#this got over 300 notes i’m counting it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

erodasfishtacos · 5 months ago

Text

Digging A Deeper Hole || MLB ||

Prompt: Harry is going through a rough adjustment to his new life. At twenty-one, he was the face of a massive franchise, a father, and a husband with millions watching his every mood. He starts to feel it. Word Count: 7.8k Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Angst - please keep in mind H is young here so he’s a bit more immature than one shots where he’s older. He’s still figuring stuff out

AUTHORS NOTES:

There is 5 more part to this up on patreon (17k words, a 25.1k fic overall)

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days (usually two) consistently// currently updating abo!roommates

All writings are accurately and always added to the organized folders in the collections feature

There are currently 300 + pieces available to read

It only cost $3USD —— thanks for any support and check me out here!

========================= Harry had the weight on the world on his shoulders.

The past year had been the best but most stressful time that he has ever had in his life.

He hadn’t had a break, it was go, go, go.

At the age of twenty-one, it felt like he had responsibilities that most people never had this amount of.

He had expectations from every side, especially from work, though it sounded like a dream to be the new face of Major League Baseball, to be the highest paid rookie to start, or the fact that he was a projected to be one of the best players of all time.

It came at a cost.

A really fucking big cost.

It took Harry a while to realize that he was experiencing some depression, the pressure of his coaches, the team, the public, and on top of that, he was navigating being newly married with a baby.

”Styles, get off the phone!” His assistant coach shouted from the field, he should be jogging onto the mound because practice was nearly over, and everyone was ready to head back to the hotels.

“Hold the fuck on!” Harry shouts back without looking up, waiting for the FaceTime call to connect, he had thought he had more time before they started up again.

Harry’s heart leaps when it connects, his perfect baby in the camera view, blowing raspberries between chewing on teether that looked like car keys, “Say ‘hi’ to your daddy!”

Easton is too little to quite comprehend the phone but he blinks in confusion at the screen before blowing another wet raspberry towards his father.

”Hi East, look at how handsome you look,” Harry croons, trying to memorize every little feature because he’s only going to be this small for a little while, “Your daddy misses you so much.”

YN pulls the phone to her face for a moment, “I took him on a walk around Central Park earlier today and he saw a group of pigeons. He squealed so loudly that they all flew away in a flock and he started giggling. I wish I would have gotten it on video.”

”He really does love the pigeons-“ Harry begins but is cut off.

”Styles, final warning. Get off your phone or I’m locking it up! Now,” The other coach yells, starting to actually get pissed, and Harry has to resist the urge to flip them off.

”H,” YN says knowingly, it was pretty common that he was getting yelled at, “Go practice.”

“I want to be home with you,” Harry frowns, he truly means it.

”I know,” YN agrees with kind understanding on her face, “Go kick some ass for us.”

He didn’t get to spend the time he wanted at home with his family, the away games caused him to panic, and he was starting to have anxiety attacks as he steps onto the private jet.

Harry was blowing YN’s phone up at any free moment he got, asking to FaceTime to see her and Easton, and YN had noticed how much more he was asking for reassurance, it was frequent.

”He’s sleepy. He just fed for almost an hour,” YN murmurs, tired herself and her eyes were heavy, it was undeniable that she had a lot on her plate with taking care of Easton by herself.

YN did see Anne once or twice a week but she was adamant that she did not need help raising her own baby, that she was fully capable of taking care of Easton by herself when Harry wasn’t home.

Easton was ten-months at this point, splayed on his mother’s chest with a milk-drunk little smile as he laid his small fist on her neck, easily starting to drift to sleep.

Harry feels a pang of disgusting, gnarly guilt and disappointment that he’s not there to lay in bed with them, and he felt like a piece of shit for sitting in this swanky hotel room by himself.

”Harry?” YN asks after he doesn’t respond, he was just watching the screen as his wife ran her fingers through Easton’s soft baby curls, silky smooth.

Harry swallows harshly to avoid the tears prickling, “I love you so much. You know that?”

YN smiles at him, soft and warm, “We love you so much. We miss you and cannot wait for you to get home. We both want so many cuddles with you.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, scrunching his nose, and feel the pit in his stomach get deeper, darker, rawer, and it felt overwhelming as he sat alone with his family on the other side of the country.

It felt suffocating that he wanted to go home but he couldn’t because he had a contract, a job, he had to provide, and he worked his whole life to be where he’s at.

He’s in a position that billions would want to be in but all he can think about is being with his family, he would give up everything he’d ever accomplished to cuddle with them every night.

But he couldn’t, deep down, he knew that it was his emotions getting the best of him, and it’s disappointing that he’s not enjoying baseball like he thought he would right now.

“I…I’m sorry,” Harry sniffles, rubbing his eye roughly to catch the tears before they fall any further.

YN’s smile falls which makes him feel even worse, “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you apologizing?”

”I’m not there to help you,” Harry presses his face into his forearm to try to stop the tears, “I’m just sittin’ here in a hotel room, I’m fuckin’ useless to you.”

”Hey,” YN says firmly, lips going into a straight line, “Harry, you are not useless. How could you think that? You’re providing for us. You make it possible for me to stay at home, in this beautiful home, with everything we’d ever need, and spend every moment with Easton. That’s because of you.”

It makes Harry feel a bit better, that perspective on the situation because he hadn’t looked at it like that, “I’ll always provide for you two.”

”You’re the best provider. We love you so much. We are so proud of you. Easton is going to be so so proud of his daddy and what a good man you are to us,” YN tells him confidently, thter’s no wavering in her voice as she watches Harry’s reaction.

Harry hangs his head, done trying to stop the tears, he didn’t feel good.

He had felt depression a few times in his life, the most when he was going through his struggles with his sexuality, and it was starting to feel like that again.

”Harry,” YN’s voice is soft, careful, “Are you okay, baby? What made you so upset?”

Harry wipes his face with the back of his hand, he didn’t want to worry YN.

She had so much on her plate right now that the last thing she needed to worry about was his mental health because he needed to pull it together and stop being so emotional.

”I just miss you,” Harry tells her, it wasn’t a lie but it really wasn’t the full truth, there was so much more to it than what he was letting on but he could handle it on his own.

Lord knows he had enough time while he was sitting in this hotel room alone or had a flight on the private jet.

Harry felt like a car ran him over, twice, and then backed up over him.

He did as good as everyone expected him to do during the games in San Diego, he won all three of the games with too many strikeouts to count, and two home runs to get them scores.

Harry was able to shut his mind off during the games, all he was thinking about was his job, and what he needed to do to make sure that they won the games - that was it.

Afterwards, the creeping feelings that had been haunting him especially hard this past month or so wouldn’t wait very long to pop up again after the games.

He started demanding a flight home the night of the last game, everyone else always waited until the next day because traveling right after playing was near torture with the exhaustion.

Harry felt like death as he landed in New York City, his bones were heavy as if they weighed a thousand pounds each, his arm was sore from how many pitches he had to throw, and he hadn’t been sleeping well when he was away from YN and the baby.

His heart was a bit lighter as he opened the front door to their home, the smell of his favorite brownies hitting his nose, and a peel of bubbly, angelic baby giggles echoed through the hallway.

Harry needed to see them, he dropped his bag and didn’t care that his cologne bottle most likely just shattered inside because of how careless he was being.

No, he was making his way toward the smell and sounds, and when he found what he waas looking for - his stomach untwisted just the slightest and everything didn’t seem so bleak for a moment.

YN turns around, having been alerted to his entrance by his bag dropping, Easton was on her hip and had a spatula in his hand, gnawing on it happily.

”Who is that, East?” YN bounces him up and down, “Is that your daddy?”

Harry wants to cry tears of relief when Easton drops the spatula, letting it clatter onto the tile, and starts to cry.

He was the cutest little thing.

Whenever Harry got home from work, Easton would start to cry because he wanted him, and was sad like he just realized that he had been missing him all day and he was finally home with him.

”Oh my goodness,” YN hums as Easton wiggles, starting to reach out for him with grabbing hands, dramatic tears running down his face as his pouty bottom lip wobbles.

”No tears, bub,” Harry coos as he steps forward, taking Easton out of her arms, and giving him the biggest hug he can manage as he presses kisses to the side of his face, his hair, his nose, “I missed you so much. I hate being away from you, East, miss you every moment.”

YN is watching with a content smile, patiently waiting her turn as he blinks over at her, his voice still soft and raspy, “Hi mama.”

”Hi H,” YN whispers back, stepping forward to cup his jaw and bring their lips together in a kiss, her thumb rubbing the stubble of his jawline and her other squeezing his hip, “I missed you.”

Harry hates that he feels the lump in his throat, “I fuckin’ missed you so much. I can’t explain how much I hate being away from you and him. I am so grateful that you’re so good to me and East. You know that?”

One of YN’s love languages was definitely words of affirmation so to hear such nice compliments really did mean a lot to her because she didn’t always feel the most secure either.

It was a lot to have her husband traveling all the time, where if he wanted, there would be unlimited opportunities for him to make bad choices because there was not a shortage of men and women who would bed him without a second thought.

YN had complete and utter trust in him.

It wasn’t ever a real concern but when Harry was as gorgeous as he was, it was hard not to feel a bit of insecurity when people often let it be known how much they found him attractive.

”Thank you, H,” YN brings him in for another kiss, “Dinner is almost ready. Brownies are also baking in the oven. Easton was my little helper but was trying to get his chunky fingers in the raw batter which he had an attitude about when I told him ‘no’.”

”You better listen to your mama,” Harry hums at his son, munching at his neck until Easton is giggling and pulling at his curls to keep him close, he loved his father so much, “Be nice to mama, Easton Robin.”

YN reaches forward, “Go get a shower. Settle in a little bit.”

Harry passes Easton back but frowns, “Darling, I can take him and manage. You have had him for the last week.”

YN waves him off, “I got him for a few minutes longer. Get showered, dressed, then we can eat dinner, and cuddle. Okay?”

”Sounds like a dream,” Harry replies because it really does, all that he wants is to be able to hold them in his arms, and start filling this hole that starts to eat away at him every time he has to leave.`

After Harry showers, he tugs on his briefs, and sits on the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t know how he fell asleep like that but it seemed to happen nearly as soon as he plopped down on the plush of their bed because he hadn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours, after an exhausting game and seven hours of travel.

The next time he wakes up, it’s completely dark in the bedroom, and he blinks his eyes open to see the alarm clock reading that it was three in the morning.

YN was fast asleep on her side of the bed, baby monitor on the side table, and Easton was sleeping in his nursery on his back with a binky halfway out of his mouth.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, putting his fists to them for a moment as he grits his teeth, “Fuck fuck fuck.”

He gets out of bed, not wanting to disturb YN, she looked so fucking pretty while she slept and Harry was in disbelief of what a fucking idiot he was.

YN not only watched Easton for the past week, she managed everything else for their household, made Harry dinner and dessert, all for him to fall asleep.

She needs a break from the baby, YN should have gotten one last night after all her hard work, and Harry just went and fell asleep like a bloody teenager with no responsibilities.

He grabs the baby monitor so that YN won’t be woken up, hoping that she will sleep in for as long as possible in the morning, and Harry can take on baby duties.

Harry’s plan was to clean the house, the least he could do as an apology but everything was near spotless thanks to his wife, and when he went into the kitchen to clean the dishes from dinner.

There were none, YN had put all the leftovers away, wrapped the brownies, and cleaned all the pots and pans - as well as all of Easton’s bottles.

”Fuck me,” Harry grunts as he resists the urge to hit something, instead slamming his fists on the countertop, and staring at nothing as he feels the deep hole become bigger, “Such a fuck-up.”

Harry doesn’t even know what he can do to repay her, to make it up to her, and the mixture of his anxiety and depression had to be the gnarliest combination because they were kicking his ass.

His anxiety starts taking over and an intrusive thought starts to pop into his brain and he can’t shake it.

What if she leaves you?

What if she doesn’t think you’re a good enough father?

She does all this for you and you treat her like shit the moment you come home?

You don’t deserve her.

Harry’s throat tightens up, it feels hard to breathe for a few minutes as he tries taking slow, deep inhales before repeating the process to help try to regulate his breathing.

He had to make this up to her.

Harry manages Easton by himself, that wasn’t an issue, and he was even able to run out to grab YN’s favorite donuts from a few blocks down before she was up.

Harry was currently in the living room, laying on the floor with Easton as he played with these soft, big blocks, and smiled at his father with only two little teeth showing on his bottom gums.

”Morning, well afternoon,” YN laughs as she looks at the clock on the wall, it was nearly twelve and she was able to catch up on all the sleep she desperately needs, “You didn’t need to let me sleep for that long, H. I appreciate it though, felt super nice to be able to get re-energized.”

”It’s the least I could do,” Harry replies, the enthusiasm that was usually in his voice was missing, and he struggled to meet her eye because he was embarassed.

YN knows something is off as she sits down next to them, scooping Easton up and tucking him under her big shirt where he can excitedly start to nurse - he very begrudgingly used a bottle but it was always a bit more difficult to get him to eat with one.

”Are you sure you’re okay?” YN frowns as she rubs his knee, “You seem down. Did something happen?”

”I’m a piece of shit,” Harry chuckles without humor, throwing his hands up, “Isn’t it obvious? I leave you at home with the baby and then the minute I get home, I fall asleep and don’t do shit to help you. On top of that, you made dinner and I didn’t even eat it.”

YN’s frown turns into more of a scowl, “Harry, what has you talking like this? Did someone say something to you? I don’t like when you talk like that. You were exhausted! You were just away for a week, training and playing, and have so much other than that going on. Do you really think that I’m mad about that?”

