She teased, as he ran a hand through his hair, rocking on his heels.

“Can’t sleep.” He mumbled. “Was wondering if you were still up.” He said, offering her a grin.

“Well then Trouble, you’re in luck.” She smirked, moving to allow space for him to lie next to her. Fred laid his head in her lap as she turned her attention back to the book in her hand while the other snaked its way into his hair. All the trouble sleeping that had been previously plaguing him melted away with her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

Over the course of the next week Fred and Y/N fell into this routine, he would lay away in his bed before eventually giving into the knowledge that he could not sleep without her any longer before he would make his way to her room, crawl into bed beside her and fall into the soundest sleep that has ever graced him. In the beginning, he was apprehensive, worried that she would reject him at some point and tell him that she wanted to sleep alone. But she never did, every night she shot him a warm smile and opened her arms to him. As the week went on his worries morphed themselves into something new however, he was no longer concerned about her rejecting his company but that she would instead reject his feelings for her. That she would eventually realize that he was in love with her and tell him that she never felt that way about him and was just trying to be a good friend.

“I don’t think I can sleep without you anymore.” Fred spoke into the darkness of the room, his voice audibly shaking, the silence that filled the space causing his stomach to turn.

“Mhmm.” Y/N started, tightening her grasp on him. “I can’t complain, you’re a great pillow.” He let out a light laugh, rubbing small circles in her back.

“It’s true.” He spoke, more seriously. “I haven’t been able to sleep at all lately, but as soon as I get into your bed, I’m out.” She sighed. “They must have better beds in the girls dorms.” He added, which earned a giggle from her.

“I don’t know about the quality of the beds, maybe it’s who's in it.” She spoke, her voice quiet as she bit her lip now regretting her sudden burst of confidence. Fred was silent for a moment before he spoke, a deep breath filling his lungs before he had the nerve to confess to her.

“I always thought that the reason I always had to touch you was because I liked to feel close to people. But it’s different with you.” He shifted to look at her. “I need to touch you, need to feel your skin. Fuck Y/N, I just want to hold your hand in front of everybody and kiss you in between classes and fall asleep next to you every night.” He searched her face looking for any sense of emotion but all he could find was her typical soft smile. “It’s just that I-I-” He started.

“I love you too Fred.” She cut him off, placing her palm against his cheek, he turned into her touch despite the shock that was lacing his features.

“You what?” He said, a giggle falling from her mouth as she clasped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to save him some pride.

“The first night you came to my room, after you left the party, you kept saying you loved me in your sleep.” He groaned at her confession. “I was worried it was just drunk babbles but-”

“But I do love you.” He finished. “I’ve loved you for years.”

“I love you too, Trouble.” She giggled, placing a long awaited kiss to his lips.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds @fandomhideout @lilypad-55449 @youngblood199456 @thanxxskz

#fred #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley series #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fluff #hp fic #hp

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anna-justice · 4 years ago

Text

Crash My Party - Upstead

Summary: Hailey receives some terrible news and suffers a severe panic attack, and like always, Jay is there for her. (Pre-Established Upstead/8x03 never happened)

Warnings: fluff, swearing, maybe mentions of violence

Requested: Yes! #66, “I can’t do this alone anymore.”

…

The walk up the stairs to his apartment building seemed longer than normal. Her hands shook as she fiddled with her keys, the clinking creating white noise that echoed through the stairwell. She pushed the door at the top open and made her way down the hall, subconsciously reading the numbers on every door as she passed.

When she reached his door, she took a deep breath, running her hand through her blonde hair that - for once - was falling over her shoulders. She raised her hand to knock, but held it there for a second. Something about this didn’t seem right, her showing up unannounced with a million things to drop on him. Even though they had both done it a thousand times, there was always a voice in the back of her head that told her that it wasn’t his problem.

She fought the feelings and knocked on the door, shifting on her heels as she waited. She stared at the ground and squinted hard, pushing the possible tears back down. The door swung open a few seconds later, revealing a smiley and very shocked Jay. Hailey watched as his face contorted from a big grin to confused, and then to concern. She wished the floor would just swallow her up. “Hailey?”

“Hey.” She said quietly. She knew she should have called or texted, or maybe even stayed home to face it alone, but she always felt better after a drink with him. After the day she had, she just needed to be close to him.

Jay stepped slightly in front of the door, closing it partly behind him. It was then Hailey realized he probably wasn’t alone. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He asked, genuinely.

Hailey blinked back tears for the upteenth time that day, the thought of Jay spending his Friday night with any other girl but her cut deep. She knew she was jumping to conclusions, but right now, he heart couldn’t take it.“Yeah, yeah, I-”

“Jay!” Someone called from inside the apartment, “What’s taking you so long to get a pizza?” Jay’s cheeks heated up and Hailey let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Kevin.

“Oh, sorry.” Hailey said, fighting the urge to smile (an action that hadn’t crossed her mind in hours). He had company, and she didn’t want to interrupt, but every part of her was extremely relieved that it was just their friends hiding behind the door. “I didn’t realize you were busy. I’ll just go.” She turned to walk away, but Jay placed a hand on her shoulder, stepping out of the doorway.

He shook his head, “I’m not. It’s just the guys. What’s up?”

Hailey was opening her mouth to protest when she was interrupted again. “Jay, quit flirting with the delivery guy and get back in here. You’re missing the game.” Another voice yelled, which Hailey assumed was Severide.

Jay held up his hand, motioning for her to give him a second. He leaned his head back in the apartment, “Give me a second.” He shouted.

“Jay, really, it’s fine. I’ll see you later.” She said, trying (and failing) to give him a reassuring smile.

Jay cocked an eyebrow at her, “You sure?” Hailey nodded, even though she wasn’t. Even though hers was long gone, she didn’t want to ruin his night.

She was about to leave again when they heard footsteps behind them, “Okay, I need to see what this girl looks like-” The door swung open to reveal Will, who stopped dead in his tracks. “Hailey, hi.” He said, a lot louder than he needed too. Hailey blushed and Jay rolled his eyes. Will glanced between the two of them, a tiny smirk showing on his face. He looked at Jay, “Take your time.” Before either of them could say a thing, he shut the door.

Jay chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry about him. They thought you were the delivery guy.”

Hailey nodded, “Yeah, I got that.”

He took her in, noticing the fading tear marks on her cheeks and the half smile on her face. She wasn’t okay, and he knew that. “You wanna come in? We have beer and a hockey game.” He asked, gesturing at the door.

Hailey shook her head, glancing at the ground. “That’s okay. You guys have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.” They both retreated to where they came from, Jay shutting the door and leaning against it. He couldn’t shake the sad look in her eyes. He made his way back to his couch, surprised to see the three grown men already there watching him expectantly. “What?”

“How’s Hailey?” Will asked, smirking again.

Jay sighed, “I don’t really know, she looked upset.” He glanced between the three of them. “I think I need to…” He said, looking back at the door.

“Of course, man, we get it.” Kevin said, taking a swig of his beer.

“Yeah,” Kelly agreed, “We’ll just sit here, drink your beer and eat your food.”

“And miss you.” Will added and Jay rolled his eyes, “Seriously, it’s Hailey, go.”

Jay smiled at his friends, “Thanks guys.” He grabs his coat and his keys and was out the door in a matter of seconds.

They heard the door close behind him and Kelly shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. He nodded his head in the direction that Jay left. “He’s so whipped.”

Kevin and Will both laughed, nodding in agreement. “So…” Will said.

“It’s honestly kind of sad.”

…

By the time Hailey made it inside of her apartment, she was pulling hard on her fingers. She could feel her pulse picking up, and the pain of squeezing her anxious hands was keeping her grounded. It felt like it was a hundred degrees inside and she aggressively pushed off her coat, throwing it over a chair. She crossed the room, gripping the edge of her counter while trying to focus on her breathing.

Her chest felt tight and her knuckles were white from her tight grip. She clamped her eyes shut, pushing herself away from the counter and squeezing her hands in a fist at her sides. She stood in the center of the room, looking up at the ceiling as she blinked back tears. She wouldn’t cry again, no, she couldn’t cry again. That didn't stop her though, the salty liquid began to trickle down her face.

Hailey let out a frustrated groan - the distraught noise coming out very un-Hailey-like - and gasped for air, finding her way back to the counter. She refused to give in, it had been so long since this had happened, and she was going to fight like hell to make sure it didn’t follow through. She thought she was past it, she thought she was old enough to deal with things correctly.

However, her mind and her body had a different idea. Her chest burned and her throat felt like sandpaper, she almost didn’t even notice her phone buzzing on the counter. She absently reached out and picked it up, letting out a sob as she read the caller ID. A second later, her phone hit the wall next to her, shattering and falling to the floor along with any sense of calm she had left.

She heaved, she felt almost like she was floating. The only thing keeping in place was the counter in front of her. She finally let herself slip, she stopped fighting the pain and let it consume her.

Jay was almost to her door when he heard the crash inside, “Hailey!” He yelled, immediately kicking the door in (not even bothering to see if it was open).

Everything happened so fast. The commotion behind her caused Hailey to look up from her fixed gaze on the granite and the sudden movement sent her head spinning. Jay watched it all happen, catching her just before she hit the floor. “Hailey, Hailey.” He said, panicking. She slumped against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Jay held her to him on instinct, noticing her trembling body. “Hailey breathe, please.” He said, trying to sit her up as she heaved.

“I can’t, I can’t,” She choked out, clutching her chest. Her crying continued as Jay wracked his brain for what to do. He was sure she was having a panic attack, he had had quite a few of his own, but he was in shock. His calm - put together - force to be reckoned with - Hailey was nowhere to be found.

He shifted so that he was in front of her, hands braced on her upper arms to keep her upright. “Look at me Hailey, deep breaths. It’s okay, everything is going to be okay.”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Make it stop,” She gasped, “Please Jay, make it stop. It hurts.”

Jay felt his heart clench in his chest, he absolutely hated seeing her like this. And it was probably good that he had no idea what was going on, because otherwise he would be planning a murder in his mind. “Hailey,” He said, but she was lost somewhere. “Hailey, look at me.” His words were gentle, but firm, and it grabbed her attention. Her head snapped up and her teary blue eyes met his. He cracked a smile, letting his hand slide up to her shoulder. “Good, now try to match my breathing.” She nodded, fixing her eyes on his chest and watching it rise and fall.

They sat on the floor together for at least fifteen minutes. Hailey watching Jay breath steadily and trying to match it. She was hyper focused, she didn’t dare let her mind wander. It had proven to be dangerous territory. Jay though, he felt like his brain was going to explode.

When Hailey finally felt like she could control herself, she slid onto her bottom, leaning her back against the kitchen counter. She ran her hands on her eyes and pulled her knees to her chest, partly to collect herself, partly because she was absolutely mortified. She sniffled, taking a few deep breaths on her own.

Jay relaxed as well, sitting back on his heels and keeping his distance. His eyes never left her, like if he looked away she would fall apart again. She looked so sad, so scared and it made him feel physically ill. “I think I broke your door.”

Hailey laughed out loud at his bad excuse for lightening the mood, “It’s okay.” She said quietly, running a hand under her nose. They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other. Hailey felt a strange sense of calm, one that she only felt around him, and it was a nice contrast to the past hour of pure panic.

“Are you okay?” He asked, giving her a pointed look.

It felt like such a loaded question, and honestly it was one. Jay had asked her that a million times, but there was no doubt that this time was different, she couldn’t backtrack this, not after what just happened. And as easy and safe to brush it off her shoulder and tell him that she was fine, she couldn’t, and she didn’t want to. Hailey’s gaze shifted down and she shook her head slowly.

Jay sat in front of her, legs crossed and a somber expression on his face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hailey sniffled again, shaking her head. She rested it in her hand and took him in, something about him sitting on her kitchen floor felt so right. So right that she didn’t want to ruin it with how wrong everything in her life was. She didn’t want to tell him that her mom called her for the first time in years to tell her that her father was dying - and not only that - but that she wanted Hailey to come see him and possibly donate a piece of her major organ to him. She didn’t want to admit that she couldn’t do it, that she couldn’t bring herself to save him. She didn’t want to tell him that despite all the terrible things her father had done, she still felt sadness over his possible passing. She didn’t want him to know that a mere phone call had sent her into such a tailspin. She didn’t want him to know anything.

But here he was, looking at her the way no one else ever had, caring in a way no one else ever had. What was she supposed to do with that? “I can’t do this alone anymore.” It came out quiet, and neither of them were sure that she was actually talking to him. It felt more like a realization than anything.

“Hailey,” Jay said, taking the hand that was resting on her knee on her own. “You don’t have to, you never had to.”

The look on her face when he said those words was something Jay would never forget, the utter shock that showed so clearly. It pained him at how surprised she looked to hear something that had never been a second thought to him. She was his rock, his compass, at this point, maybe his entire life. How did she not see it?

“I thought it would be easier, to ignore it all.” She said, eyes glassing over again. She leaned her head against the wall, sighing. “I just can’t run fast enough to escape it.” Jay gave her a soft, but pointed look, urging her to continue. “My dad, um, he’s sick. Really sick, and, my mom, she called me to tell me. And she asked if I would come see him and if I would -” She laughed cynically “- if I would consider giving him a piece of my liver.”

“What?” Jay said, the word sort of just tumbling out of his mouth.

Hailey nodded her head, giving him a fake, tight lipped smile, “Yep.” She took a breath, “I don’t know, it was like years and years of suppressed pain just all came flooding back at once. So I went to your place, but you were busy and…” She gestured to them, implying that that is why they ended up where they were. “I’m sorry, that you had to see me like that.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m glad I was here.” Jay said, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand that was still in his. “I always want to be here, you just have to let me in.”

The genuine and vulnerable look in his eye was too much for Hailey to handle, so she avoided his gaze. “I don’t know, you seem to be pretty good at getting in on your own. You did break my door.”

Jay laughed, knowing that the joke was meant to offset the realness of the moment. He didn’t blame her, he was scared too. “I’m serious Hailey, this is where I want to be. All the time, with you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Here he was: her beautiful, emotionally stunted, action first partner laying his heart on the floor in front of her. “I want you here.”

“Good,” He said, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each of them lost in their own thoughts. There was so much more that needed to be said, so much more that needed to be clarified, but at that moment it didn't matter. They were just them. “Is it bad that I don’t want to help him, does that make me a terrible person?” Hailey asked, breaking the silence.

“No,” Jay said immediately, “Not at all. It means you are strong.” She nodded, but Jay could tell that she didn't really believe him. “Hailey you are the strongest person I know, you make me stronger, you make me better. He doesn’t deserve your help, especially if you don’t want to give it.” He stood up, holding out a hand to her and pulling her up off the floor. “He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to forgive him.” She confessed.

Jay shrugged, “That’s okay.”

Hailey looked up at him, complete adoration in her eyes. He smiled down at her and even though she had doubted it before, she didn’t now. Something was different, something had shifted, he felt the same way she did and it was dulling the ache inside her. “Jay-” She started.

“I know.” He said, his grin growing a bit. “Me too. But we don’t have to talk about any of that right now. Let’s just get some sleep.”

Hailey hesitated, the thought of being alone terrifying her. “Will you be here when I wake up?” She asked, fixing her gaze on the floor in between them.

“Hailey,” Jay said, taking a step forward and cupping her cheek with his hand, “I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

…

A/N: This was so fun to write, also, I’m alive haha. Sorry I haven’t posted in forever, I am so ridiculously busy, but I’m hoping that within the next month I can start posting regularly again. Thanks for reading! <3

#jay halstead #hailey upton #upstead #hailey upton x jay halstead #chicago pd #one chicago #will halstead #kelly severide #kevin atwater

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machinegunbun · 3 years ago

Text

The house you eventually park in front of is much like yours, just a bit bigger, since Colson didn't live alone. The sound of sirens outside is carried almost melodically in the freezing wind. You soak it all in, wondering about who else in this city felt so far from home and yet right in the thick of it.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Colson quips, motioning to the steps, "but at least we got it to ourselves tonight," his grin could stretch a city mile.

Once inside, Colson immediately turns on a nearby heater and clears the couch, grabbing his RAW tray off the busted up coffee table, almost muscle memory, it seems, for both of you. You lay a fat sack down on the rolling tray as he sweeps the papers out of the way.

"Damn, do you really got glaucoma?" He snorts, untwisting the top. "No wonder I can smell it thru your backpack." He is all smiles while he breaks it down. "Have a seat, make yourself at home," he offers, pointing to the couch cushion free next to him.

You sit down on the very edge, causing Colson to stop in his tracks.

"Aw, come on, don't do me like that," he pouts, pulling a folded blanket from the chair to his left. "I got blankies," he teased, knowing how drafty all these houses are the heater won't cut it. "I said, make yourself at home," he playfully insists, and unexpectedly, he grabs your thigh to pull you so close, you can feel the heat emitting from his jeans.

He continues as if nothing had even happened, luxurious tongue peeking out to seal the blunt. So you wrap the blanket across your laps, and act nonchalant, too, trying to force the lump in your throat all the way down.

"A backwoods, that's classic," you offer as a change of subject, watching mesmerized as the ambient lighting and warm tones of the fake flames of the heater danced across his chiseled face. Godddd, why couldn't you control yourself?

Colson smirked before running a lighter across it. "Only the best for my guest."

The two of you sit cozy under the blanket for a short period of time, passively hitting the blunt and savoring before passing, while Colson rigged up a speaker. As the hip hop played softly, you felt your muscles relax a bit, most they had in 6 years.

Colson began probing you with his eyes again, like he was about to start 20 questions back up.

"So, you're not really from around here, are you?" He digs, pressing a thigh against yours to turn to face you better.

"Ah, no," you say, nodding

"From....?" He prompts, rolling his hand before passing the blunt.

"Down South," you're ashamed the more you divulge.

Colson pulls a face. "You don't have an accent, though," he contests.

"Got rid of it," you shrug. "People think you're stupid," you smile back.

Colson takes a hand and begins rubbing your thigh softly, as if to comfort you, although he can feel the tension increasing doing just the opposite. "I wouldn't think you're stupid, at all," he husks quietly, serious.

You don't want to make a sound for fear it will come out as a squeak.

"Look, I would ask what brings you all the way out here, but..." He trails off before hitting the blunt hard. "I'm a blunt motherfucker, so I'll just say it. I know about the..." He is swallowing the wrong words, struggling despite his frankness. "Well, the whole crew knows about the... The statutory situation," he whispers, like someone is listening. "You don't really talk to nobody, so.. They got curious. There's... There's lots of articles."

You almost disassociate, so he takes it as a sign to continue.

"I couldn't imagine. So, if I'm making you uncomfortable..." He begins to look worried, the desire to backpedal immediately written across his face.

You physically snap back, and force him to stop leaning away from you.

"You're blunt, huh?" You ask, now trying to comfort him.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," he relaxes into your touch, though.

"You don't have any chains or ropes here, so I'm not here by force," you smile, darkly, almost transported back to 15 again.

Colson winces, sympathetically, before shaking his head (to no doubt clear images) the articles he had read that paint an all too vivid picture out of his mind like an etch a sketch.

"Look, I ... I really wanted to get to know you, and... Everybody told me it was a bad idea, you know? Like I would fuck up your life. But I just really can't resist, you seem so cool, so sweet," Colson trails off, realizing in your vulnerable state he had began being too vulnerable as well.

"Thanks. I know that sounds stupid, but, most people... Well, most guys, avoid me like the plague."

Colson melts back into the couch, into your warmth surrounding you, before beginning to pull a cigarette out for each of you. He passes it to you, so intuitive to how on edge you're feeling. He knows you too well already.

"You don't have to be scared, you know," you remind him, "you can keep playing 20 questions." You're joking but serious. "I've possibly purposefully not made any friends here yet. I salute you breaking the ice AND addressing the elephant in the room," you admit. "I like cutting thru the bullshit."

Colson takes a thoughtful drag from his cigarette while formulating his next question.

" okay," he sounds more at ease, "do you have a boyfriend?" He risks, wincing at how insensitive it sounds, but he correctly got the impression it was forgiven and you wanted to move forward exactly as he intended originally.

"Oooh, no, actually," you giggle at the spicy question. "Other than, the, ya know... Situation, shall I say, never been with a man before." You're shocked at how honest you're being.

Colson can't help his jaw dropping. "How... How old are--you're still a virgin??" He is stumbling over his words.

"21, and, yeah," you choke out, sudden shyness taking over.

It was so refreshing he considered you a virgin still that you could die on the spot.

"Whoa. Just.... Damn," Colson stuttered, as the etch a sketch cleaned his slate once again. Hopefully be was clearing thoughts of how tight you must be still, not how damaged you are.

"Do, um," he clears his throat while putting out his cigarette, "what kind of tattoos and piercings do you have?"

"None, of either, actually," you admit, eyes hungrily scanning Colson's inked up neck.

It seems he can't believe his ears.

"Are you.. Holy shit, no way? Prove it," he challenges.

You shrug the blanket and flannel off to expose your belly, shoulders, and lift your crop top to show nothing on collar bones. Colson looks like he would spit if he had water he was drinking. He wasn't expecting you to show him anything for real.

He lifts a tentative hand to your cheek to brush your hair behind the ear, "wow, no ear piercings, either. You're magical," he says heavily. "You're younger than me, by, like, a lot, but anyone... like you, I never would have guessed..."

You realize now that his knuckles still lay resting on your cheek, stroking it softly, and he'll be able to feel them burning red hot with embarrassment and desire The shame, because you've never done this before, never been so close and intimate with someone, and the desire as well for the same reason.

"You're better than I ever even imagined," he admits before falling silent, soaking up your reaction fully,

Colson breaks the silence first. "I want to kiss you," he states, voice dripping with lust, and cracking slightly.

As you place a hand over his much larger on your cheek, he takes this as a sign to keep going. Leaning forward, foreheads almost touching, Colson licks his lips and scans your face hungrily.

"Can I?" He prompts, impatient, pupils blown, and jaw tight with anticipation.

You feel like you barely nod, hand dropping off of his, before he grabs it tightly to put it around his neck.

"Like this, let me show you," he whispers, lips ghosting yours.

In one Swift motion he slides a hand under your lower back in order to lay you down gently on the couch, hovering above you, on the edge of deranged with desire, like a wolf standing over a downed deer. You figure Colson has never had to exhibit this much self control before.