“I’m mad about how I acted because it effects you,” Harry grits back, his anxiety and depression had a tendency to make him cranky in a way that he normally wouldn’t be, “It’s no excuse. You get no excuses. I need to do better.”

”You need to stop talking like that,” YN retorts as she stares back at him with a twitch of her brow, “Everything is fine. We are fine. Nothing is wrong. This is how our life looks sometimes and that’s okay. You are doing this to take care of us.”

“It feels pretty fuckin’ selfish right now,” Harry shakes his head, standing up and trying to hide the wince from how achey his muscles were, he should do a cold plunge but he’s not going to take anymore time for himself - he dosn’t deserve it.

“How is it selfish?” YN is getting frustrated, her leg shaking slightly but then she stops when she realizes that it’s jostling Easton and he whines in displeasure.

”I get to get a full night’s sleep in a luxury hotel room, you’re here.”

YN scoffs, licking over her teeth, “Yeah, Harry. It’s a massive hardship, living in a three million dollar home in the middle of the Upper East Side. I think I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the fuckin’ point,” Harry cracks his neck, his anxiety made his heart rate feel like he was constantly running a marathon, it was hard for him to keep his composure.

”Don’t talk to me like that,” YN raises her voice, moving to get up with Easton still suckling away, “This isn’t how you show appreciation, Harry. I’m just trying to have a conversation and you have an attitude.”

Harry knows that he’s just going to continue to dig himself a deeper pit than he’s already in if he keeps talking.

Most of the time, he did not feel like like a twenty-one year old despite his boyish looks but right now, he felt like he was acting his age and it wasn’t a good thing.

”Why don’t you take Easton and see your mom today,” YN offers, her voice is still tight but trying to keep it cordial as she brings Easton out from under her shirt.

He was blinking languidly, his lips smacking in satisfaction as his belly was full, and YN hands him over to Harry to take, “Yeah, I’ll get him ready and go.”

It was a good opportunity to give YN a break but he was honestly a bit surprised that she took him up on it or that she didn’t want to come with because when Harry came home, they tried to stay together as much as possible.

He does know that he’s acting like a complete dickhead which makes sense why she wasn’t dying to spend time with him right night, still it was just odd because it’s unlike her.

”Sounds good,” YN pulls out her phone, looking down and fingers flitting across the screen which was also a bit odd, how she was a distracted by it because it was unlike her just like her letting him go alone.

God, Harry was making a fucking mess, wasn’t he? +++++++++++++++++

It stuck out like a sore thumb when Harry was off.

Normally, he was the most easy-going, bubbly, funny person who stole most of the attention when he wasn’t even trying.

It was how he captured everyone’s interest whether it was his big grin that had his dimples showing deep in the pockets of his cheeks, the way he threw his head back and let out these low raspy chuckles, or just how he nodded attentively when someone else was talking.

So when he wasn’t feeling like himself, all those things that lit up rooms disappeared, and it was hard for him to socialize.

Harry was still beating himself up the entire ride outside of the city to his mother’s house, Easton was napping in the back and this would be a nice sleep before the excitement of Nana’s house.

Harry was replaying everything with YN, from the way he was sharp with her to get short with her when she did absolutely nothing to deserve that from him because she was so fucking good to him - all the time.

YN never complained about anything.

She never complained about being at home with the baby alone.

YN never tied to guilt Harry because he was away during the season so much.

It makes it so much worse that he’s not able to hold his shit together even just for YN, he didn’t want her to worry about his mental health, that’s the last thing she needed on her plate.

He was going to figure this out himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like he couldn’t talk to her, it was more that he knew she cares so much that it might upset her or make her worry when he’s on the road, all he wants for her is to focus on Easton and herself.

Harry normally loves going up to his mom’s, a little lake house that he had bought her with one of his first paychecks, despite how much she huffed and puffed, he knew that it was a dream of hers to live on the water.

It was the least he could do after she did so much to make his dreams come true.

However, despite Harry getting a decent amount of sleep, he felt bone tired and just drained was the best way to explain it - he felt like all the energy that he normally feels has been sucked clean out of him.

He wanted to turn the car around, go home, crawl into bed with YN and Easton, and not have to interact with anyone else for at least a week but that wasn’t possible with his schedule.

Harry should be enjoying his time right now.

They have an off week which meant that he had nearly two and a half weeks at home because the following week were games at their home stadium so he could be home every night.

Harry just couldn’t wait for this season to be over.

And that thought alone alarmed him because he fucking loved baseball, he loved being the best of the best, he loved all the recognition he got but right now his desire was lower than it’s been in a really long time.

When he pulls down the long driveway, a house sat back off the residential road where she had neighbors but there was a good amount of distance between the them to give privacy and seclusion.

He sees that there are multiple cars in the driveway which makes Harry groan because he didn’t realize that his mom was going to call over friends and family since he was coming to visit.

Anne did that sometimes, when Harry called saying that he’d be up, she would call aunts, uncles, relatives, and close friends to come for a barbecue, and it was the last thing he wanted right now.

He was already a bit peeved that his mother didn’t ask him first because he would have very clearly told her that he wasn’t in the mood to entertain people, to answer questions, and talk about baseball for a good five hours.

When Harry opens the back door, Easton’s already awake and smiling at his father with a gummy smile, his two bottom baby teeth made him look so adorable but he knew that more were going to popping through soon.

”Hi, sweetheart,” Harry hums softly as he unbuckles his baby, bringing him up into his arms and into a hug, kissing his temple, “I love you so much, you know that? M’only away so that you have everythin’ you’d ever want. Miss you every second-“

A smack comes heartily on his back, right on his throwing shoulder where the soreness is radiating like a motherfucker, and he has to grit his teeth to not curse and startle Easton.

”Buddy, how much did this ride cost ya?” His Uncle Chuck, his mom’s brother asks obnoxiously, “Saw these things were going for a hundred and some change?”

Harry takes a deep breath, his patience was wearing thin, and he had barely made it out of the car, “I don’t remember how much it cost.”

“That’s what being rich gets you, huh? Twenty-one with a fat bank account and no responsibilities. I would have loved to have a life like yours,” Chuck chortles as he leans up against said expensive SUV, beer in his hand.

“I have plenty of fuckin’ responsibilities,” Harry bites back, scolding himself for cursing in from of Easton, even if he was too young to understand, he tried not to make it a habit.

“Sure you do, bud,” His uncle laughs, clearly not catching onto Harry’s mood, “Last thing I’d want is a baby with everything that you have going on. Growing up too fast.”

“Luckily, it’s not your life,” Harry brushes him off, picking up Easton’s diaper bag on his free shoulder and hikes him up, “We’ll be in soon. Give us a minute.”

His uncle shrugs before staggering off, a drunken sway in his step as he stumbles back towards the house.

Harry buries his nose in Easton’s downy, fresh smelling wispy curls to steady his breathing, he feels a bit emotional as he talks to his son.

“M’sorry, East. Daddy doesn’t feel good right now,” Harry swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut, “I just have to pull it together. God, I love you. My baby.”

Harry gives himself another minute of grounding before taking a deep exhale and shutting the door, walking towards the house.

Everyone was on the back patio, sipping on drinks, and cheering when they saw him.

Dread settles heavy in Harry’s stomach as his family members as they start asking him about his games, wanting to recap every play he’s made, his sponsorships and his much he’s getting paid.

Harry’s trying to keep up the conversation but all he can think about is how much he didn’t want to be there, and he should have just taken Easton to the park or something more low-key.

When he bumps into his mom in the kitchen, Anne is prepping a salad and smiles back at her son - unaware of his mood.

“Isn’t this fun, hun?” Anne asks happily, sprinkling in some spices as she hums.

“Why couldn’t it have just been us? I have to be around people all the time and I thought it was just going to be you. Now I have to entertain all of them,” Harry’s tone definitely takes her aback as she puts down the tongs she was using.

“Usually you love when everyone’s here, I don’t understand,” Anne’s smile drops, wiping her hands on the dishrag.

“Does anybody ever consider that I don’t love talking about baseball every second of the day or how much money is in my bank account?” Harry’s tone is venomous and resentful, unfairly harsh on his mom when she hadn’t tried to upset him.

“Harr-“ Anne begins to apologize, albeit, a bit confused.

“Easton’s almost ready for a nap,” He cuts her off as he checks his watch, it didn’t really matter what time it was, he was done.

“My bedroom-“

“No, I’m going home,” Harry shakes his head, turning on his heel. He has the decency to look back and say, “Sorry, mom. I just can’t be here.”

Easton was currently being held by his Aunt Jane, he was starting to fuss because he had a bottle not too long ago and he was starting to get cranky.

“Alright, we’re going to head out. East needs his nap,” Harry announces, hiking on the diaper bag, and starting to walk over.

“Oh, we barely see him! Just a few more minutes with this little one. You can hold off his nap for a little!” His Aunt Jane jokingly holds him tighter for a minute and nothing right now is funny to Harry.

Harry doesn’t get loud but his voice gets steely as he reaches down and scoops Easton up from her lap, “Don’t tell me how to take care of my baby, understood?”

His poor aunt is taken aback, just like his mom, and nods.

Harry storms out without another glance back, ignoring the whispers about how odd he was acting and rude.

When he straps Easton in, the dark bubble in belly subsides for a moment- like sun breaking through storm clouds.

“Daaa,” Easton coos, happy but tired, tucking his binky back between his lips.

“Good job, baby,” Harry sniffles, blinking up towards the sky to keep the tears away, “Fuck, get it together.”

Harry had to pepper at least ten kisses on Easton’s warm, sleepy face before he’s able to close the door and get in the driver’s seat.

Harry presses on the console touch screen, calling YN, and he frowns when it goes straight to voicemail which was very unlike her.

He tries again.

Voicemail.

He pulls out his phone, trying to check her location, and it hasn’t updated in the past hour - it was just unusual for her phone to die, always on standby but he tries not to worry.

YN was probably still very pissed off at him, if he was to bet, she put her phone on ‘do not disturb’ so that she could take a well deserved nap and not be bothered.

Harry squeezes the steering wheel, reminding himself once again, “Pull yourself together.”

But in the back of his mind, an anxious thought pops in, well multiple.

What is YN is leaving you?

What if she’s sick of not having you around as much as other wives have their husbands?

First time you see her in a week and you treat her like shit. You really think she’ll stay?

Harry has never once thought like that, even when they’ve gotten in serious fights but god damn, he couldn’t stop his mind from going a million miles a minute, and it felt like shit.

Nothing was wrong.

Everything felt like it’s crumbling.

#ano #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #update #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

391 notes · View notes

dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 month ago

Text

Let Me Take Care Of You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~300

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Spencer is sick with the flu, so you help take care of him.

Square Filled: character is color blind for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Spencer is one of those boyfriends that is on top of everything. He remembers every important thing you two got going on, he always remembers to get you flowers every week even if the old ones aren’t dead yet, and he is very loving.

That all goes out the window when he gets sick.

Spencer caught the flu when he went on a case with the team and they had to visit a school filled with children. When Spencer even gets the cold, he becomes like a child in the sense that he is needy and always wants your attention on him. He doesn’t listen to anything you say either, even if it’s what’s best for him.

“Go back to bed, Spencer. I’ll be right there.” You stir the pot of chicken noodle soup, one of Spencer’s favorites, and take a peek at him. He’s sitting at the kitchen island with a blanket wrapped around him. He looks miserable. “I’ll bring the food when it’s ready.”

He shakes his head and coughs violently into his elbow.

“No, what if you burn yourself again?”

“Baby, I’m color blind, not blind. I can see where the pot is.” You pause. “And that was one time.”

“One time too many.”

You turn and put your hands on your hips. “Go to bed now before I call Derek.”

Spencer pouts but does what he’s told. He shuffles to the bedroom, and you turn back to the pot of soup. When it’s ready, you bring the soup and some Ginger Ale on a tray to Spencer. He is sitting on the edge of the bed with the same pout on his face. He sees you and his eyes immediately light up.

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, I didn’t. Either eat or get some sleep.”

“Will you read to me as I eat?”

You smile. “What book?”

“You choose.”

You walk over to the small library in the corner of the room and pull one of Spencer’s favorite books from the shelves. Knowing you’re going to get sick next, you don’t shy away from him. You sit next to him on the bed and start the book from chapter one. Spencer barely touches his soup because he’s so focused on the sound of your voice. He lays his head on your shoulder and closes his eyes, completely and utterly safe with you.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fiction #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic

138 notes · View notes

blackhairedjjun · 8 months ago

Text

love flew away - k.th

pairing: kang taehyun x gn reader | genre / tropes: soft angst, amicable breakup, boxer!taehyun | word count: 1.1k | warnings: mentions of food and alcohol, pet names (love), heartbreak

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompts - OVER?: after a mutually reluctant (and unwanted but necessary) break-up, the sender calls/visits the receiver and tells them that they’re still in love with them. + VOICEMAIL: sender leaves a voicemail on the receiver’s phone after failing to get through to them, and reveals their love for them. (requested by @probably-too-obssessed - "Also the prompt says mutual break up for Over but can it be tweaked to Taehyun breaking up with Reader for some unavoidable reason instead? Tysm and I'd be happy with whatever you write! Congrstulations again!")

author's note: hello!! i'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, taehyun is the one who initiates the breakup with the reader but it's still friendly on both ends...? so yeah haha. also i listened to love flew away by laufey & adam melchor as inspiration for this and i got carried away and wrote 1k, oops. but i hope you enjoy!!

taehyun took you out to dinner on your last day as a couple.

had it not been for the breakup he had decided on a week ago, it would have felt like just another blissful date with him. he ordered all your favorite dishes and asked about your day as you waited for the orders, his wide eyes shining with affection while you chatted on. his hand rested on top of yours on the table, warm and inviting, his slender fingers intertwining with yours halfway through the meal. and when he smiled that adorable little smile of his in between his silly remarks, you felt your heart growing light in your chest.

the evening finished off with a little wine, and you drank just enough to keep your senses while bathing the rest of the evening in the haze of a dream. and with taehyun squeezing your hand and gazing at you with shining eyes, you really did feel like you were in a dream that you couldn’t wake from.

he wrapped your jacket around your shoulders as you left the restaurant and waited for a cab. he linked his arms around yours and stood close by to keep you from swaying too much, and the warmth of his side kept you grounded.