"I wanna defile you, take your innocence," he rasps, thumb finding its way to your bottom lip, stroking gently, opening your mouth ever so slightly. "I want it to be mine, I've wanted this for so long," he smiles, his rock hard cock pressing with a ungodly heat against your pubic bone. He's not even hiding anything anymore, using your exposed tummy and clothed pussy to hump and grind softly in order take the edge off.

"Can I touch you?" He asks desperately, biting his lip so hard you thought it might bleed. "I want to help you relax a little," Colson whispers, though you imagine it's just as much for him as it is you.

"Anything you want, Cols." You're almost choking.

He lets out a dark laugh at this, and in an instant his hands feel like they're all over you, exploring, finally coming to rest at your jugular, feeling the intense pounding underneath his fingertips.

"You're scared?" It's a question as much as it is a statement. "Or turned on?" Colson raises a brow, other hand massaging your thigh, slowly curling it around his waist, positioning and posing you like a ragdoll, your body defeated and limp to his touches. You are in a state of bliss and fear. "Maybe both," he concludes, smirking.

At this you close your eyes, expecting any second to wake up from this all too familiar dream, as you've pined for your coworker possibly even longer than he has.

Suddenly, Colson is at your ear, breath hot and desperate. "Don't be scared babydoll, you're in good hands," he reassures, nipping at your earlobe in such a way it sends a shiver all throughout your body. "I... Will go... Slowww," he teases out painstakingly, "slow as you need me to," he adds gently.

It was then you were startled into the reality of the situation by the sound of his belt coming undone, soft noises as it is expertly slipped out of his belt loops in one, fluid motion. Colson feels you panic underneath him, and he is quick to respond to this.

—-

Havent had a chance to read it yet but i wanted yall to have fhis lmfaoo. A gift from bigblakdix to me to you

#mgbrecommends #mgk #mgk smut #mgk fic #mgk blurb #colson baker concept #colson baker blurb #colson baker smut #submission

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purrgara · 3 years ago

Note

for that fic trope mashup: bathtub fic and secret relationship for shyan 👀

- bigboybergara

This got angstier and longer than I had originally planned so uh--oops. Enjoy? |D

More Than Anything

Relationship: Shyan, Mentioned Standrew Tags: Insecure Ryan, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, secret relationship Tropes: Bathtub fic, Secret relationship

There was something intimate about it all. Intimate in a way that they hadn’t been all week. It was something about being close to each other while the cameras were still rolling. Something he couldn’t quite place. Something that made his tongue feel too big for his mouth and his palms sweaty. “I can’t believe the jets don’t work. We’re literally just taking a bath together.”

Ryan was laughing it off, desperately trying to defuse the tension building between them. The tension suffocates Shane with each second that ticks by. But the cameras weren’t filming now and Shane couldn’t bring himself to laugh back. Couldn’t bring himself to look it in the eye for fear of what he might see. “Yeah. Weird right?” No. That was wrong. They’d bathed together before.

Wrong wrong wrong but he couldn’t make the right words. He didn’t know what to say. So he pulled himself up and stepped out of the lukewarm water. He could feel Ryan’s eyes on his back. Knew there was a question in the down turn of his mouth. It was too intimate. Too close. The cameras weren’t rolling, but they had been.

—

“Why does it bother you so much?” Shane wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard the soft question, but he knew Ryan would be able to tell he wasn’t asleep yet. Instead he made a soft noncommittal sound. It didn’t bother him. It really didn’t. “Shane.”

Another long pause then Ryan sighed and rolled over so his back was pressed against Shane’s. The heat of it a scorching line through his shirt. “Goodnight, big guy…” he wanted to pretend he didn’t hear the hesitation in his voice. Pretend he couldn’t hear the hurt just under the surface, but he could. And he did and it felt like something in his chest shriveled up and died.

“Night, Ry.” He clenched his eyes shut at the pain behind his sternum. He was fucking this all up, he knew it. Could practically taste it in the air between them. Why does it bother you so much? Because—because because because.

Because when the cameras were filming they weren’t Shane and Ryan anymore. They were ‘Shane and Ryan’. They were skeptic and believer. They were best friends. Ghoul boys. When they were filming they had a reputation to uphold. They had the integrity of the show to think about.

When they weren’t filming they just— they weren’t. When they weren’t filming they were allowed to be themselves. He was allowed to be Shane, and Ryan was allowed to be Ryan. And they weren’t expected to keep up that carefully constructed dynamic. They were allowed to be Shane and Ryan and be ‘Shane and Ryan’ and they just—no one else needed to know they were.

“I—love you?” His heart cracked open because it sounded like a question and Shane hated it. Hated that he’d made Ryan question it, question them, at all. He felt sick as he carefully rolled over, the warmth of Ryan’s back slipping away. Shane saw his shoulders tense and it struck him again that Ryan didn’t know. He couldn’t know because Shane didn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell him.

He slipped an arm over his waist and pulled Ryan closer. Buried his nose in barely damp hair and held on tight. The static cam blinked innocently at the end of the bed and there’d be so much footage they wouldn’t be able to use but Shane pushed that to the back burner. He pushed away the anxiety of editing but he just didn’t care. Because he couldn’t let Ryan think he didn’t love him. Couldn’t let him think that was what Shane’s hang up was. “Love you more than anything.” It was muttered into Ryan’s hair, pressed into his skin like a benediction.

God he hoped Ryan understood.

Why does it bother you so much?

Because no one else deserves to see what you mean to me.

—

“Did you see the Instagram post Steven made?” There was a carefully constructed wall around Ryan’s question. One that sent up red flags immediately in Shane’s head. Beside him Ryan kept scrolling through Twitter, head pillowed against Shane’s arm, but he was too nonchalant. His eyes were too focused, in the way you knew they weren’t really looking at the phone screen.

“The one about him and Andrew? I did.” He cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his nose. “I’m happy for them.” Ryan made a soft ‘hmm’ noise in the back of his throat as Shane set his own phone down. Every fiber in his body was screaming ‘ABORT ABORT ABORT’ but his mouth was, once again, out to completely ruin him. “Better him than me.”

Ryan stiffened against him before he roughly jerked away. “What’s that supposed to mean?” There was a bite to his tone mirrored in his eyes. Shane wished he had the right words but everything kept coming out wrong.

“I just mean that Steven’s more suited for it.” The alarms were blaring.

“It.” Oh. Oh no. No no no he wanted to back track. Wanted to explain himself better but he couldn’t get the words out before Ryan was pulling away. Rising to his feet with his hands clenched at his sides. “Well sorry you’re not suited for it.” He snapped, turning on his heel and storming toward the hotel bathroom.

The door slammed shut before Shane could even get off the couch. Shit. Shit shit shi— “That isn’t what I meant!” But the door stayed shut and the sound of the shower running drained out his words.

—

“Ry?” Shane asked tentatively almost an hour later as he stood outside the bathroom door. “I just meant the spotlight suited them better. Ryan, please open the door.” For the longest time there was no sound other than the shower water running, then a soft, barely there hiccup.

Shane’s stomach fell to his feet. Oh. It didn’t take much to scare Ryan, not really, but to make him cry? “Fuck.” It was breathed out as he pressed his forehead to the door. Trying the knob it gave with a light click. “Baby? I’m coming in alright?” He hesitated long enough for Ryan to protest if needed. When none came Shane slowly opened the door and sighed at the sight before him.

The shower curtain was wide open, Ryan sitting in the tub with his back under the spray. His knees were drawn up to his chest with his chin hooked over top. They let the silence stretch on longer as Shane came over, hesitating only briefly before climbing into the tub to sit opposite Ryan.

Drawing his own legs up, Shane wrapped his arms around them and muttered softly, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking about our relationship Ry.” A small understanding nod and a small hitched breath was the only reply for a few minutes.

“Why does it bother you if people know?” Ryan asked on a sharp intake of breath. His voice broke on the last word and Shane felt sick with the sound. “About this? Us?” A puffed out humorless laugh and then, “Are you ashamed of me?”

“What? No! That’s not—no!” Dread gripped at his lungs and he couldn’t breathe. “I’m not ashamed of you, or us, or anything like that! I just—I meant that I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it. Not like Steven or Andrew can.” This wasn’t how he wanted to approach the subject. It wasn’t how he wanted to admit it and the nausea was almost unbearable.

Dark eyes looked up though clumped lashes and Ryan’s arms slipped tighter around his legs. He looked like a child. The thought struck him like a blow to the chest and Shane could only reach out and trace his knuckles along Ryan’s cheek. “I can’t share you.” It came spilling out like an over filled pot left to boil. Too hot, too much to be contained.

Ryan leaned into the touch with a sigh. “So instead you want to keep our relationship a secret.”

“I don’t want to share you with the world, Ry. No one else needs to know what we have. Andrew and Steven can keep that spotlight. They live for that spotlight. I—don’t. All I need is you, Ryan. All I want is you.” He couldn’t stop the words once they started, couldn’t pull back and rethink. Because if he did that, they wouldn’t be said. And Ryan… Ryan deserved to know. To understand. “I’m not trying to keep us a secret. I just don’t want to post it on fuckin Instagram for the world to scrutinize.”

His hand trailed down and back to wrap around the back of Ryan’s neck. “People, fans, they already suspect something’s between us and you know how they are. If we were to make some big deal about coming out or whatever—“ A harsh breath and a shake of his head, “It’ll be like throwing a meatball to starving wolves. I want to be able to enjoy what we have. I’ve seen couples fall apart after going public and I don’t—I don’t want to resent you, Ry.”

Ryan moved one hand to grip the outside of Shane’s knee as he exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to share you like that, but if that’s what you want,” Ryan looked up sharply, eyes frantically searching Shane’s neutral expression. “I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you, you know that.” He could feel the tightening in his chest loosen at the admittance. Could feel his fears swirling down the drain as Ryan’s insecurity cracked away.

“I wasn’t meaning to hide you away as some dirty secret. I just wanted to enjoy being with you like a normal person.”

“I don’t need the world to know, Shane.” It was whispered into the small space between their folded knees. “I just want you to stop pulling away from me like you’ve been burned every time we touch on camera. I’m tired of thinking you don’t care about me.” His fingers tightened on the uncomfortably wet fabric of Shane’s pajama pants. “We don’t have to explicitly say anything but I don’t want you pretending we’re less than what we actually are.”

His hand fell away as Shane’s hand tightened around the nape of his neck. “I don’t need to do some public announcement or some grand gesture, I just need you, my boyfriend, beside me.”

Shane nodded numbly as he leaned forward to press his forehead to Ryan’s. “Yeah… yeah okay. I think I can do that.” It was breathed against his lips as Ryan’s curled into a gentle smile.

“I know you can, big guy.” He pressed their lips together before pulling away with a mischievous smile, “You know what else I need?”

“Hmm?”

“To get out from under this water. I’m freezing and pruney.” Shane wheezed out a low laugh and shook his head before pushing himself up to reach behind Ryan’s head and turn the water off. Stepping out of the tub he smiled warmly down at Ryan.

“I’ll get you a towel.” Ryan smiled up at him, open and honest and something warm and gooey melted in his heart. He turned to go back into the hotel room for dry clothes and the fluffy towel in the closet when Ryan’s low voice called back to him,

“Hey, Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to share you, either.” He could hear it clear as a bell. Tucked neatly behind his own words. I love you too. It warmed him from the top of his head down to his own pruney, sopping toes.