“my flight leaves early in the morning,” he said.

“i know…”

you turned to him and were surprised to see tears brimming in his eyes. taehyun didn’t cry much, but he looked at you so solemnly that the gravity of everything began to crash down on you. you met his gaze and when you touched your cheek, you realized that your own tears were starting to fall too.

“y/n…” he grabbed both your hands in his, giving them a firm squeeze. “i’m sorry i had to do this.”

you attempted to croak out another “i know,” but your voice broke before you could get the words out. your tears flowed so much that your vision blurred, and you choked back a sob.

he moved forward and held you close, one hand patting your back gently and the other still grasping onto your hand. you buried your head in his chest and sobbed as you inhaled his scent for the last time. he wore the cologne you had gifted him for his birthday, fresh and musky but a little sweet, and the memory of the gift made you sob harder.

the two of you said nothing for several moments. taehyun repeated another “i’m sorry, love” into your hair and squeezed you a bit tighter. the top of your head felt damp as his own tears fell more freely.

you had remained calm in the week since he announced the breakup; it had been a perfectly rational decision that suited the both of you. taehyun was moving overseas to continue training for his boxing career, and he knew that you had no intentions of moving with him when your own career was starting to take off. he hated the thought of a long-distance relationship that neither of you wanted, and just imagining the loneliness and the arguments that would result from it made him shudder. so when he proposed that you two break up while you were still on good terms, you agreed.

it makes perfect sense, you told yourself; if you had stayed together, you both would have been unhappy. but now, sobbing in his arms and feeling his heartbeat for the last time, a different kind of unhappiness wrapped around you. already you could feel the cold of not having him by your side, the silence from not listening to him chatter about something he had read, the emptiness of losing the man you loved with your whole being for two years. you held onto him tightly, as if doing so would keep the future would coming and let him stay.

when your tears finally subsided, you lifted your head to meet taehyun’s eyes. his forehead rested on yours and he lifted a hand to brush away a lingering tear from your cheek. you closed your eyes, savoring the small act of affection, and he leaned in for one last kiss.

his lips felt gentler on yours than they had ever been.

一

you barely slept that night, and in the first hours of the morning you and taehyun exchanged your last texts goodbye before he was due for his flight. he had left for the airport with his training team, no outsiders allowed, so you wished him farewell from the solitude of your room.

your emotions came in waves in those hours. just when you thought you were finally at peace with the end of your relationship, the ache in your heart would start up once again, and the pain filled your senses so much that it would keep you from sleeping. the flood of emotions subsided for good only later that morning; your energy crashed and you fell asleep in an instant despite the bright sun outside. when you awoke it was already well into the afternoon.

you lifted your head from the bed and reached for the phone on your nightstand, barely getting up to do so. taehyun usually sent you a text as soon as he arrived somewhere new, and though it made no sense to expect one from him 一 as of today, he and you were no longer a couple 一 your heart still jumped in expectation out of sheer habit. maybe, just maybe, he had sent one last text... one more “one last”...

what you did not expect was an unread voicemail.

you pressed to listen, and the sound of taehyun’s voice alone was enough to bring you to tears.

hey, y/n. so i finally landed here... i tried calling you but you didn’t pick up. i just wanted to tell you thank you for these last two years. i wish we had more time together but... (a sigh.) i was happy, i really was. you have no idea how amazing of a person you are... you’re incredibly caring, you brighten people’s days, you always listen to me and you work hard not just for yourself but for the people you care about. including me... and i hope that you, well, you stay the amazing person i fell in love with. no, i know you will be. and i hope you’ll be happy always. um, that’s all... (his voice breaks.) no, that’s not all. i love you, y/n. i love you.

#txt x reader #taehyun x reader #txt x you #taehyun x you #kang taehyun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #taehyun imagines #txt angst #taehyun angst #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #bhj's 300 follower event 🖤#bhj: violet's works

181 notes · View notes

beefrobeefcal · 22 days ago

Text

Malicious Compliance feat. Dieter Bravo & gn!reader

Summary: Dieter is a difficult human sometimes.

Pairing: Dieter x gn!reader | Rating: Teen but still MDNI | Word Count: 813

Content Warnings: obscene amount of money spent on undies, boner, dieter being a little shit, brief mention of past drug and alcohol use,

Author's Notes: for my beloved @perotovar - they gifted me the following:

weirdly particular about his underwear. will only wear brand new ones, out of the pack. that is, when he wears underwear ofc

and I ran with it. apologies for how stupid this is.

Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @jennaispunk for their eyes.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

This needed to stop.

You’d gotten a notification for another shipment from NADS for 300 pairs of underwear, totalling just shy of $10,000.

You stared at the email in front of you, eyes weary, debating if this was really the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

*****

Dieter had grown up with parents who enabled every curiosity and quirk he had, both being creatives in the entertainment industry. That, combined with the late-diagnosed ADHD and self medicating with drugs and alcohol for decades, had resulted in some interesting coping mechanisms and fixations. The one currently causing the biggest rift was his malicious compliance.

“I can’t do it!”, he dramatically screeched from the top of the stairs. He was wearing your feather trimmed housecoat and a speedo, staring down at you with a scowl when you asked him to please wear the ridiculously expensive underwear at least three times.

“Dee baby -”, you pleaded with him from the foyer below. “Honey, this is getting ridicu-”

“No!”, he barked, picking up the housecoat and marching down the stairs. “No, I have done what you asked and now you’re giving me shit for it!”

“Dieter, I am trying to work with you here.” Your tone grew firmer and louder to match his energy. “But when you spend almost $10,000 on underwear that won’t even last you six months then have a weekly fucking burning party to ‘do away with’ the ones you wore?? It is too much!”

You watched him continue to stomp down the stupidly long, curved staircase, face bunched in frustration.

“I don’t like wearing them more than once and you said -”, he snipped, pointing at you as he got closer. “- you said I had to start wearing underwear and not go freeballing in public!”

You could hear the pinch in his voice that he got when he was getting worked up (and maybe a bit irrational) over being called out on something.

You were getting close to being at your wit’s end. Taking a deep breath to try and calm down, you softened your tone, and gently gripped the finger he was pointing at you, pulling and guiding him closer. “Baby - Dieter, I know I asked you wear underwear when you go out, but this is wasteful and -”

Dieter stomped his foot. “Fuck the planet!”

You paused at his outburst and you desperately tried to hide the smile working its way onto your face. Dieter was a lot of things but not being eco-conscious was not one of them. You knew you had to try a different tactic.

“Dieter baby…”, you cooed, stepping closer to him. “I know you don’t like being told what to do, but the paps got a picture of you leaving the gym. In shorts. Mid stride.” You tilted your head and smiled softly at him. “You know what I’m talking about.”

He sighed, a frustrated release of tension shivered out of his body and he rolled his eyes. “I know! They saw my balls and the tip. But it was just the tip! No shaft! No pubes!”

You raised your brows at him, letting him know silently that you were not agreeing with him, nor letting him off the hook with that weak argument.

He huffed and stomped his foot again. “Jesus fucking Christ! I just -”.

But it was all for not; as soon as he locked eyes with you, he groaned, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, then let out a huff as his shoulders dropped.

“Why can’t I just do what I want?”, he whined, trying to keep his frown from breaking into a smile as he pulled you into his arms.

You grinned and kissed his forehead, then peppered your kisses down the bridge of his nose and to his lips. “Because you’re voicing a fox in a family friendly movie and flashing people your dick and balls in short-shorts is not good PR.”

He sighed and you could feel him smile against your mouth, murmuring. “You could be on to something.”

You opened your mouth to speak and Dieter took the opportunity to kiss you deeply, his tongue pushing in against yours. He held you firmly against him and you could feel his length hardening against your lower abdomen.

You knew he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew you’d caught on to his malicious compliance and he was trying to woo you away from poking further at his flawed logic.

Dammit. You loved him too much for it not to work.

*****

After the 300 pairs of NADS underwear manifested on your porch, you were happy to see that Dieter was wearing each pair more than once.

But what you were not happy about were the next round of pap photos of Dieter leaving the gym wearing only a huge grin and his underwear - nothing else.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble #🥩

58 notes · View notes

chitty-chitty-bang-bang-bang · 1 month ago

Text

“You’re dead and out of this world” (Nandor x vampire!reader)

Requested by @hannahbisssssss

Word count: 1,174

Age Restrictions: 16+ (based on adult media)

Trigger Warnings/Tags: Anxiety, emotional breakdown, hurt/comfort, fluff, mostly platonic, could be read as romantic

Synopsis: You knew you were dead. Of course you did. But seeing your grave in person just like that was… more than you could take.

Author’s note: I’m sorry I died writing this. Blame the exams and assignments :(

____________________________________

“I am almost fully sure it’s supposed to be somewhere around here…” You mumbled examining the map once again.

“I think we’re lost, [reader]. I don’t see anything that looks like what you’ve described.” Nandor looked around.

The only things that could be seen for miles and miles were trees. Somewhere in this forest was supposed to be your grave. Obviously, it was empty. But your relatives still wanted to honour you by burying your valuables, which you desperately wanted to get back. This treasure hunt started a few days ago when you found a map that led to your old home. You didn’t want to go there alone, because who knows what could be hiding in these bushes so you took Nandor with you. But now it was apparent that your childhood home was long gone and overgrown with greenery.

“No, I swear… I swear, it was right here!” You said pointing to your left. “It was exactly 300 steps away from the river… It… It’s supposed to be right here.” You started looking around frantically.

“Maybe you were just mistaken. It was hundreds of years ago, you wouldn’t remember it perfectly if you wanted to.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember where I was born either. It’s not that strange. Let’s forget it and go home, it would be bad if we stayed in the forest until the sun came up.”

“Nandor, please, can we look just a little bit more? I have a strong feeling, that it’s somewhere near.” Pleading wasn’t beneath you, if it meant actually finding any remains of your previous life.

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed and gave in, following you deeper into the forest. He was probably right and your mind just mislead you about the location of your former house, and yet you stubbornly walked along the river, looking around for anything resembling it. You heard Nandor’s heavy steps stop abruptly and turned to look at whatever made him halt.

“[reader], did flowers grow near your home?” He pointed to the other side of the river, where a small meadow of lilac unfolded.

A sharp breath got caught in your throat, because in the middle of that meadow was a big rock, that looked like no other than a gravestone. For some reason, you suddenly felt uneasy and anxious to go near it. It was your grave. The one that your close ones came to, when they wanted to mourn your demise. The one your family worked so hard to set up.

You immediately teleported to the other side of the river, running up to the tombstone and starting to dig aggressively, not sparing your fingers, clawing your way through the moist ground. You couldn’t bear to look at whatever was written on your grave. It’s not like you would understand it anyway. The language in which it was written no longer exists and you certainly don’t remember how to read it. But just the mere thought of recognising one of your relatives’ carving chilled your already cold bones. Nandor joined the digging, as both of you went deeper and deeper into the dirt, until your hands started to bleed stale dark blood.

You’ve reached it. You’ve reached the bottom. And there it was, a big wooden box, definitely not in the best shape, as it was dirty and lumpy with moisture. You gently took it out and looked at Nandor for a few seconds, contemplating whether you actually wanted to open it in front of him or not. You were already fairly emotional and seeing whatever is inside might just push you over the edge.

“Go on, open it.” Nandor nodded at the box in your hand. He probably wasn’t fully aware of the weight of this situation.

You hesitantly undid the simple buckle, that held it shut and peeked into the contents, but it wasn’t quite what you expected. Those weren’t any of your valuables that you left behind or some relics. These were gifts. A carved wooden doll of you, several handwritten letters, several pieces of cloth from each of your family member’s clothes.

You felt repressed memories flood back into your brain, pulling you in a whirlpool of nostalgia and grief. You missed them so much, more than you’d ever like to admit to yourself, so you just forced yourself to stop ever thinking about your family and it worked well so far. But here you were, crying like a little child, clutching this wooden box, pretending it was your lifeline. As if your whole being depended on this very collection of useless trinkets.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, as you desperately tried to regain control over your own body. You didn’t need to breathe, yet somehow still managed to keep running out of breath. It was as if the world was closing in on you at that moment and you had no idea how to let go of those ghosts of the past.

From the corners of your vision, you noticed Nandor. He was surely not expecting your sudden breakdown and his eyes were darting from you, to the box, to the grave and back to you. For a second, he had no idea what to do and you couldn’t blame him, because you didn’t either. He slowly made his way closer to where you were sitting.

Just when you felt like there was no resolution to this situation, another pair of cold hands wrapped around your shoulders and gently pulled you into his chest. He ran his fingers through your hair slowly and whispered something in Farsi, that you couldn’t quite make out. You leaned closer into his embrace, letting him soothe you on his own.

It felt so nice. Rarely ever in your undead existence did you feel warmth. But here, it was warm all over. If not physically, then definitely emotionally. Nandor wasn’t the one to show outright affection often, so this moment felt very special.

“Are you okay?” He asked, a bit nervous about accidentally making it worse, because it definitely happened in the past.

“I’m better… Thank you.” You replied quietly, still shaken and in the process of collecting yourself after the episode. He wanted to pull away, but you stopped him. “Can we just stay like this for a while?”

“Yes. Yes, we can.” He returned to his original position.

An awkward bit of silence hung over your heads, but you let it. This wasn’t a moment for either of you to speak, this was a moment to savour in silence and cherish it while it lasted. You weren’t sure how much time passed with just the two of you in this position, but it was enough for the two of you to see the sky starting to slowly brighten, which meant it was time to find a shelter, until you can come back out at night.

The two of you solemnly backed away from each other and in a wordless agreement started to walk in the direction of the nearest forester’s house…

#what we do in the shadows x reader #wwdits fanfic #wwdits x reader #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #fanfic #x reader #nandor the relentless x reader #nandor x reader #nandor the relentless #nandor what we do in the shadows

54 notes · View notes

adrunkskeletonsduck · 2 years ago

Text

Tʜᴇ Wᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ Yᴏᴜʀ Wᴏʀᴅs | Pᴀʀᴛ 3

➜ Pairing: Aonung x fem!sully!reader

➜ Warnings: kissing, fluff, not properly proof read.

➜ Word Count: 0.9k

➜ Notes: Thank you for 300??? Like this is honestly insane, I appreciate all the love I’ve received for this mini series, y’all are amazing! Please tell me if I forgot any warnings, and a reminder that my inbox is always open for asks!

Also I feel like this is kinda bad...anyways enjoy <3

Pᴀʀᴛ 1 | Pᴀʀᴛ 2 | Pᴀʀᴛ 3

Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

Aonung watched from afar as you handed the necklace to Tsireya, a shy smile on your face as she took it from you and examined it happily. She pulled you into a hug with a bright smile, thanking you profusely and complementing your work before tying it around her neck.

A sense of jealousy bubbled within the boy as he watched the friendly exchange. Since when had you been friends? Let alone friends close enough to gift each other things.

It wasn’t fair, he thought, that you were gifting things to a practical stranger while shoving him - someone who you knew and had showed very obvious romantic interest in you, or at least to his standards - was being shoved aside.

He turned away, unable to watch as Tsireya ran her fingers across the finely woven thread and handpicked stones that sat on her neck and walked away.

Aonung made many more little check-ins on you in the next few days, often times his time was cut short by his own jealousy or sorrow. He was following you around like a lost puppy and although he would never admit it, in the short time you had stopped speaking to him, he had actually come to miss you. You’d been on his mind constantly as he tried to figure out how to fix his actions and make up for his harsh words from the other night.

“Hey are you even listening?” Rotxo asked as he stopped, planting his feet in the sand and looking at Aonung.

“What- Yeah of course I am!” Aonung responded, lying straight to his teeth to his bestfriend. He'd only been half listening to Rotxo as he talked about his latest village ‘adventures’. Rotxo opened his mouth to argue that he really hadn't been, when they were interrupted by a body colliding with Aonung. Aonung looked down, a glare set on his face as he got ready to spit venom at whoever had just bumped into him, only for the words to hitch in his throat as he saw who it was.

That was the other thing, ever since your argument with Aonung, he had been on edge, tense and extra mean. He’d begun picking on your brothers even more, waving off his friends and getting angry over the smallest of things. The boy just didn’t know how to handle losing someone over his own stupidity, and it was eating at him.

“i’m sorr-” you began to apologize, looking up but you cut yourself off as you saw it was him. Your face fell, jerking your hands back from his torso like he’d burned you and glaring at him. He just stared down at you blankly, unsure of what to say or do – he always felt unsure around you. Suddenly the air felt thick as the two of you stared at each other. Rotxo was quick to pick up on the tension that now surrounded the two of you like an aura, mumbling something about needing to go help his father and running off.

“Y/N...” Aonung started, and immediately you were pushing past him, refusing to waste your time on another of his bullshit apologies. He grabbed your arm, preventing you from running of and forcing you took look at his pleading gaze and your resolve crumbled. No matter how mad you were at him, your heart still seemed to be in the palm of his hands.

“What?” you seethed, yanking your arm out of his grasp, “Are you here to tell me how ridiculous I’m being again?” he shook his head, casting his gaze to the ground and swallowing his pride as he prepared himself to be transparent with you.

“I just – I just really miss you.” He looked guilty and regretful as he spoke, he even sounded genuine. For a moment you wanted to put it all behind you and forgive him because you’d missed him too. You blinked, snapping yourself out of your thoughts and steeling yourself. He didn’t deserve forgiveness after what he’d done.

“Aonung I already told yo-” he sighed in frustration, mumbling curses to himself. Reaching out, he grabbed you by your forearm and pulled you into him. You stumbled forward, hands placing themselves on his chest, you opened your mouth to ask what the hell he was doing and looking up only to be cut off as he captured your lips with his. Your eyes widened in surprise as he kissed you, your brain short circuiting as you froze.

Only when you began to feel him pull away did you come back to your sense, slipping your eyes shut and moving a hand to cup his face and pull him back down to kiss him back. He smiled into the kiss, placing his hands onto your waist as he kissed you. Hips molding against yours in a slow flurry of passion, each kiss hotter than the last until he was biting at your bottom lip gently, and then letting it go with a wet ‘pop’ as you pulled away with a small smile.

Pressing his forehead against yours, Aonung spoke,

“You still mad at me?” he asked, and you nodded with a hum,

“Very.”

“I’m really sorry, I just didn’t know how to show you I liked you so I picked on you and I just took it to far, and I have no idea what you're going through but whatever it is I want to be there for you,” he said with a sigh, sincerity evident in his voice as he poured his heart out to you.

“You could have just told me like a normal person,” you snipped in amusement.

“Yeah...” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’ll make it up to you though. I swear.” You nodded in agreement, placing a hungry kiss against his lips as you mumbled,

“Let’s finish this first.”

@oomietopia@iam-mentally-unstable@yeosxxx@heartueheartue@lola-bunn1@eywas-heir@sseleniaa@shebeast7121scared@a-romantic-twst

#adrunkskeletonsduck #x reader #avatar the way of water #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #avatar twow #Aonung fic #fluff #avatar fic #avatar

1K notes · View notes

imjustasimpxd · 1 year ago

Text

My Angel (Part Three)

➬ Reiner Braun x Fem reader

Part one | Part two | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

Summary : Reiner was always taught that the devils of Paradis were vicious creatures, but what is he supposed to do when he soon finds himself reluctantly falling for one? Or when he is forced to go back to Marley and leave her altogether?

Word count : Almost 4, 300 words

Warnings : nothing really, reader is upset and isolates herself, Jean comforting reader,

Author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : this fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

***Important Note***

Hello my dears, I’m sorry for going on hiatus HAHA, I was super busy with school and work, plus on top of that I had major personal issues that were just too overwhelming to deal with at the time; and I couldn’t even write at all until I got it solved. I was under a lot of stress and was feeling really down about a lot of things in my life so I stopped writing for a little while. But I’m doing better now and I started writing again! So here’s the long awaited chapter three :))) I’m legit just gonna be turning this into a series so stay tuned for more parts! I appreciate your support and patience! <333

“Y/n?” There was a gentle voice at your door, followed by a few quiet knocks against the wood. “Y/n, can I come in?”

Your head slowly lifted from the fetal position you had succumbed to, your vision still blurry with tears as they glanced across your bedroom to the entryway. Barely anything was visible in the dark expanse of your room, except the silhouette of a shadow under your door; a shadow you quickly recognized as Jean’s.

“Yeah, I guess.” You answered his request, quickly lifting your fingers to wipe away the tears littering your skin.

The door then opened slowly, allowing the light from the outside hallway to seep through; its piercing glow caused your eyes to squint after being in the dark for so long. Although, once you began to adjust to the brightness, you were able to make out Jean’s figure entering your room, along with a tray of food he was holding in his hands.

“Hey,” his voice was soft, a tender smile lining his lips as he walked over to your bedside; one of his hands then reached towards your nightstand to turn on the lamp. “There, that’s better. Did you turn nocturnal or something?” He teased, hoping to cheer you up in some small way.

Although, as his eyes glanced toward you, seeing no alleviation in your downcast expression, he realized it was going to take much more than a simple joke to bring you out of this fog you were enclosed in.

“I uh, I noticed you didn’t come down for dinner again.” Jean sighed and spoke with a gentle tone, awkwardly trying to change the subject. “So here, I brought you something.” He quickly stretched his arms outward to show you the tray of food he was holding, hoping it would improve your mood; even by the smallest amount.

You grinned faintly at his gesture. “Thanks, you can set it on my desk. I’ll eat it later.”

Jean’s eyebrows lowered at your words; that wasn’t the answer he was hoping for.

You said the same exact thing when he visited last night, and as he walked over to your desk to set your meal down like you asked, he realized it was foolish of him to believe you.

Already sitting there was the plate he previously brought you yesterday; the same one you promised you wouldn’t allow to go cold.

The food was uneaten, its texture now dry and spoiled after sitting out all night; even the fork he settled beside your plate was in the same exact spot he positioned it in before he left.

A disappointed sigh escaped Jean’s lips as he set the new meal down on your desk, knowing it would go to waste as well.

It’s a pity, had you not wasted it, Sasha would’ve been more than happy to eat at least half of your serving for you; just like she always did.

She used to demand to sit next to you for every meal, because you were the only one who was kind enough to let her steal your food. It started off as just a few bites of course, nothing too covetous, but, as time went by, she started unintentionally stealing almost half your plate.

She’d always apologize thoroughly for it though; she even began buying you a couple sweets from the local shop afterward to make up for it.

Sooner or later, it became a normal routine for you both. She’d eat her portion, as well as half of yours, then later she’d get you something in return. It was a fair trade, and it brought the two of you closer in the process.

Every meal since then was quite entertaining; not to mention loud. It always started with your thunderous laughter after Sasha, once again, scarfed down her food too fast that she ended up coughing. Following that was Connie’s usual “slow down, the food isn’t going anywhere,” comment that would always spark a brainless argument between the two.

Once their fight got more heated than just trivial little jabs, Jean would always step in and order them to cut it out. And every single time, almost like clockwork, Connie would call Jean his permanent nickname of “horse-face” that immediately had the whole table erupting in laughter; especially Eren.

Every meal it was something, and every single time you were doubling over in a convulsing laughter that you couldn’t breathe from. Between Sasha’s coughing, the silly arguments, and the non-stop jokes: the dinner table was always eventful, and your smile was always present.

But now, things had changed.

Ever since the catastrophe that occurred two weeks ago, you stopped attending dinner; and for once, the table was relatively silent.

With only one plate to tackle, Sasha didn’t eat as frantically as she used to. Because of that, Connie’s comments about her speed weren’t made anymore, and Jean didn’t have to play patrol officer and break up any more fights. There weren’t as many jokes for Eren to laugh at, or a noise problem that Mikasa could complain about.

For the first time, the dinner table was quiet, uncomfortably quiet.

Your seat remained vacant for the past two weeks, as did Reiner and Bertholdt’s; but no one needed to ask why, the reason for that was already blatantly clear.

It pained them all to sit at that table without you, to witness the way you isolated yourself, but they knew better than to confront you about it.

There was no point in discussing it, lest they wanted to rehash their grievances for the hundredth time.

So, Jean resorted to bringing your meals directly to you instead; that way you could still get the food you needed without having to interact with anyone before you were ready.

That in itself became a routine of its own: Jean would come to check on you in the early mornings when you’d skipped breakfast, bringing you something light to start your day with; and then at night he repeated the process.

And every single time he came to check up on you, your face wore the same grief-stricken expression as the day before.

Of course, he didn’t exactly expect you to be bursting with joy after what had happened; it was completely normal for you to be upset about it.

Reiner and Bertholdt were their friends after all; their comrades who they fought alongside for years. It was a stab to the heart to be betrayed by them, but, what’s worse is things didn’t stop there either. After the betrayal was the battle, the same battle that wiped out more than half of the military corps, including their trusted commander.

As if the betrayal itself wasn’t already agonizingly painful, the death toll that followed was more than enough reason to feel as dejected as you were right now. It was the bloodiest mission you’d ever encountered before, and the aftermath was beyond heartbreaking, especially since the enemy still managed to escape in the end.

Jean understood why you were isolating yourself; others did too for a little while. And though he wanted to, the reason he never pushed you about rejoining the land of the living was because he knew you were hurting; and the last thing he wanted to do was make things worse for you.

But as his eyes narrowed in on that plate of wasted food you promised him you’d eat, he realized he might’ve been too lenient on you.

You never ate a whole lot of what he would bring you, but you were still getting something, and that was enough for Jean.

Although now that you’d stopped eating altogether, that was officially his last straw.

“What’s the point in telling me you’ll eat later if you never do?” Jean suddenly spoke up, causing you to flinch slightly at the sudden noise.

His voice sounded stiff; almost as if he was frustrated at you. Your head tilted upward to examine the expression across his face, and sure enough, you realized your assumption was correct. His jaw was clenched together tightly, and his eyes stared you down with an irritated glare.

“Well?!” He asked once again, his tone increasing with annoyance as he awaited your response.

“I’m just not hungry right now.” You answered dismissively, as if he was foolish to even be asking such a thing. “I’ll eat when I wake up.” Your words were followed by a subtle roll of your eyes. Your hands then gripped the blanket lying next to you, petulantly yanking it over your shoulders as you plopped down onto your pillow. “Now, goodnight.”

You knew full well that you were acting a bit childish, especially when Jean was only trying to look out for you. But you were too fed up at this point to apologize for your stubbornness.

Every single time you saw anyone it was always the same “look who decided to join us” comment, or worse: a dozen or so questions that you didn’t feel like answering.