The world didn’t need to know what they meant to each other. As long as Ryan knew, and Shane knew, that was all that mattered.

#my writing #shyan #fanfiction tropes #bigboybergara #I really honestly didn't mean for it to get so--#angsty #mentioned standrew #because of who I am as a person right now #I couldn't help myself #Sorry bout that

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thatwheelchairchick · 3 years ago

Text

OC Aesthetics

I got tagged for this 2 weeks ago by @ariendiel and was going to do it and then made myself anxious when I didn’t know who to tag – the usual. Now I just don’t care, so I’m gonna say you’re hereby tagged if you wanna be.

Of course, I’m doing this for Lexi, my favourite OC and the one I talk about the most.

Highest aesthetics score: Light – Sun Rays | Body Language - Insecurity & Anxiety | Sense – Sight

— LIGHT SOURCES

SUN RAYS. effervescent smiles, dandelion puffs, bare feet, beach waves, flowers pressed into books, champagne glasses, rose-gold eye shadow, boho skirts, wire-rimmed glasses, hair in loose waves, kaleidoscope eyes, sunshine in your hair, fire in your soul.

INCANDESCENT BULBS. crop tops, floral print, dancing in the rain, quiet defiance, hand-knit beanies, rosé, painted bookmarks, marble floors, cirrus clouds against a blue sky, polaroid pictures, hands held, fingers intertwined, flower crowns, baby bluebirds.

STARDUST. lace bralettes, brisk breezes, jasmine-scented perfume, books with yellowed pages, tracking constellations, sterling silver, violin music, chess games, iced coffee, glittery dresses, high heels, secret grins, midnight meetings, wishing upon a star.

CANDLE FLAMES. denim jackets, gladiator sandals, braided hair, messenger bags, movies at the cinema, stolen kisses, wax-sealed envelopes, haiku poetry, cherry wood, succulents, fountain pens, jigsaw puzzles, soft tired eyes, hidden smiles, cuddling with someone you trust.

MOONBEAMS. newspapers, over-sized sweaters, dancing shadows, fleece throws, cutoff shorts, piano chords, red wine, messy buns, embossed journals, a hint of blush dusted across your cheeks, freshly fallen snow, tranquil solitude, burning incense.

AURORAS. combat boots, burgundy lips, infectious laughter, spiral-bound notebooks, pencils used down to the stub, ripped jeans, painted nails, cloud-watching, summer thunderstorms, hiking trails, vinyl records, film cameras, skating on a frozen lake, hot chocolate by the fire.

FIREWORKS. dancing until the break of dawn, Heelys, being wheeled around in a shopping cart by your best friend, the euphoria of soaring through the air, being excited for what the future holds, group hugs, colorful tattoos, bronzer-highlighted cheeks, hugging a stuffed animal, lifting a child onto your shoulders, space buns, bright streaks in your hair.

— BODY LANGUAGE

DEFENSIVENESS. arms crossed on chest, crossing legs, fist-like gestures, pointing index finger, karate chops, stiffening of shoulders, tense posture, curling of lip, baring of teeth.

REFLECTIVE. hand-to-face gestures, head tilted, stroking chin, peering over glasses, taking glasses off; cleaning, putting earpiece of glasses in mouth, pipe smoker gestures, putting hand to bridge of nose, pursed lips, knitted brows.

SUSPICION. arms crossed, sideways glance, touching or rubbing nose, rubbing eyes, hands resting on weapon, brows raising, lips pressing into a thin line, strict, unwavering eye contact, wrinkling of nose, narrowed eyes.

CONFIDENCE. hands behind back, hands on lapels of coat, steepled hands, baring teeth in a grin, rolling shoulders, tipping head back but maintaining eye contact, chest puffed up, shoulders back, arms folded just above navel, wide eyes, standing akimbo.

INSECURITY & ANXIETY. chewing pen or pencil, rubbing thumb over opposite thumb, biting fingernails, biting lips, hands in pockets, elbow bent, closed gestures, clearing throat, “whew” sound, picking or pinching flesh, fidgeting in chair, hand covering mouth whilst speaking, poor eye contact, tugging pants whilst seated, jingling money in pockets, tugging at ear, perspiring hands, playing with hair, swaying, playing with pointer; marker; cane, smacking lips, sighing, rocking on balls of feet, flexing or cracking fingers sporadically, leg bouncing.

ANGER & FRUSTRATION. short breaths, “tsk” sounds, tightly-clenched hands, fist-like gestures, pointing index finger, rubbing hand through hair, rubbing back of neck, snarling, revealing teeth, grimacing, sharp-eye glowers, notable tension in brow, shoulders back, head up; defensive posturing, clenching of jaw, grinding teeth, nostrils flaring, heavy exhales.

— SENSES

SIGHT. small towns, big cities, six thirty curfews, lights that take the place of stars, blanket nests, light through the blinds as a wake up call, found family, finding a single star in the middle of new york city, window shopping, watching something terrible and enjoying it, wilted flowers, faded caricatures, bright, bold colors.

HEARING. crickets and lightning bugs, car engines and a.c. units, a phone call to mum/dad, laughing with friends, jokes that are so bad you have to laugh, the clicking of computer keys, noise cancelling headphones, the sound of silence, muffled music from another room, drumming fingertips on a table, clicking of pens, listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower, ringing in the ears, the voice of someone you love, pitch shifted songs.

TOUCH. being held close during a long night, fleeting reassurances, holding hands when you’re scared, brushing fingers through strands of hair, freshly dried clothes, bruises on your knuckles, silk and satin, your favorite pet’s fur or feather, wringing your hands anxiously, snuggles, comforters in the dead of winter, nails against skin, cold metal, leather in summer.

TASTE. coffee in the morning, tea in the evening, bubblegum that lost its flavor, alcohol burning the back of your throat, homemade cooking no matter what’s made, blood in your mouth, stale air, mint, fresh vegetables, that processed taste of citrus candy, the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good, foreign sweets, fast food, bittersweet, sour, spicy, sweet, bitter, too much salt on fries.

#oc aesthetics #tag game #litg instincts #litg mc #lexi adams #thatwheelchairchick

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cathrrrine · 3 years ago

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Otherworldly | SPN x The Witcher

Originally from my AO3

CHAPTER 2 - If It Isn't The Butcher

----

“She sent us here?”

The three of them were now seated in a tavern, not unlike the bars they were used to, but a little less cleaner than what they preferred.

”Atë sent us here.” Red confirmed. She recalled the conversation she had with her sister.

—

”She’s not here for games. She’s here to destroy the world.”

Red turned to her sister, Natalia, who looked as disheveled as an unattended child; hair messy, bags under her eyes, food staining her shirt and crumbs from the sandwich she ate before stuck at the edges of her mouth. She hadn’t showered or eaten properly for days, engrossed with her research on Atë.

Red, the ever caring sister, handed her a cup of coffee. ”Drink.”

”You’re not listening-“

”Drink. Then I will listen.” Red repeated. It wasn’t a request. Natalia sighed, knowing full well that her sister wouldn’t take no for an answer. Her hand reached for the cup, much to the satisfaction of her sister, and she took a sip of the warm beverage.

”Good. Now, what did you say?”

”Atë. She’s here on a mission to take what isn’t hers.” Although her words made Red’s spine shiver, she did not display her fear. Instead, she took the hair brush on the table and ran it through her sister’s hair.

Both of them had red hair, Natalia’s a few shades lighter than Red’s. But although they had the same hair colour, they didn’t share the same texture. Natalia inherited their mother’s straight and silky hair, while Red took to their father’s soft and curly hair. The two of them inherited the red from their father, who was a kind yet stern man.

Both their parents were dead now. They were all they had left. Well...except for the Winchesters, who came into their lives a few years back.

��She’s done this before. In 1834, look.” Natalia showed the proof from her laptop screen. Indeed, it was true. It was a report about a woman with a description that matched Atë’s. “She burned houses, people, crops...she took babies just to murder them. Atë kills and conquers.”

“There’s no doubt she came back to do this again. She wants to cause chaos. That’s all she knows.”

“There’s also something else.” It took Natalia a few clicks on her laptop. “It’s been said that she can send people to another universe.”

“What, like with aliens and shit? ”

“Maybe. It’s not impossible. If we’re not careful, she’ll send us off to wherever she wants to. And then we won’t be able to save the world from her antics.”

They shared a look. Fear was evident im their eyes.

“She’s extremely powerful.” Natalia sighed. “But we need to fight her.”

—

“This wasn’t an accident. She does this to people. Goddess of Mischief, remember?” Red scoffed, taking another swig of water. She would’ve gone for ale, like the white-haired man who lead them here, but she didn’t have any money. At least, none that were worth in the world she was in. So, instead she asked for water, which was fortunately costless.

“How do we get back?” Sam was worried, Red noticed. He never really put his emotions on display, but she’s known him long enough to point out his tells. If he was worried, his eyebrows would knit together subconsciously and he would constantly run his hands through his hair.

Red put her hand over his, and he looked up at her with a smile in his eyes. He intertwined their fingers together, and she stroked his hand with her thumb. It wasn’t an uncommon thing between them. Every time they noticed the other was nervous or scared, they would reach for the other’s hand.

“We have to find a witch.” said Red. “If we were back in our world, Rowena would be able to help us. We need to find someone as powerful as her.”

“Do they even have witches?”

“We could always...” she trailed off as her eyes landed on the person she was looking for. “...ask.”

“Him? Are you kidding me?” Dean shook his head disapprovingly. “He didn’t want anything to do with us.”

“I could ask.”

“No.” Sam gave her hand a squeeze. “He could kill you. We don’t know him.” It was a joke, but there was a hint of truth in there.

Red returned the squeeze, as if to say ‘Don’t worry’. Then she stood up to walk over to the Witcher’s table before they could protest further.

“Not much for company, I see.”

The man ignored her, but she knew he was listening. “We need your help.”

“I’ve helped you enough. You want any more of my services, you pay.”

She started to feel hopeless, but at the back of her head she heard her sister scolding her for giving up too early. “You know we don’t have the money. We’re not from your world.”

He acted as if he was unbothered.

“Listen.” She seethed, frustrated with the way he was treating her. “All we need to do is find a witch. Then you can leave us from there. You said you’re a Witcher, do you know anything about magic?”

The corner of his lips twitched, a laugh threatening to start. “Witchers hunt and kill monsters. What you’re looking for is a mage.”

“A mage?” Red took the seat across him and sat down, forcing him to look in her eyes. “We’re looking for a powerful one. Can you lead us to them?”

His amber eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the tavern. He wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of helping the three strangers, but he did not like the idea of stringing along dead weight. He had jobs to do.

“No.” He hummed, downing the glass of ale right after to avoid looking at the woman in front of him.

“No? Seriously?” She didn’t yell, but it seemed like she was close to it. “Okay, what do you want? Besides money.”

“I want you to go away.”

“We don’t know anyone else in this world.”

“You don’t know me either.” That was true. They didn’t even know each other’s names. He stood from his seat and grabbed his things, making a beeline for the exit. She followed suit, hot on his heels.

Red was pissed off. “At least tell me where I can find a mage!”

“Pay.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She groaned. “Haven’t you heard anything I said? We’re lost! We don’t know anything about your world.”