Most of them were the usual “how are you feeling?” or “do you want to talk about it?” However, there were always those irritating ones they just had to ask: the ones about Reiner.

As if you even had the mental strength to think about him in the first place, they were still expecting a full report on what you thought about his actions, or what you’d do now that he’s gone.

Their curiosity always seemed to far outweigh their regard for your feelings on the matter; that’s why you resorted to isolation. It quickly became too overwhelming to deal with the bombardment of questions they were ready to unload on you; so, you stayed away, refusing to give them the chance to do so in the first place.

But now Jean was doing the same thing: invading your barracks and asking those bothersome questions you didn’t feel like answering.

Maybe you were just emotional right now, and perhaps being a little too sensitive. Nevertheless, you just wanted him to leave; you just wanted to be left alone.

“Fine then.” You heard Jean scoff. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you just closed your eyes, nuzzling your face into the blanket as you waited to hear the usual defeated sigh slip past his lips; along with the closing of your bedroom door that would follow soon after.

Just a few more seconds and he’d storm out; surrounding your ears with a jarring echo after he tumultuously slammed that wooden door behind him.

Any second now…

Just one more minute, and then you’d hear it; you were sure of it!

However, the seconds kept creeping by, and there was still no sound to indicate the opening of that door. Rather, an unexpected sound emerged from the silence instead.

You immediately turned around to see what the commotion was about, as well as to find out why he was even still here in the first place.

You didn’t exactly know what you expected to see when you glanced over your shoulder, but watching Jean pull the chair out from under your desk and take a seat was definitely not what you imagined.

“What are you doing??” You groaned in annoyance.

He obviously wasn’t getting the hint that you wanted him to leave, or perhaps he was and just refused to meet your demands.

“Oh? Did you need something?” He asked, as if this was normal, as if you were the one disrupting his peace.

“I thought you were leaving.”

“I never said that.” He leaned back in your chair, extending his legs across the floor; almost like he planned on staying a while.

You stared him down with a glare, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, his gaze was fixated out the window, admiring the moon’s captivating glow from the comfort of your dimly lit bedroom.

“Fine, stay then, I don’t care.” You snapped, laying back down with a dramatic huff; continuing your sulking.

Why was he being so difficult? You just weren’t in the mood to be around anyone? Couldn’t he understand that?

Granted, you hadn’t been in the mood to be social for the past two weeks now, but regardless, why couldn’t he just leave you be? That’s all you wanted.

“It’s not going to change anything you know?

“Huh??” You immediately turned back around, quite displeased at him.

If Jean was going to insist on staying, he could at least have the decency to remain silent so that you could sleep. Evidently, he didn’t agree with that notion.

“It’s not going to change anything.” He repeated.

“No, I heard what you said,” you groaned impatiently, not knowing how much more you could take of this. “But what are you talking about?!”

Jean’s voice was quiet but stern, his eyes soon looked over at you with a sympathetic gaze. “Isolating yourself, starving yourself, everything you’ve been doing for the past two weeks.” He paused momentarily, letting out a gentle sigh before speaking once more. “None of it’s going to bring him back, you know?”

Your eyes widened at Jean’s words, your breathing coming to a halt in your lungs. You immediately looked away from him, avoiding his gaze as you stared at the ceiling; trying to hold back those tears you could feel collecting in your eyes.

Jean was right.

None of your sulking or lack of eating would ever be enough to bring Reiner back; No amount of isolation could change the fact that he was gone.

Reiner had chosen to betray and abandon those who trusted him, those who loved him, and that was all there was to it.

He was clearly never coming back, and even if he did, things would never be the same between the two of you again; or anyone else for that matter.

There was nothing left to do except move on and accept the reality of your situation.

But even so, you still couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Despite the things he’d done, you still loved Reiner, and your heart still longed to be with him.

“I know.” You finally spoke up, “but I wish it would.” A gentle sigh jerked past your lips as you quickly turned back around to face the wall again, clearly not wanting to talk about the subject any longer.

Jean eyes lowered at your response, frustrated that you were shutting down once again; just like you’ve been doing for the past two weeks now.

He quickly slumped against the back of your chair with an enervated sigh, feeling like giving up on his efforts to pull you out of this darkness.

Jean had been trying his best to be gentle with you, to make sure you didn’t feel like he was pressuring you. He’d been patient with your stubbornness, he’d been calm and caring, but you didn’t seem to recognize any of that; all you were concerned about was the agony you allowed to cripple you from the inside, and it hurt to be a witness to it.

It hurt to see the way you were torturing yourself, pretending as if you deserved to be put through this pain. It was almost as if you were acting like this was your fault, like you had done something to deserve this.

But that wasn’t true; and Jean could see now that you’d forgotten that.

None of this was your fault, Reiner was the only one to blame here.

It was cruel of him to put you through this; to make you believe you weren’t good enough to make him stay, that you weren’t special enough to be loved by someone.

What kind of monster does that to a person; a person he loves especially?!

Jean couldn’t understand it, it angered him.

Did you truly believe you deserved to be abandoned? Left unloved?

Was Reiner the one who taught you to think that way? Jean’s blood was beginning to boil at just the thought of that.

It was all so frustrating, so heartbreaking. You weren’t the same person anymore, and Reiner was the cause of it.

Ever since his betrayal, Reiner had taken away a piece of you, the same one that used to laugh so loudly at the dinner table, the same one that contained your beautiful smile.

Your true self was withering away because of the crimes carried out by a man who promised to love you; but Jean refused to let it go without putting up a fight.

He wouldn’t stand by and watch the best part of you fall to pieces just because of some idiot who didn’t realize what he had before he threw it away.

You had to be saved from this, reminded that you didn’t need Reiner to be fulfilled, that you were already enough as you were.

You needed to remember all the good things in life that didn’t include Reiner, all the people that still cared deeply for you; people you seemed to forget about within the span of the past two weeks.

If you were ever going to be able to move on, ever going to heal from this: you needed to let Reiner go.

Jean sighed quietly as he stood up from the chair, attempting to try a different approach in hopes to get through to you.

He had tried everything he could think of without breaking any boundaries, but it got him nowhere. This was now officially his last resort, his final chance to rescue you from this darkness before it consumed you fully; leaving no trace left of the person you used to be.

If this didn’t work, then Jean could at least say he tried everything he possibly could; but hopefully, it doesn’t come to that.

Jean inhaled nervously to prepare himself before he slowly made his way over to your bed; placing a tender hand on your shoulder. “Y/n?” Jean spoke in a quiet voice, trying his best not to make you feel overwhelmed or anxious. “Can you please look at me?”

You didn’t move at first, you didn’t want to.

You were fully aware he was just trying to help, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to open up again without breaking down; and that was the last thing you needed right now.

“Y/n please.” Jean’s voice was desperate and pleading, his hand gently rubbing along your shoulder to, hopefully, coax you into giving in.

You let out a gentle sigh, tempted to just unload everything at once now that the offer was standing. It was hurting to keep everything inside like this; bottling it up and hiding it away as if it didn’t matter, as if you didn’t feel like screaming until your throat became dry and sore.

It was becoming too much to bear; the burden was too heavy to carry on your own anymore, and Jean had obviously noticed.

As usual, he could see right through you; penetrating through every wall you built to conceal your true feelings.

Maybe it was easier to stop fighting him, maybe, you really should just give in.

“I just want to know you’re okay.”

Jean’s voice was kind and sympathetic; the gentle caressing of his hand against your shoulder matching that tender tone he was currently using.

He sounded so desperate, so genuinely worried about you; something you couldn’t just ignore no matter how scared you were to open up again.

“Please…”

He pleaded, and by the tone of his voice you could tell this would be the last time; that this was your last chance to accept his offer of confiding in him before he would give up.

Despite your reservations to it, you knew you couldn’t refuse this time, lest you wanted to sign the contract to submit to your grief eternally.

If you were ever going to recover, ever going to restore that old version of yourself that you missed so much, then you’d have to grab ahold of this opportunity before it slipped away forever.

A gentle sigh rumbled in your throat before your body slowly turned to face Jean, watching the way he retracted his hand from your shoulder as you moved.

“I’m not okay.” You shook your head, eyes welling up with tears already. “And I don’t know how to be okay again.” You spoke with a shaken tone, feeling your lip quiver gently as you stared at him.

Barely ten seconds into speaking and you were already struggling to keep it together; feeling your heart clench in your chest at the recollection of all those bottled up thoughts now resurfacing.

Jean’s expression lowered at the sight of you, as if it was hurting him to watch this.

His body gently kneeled in front of your bed, aligning his eyes with yours as he reached to stroke your shoulder once more. “It’s okay, you don’t have to do this alone, no one expects you to.” He said reassuringly, staring at you with a sympathetic and tender gaze.

“I just-“ A sudden sob appeared at the back of your throat, choking the words you were trying to let escape. “I just don’t understand it. Why did he leave me?” You sniffled gently in between sentences. “Why didn’t he care about me?” A quiet sob slipped past your mouth, much to your dislike.

It was pathetic, embarrassing even; the way you were falling apart over this, not even lasting a good minute before turning into a crying mess.

Your eyes diverted away from Jean, cowering behind the blanket you were now burying your face into; hoping to muffle the sound of your sobs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, I just…” Your words came to a halt in your mouth as your emotions quickly took over; preventing you from getting a proper word out. “I’m sorry…” You repeated, clenching your eyes shut in humiliation.

You expected to hear a sigh of annoyance right about now, or perhaps even the shutting of the door. However, your body jolted in surprise when you felt the sudden warmth of a person hugging you gently instead.

Your head quickly lifted from the blanket and your eyes widened to see Jean’s face so close to yours; almost making you blush awkwardly at the proximity.

A comforting smile painted across Jean’s lips when he saw you look up at him. “Sorry if this is weird.” he chuckled nervously and quickly let go of the hug; backing away in case you felt uncomfortable. “You just looked like you needed that.”

Your expression softened as you looked at him, feeling a sense of gratitude filling your heart at the way he was attempting to comfort you; even if it was a little awkward at first. “No, it’s okay.” You quickly shook your head in response, granting him a gentle smile in return; one Jean hadn’t seen in two weeks.

Your body quickly sat up and leaned forward, reaching off the bed to where Jean was kneeling and wrapping your arms around him to continue the hug. “You’re right, I do need this.” You spoke in a soothing tone, letting him know you were okay with what he did a few seconds ago; and that it hadn’t pushed you away.

Jean let out a gentle sigh of relief at your actions, a little flabbergasted at how well you were responding to him. Here he was prepared to face your stubborn and dismissive attitude for the millionth time and yet he was faced with a completely unprecedented outcome.

There were no more spiteful comments or hurtful glares coming his way, just a gentle gaze and a pleasant embrace he never anticipated receiving after the state you were in merely seconds ago.

For the first time in two weeks, it seemed the Y/n he once knew, the Y/n he always secretly harbored feelings for, was finally showing herself again; even if just by the smallest amount.

Jean grinned gently to himself, and his arms quickly wrapped around your back to return the unexpected hug. “We’ve all been worried sick about you, ya know?” Jean spoke softly as he tightened his grip around you, allowing his hand to gently caress your back in the process.

“I know,” You uttered quietly, your voice sounding less unhinged and imbalanced as it was before. “And I’m sorry.”

You sniffled gently, your eyes clenching shut and your arms tightening around Jean’s neck as you leaned against him; wanting to stay in his comforting embrace.

Jean chuckled as he felt the way you clung to him; realizing just how desperate your need for reassurance was. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.” He said as he leaned the side of his head against yours, continuing the subtle tracing of his fingers along your back. “Just please don’t do that again, okay?”

You nodded quickly, feeling the sting of tears pricking against your eyes once more. “I won’t, I promise, I’m really sorry.” You apologized again in an uneasy tone, feeling shameful of the way you’d been acting for the past two weeks.

This whole time Jean had been here trying to help you, but you’d just been too consumed in your own misery that you failed to notice the damage you were causing; the pain you were putting him, as well as everyone else, through by isolating yourself like this.

You’d been rude, selfish even; too hyper fixated on your own agony that you’d become blind to the impairment you were projecting onto everyone else.

You’d hoped it wasn’t too late to turn things around and make amends with the people you’d been neglecting for the past two weeks; and a part of you started to grow fearful that you’d missed your chance by now.

However, by the way Jean held you close and leaned his head tenderly against yours, it was obvious that wasn’t the case.

Part one | Part two | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

(I’M LEGIT TURNING THIS INTO A ACTUAL SERIES NOW, OOPSIES) More parts to come soon! :)))

Taglist: @thebadbatch @nervouslad @ah-finally @usagikookiejams @setangel @unwindwithme @milkysuck @realglittereater @cyberdollface @glactict3a @elachapelle1357 @bucky-lents @diavoloslove @be-lla-vie @maaralo @buckysgirl01 @venomfantasies @desiiisstuff @novahaitani @jadasz @viiiik

This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you don’t, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If you’ve had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? 😊

#reiner braun #reiner attack on titan #reiner aot #reiner x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x y/n #reiner braun fluff #reiner braun angst #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean aot #aot jean #aot x reader #aot x female reader

263 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 9 months ago

Note

Hello my lovely, it’s me your babygirl. Remember me? 🥰🥰

I know you’re busy working on fics rn so take as much time as you want to answer!

I’ve got a very important question regarding Felix that I’d love your opinion on it & share my thoughts with you!

*quickly runs to give you the biggest hug & spin you in my arms* 😘

So…. What do we think a Felix x reader wedding would look like at Saltburn? A grand extravaganza with a million guests or an intimate ceremony with just the Cattons?