They were already out the door, him at the front, trying to block out her voice.

“Look, please, just listen to me. Our world is in danger. We need to go back to save it.”

He knew a few things about saving. At this, he stopped in his tracks, contemplating. Red almost cried in relief when he did.

“If we don’t get back soon, the world- our world, will suffer. There’s someone who wants to destroy it and we’re the only ones who know how to stop her.” The last part wasn’t completely true. They were the only ones who knew what she was going to do to their world, but they didn’t know how to stop her yet. “Please.”

He turned, hearing the desperation in her voice. He gazed into her eyes, filled with a fire that he recognised all too well.

“Oi, that’s the Butcher!” A voice cried from their right. It was a man, obviously drunk, and he was dragging along a sword. The Witcher sighed, a scowl starting to creep on his face. He knew he would face something like this.

“If it isn’t the Butcher.” Another voice yelled. Red went silent, recognising the venom in the tone of the random man’s voice.

“Butcher?” She whispered.

At least half of the townspeople stopped in their tracks when they noticed the ‘butcher’, and a few men crowded around them.

“Get inside.” The Witcher growled to Red, but she couldn’t hear him among all the noise that the crowd was causing. The tension was thick, and Red reached slowly for her blade, ready to defend herself.”

“You’re no welcome here. You know that.” The drunk man slurred.

“I was here for a job. I seek no trouble.”

“No trouble? You’re presence is trouble itself.”

“Back off. I was just leaving.” But the drunk man wasn’t listening. He took his sword and swung. The Witcher dodged it, taking out his own sword from it’s sheath. They fought, the Witcher obviously winning, but he wasn’t planning on killing anyone today. He waited for the right moment before throwing a forceful punch his way, knocking the drunk man out immediately.

Red watched as the scene unfolded, not realising when a couple of men crept up behind her.

“You a friend of his?” One of them breathed, close to her neck. She whipped her head around, her face inches away from his. She took two steps back, trying to assess the situation.

“So what if I am?” She questioned.

“Then you just found yourself some trouble, missy.” In the blink of an eye, he swung a blade her way, missing her by inches when she managed to dodge it in time.

She rolled her eyes. “Can’t I get a break?”

Red attacked him, plunging her knife into his thigh. It wasn’t enough apparently, because he stood up fine, pouncing at her once again. She was quick to twirl her body around and kick him in the face, so hard that she could feel his teeth through her boot.

He fell, spitting out blood. It was a move that she used frequently while hunting, and it never failed to knock her victims out—whatever the species.

Another man moved to attack her from the back, this time she was caught off-guard. He had wrapped his arm around her neck, choking her. Just as she was struggling to stab him, his suddenly grip weakened. Red turned around to see Sam, holding a piece of hard wood that he used to hit the man on the head.

They shared a wordless grin for a second before resuming the fight. Dean had also joined, kicking and throwing punches. There were at least a dozen of men who were attacking them all. Why? The three humans didn’t have a clue. But they fought anyway.

Red turned to look for the Witcher, and was surprised when she found him struggling in a chokehold. He seemed strong enough to hold his own, but she ran his way and punched the side of his choker’s head, feeling the crack of her knuckles as it connected with his skull. It was enough to disorientate him.

“I had that.” The Witcher grumbled.

“Oh, yeah, sure you did.” She taunted, turning back to the man and kicking him in the stomach, then again in the face.

The Witcher stared at her, millions of thoughts popping into his head. Maybe she wasn’t dead weight after all.

Maybe he would consider helping her.

#YEAH I SUCK AT FIGHT SCENES OKAY #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #just realised i tagged the others as xreader....it's not an xreader fic #im too lazy to go change them #sam winchester #sam winchester x oc #dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #supernatural x oc #supernatural x the witcher #spn x the witcher #so many x's #witcher netflix #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia #geralt x ofc

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farfromharry · 4 years ago

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always (part ten) | harry holland series

summary: 3 years later and things are looking perfect for you and harry. you’re engaged with a whole new surprise on the way to add to your family.

word count - 4.6k

warnings - language, mentions of giving birth

The day of your wedding felt like it was creeping up on you unexpectedly, even if it was still many months away. It still felt like yesterday that Harry was proposing to you in your bedroom in front of your daughter. Part of you couldn’t believe it had already been five months.

You had come home from spending some much needed time with friends at a local pub, to find your flat dark, and from the eerie silence, what you assumed to be empty. Confusion ran through you, Harry didn’t tell you he was taking Lily anywhere so you had expected them to be there when you got back.

“Harry?” you called, hoping to gain some form of an answer from your boyfriend, or even your daughter. You heard little footsteps running down the hall, a sudden flash of brightness lighting the room and taking you off guard as she stretched to turn on the light.

“Hi Lily, where’s your dad?” you asked, bending down to brush some curly hair from her face. She just giggled, taking your hand and pulling you in the direction of your bedroom. You followed her questionably, not having any idea what your menacing daughter was up to.

Gently, she pushed open the door to your room, leaving you to find your love standing there nervously, playing with the strings on his hoodie.

“Is there a pyjama party no one told me about?” you joked, motioning to Harry’s sleep wear and then your daughter’s adorable dumbo pyjamas. Which you could recall being her favourite.

Harry laughed, shaking his head and taking your hands in his. He placed a greeting kiss on your knuckles, ignoring the noise of disgust that Lily made.

“I actually wanted to talk about something.” Your heart dropped, your mind automatically thinking you’d done something to upset him.

“Did I do something, I’m sorry if-“ he shook his head, squeezing your hands reassuringly.

“You didn’t do anything, you’re perfect.” You tried to ignore the feeling of heat in your body at the compliment, choosing to let Harry’s comment pass and let him continue talking.

“Well, here goes nothing,” he mumbled. You watched with wide eyes as he bent down on one knee, a nervous grin on his face as he glanced at Lily. She gave him a thumbs up, one which made you giggle.

Harry delved into a heartwarming speech about the memories you’d shared together, being best friends and then more. He told you about the time when he knew he was in love, and it turns out it was years before your relationship even became a possibility.

“I also just, I want to thank you for giving me Lily, and letting me love her like she’s my own.” Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point, only threatening to do the same to Harry. He finally pulled out the ring box, Lily squealing excitedly from the side.

“Y/N, will you marry me?” he asked, looking at you with those same big brown eyes you’d fallen in love with a long time ago.

“Yes, yes, of course I will.” The ring was slipped onto your finger and you couldn’t help your sudden urge to kiss your new fiancé. Your lips moulded together with his, Lily trying to pull you both apart so she didn’t have to see that.

The rest of the night after that was spent with the three of you watching Disney films in your bed, Harry’s lips basically refusing to leave your head.

You smiled at the thought, your thumb subconsciously running over the beautiful engagement ring, while your eyes took your time to look at the dress in the mirror. Your nose scrunched up in dislike, already having decided this wasn’t the one for you.

“You okay in there Y/N?” your mum asked. You opened the door, taking her hand to help guide you into the middle of the room without falling over the trail of the dress. You noticed them try to pretend as if they liked it, complimenting random details just to make you happy. Frowning, you shook your head at them.

“I hate it.” The two women let out relieved sighs and finally gave you their honest opinions. You were close to tears, you didn’t think you were ever going to find the perfect one at this rate, and with some more recent uncontrollable emotions you’d been having, you were all over the place about it.

You finally got to take a moment for yourself when Tom entered the shop with your angel on his hip, her happy smile widening when she saw her mum.

She almost leaped out of her uncle’s arms, running to you and pretty much demanding that you pick her up. You giggled, cradling her against your chest as she buried her head in your neck. You asked for her opinion on the gown, knowing that the three year old would be brutally honest, which she was.

“I hate it,” she said, pulling a face that made you crack up. Nikki announced the idea of a break, one that you felt you both needed and deserved after this mess.

The break was taken up by small talk between the four adults among you, the little girl slowly falling asleep in your arms until she was out completely, almost drooling on your shoulder.

Sadly you had to hand her over to someone else, letting her sleep on Tom’s lap in one of the uncomfortable chairs as you took the dress off.

You ended up being at the dress shop for hours, and you still hadn’t found the right one. The women- and Tom, suggested you go home and then try somewhere else tomorrow, but you insisted on trying one last dress, just in case.

You were staring at how it looked, slightly mesmerized by the flowy, princess like gown draped across your body. Snapping you out of your daze, was a soft knock on the dressing room door, your quiet come in barely being heard through the wood.

“Hey, you seemed to be taking a while, so I came to check on you,” he said. “and I brought you something,” opening the door to the dressing room to let your little monster run in. Your heart swelled, bending down to scoop her up into your arms. You gave her some kisses on her head, letting her back down onto her feet so she could get a better look at your dress, this one she liked much more.

“Hello my gorgeous girl.” The girl’s grin was wide, looking at your dress in awe, “Did you have a good nap?”

She nodded her head, not even really listening to what you were saying, reaching forward to gently touch the material of your dress.

“You look like a princess.” You smiled at her, bending down to her height. You lifted your hand and placed it on the back of her head, trying to tame her wild bedhead. You thanked her quietly, mumbling something about how she’d also get to look like a princess when the day came. Grinning, she told you she couldn’t wait.

“You look incredible Y/N.”

Tom’s arms wrapped around you in a brotherly hug, showering you with a few more compliments. Glancing at the time, you knew Harry was meant to be here any minute. You’d all planned on going to a celebratory dinner after you found your dress, and up until now you weren’t sure there was any point.

“Alright, let’s show them,” you said, motioning to the door. Lily took Tom’s large hand, wanting to walk with him back to the main area.

Just as you opened it, you noticed your sneaky fiancé standing in the room. A shocked gasp escaped you and you quickly pulled it shut so he couldn’t notice your dress.

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked, trying to look around you.

“Harry’s here, he can’t see my dress,” you panicked, looking at Tom for some kind of help.

Tom rolled his eyes, shooing you away from the door. He whispered something to Lily, assuming he was using her as part of his plan.

“Are you using my daughter as a distraction?” you asked. Tom grinned nervously and ushered her out of the door, waving goodbye to you without another word. You laughed, shaking your head at the immature man.

“Daddy!” she yelled, running towards the curly haired man standing with his mum and your mum. Harry turned his head, grinning at the little girl. Harry’s heart still fluttered everytime she called him that, just like the first time it happened, right after her first birthday.

Ever since Lily had learned how to say the word no, she’d been using it as much as she could. When you told her something she didn’t like, no. When you asked her to put her toys away, no.

Even if you tried to put her to bed when she didn’t want to, all you’d receive was a stubborn no in response.

You were currently trying to get her off the couch and upstairs, where you’d simply bathe her, change her and then put her in her crib for the night. However that was not what she wanted to do.

“Come on angel, need to get you ready for bed.” This was already your fourth attempt, but the girl just kept shaking her head and making it impossible for you to pick her up, flailing her limbs around awkwardly.

“Is everything okay in here?” You turned your head to your boyfriend and pouted, explaining the problem and then turning back to the baby expectantly. Lily gazed up at Harry with a lazy smile, you were glad that she still adored him as much as she did when she was first held by him.

You tried again, showing Harry the struggle you were having with her. Her gaze wasn’t even focused on you, but rather over your shoulder at the curly headed man smiling at her.

“No,” she whined, “Daddy.”

Your eyes widened, cheeks growing a deep red as you nervously glanced at Harry. He seemed frozen in his place, staring down at her as she made grabby hands.

She got more and more agitated when Harry didn’t make a move to pick her up, her face scrunching up in distress. “Daddy,” she tried again. A sense of stress in her tone.

She let out a cry, causing Harry to jump into action. He carefully picked her up, cradling her to his chest. Beginning to rock her in order to calm her dad, shushing her quietly too.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, glancing up at you nervously, “Daddy’s here.”

You let out a sigh of relief with a grin, happy that she didn’t make him uncomfortable and manage to scare him away.

“Come on, let’s let mummy have a break and i’ll put you to bed.”

You thanked him silently, watching the two head down the hall. Your heart was still beating faster than normal, and you were unable to remove the grin from your mouth.

When Harry came back he was still utterly shocked at what he’d heard, taking a seat beside you and pulling you into his arms.

“Did that really just happen?” he asked. You nodded your head, burying your face in his chest with a happy laugh.

“Congrats dad.” Harry could feel himself tearing up, unable to wipe the grin from his face due to the utter happiness he felt.

“Hi precious.” He lifted her up onto his hip, kissing her cheek. The two mothers watched him interact with the girl with warm hearts. Even if she wasn’t biologically his, Harry was more than happy to treat her as his own. He’d loved the girl from the second he learned about your pregnancy, and nothing had changed.

“How does mummy look?” he whispered, trying to keep his volume to a minimum so his own mum wouldn’t scold him for trying to get the girl to say anything about the dress.

“She looks beautiful.”

“Even more beautiful than normal?” he said, a tiny grin on his face. Lily nodded her head rapidly, making Harry laugh and kiss her head.

Tom explained to his brother that he had to turn around and close his eyes while you showed everyone else the dress. He whined and protested, insisting like a child that it wasn’t fair. Nikki had obviously scolded him, telling him to stop being a baby, which had made Lily giggle.

He knew you’d stepped out when he heard gasps from the two women, he pouted, resting his head against his daughters.

“Oh wow.” Harry felt his heart sink. He wanted nothing more to turn around and gush about how gorgeous you looked along with everyone else.

To tease him even more, you shuffled over and placed a kiss to his cheek, greeting him sweetly, but making sure he could only see your face.

“I want to see you,” he frowned. You giggled quietly, kissing in between his clothed shoulder blades.

“You’ll see me on the day.” He rolled his eyes, throwing his head back to try and catch a glimpse, complaining about how far away it was.

You scoffed at him, quickly covering his eyes with your hands. “Stop peeking.”

Harry let you keep your hands over his eyes, but turned his head and puckered his lips for you to kiss him. You rolled your eyes, granting his wish.

“Let me just change and then we can go.” You heard Harry huff, ignoring his complaints and heading back to change into normal clothing. He got the chance to properly greet you with a hug once you were back in the clothes you’d put on that morning.

Your heart was racing as you bought the dress, hearing the two men behind you choking on their own breath at the price, neither one of the lads was aware that a wedding dress could cost anywhere near that much. It wasn’t long before you were ready to leave, slipping your hand into Harry’s while he happily carried your girl on his hip, listening to her innocent rambling.

Once you were in the restaurant and ordering, you got a few confused looks from the rest of the table when you didn’t order any alcohol, choosing to go with water instead. In their heads your mother and Nikki were also thinking about when you rejected the champagne at the dress shop when you’d arrived.

You tried to brush it off, gulping nervously and telling them you just weren’t in the mood. Harry was skeptical, he knew you better than you knew yourself and you seemed really nervous at the slight intrusion, you also hadn’t mentioned feeling off in any way to him.

He made a mental note to ask about it when you got home later, not wanting to bring it up in front of your families just in case.

When you got home that night, both you, Harry and Lily were exhausted. He offered to go and put her to bed, letting you do whatever you needed so you could get in bed.

Even after taking the time to read your angel a quick bedtime story, Harry still ended up in bed before you, ignoring your eye roll at how eager he was to sleep.

“I’m still sad I wasn’t allowed to see your dress,” he whined. You just giggled, pulling back the covers of your bed and climbing in next to him. You laid beside him, the two of you laying in a comfortable silence, just appreciating being near each other. You could tell just from the dazed expression on his face that he was picturing it.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” Your heart practically exploded in your chest, turning your head on the pillow so you could admire your fiancé.

“About that,” you winced. Harry’s eyes widened, snapping towards you out of fear.

“Oh no, do you not-“ you cut him off instantly, shaking your head rapidly at his statement. You felt guilty for worrying him.

“It’s nothing like that, I promise.” His heart was still beating irregularly. You took a deep breath, smiling at him nervously, while blindly searching for his hand to hold.

“I think we need to push the wedding back a little,” you explained. His eyebrows furrowed, cocking his head like a confused puppy. He asked why, happily letting you take his hand in yours. You guided his hand to your stomach, trying to see if he would get the hint. It did take him a few minutes for it to sink in but he eventually gasped in surprise.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked, tears welling in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you cried, giggling to yourself as he practically tackled you in a hug. He let a few tears slip, not even bothering to wipe them away, “I wanted to tell you better than this but, here we are.”

“I had an idea, I noticed you weren’t drinking,'' you rolled your eyes. You hadn’t thought that would’ve been obvious. He shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from you and your stomach. “I can’t believe it.” He refused to stop pressing kisses to different parts of your face, your laugh echoing around your shared room.

“I love you so much,” he whispered. You leaned forward and rested your forehead on his, smiling softly at him, while watching all the emotions swimming in those brown eyes. “Thank you for giving me the perfect family.”

This pregnancy was even better than your first one. Harry was much more attached this time and he barely ever let his hands leave your belly when he could.

In the beginning you would slap his hands away, telling him to stop so your families wouldn’t suspect anything. He would obviously take offense, just wanting to be close to his love and his growing child. But as it got harder and harder to hide, Harry would give you those puppy dog eyes that you couldn’t say no to.

This pregnancy felt different on some level, even though you had Harry the first time around too, this felt much more personal and you weren’t sure if it was because this time around, the baby was his.

He would often be encouraging Lily to talk to the baby with him, about anything and everything they could think of.

It had become one of Harry’s favourite things to do to talk to the baby. Anytime he could he’d be lifting up your shirts to just below your bra and pressing kisses to different spots on your protruding belly, telling the growing baby a story about his day.

That’s what was currently happening here. You were all ready to go to sleep when Lily had claimed she had a nightmare, tears running down her face, crawling into your bed for some comfort. Harry’s attempt at calming her down was by distracting her with talking to your five month pregnant belly.

He lifted up his old shirt you were wearing, placing a few greeting kisses on your stomach. He got comfortable on his elbows before motioning for Lily to follow, having her lay down on your other side.

“Come on angel, that’s your sibling in there.” Harry had been trying forever to get her to just talk to the baby, but she clearly didn’t grasp the concept of where the baby even was because she couldn’t see them.

“But there’s nothing there,” she pouted, laying her head on your chest. You ran your fingers through her tangled hair, just like your other hand was doing with Harry’s hair.

Lily watched as he began to tell the baby anything that popped into his head, rubbing his thumb over the skin gently. She shuffled down the bed, placing her tiny hand on your belly, trying to mimic her dad’s actions. She started to tell them a random story about her day with her uncle Tom, something about what had happened in the film they’d watched. The whole experience was actually quite soothing to you, giving you a chance to close your eyes and try to fall asleep while your two angels did their thing.

A sudden and slight flinch and your eyes snapping open alerted your fiancé, the man looking at you concerned.

“They kicked,” you laughed, “I think they like their sisters' voices.” Lily’s eyes widened, letting you guide her hand to where the kick had been. You told her to keep talking, not having to wait long for another energetic kick from your bub.

“See, they like you already,” Harry smiled, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Can we talk to them everyday?”

When you first told your angel she was over the moon, she was really excited at the idea of having a sibling and it warmed your heart to see. Nothing had changed from when you told her to know, the obvious baby bump being the centre of her constant giddy moods.

It eventually got to the point where there was no way you could hide it from family members any longer, and you had to tell your families about the pregnancy and postponing the wedding.

“So, we have some news,” you announced, gaining everyone around the table's attention. You squeezed Harry’s hand, running your hands over the material of your loose dress and pulling it tight against your belly.

There was a chorus of gasps, a few tears and lots of hugs from your families, hearing congratulations upon congratulations. You couldn’t help but glance at your fiancé while in a hug with his twin. You both sent each other lovesick smiles from the embraces you’d been dragged into, your hearts warm.

It felt like the last few months were over in seconds, and you were definitely going to miss it. The back rubs from Harry, the constant helping you and even the practically never leaving your side, you were surprisingly going to miss that too.

Your water breaking was nowhere near as chaotic as the first time, things were much calmer the second time around. Harry called one of his brothers, you couldn’t be sure which one in the moment, and asked them to meet you at the hospital so they could watch Lily. He then helped you into the car, making sure to give you a break when a contraction would hit, allowing you to squeeze the life out of his hand.

It was incredibly early for Lily, so she seemed to fall asleep as soon as she was settled in her car seat, a soft smile on Harry’s face just looking at her. He was about to be a dad again.

He tried to get there as quick as he could, finding Tom waiting outside in the early morning cold. You gathered that Tom was the brother he’d called earlier, but right now you didn’t really care. He greeted you politely, taking a sleeping Lily from her car seat while Harry helped you inside.

After you were given something for the pain, you seemed more concerned with if your family members were aware of the incoming new arrival, rather than actually being in labour. Something that Harry had to remind you was much more important.

“Did you call or-“ Harry cut you off, brushing some sweaty hair out of your face.

“I sent a text to everyone, okay, stop worrying.” you nodded your head, taking deep breaths to try and ease the pain that was still lingering. Harry didn’t let up playing with your hair, placing the occasional kiss on your hairline and always whispering words of encouragement to get you through.

You didn’t realise how much relief you’d get when the doctor told you it was time, a flood of thanks flowing through you as you were finally able to get this baby out.

This one took longer than the last, your new baby turning out to be a lot more stubborn than Lily was already, but you were eventually greeted with the cries of a newborn echoing around the room.

Harry choked back tears hearing that it was a boy, ignoring your teasing comment about the Holland curse as he got a look at his baby.

The boy was passed to you first, letting you get a good look at him. At first glance, he seemed to be a perfect mix of you and Harry, but when you really took the time to study him, you noticed all the features that were his dads. That button nose of his that you completely adored, those honey brown eyes that you’d spent hours staring into on some days.

You could feel Harry watching you both from where he resided next to your bed. Snapping a quick picture that you’d be able to look back on whenever you wanted. You ran your hand over your boy's head, kissing his forehead and then glancing up to your fiance.

“He looks like you, he’s so beautiful.”

Harry’s heart swelled, itching to get the chance to hold his new son. Before Lily came in to be introduced to her new little brother, Harry got to cradle him, noting every one of his features to memory. Especially noticing the ones that he believed belonged to you.

“He’s perfect,” he whispered. Your heart fluttered a little, watching how he was so mesmerized with the new life in his arms. He placed gentle kisses on his chubby cheeks, choking up when his tiny hand wrapped around his finger. You let him have his moment, taking this chance for yourself to relax a little bit. A single tear rolled down his cheek and he didn’t even attempt to hide it, allowing you to get an insight on how truly happy he was right now. It felt like the first time he’d held Lily in his arms over three years ago. He remembered the moment where he stayed mesmerised with her for eyes, analysing every little mark on her face that resembled you. That was the day Harry properly fell in love with the tiny angel, and it was happening all over again right now.