Obviously they take every opportunity to throw a party at Saltburn so a wedding is the ultimate bash in the eyes of the Cattons.

Or would Felix just decide to change it entirely and just want it to be a tiny intimate thing since he wants this to feel quiet and special. And then maybe some big party another day to the delight of Elspeth and sir James.

For Felix he’s so laid back and in love all he cares about is his girl and what will make her happy. They are so young and in love i wouldn’t be surprised if he proposed on a lazy Sunday morning or a day reading naked in the field, just because he was so blissfully happy he knew there was nobody he’d rather spend these kind of days with for the rest of his life.

Side notes: Venetia would be maid of honor right? I see Elspeth as the mother in law that makes herself heavenly involved with planning and gives her brutally honest opinion picking out the dress 😅 I can even picture stoic Duncan trying to hold back tears while he’s holding a tissue box to Elspeth or sir James while they read their vows.

…

Sorry for the endless ranging but I’m aching to know your thoughts and see if you’ve thought about this too!!

of course i remember you, baby girl! welcome back!

i needed a break from writing, so thank you for sending this, my darling! it's always good to refresh the pallet, and this ask really got me thinking!

let's get into it!

kinda-sorta wedding AU HC's

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 1.4k+

warnings: suspiciously none

so your question all depends on the Reader, but i'll try to answer best i can.

the Saltburn wedding is definitely a huge, extravagant ordeal. the Cattons are well connected, so, it wouldn't just be Felix and Reader's peers attending, but ALL family from both sides, as well as family friends, too. Reader's family is invited to Saltburn a week before matrimony; where they try to help, but the Cattons have hired 3 different wedding planners to make this the most talked-about event in any social circles.

every room in Saltburn is cleaned and decorated. an abundance of flowers are shipped in to be hung from the ceilings and bannisters. there's BOTH a live band and a DJ, an erected outdoor dance floor.

now, i can see two different things: 1. Felix and Reader marry in the local church and then the reception is hosted at Saltburn. 2. they marry on Saltburn's property and still have the big ass reception on the grounds.

either way, it's most def a summer wedding to utilize optimal weather. it's a reason to wear the best clothes, drink expensive liquor excessively, and indulge in gluttony. it's a night designed to make attendants jealous.

there's well over 300 people, Sir James and Elspeth combing through their address books to send invites even to family friends they haven't spoken to in years. they're the kind of parents that take advantage of their child getting married; it's the best excuse to show off and have a grand celebration, to prove the family doesn't do anything half-assed. if they can throw extravagant parties just for the hell of it, they definitely feel pressure to out-do themselves.

it's like this wedding isn't *for* Felix and Reader, but more so for the Cattons to show up and show out. it's not about a union of two people, but an excuse to gloat and smash their privilege in everyone's face.

Felix eats it up 'cause it's all he knows, the spoilt rich boy, but Reader's a little uncomfortable with the sheer size and details of her wedding. but in the same breath, she's relaxed because she KNOWS this is just how the Cattons operate and she doesn't really have to lift a single finger.

so, Reader lets Elspeth plan her ideal wedding - 'cause there's no way she's not involved. they make some decisions together, it's a bonding experience for Reader and her soon-to-be MIL, but for the most part, it's the matriarch doing most of the heavy lifting.

Felix and Reader only get to decide on wedding colors, catering options, and the cake. and even then, they have to endure his family's opinions.

Reader doesn't even get to 100% choose her dress, hair, and make up. Elspeth basically decides everything. i agree with you and think Mrs. Catton would impose herself even on the wedding dress selection, becoming persnickety, opinionated, and a little snarky when Reader shows off her dresses. this causes tension with Reader's family, who think the older woman far too self-important, and maybe it's Reader's mother or sister that stands up to her and insists Elspeth keep quiet since this *isn't* her wedding and they don't want any influences on Reader. they want Reader to choose her perfect wedding dress without scrutiny since she has no say in anything else.

in fact, maybe - juuuuuust maybe - Reader's family takes her to shop for a wedding dress without Elspeth in an effort to dial down the stress. it's not meant maliciously, but Elspeth simply cannot help herself and takes over everything; so, Reader's family figures if she's not there, Reader can make a decision *for herself*.

when Elspeth finds out, she's hurt, but it's Sir James that calms his wife down by reminding her that she had something not-so-nice to say about damn near every single dress Reader tries on. so, she accepts this one detail being out of her control.

the entire wedding screams "old money" because half of the decorations and details are wildly redundant, but there's no such thing as cost to the family. Elspeth is def living vicariously because she thinks she knows best, so she spares no expense - perhaps even going as far as to rent exotic peacocks to roam the grounds simply because the Cattons can!

they're definitely going "Crazy Rich Asians" in the sense that Felix's marriage is going to be the event of the decade, like Collin and Araminta's wedding. again, it's not even about the union but just a chance for the Cattons to remind everyone that they were lesser-than. Felix thinks it's normal, he thinks this is how it's supposed to be 'cause he's def removed from reality, and truth be told, he loves the attention. the bragging rights.

Felix might be a bit more reserved than his family, but he's still a Catton and glamour is *all* he knows, especially for an event like this. he doesn't stand up to his parents because they're paying for everything, which makes him feels as if he's not entitled to an opinion. so, he lets Sir James and Elspeth plan the wedding they want since all Felix has to do is show up. he'll do his best to alleviate stress, acting as a buffer between his betrothed and parents, but he doesn't dare open his mouth.

this is marketed as a once in a lifetime celebration, so nobody is willing to butt heads with Sir and Mrs. Catton.

on that note, yeah, i can see Felix having an intimate proposal. maybe in the field at sunset, maybe at a cafe in town, but not in bed. he's got a flare for the dramatic, so odds are, he's actually down on one knee. he's young, so he doesn't need to make a huge ordeal for the proposal since it's an incredibly intimate moment. he might even proposal on a whim / impulsively. he's had a ring for months, planning the best moment to ask Reader, but he gets anxious and one day, it just happens. it feels right. Felix has that burning feeling that he needs to ask now else he'll fuck up his plan in the future by being so nervous. so, yeah, he just asks one day - barely even thinks about it! he just knows Reader is who he wants, so why plan the "perfect moment" when an opportunity organically presents itself?

now, Venetia can be a bridesmaid, but she's not MOH. again, depends on the reader, but i imagine Reader's sister or her own best friend should be MOH. Reader wants Ven involved in everything, but no, she's not gonna be the one standing next to Reader when she gets married. Ven helps decide bridesmaid dresses, works with Reader's sister and / or best friend to plan the bachelorette party, and is present for any conflict between Reader and Elspeth. she's sorta like a tie breaker because Felix is on Reader's side and Sir James is on Elspeth's. Ven is the one who helps keep Elspeth under control, the only one bold enough to stand up to her mother without fear of repercussions. she sees how Reader is struggling to both have the wedding of her dreams and respect for her MIL, so, Ven imposes herself to give Reader a break. to be the voice Reader lost.

and just because it's fun, YES, Duncan is def in attendance, handing the Cattons and Reader's family tissues during the emotional moments of the wedding. he eats two slices of cake. and for the fuck of it, you bet your ass Duncan lets loose a little and Cabbage Patches on the dance floor.

i think it's nice to imagine Felix being all cute and intimate, but personally, i think he's so far deep in his family's way of living to truly be humble. sure, Reader anchors him to reality, but he still lives this extravagant life so he doesn't know the definition of "humble". but that's why i said, it depends on your reader - but in my opinion, Felix is a little too spoilt to have the forethought to marry privately. or maybe he knows it's a fight not worth having with his parents, that no matter what, they're going to do what they want.

so maybe Felix is the one encouraging Reader to just "go with the flow" because resisting is futile. perhaps Reader comes around to the idea of a grand wedding because she knows she'd never have this sort of experience with anyone else; so, why not bask in it?

ah, i love these. they're so much fun! thank you for sending in, baby girl! all my love 🖤

#felix catton #felix catton headcanon #felix catton headcanons #felix catton x reader #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton imagine #felix catton fluff #fix it felix

106 notes · View notes

the-bad-batch-baroness · 11 months ago

Note

Hey lovely! Congratulations on the milestone! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

I wish to humbly request Tech with a romantic fem!reader. Your choice of spice! (I’m happy with either SFW or suggestive!) 300 words with the prompt 1. "You... you really mean it, don't you?"

Thank you again lovely! 😘😘😘

One Game

Tech x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader

Tags & Warnings: insomnia, fluff

Word Count: 300

Author's Note: MAMA PINEAPPLE, I AM SO SORRY. I got so carried away trying to complete the bingo fics that I let the last three event requests sit idle in my inbox. However, as promised in my New Years post, I have finally completed it!!! Thank you so much for your patience and putting up with me. I hope you like it 💚

The night is late, but your insomnia is out in full force. You toss and turn in your small bunk, as the Marauder careens through hyperspace. You sigh and decide to get out of your bunk to go do something other than trying to fall asleep. As you make your way through the corridor and towards the refresher, you see Tech sitting by himself and staring at his data-pad.

"Can't sleep either?" you say as you approach him.

Tech doesn't look up from his data-pad. "I prefer to work after the others have gone to sleep."

"Oh," you say, slightly disappointed.

"I presume that you cannot sleep?" Tech asks, still tapping on his data-pad.

"You presume correctly," you sigh, then flop down onto the seat next to him.

You both sit in silence for a moment.

"Hey," you say, breaking the silence. "Do you want to play dejarik?"

Tech lifts his eyes over his data-pad. "Not at this time."

"Please?" you ask. "I'm so bored. Just one game?"

Tech sighs. "If it will keep you quiet so I can finish my work, then I will agree."

"Sweet!" you exclaim.

You get up from your seat and set up the game on the holo-projector. You input your team and patiently wait for Tech to set up his team. The game goes on for several turns, and at one point, you thought you might actually beat him, but in the end, he still wins the round.

"You're very good at this," Tech says. "Perhaps we should play another round."

"You…" you say with a shocked expression. "You really mean it, don't you?"

"Mean what?" he asks.

"That's the first compliment you've ever given me," you say with a smile.

"Well," he begins as he adjusts his goggles, "it is a well-deserved compliment."

Event Masterlist

Masterlist

A03

Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndusk @sun-roach @coraex @lickylickylicky @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @starrylothcat @moonwrecked @ladyzirkonia @stunkbiggu @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @dreamie411 @trixie2023 @cw80831 @ca77m3anna @reader6898 @rinwritesfics @t3mpest98 @novas-daydreaming

Join my taglist HERE

Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE

76 notes · View notes

watercolor-hearts · 4 months ago

Note

norrussell + “I can never find my own pulse.” 🧡

You sent the best possible prompt from the list, love at first sight for me, really good idea for it, and then... A day of struggle with actually writing it. Nice. 😃 Also, I said I'd write a scene or something short, the plan was around 300 words, but... 1K it is, I guess, especially for you. ❤ My first Norrussell, charaterization is not my strongest skill but I tried. I hope it's not too bad. 😊

Lando/George • 1027 words • pulse taking • Ao3 link

“Shit,” Lando curses when realizing his wrist feels empty. Jon asked him to take notes of his pulse before, during, and after training and he forgot the most important thing. “Wait, I need to get my watch!”

“Here’s mine, mate” George lifts his hand so his watch is in front of Lando, “You can use it.”

“No, that’s…” Lando says, biting on his tongue because he got himself into a situation he isn’t sure can get out of without George laughing at him. He tries to think about a solution but then quickly realizes he fucked up and there’s no way out,t so he finishes the sentence. “...That’s not smart. Not a smart watch I mean. To monitor my pulse.”

“But… You can still use it for that,” George says, brows furrowed, and yes, he’s right and Lando knows it, but… “You know, press your finger on the artery and count while watching the clock. Eas—”

“I can never find my own pulse,” Lando blurts out and then waits for George to make fun of him for not being able to do such a basic thing.

But… It doesn’t happen. Instead, George takes his left hand.

“Wha—”

“I’m gonna show you where to find your pulse,” he says, “It’s actually quite easy if you know where to look for it.” George turns Lando's hand over to see his palm and wrist and supports it from below with his left hand. “So, the first thing you need to know is that the pulse point in your wrist is on the outer side,” he touches Lando’s forearm on that side to help visually, too. “The artery you’ll feel there is called radial artery, it’s the artery that supplies your hand with blood” George explains, looking at Lando to see if he’s actually paying attention. When Lando looks at him at the same time, George’s smile turns into soft laughter.

“I’m paying attention,” Lando exclaims, “Don’t laugh!”

“Right,” George chuckles, “So, what was the name of the artery again?”

“Radial,” Lando replies, receiving a surprised head tilt from George.

“Blimey, you’re actually paying attention!”

“What a surprise!” Lando rolls his eyes, “But I won’t for long if you don’t finish the lesson soon, Dr. Russell.”

“Oh, so now we’re onto role play, Mr. Norris?” George plays along for a moment but then turns his attention back to Lando’s wrist. “Before we turn this into something else, let’s get back to your pulse. What we already know is that the point we’re looking for is on the outer side of the wrist and it’s the radial artery that runs there. The pulse point is located at the base of your palm and the easiest way to find it is to draw a line from the side of your thumb.”

George puts his pointer and middle finger on Lando’s thumb and slowly draws an imaginary line all the way down to his wrist, the gentleness he does it with makes Lando’s heart flutter. There’s something in George’s touch that always does this. Lando hopes George doesn’t see the redness that’s probably on his face.

“It’s right here,” George announces, stopping at a certain point, and lightly pressing his fingers to the skin. Lando has to take a deep breath because he knows he’ll be in big trouble if he doesn’t tell his body to behave.

“Sometimes people can’t find it because they press too hard and it stops the blood flow. You have to be gentle and pay attention to the soft ‘tap tap’ feeling against your fingertip.” When George finishes the explanation he lets go of Lando’s hand. Lando lets out a sigh of relief, happy that the lesson is over and they can go and train finally, but then George drops the nightmare bomb.

“Now try and find it, and then I’m gonna hold up the watch for you to count,” he says, waiting expectantly. Lando takes a deep breath and nods. Alright. He can do it and then they can finally move on.

He turns his hand upwards and draws the imaginary line with his fingers just like George did, hoping that he’ll actually find the pulse point. When he reaches the base of his palm, he glances at George, hoping for some encouragement.

“Yes, just like that,” George nods, smiling, and puts his right hand on Lando’s back, not knowing about the effect his touch has on Lando’s heart. “It’ll be there, a little bit lower. Press your fingers there and see if you can feel it. Sometimes it takes a bit of time to find it.”

In the next moment, Lando’s face lights up when the ‘tap taps’ George mentioned appear beneath his fingertips. They’re there. He can feel his own pulse. He can’t believe it.

“Now that you’ve found it,” George’s voice brings him back from the heights of this experience, “It’s time to count. You can count for a minute, for half a minute, or even for a quarter of a minute, you just have to multiply if you count for less than a minute. I think you should first try counting for a minute.”

“Alright, I’ll try,” Lando nods and looks at George’s watch and then starts counting the little tap taps beneath his fingers. After a while he realizes that it’s not as difficult as he thought, he was probably just looking for the pulse point in the wrong place or pressing too hard in the past before giving up and buying a smartwatch. But… If he’s honest it’s quite comforting – feeling his pulse. He just wishes it wasn’t so fast, but he can’t control it when George is there.

When the time is up, George lowers his hand and looks at Lando, studying his face.

“Be honest,” he tells him, a smile growing on his face after seeing Lando trying to mask his real reaction. “It’s fast, right?

“That’s none of your business, Russell.”

“Oooh, then it’s even faster than it was when I felt for it,” George grins, “Is it like that because of m—”

“I know what you’re thinking, George Russell,” Lando says, smirking, “I know you way too well…”

#George's like “let me feel it again” and Lando's like “no fucking way” because his heart might actually jump out if #George keeps touching him 😂#norrussell #lando norris #george russell #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #answered asks #landoisokay #my writing #this is what happens when you send a pulse-related prompt to someone who loves pulses #heart things

32 notes · View notes

shubblelive · 2 years ago

Text

— HOW IT WORKS

summary : you have never liked wilbur soot. the two of you just always seemed to butt heads. you’re civil, though, especially because you have mutual friends. one of whom seems to have an ulterior motive.

genre : fluff

warnings : swearing, alcohol/drinking (not to excess) protective!best friend! niki is pissed at wilbur the ENTIRE time, reader has hair that reaches at least their shoulder (type, texture and colour aren’t described), tommy being a shithead

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!cc!reader, one-sided enemies to lovers

pronouns : she/her

featuring : cc!wilbur soot, cc!nihachu, cc!tommyinnit (mentioned)

word count : 1.4k

note : ty for 300, can’t even begin to explain how much i appreciate it tagging @starsyoubreaklikesugardust because of how lovely she is. title stolen from one of my favourite taylor songs ofc

“please, niki,”

he’d been begging for nearly 15 minutes at this point, but niki was stone faced. she was one of his best friends, he knew all the tricks to make her give in. he’d complimented her, talking about her new hair colour and how it suited her. he’d made himself seem as pathetic as possible so she’d be more likely to help. he’d given her begging eyes, trying as hard as he could to convince her.

he only had one more trick left, and after that it would be pure brute force: asking over and over again until she got pissed off enough to either yell at him to fuck off or she’d agree.

“but, niki, please,” she huffed as wilbur started talking again. “imagine,” he pulled his face up beside hers to guide her on his journey of persuasion. “events in which you can hang out with me and not feel guilty. events in which you can hang out with her and not feel guilty. picture not having to be weird and squirmy around me when you say you can’t film with me because you’re filming with her. not having-”

“enough!” niki put her phone down, looking at wilbur, unimpressed. “you know she’d kill me, right?”

“pretty sure she’d thank you if it works out the way i want it to,” wilbur said innocently, and niki picked up a pillow, ready to hit him with it. “come on! for me? for your best friend?”

“the answer is no wilbur,”

“but-”

“no, i already have to listen to you whine about how much she doesn’t like you, i don’t want to have to listen you talk about how much she does.” niki shook her head. “i’m sorry. i can’t help you.”

lo and behold, thanks to brute force it was less than twenty minutes before she finally agreed, and wilbur walked out of her flat armed with his new knowledge.

there was only another 2 weeks before he had to use it. tommy had finally moved out of his shithole apartment, and he had a small get together with a few other brighton streamers. including you.

your cardigan had slipped off your shoulder, and he resisted the urge to pull it back up. not in a predatory “no one should see your shoulders” sort of way, but more in a protective, wanting you to be warm way.

you’d first met wilbur six months ago, and he’d declare it was love at first sight. niki had actually been the one to introduce you, and he’d never be able to thank her enough for all the help she’d given regarding you. the first night, you’d were lovely. all soft smiles and laughing too hard at his shit jokes. he’d brushed a lock of hair off your shoulder and it had given you both goosebumps. wilbur had decided right then and there that before the night was over, he was going to kiss you. or at least attempt to, unless you weren’t interested.

he’d left you alone for fifteen minutes to go get a drink and to use the bathroom, and on his way back he’d been apprehended by tommy. the bastard had made fun of him for how whipped he looked the entire night, and wilbur had been too self conscious to admit he wanted to go back to talk to you. when he’d finally lost tommy’s interest, he’d also apparently lost yours.

you avoided him for the rest of the night, sending short replies whenever he messaged you until finally, he stopped.

he hadn’t dated anyone since, putting it down to it simply not being something important right now. he pointedly ignored the fact that he still really wanted to kiss you.

now, he watched you sip your drink while you chatted with tommy. someone new showed up and tommy had to excuse himself to say hi, and that was when wilbur approached. "fancy seeing you here."

you smiled politely, trying to mask your evident distaste for him. "hi,"

"you look really nice," he tugged gently on the sleeve of your cardigan. "'s this new?"

you pulled back. "thank you. and no, i've had it for a while. i think i see niki, i should go talk to her. have a nice night, wilbur."

perfectly polite, if a little brusque. you floated off, pulling the cardigan back up over your shoulder as you reached your best friend. "what did he want?" niki asked curiously.

"just trying to talk to me," you didn't wanna start a fight, so you waved him off. niki, however, kept pushing.

"yeah? about what?"

"doesn't matter, nik-"

"why do you hate him?"

you shut your mouth. "i don't-"

"yes, you do. and i love you both, and i just want to fix it but i don't know how!" she sounded upset, and you frowned. she took a gulp of the rest of the water in her glass. "i'm going to get enother drink. i'll be back."

so you were left alone in tommy's crowded living room, having pissed off the one person you'd really want to talk to. the only other person who wasn't speaking to someone else was wilbur.

there was no point in staying at this point. you finished your drink and grabbed your bag, stepping out into the hallway to call a taxi. it was raining outside, and you were huddled under the awning as best you could, pulling your cardigan back over your shoulder.

the metal door to the building buzzed as it was open. it was wilbur, black coat pulled tight around him. he shrugged it off, shoving it towards you. rain had started trickling down your back, and you were shaking uncontrollably.

"are you insane?" he had to yell for you to hear him. when you didn’t take the coat, he tossed it at you. you caught it instinctively. "what are you doing?"

"going home." you replied, throwing it over your shoulders, leaving your arms out. "what are you doing here?"

"i came to check on you!"

"we're not friends, wilbur!" you rolled your eyes, rain pounding the top of your head and soaking you to the bone. "what do you want?"

"why do you hate me?"

your voice went up an octave. "why does everyone keep asking me that? i don't hate you! ok, we're fine. just go back inside, my cab's coming." you looked at your phone and your face fell. they'd cancelled on you. "fuck.”

"let me drive you home," he begged. "please."

"we are not friends!" you emphasised. "wilbur, come on-"

"you know i'm in love with you, right?" you stopped in your tracks, mouth left open. "i have been since i first met you! i thought you were the prettiest girl i've ever seen, and i was going to kiss you. the very first night we met."

tears had welled up in your eyes, blending with the rain. he wanted to wipe them away, but he kept talking. "and i had just worked up the courage to, when suddenly you decided you hated me! why? what did i do? please, just tell me!"

"you're being cruel, wilbur," you sobbed. he was taunting you. telling you what you wanted to hear, making you admit to how you felt only to shove it in your face. you were being pathetic.

"i love you," he said quietly. "and if you don't feel the same, then that's fine. but this has been the longest six months of my entire life. and it's because i was a coward. i was too afraid to tell you how i felt."

"you talked to tommy that night," your voice was low, so soft he almost couldn't hear you over the rain. "kid was making fun of you, said you were being a simp, or something." you wiped a tear away furiously. "and you said. "her?" as if the idea was so terrible. "sure." you said. you laughed, and then came right back to my side and tried to flirt with me."

he faltered. he did say that. it had been loud that night. he was a little drunk, and irritated with his younger brother figure, and all he had wanted was to get back to you. tommy wouldn’t stop making fun of him and he wanted to kiss you so bad his mind went blank. he was an asshole.

“believe me, darling,” he pleaded. “i know i was a dick, and i hurt you. but that was a lie. i wanted tommy off my back, so i said it to shut him up. but trust me, it’s not true at all. i love you, really. and i’ll wait forever and ever, if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.” there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. “please, let me drive you home.”

so, you ended up in the front seat of wilbur soot’s car on your way back to your place. you’d noticed that he’d nearly died of shock when you’d let him hold your hand with his free one. you could only imagine how he’d react when you let him kiss you on the sidewalk in front of your house.

he’d have to thank niki later.

#wishing i could write my name on it #wilbuh #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x fem!reader #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot fic #wilbur x reader

380 notes · View notes

blackhairedjjun · 8 months ago

Text

flying home to you - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst -> fluff, non-idol au, friends to lovers | word count: 889 | warnings: profanity (just one "shit")

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - CHOOSE: sender, realizing the receiver is about to make a huge life-changing decision (literally anything, accepting a job offer, accepting a marriage proposal, leaving the country, ANYTHING!) tells the receiver that they’re in love with them, leaving them to choose between the sender and their original path. (requested by @forevrglow - “Can you do the [CHOOSE] prompt with Yeonjun and make it kinda like the ending of Friends? Y/N got an amazing job offer in another country and just as she's about to get on the plane, yeonjun arrives to tell her he loves her and then she gets off the plane”)

author's notes: hi bri, thank you so much for the request! i had to watch clips of the friends ending on youtube for this, i couldn't make it exactly like it just because airport security has changed so much since the show aired 😭 but i tried to keep the gist of your request, i hope you enjoy!

(also to anyone else reading this, please do not take this fic as career or relationship advice!! lmao)

neither the rumbling sound of your luggage wheels nor the roars of the airplanes overhead could drown out your nervous heartbeat. you approached the entrance of the airport terminal, bags in tow, and your nerves seemed to quake more and more with each step. as you found yourself in front of the glass sliding doors, you paused, inhaled deeply, and checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

the electronic copy of your plane ticket was there, as were the email exchanges from your new employer. paris was at your fingertips and in a few hours it would be right in front of you, surrounding you, and even beneath your feet.

yet you still found yourself switching over to your text app and checking your messages with yeonjun. it had been a few hours since you sent a cordial “i’ll text you when the plane lands!” to him, and there was still no reply; he was typically the kind of person who replies as soon as he can, usually late at night before he goes to bed. he had read your text, but not responded.

this fact rattled your nerves more than the plane ticket, the email exchanges, or the flight. sighing, you pocketed your phone again and pushed thoughts of yeonjun out of your mind. maybe it got buried in his inbox...

you gripped the handle of your luggage again to wheel it over to the entrance, but your steps felt slower than ever. other passengers had to walk around you to enter the terminal. why were you so damn nervous? you knew that a new job in a new country was scary, but more than ever you felt rooted to the ground. at the back of your mind were images of your home, of downing beers with yeonjun in your kitchen, of his downcast expression when you told him about moving to paris...

“y/n! wait!”

you whipped around at the sound of a voice that made your heart beat faster. yeonjun stood in front of you as if conjured by your thoughts, out of breath, jacket hastily thrown on and hair tousled.

“yeonjun, what are you...?”

“y/n, please,” he panted, “hear me out before you go...”

you were both in the way, and passengers shot glares at you as they headed to the terminal entrance. you moved aside, and yeonjun took the opportunity to move closer to you and take both your hands in his.

“i have to be at the gate by一”

“i love you.”

you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

yeonjun’s grip on your hands grew firm. “i’m sorry i never told you earlier,” he continued, voice cracking, “but i... i didn’t want to stop your dreams. i’m sure you’ll do amazing. but now that you’re leaving, and it’s real, and i don’t know when一 shit, i love you, y/n... i love you.”

you were trembling and yeonjun could feel it in your hands. he, too, was shaking, and it took every ounce of effort for him to keep steady.

your mind swam in a haze of thoughts, feelings, images. you remembered the way yeonjun held you when your ex broke your heart, the way his hands nearly brushed yours when he walked you home. you thought of home, of that tiny apartment where you’d stayed up with him talking about your dreams.

then you thought of paris. you thought of your dream job in your dream city. you imagined your new apartment overlooking the seine, and of the picturesque walkways lined with charming houses and old-fashioned streetlamps. your mind instantly created an image of you walking along them towards your new home, surrounded by fashionable locals in elegant coats... but you walked all alone.

where is your home? what is your dream?

then it all snapped together in high clarity.

you had been silent for a while, the thoughts too overwhelming for you to respond. yeonjun was still standing in front of you, and at your silence he dropped your hands. tears formed at the corners of his eyes and you swore you felt your heart break.