You hated to interrupt his moment but you also wanted to let the tired, and probably very bored, girl in the waiting room have the chance to meet her brother.

“Can you go get Lily, please?” you asked. He nodded slowly, hesitantly handing you the little angel wrapped in blue back. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead, partly thanking you for giving him his angel, well both of his angels, and also silently telling you how proud and amazed he was at what you’d just done.

You talked to your son quietly while Harry was gone, even if it was only for a few minutes and even if he didn’t understand what you were saying. Reaching his little hand up to grab you as if he recognised your voice from all the conversations you’d had with him while you were pregnant.

“There’s someone we want you to meet,” he whispered, guiding her sleepy frame into the hospital room. She seemed hesitant, her lack of sleep leaving her confused. She couldn’t see anyone else in the room but you and her dad.

“Lily, c’mere,” you cooed. Harry lifted her onto the hospital bed beside you, giving her the perfect view of the baby boy. “This is your little brother.”

Harry watched you introduce your new babe to Lily, the girl watching her new baby sibling in awe. She seemed to lose all traces of sleep the second she saw him, becoming completely obsessed with the tiny human in front of her.

It’d definitely taken you both time to get here, to become a family, arguably too long for that matter, but Harry felt like this was right, he felt complete, and he was sure that he now always would.

always taglist - @hopelessly-harry @iwearheadphones @thevelvetseries @minejungwoo @siriuslyslyslytherin @givebuckyhisplumsnow @itstaskeen @icyhollands @starkweasley @hollandcrush @zspideyy @hopeless-romantic-baby

#dad!harry #harry holland one shot #harry holland imagine #harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland series

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wanderingaldecaldo · 3 years ago

Photo

Tagged by @gloryride, thanks! I haven’t done one of these before, and honestly I don’t put a lot of time into my OC’s backstories – things just kinda bubble up as I need them, so this will be fun! Tagging if they want to play along, but no pressure: @ryyn-strange, @nunyabizu

Valerie

Key: bold - applies, italics - sometimes applies — LIGHT SOURCES SUN RAYS.

effervescent smiles, dandelion puffs, bare feet, beach waves, flowers pressed into books, champagne glasses, rose-gold eye shadow, boho skirts, wire-rimmed glasses, hair in loose waves, kaleidoscope eyes, sunshine in your hair, fire in your soul.

INCANDESCENT BULBS.

crop tops, floral print, dancing in the rain, quiet defiance, hand-knit beanies, rosé, painted bookmarks, marble floors, cirrus clouds against a blue sky, polaroid pictures, hands held, fingers intertwined, flower crowns, baby bluebirds.

STARDUST.

lace bralettes, brisk breezes, jasmine-scented perfume, books with yellowed pages, tracking constellations, sterling silver, violin music, chess games, iced coffee, glittery dresses, high heels, secret grins, midnight meetings, wishing upon a star.

CANDLE FLAMES.

denim jackets, gladiator sandals, braided hair, messenger bags, movies at the cinema, stolen kisses, wax-sealed envelopes, haiku poetry, cherry wood, succulents, fountain pens, jigsaw puzzles, soft tired eyes, hidden smiles, cuddling with someone you trust.

MOONBEAMS.

newspapers, over-sized sweaters, dancing shadows, fleece throws, cutoff shorts, piano chords, red wine, messy buns, embossed journals, a hint of blush dusted across your cheeks, freshly fallen snow, tranquil solitude, burning incense, light hair and dark skin

AURORAS.

combat boots, burgundy lips, infectious laughter, spiral-bound notebooks, pencils used down to the stub, ripped jeans, painted nails, cloud-watching, summer thunderstorms, hiking trails, vinyl records, film cameras, skating on a frozen lake, hot chocolate by the fire.

FIREWORKS.

dancing until the break of dawn, Heelys, being wheeled around in a shopping cart by your best friend, the euphoria of soaring through the air, being excited for what the future holds, group hugs, colorful tattoos, bronzer-highlighted cheeks, hugging a stuffed animal, lifting a child onto your shoulders, space buns, bright streaks in your hair.

— BODY LANGUAGE

DEFENSIVENESS. arms crossed on chest, crossing legs, fist-like gestures, pointing index finger, karate chops, stiffening of shoulders, tense posture, curling of lip, baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE.

hand-to-face gestures, head tilted, stroking chin, peering over glasses, taking glasses off; cleaning, putting earpiece of glasses in mouth, pipe smoker gestures, putting hand to bridge of nose, pursed lips, knitted brows

SUSPICION.

arms crossed, sideways glance, touching or rubbing nose, rubbing eyes, hands resting on weapon, brows raising, lips pressing into a thin line, strict, unwavering eye contact, wrinkling of nose, narrowed eyes

CONFIDENCE.

hands behind back, hands on lapels of coat, steepled hands, baring teeth in a grin, rolling shoulders, tipping head back but maintaining eye contact, chest puffed up, shoulders back, arms folded just above navel, wide eyes, standing akimbo

INSECURITY & ANXIETY.

chewing pen or pencil, rubbing thumb over opposite thumb, biting fingernails, biting lips, hands in pockets, elbow bent, closed gestures, clearing throat, “whew” sound, picking or pinching flesh, fidgeting in chair, hand covering mouth whilst speaking, poor eye contact, tugging pants whilst seated, jingling money in pockets, tugging at ear, perspiring hands, playing with hair, swaying, playing with pointer; marker; cane, smacking lips, sighing, rocking on balls of feet, flexing or cracking fingers sporadically, leg bouncing

ANGER & FRUSTRATION.

short breaths, “tsk” sounds, tightly-clenched hands, fist-like gestures, pointing index finger, rubbing hand through hair, rubbing back of neck, snarling, revealing teeth, grimacing, sharp-eye glowers, notable tension in brow, shoulders back, head up; defensive posturing, clenching of jaw, grinding teeth, nostrils flaring, heavy exhales

— SENSES

SIGHT.

small towns, big cities, six thirty curfews, lights that take the place of stars, blanket nests, light through the blinds as a wake up call, found family, finding a single star in the middle of new york night city, window shopping, watching something terrible and enjoying it, growing numb to the sight of injustice, wilted flowers, faded caricatures, bright, bold colours

HEARING.

crickets and lightning bugs, car engines and a.c. units, a phone call to mum/dad, laughing with friends, jokes that are so bad you have to laugh, the clicking of computer keys, noise cancelling headphones, the sound of silence, muffled music from another room, drumming fingertips on a table, clicking of pens, listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower, ringing in the ears, the voice of someone you love, pitch shifted songs

TOUCH.

being held close during a long night, fleeting reassurances, holding hands when you’re scared, brushing fingers through strands of hair, freshly dried clothes, bruises on your knuckles, silk and satin, your favourite pet’s fur or feather, wringing your hands anxiously, snuggles, comforters in the dead of winter, nails against skin, cold metal, leather in summer

TASTE.

coffee in the morning, tea in the evening, bubblegum that lost its flavor, alcohol burning the back of your throat, homemade cooking, no matter what’s made, blood in your mouth, stale air, mint, fresh vegetables, that processed taste of citrus candy, the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good, foreign sweets, fast street food, bittersweet, sour, spicy, sweet, bitter, too much salt on fries

#text #cyberpunk 2077 #my v #oc asks

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mrs-hatake · 4 years ago

Text

of love and gratitude

A/N: this was requested by my dear twitter friend alex ❤️

tw for blood, crying and mentions of death.

“You’re coming?” You asked in an excitedly incredulous tone of voice.

It’s been a very, very long time since you and your husband, Kakashi, have been on a mission together. Not since you assisted him in tracking and infiltrating Akatsuki. Ever since your husband had been officially assigned as the sixth Hokage, he had been caged in his office dealing with documents and formal stuffy meetings for months. And you can see how it affected your husband. He would often complain of how boring his job was, despite the importance of it, and how he would be glad to save a cat stuck in a tree if it meant he could leave his office.

“I am.” Kakashi replied as he contained the excitement in his voice. You could almost see his body shake with elation. “The mission is ranked as an S mission that even Anbu had a difficult time completing. I was requested to assist them on the behalf of the council. You’re joining us because of your exceptional skills with Katana and daggers.”

The silver haired Shinobi took a couple of steps forward to stand in front of you, “And because you’re my wife and I miss you.” He then leaned in and kissed your lips.

“Kakashi-sama, Y/N. It’s good to see you.” Yamato greeted, early the next morning.

Kakashi let out a groan. Not only was he woken early but he also made it on time to their rendezvous. “I liked it better when you called me senpai.” He muttered under his breath.

Sakura offered a wave, a small smile curving her lips. The pinkette had dark circles under her eyes, indicating that she had slept poorly the previous night. Her pink locks were tied into a messy bun and her clothes were wrinkled. You kind of felt sorry that she was accompanying you on your mission. The girl needed to rest and you wished you could give her that. Working at a hospital full time was no easy task, especially for someone as young as Sakura.

“It’s good to see you too, Yamato. You too Sakura-chan,” you replied warmly. It felt wonderful to be up so early for a mission instead of trying to get your husband to wake up early and shove his ass out the door to go to work. You cracked your neck and knuckles, eager to get the mission started.

“Alright, recap of the mission summary: Some Otogakure Shinobi rebels who still believe in Orochimaru’s ideology have been spying on Naruto to extract the Jinchuuriki and use it to their advantage. Our job is to apprehend the enemy and gather information on their group and if they had any allies in other villages.”

You and Yamato nodded your head at him.

The news of Orochimaru supporters was not new to any of you. Ever since the end of the Fourth Shinobi War, there had been hearsay on their reformation but no one had made any moves until just recently. Anbu had been suspecting a trader and tracked him down, only to discover that Orochimaru’s followers were active and plotting for battle. Unfortunately, the Anbu team was almost wiped out in a sudden ambush in the middle of the forest.

The journey to the outskirts of Konoha was spent in silence, save for the light ruffle of tree leaves being blown by the wind and the melodic chirps of the birds. It was quite, peaceful even. Almost giving you the false illusion that you were traveling for holiday instead of onto a difficult and long mission that could be life threatening.

You spared a glance at Kakashi and couldn’t help the small smile stretch across your lips. Although he had to wake up as early as five in the morning, Kakashi looked refreshed, as if he had a full night’s rest. Which was something quite rare since he was still haunted by the memory of his fallen teammates and father figure, Minato. However, they had lessened through the years, especially after he had met Obito during the Fourth War. It was difficult for Kakashi. He had confided in you that during the battle, he felt hope bubbling inside of him at the idea of having Obito back in his life. His mind played rosy colored images of them being the best of friends; visiting Rin and Minato’s graves, him introducing Obito to you, having Obito safe and sound and basically living a normal life. But his mind was cruel, however, as it winded its thin and boney fingers around the images and ripped them to shreds. Robbing Kakashi of that short lived serenity. The copy-cat Shinobi couldn’t sleep for weeks afterwards, constantly crying in his sleep and waking up with a start. It was a while, but eventually, Kakashi was able to move on and promised his team that he wouldn’t take life for granted. That he would live life they way they couldn’t.

Kakashi spotted you glancing at him and offered you a smile under his mask. Your heart fluttered with love. Kakashi deserved all the love and support the world had to offer him and you were grateful that he wanted to receive them from you. To reciprocate those feelings to you. He chose you to be his backbone and he allowed you into his world to help him heal, feel and to live. It was a huge responsibility, nerve wracking almost. Though, you toughened it out and faced his traumas head on. It wasn’t one sided either. Kakashi had done the exact same thing to you. He was by your side when you felt alone. He held your hands when you felt scared to return to being an active Shinobi when you almost lost your life all those years ago on an S rank mission. And Kakashi brought you joy, love and safety. Soon, your worlds merged into one and you were both at your happiest. It almost felt too good to be true.

The team has been traveling for two days with minimal amounts of sleep. It wasn't until the third morning did you stop in your journey when Yamato had stopped at a clearing, staring intensely at a speck he found, a torn piece of pale grey fabric.

“Could belong to Otogakure.” He stated once all of his teammates came to a stop and surrounded the piece of fabric. Kakashi nodded and, with lightning speed, summoned his Ninken. Before the wrinkly pub could utter his usual greeting, Kakashi held his index finger against his lips, indicating for the dog to stay quiet. Using the signals that he had trained his dogs with since he was a child - signals you’ve come to memorize by heart after dating Kakashi and being introduced to his Ninken - to debrief them on the mission you were all on. You then saw that your husband had instructed them to smell around the area, starting with the piece of fabric, and pick up any stray trail.

It took them about twenty minutes of them sniffing around before Shiba stood tall and alert. Kakashi and Pakkun both went to him and watched as the dog tilted his head this way and that, Kakashi nodding along every few seconds. When Shiba was done, Kakashi reached down, ruffled his fur and slipped a small dog biscuit into his mouth.

“The track is weak but Shiba could lead us to where the rogue Shinobi might be.” Kakashi announced quietly, “We head east from here.”

You, Yamato and Sakura all nodded your heads and followed after the light grey colored dog after Kakashi had dismissed the rest.

The track led you deep into a forest where the branches were thick and the leaves were colored a dark shade of green, your shadows moving and warping against the trees. Had you not seen the sun shining down on you in the clearing earlier, you would’ve mistaken it to have been night time rather than day.

Shiba suddenly came to a halt and rapidly sniffed the air around him. Before he could yell out his warning, six Shinobi had jumped out from the dark colored leaves and attacked.

The Shinobi were strong, Kakashi could see why so many Anbu had failed in capturing them. Through his peripheral vision, he could tell that Sakura was fighting against one of the enemies while Yamato was fighting with two, one was being flung around by the branch Yamato had summoned as he fought in close combat with the other. Kakashi tried searching for you but couldn’t find you. Just that moment, his opponent ducked and thrust his Kunai in hopes to slash Kakashi’s leg but he was too slow. Kakashi was so engrossed in trying to jump away from the Shinobi trying to slash at him every two steps, he failed to notice that his second opponent had slipped away from the fight and by the time he had, it was already too late.

It had all happened too fast. One second he just landed a strong punch, successfully breaking the Shinobi’s nose and rendering him unconscious and the next, he heard you cry out in pain. Whipping his head around, he watched with horrified wide eyes as your body slumped forward, a Kunai shoved deep into your back and dangerously close to your spine.

“Y/N!” Kakashi screamed and rushed to your side to hold you in his arms.

“K-Kakashi.” You gasped weakly as your husband tried to hold you up. Your vision blurred and it was difficult to stare at the silver haired Shinobi. A burning sensation filled your lungs with every breath you took and you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“Y/N, stay with me!” Kakashi barked, “Don’t close your eyes!”

There was a soft thud somewhere; could be closer or nearby the area. But you were too out of it to really tell. Though, you immediately felt another pair of hands grab onto your left arm and drape it across broad shoulders.

“Sakura!” A voice yelled urgently, however you don’t know why. Things were getting hazy and it was strenuous to stay focused on your surroundings. Everything became cold. Your limbs grew weak. And your head felt heavy. Everything hurt and you just wanted to sleep.

“Baby, stay awake. We’re gonna fix this, okay?” A voice that trembled with fear spoke. The words were fast and clumsy. You nodded your head in response despite your eyes closing fully.

“Oi, Y/N!”

And just as a tingling sensation grew into a strong sting on your lower back, you were pulled deep into an ocean of darkness.

White noise invaded Kakashi’s ears as he was being pushed about Konoha’s Shinobi Hospital’s ICU, overpowering the hustle around him. His hands were covered in blood, stark red against his pale shaking hands. His shoes, covered in mud that dirtied the white tiled floor. And his mask was dampened with all the tears he had shed.

Kakashi never in his life had cried in front of anyone, not even you. But when he felt your body become limp in his arms and you failed to respond to him, he had genuinely thought you had died. And Kakashi lost it. He shook with all his might, and if the Kunai shoved deep into your back hadn’t killed you, then your neck snapping from Kakashi’s abusive shakes would’ve. Yamato tried to stop him, to pry his hands away from your shoulders, but he was met with the harshest glare Kakashi had ever directed at him. It wasn’t until Sakura had slapped him after successfully stopping the blood from flowing out and closing the wound to a small gash, did Kakashi finally snap out of it. The trip back to Konoha was fast and short and you were quickly admitted into the hospital. One glance at blood covered Kakashi with tears streaming down his cheeks had sent the hospital into a frenzy.

The five nurses struggled to take you from Kakashi’s hands (he was too scared to let you go, that if he looked away then you would die) while two doctors tried to sedate Kakashi. It took two shots from Kakashi’s hands to go numb, though not enough to knock him out. He helplessly watched as the nurses laid you onto a gurney and sped through the doors for emergency surgery. That was six hours ago.

Kakashi’s vision was obstructed by a beige paper cup that was filled to the brim with black coffee. Elegant swirls of grey smoke twirled heavenwards and almost successfully tempted him into grabbing the cup and chugging the whole liquid, uncaring if it burnt his throat along the way.

“Just take it.” Sakura huffed after rolling her eyes at the way Kakashi had lowered his head in shame.

“It wasn’t your fault.” She spoke once Kakashi had taken the warm drink from her hand and into his. “You were both doing your jobs. It was just...the bastard was a coward.”

Sakura’s words did nothing to ease Kakashi’s self loathing. Y/N, his caring wife, had waited patiently for years for Kakashi to move on and live a healthier life. Stayed up all night with him to comfort him through his nightmares and his insecurities. Still, there were times when those bouts of anxiety would sneak in and mercilessly torment him.

“I spoke with the surgeon operating on her.”

That had Kakashi lifting his head.

Sakura hid the smile that was threatening to stretch across her lips, she knew him too well, “Luckily, the Kunai wasn’t shoved into deep to cause permanent damage.” She began slowly, “She will need to enroll in a rehabilitation program to help her walk again.” At the way Kakashi’s shoulders tensed, Sakura reached out and placed a hand on his right shoulder, “She’s going to be alright.”

“What’s the bad news?” Kakashi’s voice was raw. It sounded as if it was too painful for him to speak. Be it from the tears he’d shed or from the way he had screamed his wife’s name when she passed out, Sakura winced.

With a deep exhale, she replied, “She is to be dismissed from Anbu. Effective immediately.”

Dismissed.

From Anbu.

Immediately.

Kakashi’s ears rang with an annoyingly high pitched whistle. He felt dizzy and if he stood up, then he’d feel like the room was spinning.

Y/N took Anbu seriously. It wasn’t just a job for her. It was her legacy; her pride and joy. She spent most of her life in Anbu and Kakashi wondered how fate could be so cruel.

At least she didn’t die.

The voice in his head whispered.

True, had she died...Kakashi wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He already lost so many people dear to him, losing Y/N, his best friend and the love of his life...Now that would be brutal, even fate wouldn’t be heartless to do something like that.

If only Kakashi was quick enough.

If only Kakashi was paying attention.

If only-

“She’s awake.” The head of the surgeon team interrupted his thoughts. His forehead glistened with sweat and his eyes dropped with exhaustion. But there was a small and weak smile tugging at his lips, proud of what he and his team had accomplished. “I wanted to debrief her on her surgery but she insisted that you be there, Hokage-sama.”

Weakly, Kakashi nodded his head and handed the empty paper cup to Sakura and stood up to follow the surgeon to where his wife was recovering.

“Hey, you.”

Her voice was light, playful almost. Though her skin was pale, her eyes grey and her hair matted to her forehead. However, she still greeted him sunnily, as if she hadn’t been in surgery for the past eight hours.

“H-Hi.” Kakashi replied, internally cursing at himself for stuttering and his voice breaking at the end. He knew that Y/N could tell that he had been crying. She could always tell from the way his voice broke at the end of his syllables and how nasally it sounded. He didn’t deserve her.

Y/N nodded to the empty chair beside her with great effort. Kakashi would’ve wept just then if the surgeon wasn’t waiting patiently behind him to step into the room.

“Y/N-sama,” The doctor spoke when Kakashi had taken a seat next to his wife’s bed and instantly took hold of her hand, gripping on it as if it were the life line that will rescue him from whatever darkness that was drowning him. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I do.” Her voice was scratchy and Kakashi hurriedly poured her a glass of water and handed it to her.

“Good.” The doctor wrote down on his note, “Thankfully, the surgery was a success. The Kunai wasn’t plunged too deep and thus did not damage any major nerves. However, due to the sensitivity of the surgery, two month of rehab is strongly recommended.” The doctor informed them before he hesitated. He met Kakashi’s gaze, as if asking him for permission for what he was about to say next. Seeing that Kakashi remained quiet and didn’t intervene, the doctor continued.

“As your surgeon, I have spoken to my team and the council in regards to your surgery and the post effects of it. It may have been successful, however, any strenuous activities could lead to long lasting aftermath. It was agreed that you are discharged from Anbu duty and as Shinobi. Effective immediately.”

Both the doctor and Kakashi were waiting for an outburst. For Y/N to throw a tantrum and beg the doctor for any other way for her to continue being an Anbu or be an active Shinobi. But their ears were met with nothing.

One glance at Y/N and they were both surprised to see her crying.

“Y/N!” Kakashi cried in surprise and jumped from his chair.

“I’m fine,” Y/N hiccuped as she hastily rubbed her tears away, “I’m just happy that I’m alive.” she choked. Kakashi instantly wrapped his arms around her, careful of her wounds, and laid his head atop of hers.

Sensing the need for privacy, the doctor discreetly excused himself. Though, his ears didn’t miss the choked sob coming from his Lord Hokage.

Six months later Y/N is fully recovered.

Her recovery wasn’t easy. There were a lot of frustrating moments and times where Y/N couldn’t stop crying. Having to relearn how to walk, something that was so natural to her, was laborious. She would stumble and sometimes trip on thin air and fall. She could only walk two steps at first before slowly walking five steps, then ten steps and so on and so forth until she could walk normally.

It was difficult, but just like how Y/N was with Kakashi, her husband was with her every single step of the way. Consoling her. Comforting her. And encouraging her. Kakashi was patient, endured all of her tantrums of frustration and was her shoulder to cry on.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi imagine #kakashi x you #kakashi hatake imagine #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake scenario

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