“sorry, i... i shouldn’t have said that. you should go...”

he turned to head back to his car. at first you couldn’t process it, and he moved slowly as if in a dream. then your senses caught up with you and you realized 一 yeonjun was walking away. your home, your dream was walking away.

“yeonjun!”

you ran towards him, nearly bumping into several passengers heading to the terminal. he caught you in his arms and his lips met yours; you melted into his embrace, kissing him back. he felt warm and his lips were soft, and you felt the warmth spread to your chest and set your whole body alight.

when you broke apart, you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears. your eyes met yeonjun’s, shining with adoration, and the thoughts and emotions swirling around you finally came to a still.

“i love you too, jjun,” you whispered. “i can’t leave you.”

he pulled you in for a hug and you breathed him in, your face resting against his chest. his heartbeat fell in sync with yours.

“y/n, stay...”

you gripped him even more tightly and nodded. there was no way you could leave your home.

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt angst #yeonjun angst #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #yeonjun fanfic #bhj's 300 follower event 🖤#bhj: violet's works

176 notes · View notes

meowzfordayz · 2 years ago

Text

MILESTONE 15.0 (compiled)

Author’s Note: compiled masterlist for MILESTONE 15.0 !! Click here for masterlist only.

Himejima Gyomei x Reader, Iguro Obanai x Reader, Kamado Tanjirou x Reader, Kanroji Mitsuri x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tokito Muichiro x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~6,100

CW: provided before each drabble

~faqs~

Title by Song Artist; ~Word Count; CW

Valentine by 5 Seconds of Summer; 400; explicit language, mild sexual content

“What do you want for Valentine’s Day?” Obanai asks gruffly, voice muffled beneath the heat and steam of the shower.

“Shuld’t you al-eady ‘o’ 'at?” you retort, words lumped incoherently thanks to the ungodly amount of toothpaste that squirted onto your toothbrush moments earlier.

“Shit.”

“You 'ropped ta so'p,” you snort, eyes rolling knowingly.

“The fuck are you saying?” he grunts, metal rings sliding loudly across the curtain rod as his bedraggled, sopping hair peeks out at you, “Finish brushing your teeth.”

“You fivish brus'ing yo'r teef!”

“You’ve got a little…” reaching a mischievous hand toward you, “There!” as he smears his thumb from the corner of your mouth to the bottom of your chin, grinning at the mess of toothpaste, drool, and water, your indignant shriek only compounding his satisfaction.

“Obanai,” venmo curling your lip, internally cursing as The Mess™ drips onto your foot, “I swear I’m going to-”

“Finish brushing your teeth?” he interrupts, eyelashes fluttering, water droplet gliding elegantly off the tip of his nose, shower curtain clutched ever so cutely to his chest.

“No,” promptly spitting out the remaining toothpaste, flipping your middle finger at him, “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Without telling me what you want for Valentine’s Day?” he scowls, flicking water at your finger, “Do you truly want for nothing?”

Whining now, you cross your arms, wiping your foot on the bathmat, “I want you to be nice to me.”

“No you don’t,” he immediately quips, releasing the shower curtain, once more disappearing from view, faucet squeaking as he turns off the water.

“Oh loveliest looove?”

“I hate you,” you mutter.

“Pretty please could you hand me a towel?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll let you dry off my butt.”

You huff, eyes narrowing at the traitorous appeal warming your stomach.

“Aaand my penis?”

Ugh.

“FINE, for fuck’s sake, you can dry off my balls too.”

Hehehe. You grab a towel from the rack.

“But only if you tell me what you want for Valentine’s Day.”

You freeze, reconsidering the bargain, “I wasn’t kidding.”

“I’m very nice to you!”

“Annoying and nice aren’t synonymous,” you scoff.

“But You love me and Obanai are!” he protests.

“That makes literally no sense.”

“You make literally no sense!”

You wait, towel fluffy against your heartbeat, amusement etched permanent and crinkled around your eyes.

“I’m getting fucking cold.”

You smirk.

“So step onto the bathmat? I’ve got your towel ready.”

“Cherish my balls, carefully,” he demands, still hiding in the shower, plick plick plick steady as he begins shivering.

“I will cherish your balls,” silently counting to three before you finally tack on, “Carefully.”

~~~

You Will Find Me by Alex & Sierra; 300; mild sexual content

Kyojuro has never told you outright, but his favorite part of date night is after date night. After giggling over buttery popcorn, wincing as your lips become mildly irritated from too much salt (he didn’t mean for the salt shaker’s lid to pop off!), insisting he isn’t crying as the end credits roll; after a spontaneous mini golf outing, grinning every time you complete a course before him, chest puffing happily as you tell him again and again I haven’t done this since I was a kid, thank you Kyo; after beating you in chess, Rummy, Connect 4, Monopoly, heck even Chutes or Snakes and Ladders (what can he say? he’s been lucky ever since he met you), sheepish as you jokingly glare at him, apologetic kisses promptly sprinkled across your nose and cheeks.

His favorite part of date night is getting to watch you undress, the subtle lines of tiredness and your indefinitely growing to-do list fading faintly from sight, veneer of devotion and desire separating real life and right now. Getting to tuck strands of hair behind your ear, thumb pausing on the softness of your earlobe, heat grazing your spatial consciousness as he steps closer — this is his favorite part. Gentle words murmured inaudible, because, well, their contents don’t exactly matter.

How could they? When his hands grasp warm and steady on your hips, smile radiant as usual, your low exhale breathy and familiar. How could sweet nothings compare to the sensual everything of his mouth? Sucking light and moist at the dip between your collarbone and neck, traversing slow and patient to your other collarbone. How could hurried phrases, uttered in lust and with urgency, compare to the languid, honest adoration of his tongue? Flicking coy and then decisive, exploratory and then comfortable, tracing the outlines of your sighs, reiterating his promise that We share more than lust.

Because as much as he loves after date night, he craves the taste of your soul long after the caress of your pleasure cools.

His heart forever stained the color of your laughter.

~~~

10,000 Hours by Dan + Shay ft. Justin Bieber; 300; none

“You did what now?” you gasp, eyes wide, ready to smack Gyomei’s shoulder.

“Um…”

“What did you do?” you repeat, face hot, disbelief furrowing your brow.

“I bought you 10,000 roses?”

“Well don’t ask me,” you snap, “Did you, or didn’t you? Why did you?” exasperation creeping in at the mental image of the bedroom packed full of roses Perhaps the living room would be better.

“You don’t want 10,000 roses?”

You pause at the sheepish softness in his voice, gentle hands grasping yours, held tender against his chest, his next words rumbling sweetly through your fingertips.

“I would buy you 10,000 roses to commemorate the 10,000 hours I have dedicated to you, and infinite roses to commemorate the infinite hours I hope to dedicate to you.”

“How much would 10,000 roses cost?” you groan, blinking anxiously at the thought of the bill, “Do we have that much money?” eyes narrowing suspiciously, “Do you have that much money?” realization registering as you scowl accusingly, “So you didn’t buy me 10,000 roses?”

“But I would!” raising your knuckles to his lips, grinning as you fluster.

With a huff, you tug your hands back, arms crossing, “Not funny, Gyomei. Do you know how frantic I was trying to calculate how indebted we’d be? I hate math. Let alone where they’d go without rendering an entire room unusable!”

Pouting, he reaches for your hands again, grip tightening slightly, tone amused, “We’d be about $35,000 in debt, depending on where I bought them from.”

Your aghast expression doesn’t stop him from kissing your palms, pressing them to his cheeks, waiting for your inevitable sigh as you finally melt into his touch.

“One,” you murmur into his shirt, “You can buy me one rose.”

~~~

My Song Too by Hunter Hayes; 400; none

Giyuu still sings along to that song whenever it comes up on shuffle, softly murmured lyrics bringing a melancholy smile to his lips, haunted depth to his stare, as he remembers how you’d tease him for his Abysmal singing.

Singing out loud had always been a private activity for him, reserved for quiet morning showers and long walks down empty sidewalks after checking once, twice, three times that he was truly alone. Embarrassment played a role, but acute awareness of how torturous his singing would be for any unfortunate soul that happened to be nearby was the main reason — he’s a thoughtful fellow, thank you very much.

—

And then he met you.

Cliche? Yes. Beautiful? Yes. Too close to touch, too far to taste? Yes.

—

When discussing hobbies, singing had remained meticulously hidden under board games, appreciating nature, and fluffing and reorganizing throw pillows (don’t ask). Already astonished that you stayed after his fluffing-and-reorganizing reveal, he was reluctant to sully your perception of him any further, gently pressing the reins of conversation into your hands for the remainder of your evening together.

The first time you’d heard him sing was the first morning you woke in his bed, faint pitter patter of the shower running, worn and cozy blankets tucked carefully under your chin, something sounding like a nails-on-chalkboard rendition of Marry The Night (by Lady Gaga) rattling through the cracked opened bedroom door… so falling back asleep wasn’t an option, but basking in the vulnerability—and amusement—of your newfound understanding of Tomioka Giyuu felt even warmer than sunshine.

—

And then came the storm.

A melody of missed calls, sporadic texts, constantly running late, kisses as stoic as his public facade.

He’d promised he loved you, reiterated over and over again, as he belted One Direction in the car beside you, attempted John Legend to serenade you, and even wrote a couple of songs for you, both pinned stubborn and unforgettable to the tatters of your heart.

But for all the lyrics he caressed into your skin, you rarely sang with him.

Giyuu still sings along to that song whenever it comes up on shuffle, mouthing your part as a familiar aching fills the silence of letting you slip away.

~~~

Move Together by James Bay; 300; none

“Sweetheart,” Tanjirou tries again, gentle fingertips resting atop your shoulder, frown deepening when you shrug him off, “Could we cuddle?” poking lightly at the back of your head, “Please?”

Huffing quietly, you tuck your nose further into the edge of the comforter, knees scrunched into your stomach, staring straight ahead.

“I miss you,” he switches tactics, momentary contentment flitting across his face as your scent softens… concern returning to his brow as you stiffen once more.

If you missed me, then you wouldn’t be leaving is your unspoken bitterness, sourness in the way you bite your lip as you continue ignoring him.

“I know you’re not mad,” he murmurs, chest emanating his familiar heat as he dares to scoot closer, “You’re upset that I’m leaving,” arm reaching over your side in search of your hand, “I’m upset too.”

Shut up you swallow tightly, eyes glistening at his touch, involuntarily linking your fingers with his, silent relief loosening your lungs as his own relief—a sigh—grazes audible against your skin.

“I never want to leave,” whispered into your hair, “I always want to stay here,” body curving tender and confident around yours, “After this conference, I’m going to tell them I can’t travel for such extended periods anymore.”

That grabs your attention, eyes widening as you roll over abruptly, forehead nearly bumping his.

“You’re kidding?!”

A simple, warm smile tugs at his mouth, his leg nudging itself between yours, hopeful and longing scents melting into each other as you finally meet his gaze.

“Not in the slightest.”

“You promise?”

Because you couldn’t take it if he didn’t.

“With all that I am.”

Because he wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t.

~~~

Good For You - Acoustic by Castro; 500; none

Giyuu waits outside your apartment, umbrella in hand, as rain falls soft and certain.

“Giyuu!” you exclaim, front door slamming behind you as you greet him with a dizzying grin, “I can’t believe it’s raining,” oblivious to the warmth tickling across his cheeks, “I’m gonna be soaked, I was in such a rush, didn’t grab my umbrella,” sticking out a foot, “And definitely didn’t wear the right shoes.”

Silently, he opens his umbrella, pulse fluttering as you promptly latch onto his arm, faint whisper of a smile lighting up his face.

“My hero!” you sigh dramatically, “You’re so pretty when you smile, did y'know that?” poking carelessly at his face.

Grunting at your antics, and resisting the urge to catch your wrist and brush his lips to your knuckles, he allows himself a fleeting moment of contentment, memorizing the heat of your body pressed into the tension of his, almost wishing he hadn’t brought his umbrella so he could’ve offered you his jacket instead.

“I brought extra socks,” he murmurs.

“Extra socks?”

He nods solemnly, “I figured you wouldn’t wear rainboots.”

“I didn’t want to be late!” you gasp, eyes wide in mock offense, “Besides, it’s just a little rain! I can handle it!”

“I know,” he shrugs simply, “Just like you can handle looking out the window or checking the weather on your phone while getting ready.”

“When you sleep waaay past your alarm, you relinquish various luxuries,” you retort, flicking his ear.

Snorting, he moves the umbrella slightly, chuckling lowly when you let out an indignant shriek, raindrops cascading onto your shoulder, clinging tighter to him with a damp glare.

“GIYUU!”

“Hm?” he blinks, overly polite, “Did you get wet?”

“Yes,” you growl, not-so-stealthily attempting to stomp on his toes, pouting as he smoothly avoids your wrath, “Because someone moved the umbrella!”

“Ah, well, that wasn’t very nice of that someone.”

“If you want a hug, then you could ask for one,” you scowl, “No need to resort to violent methods.”

“My methods are never violent,” he deadpans.

“Do you want a hug though?”

“Never.”

Hating himself as the brightness of your stare dims, cold distance shoving itself between you, releasing his arm with an awkward squeak, followed by a gentle smack, his chest hardly feeling a thing.

“You have got to work on your emotional constipation!” you groan, stare bright once more, “If you want a hug, then I’ll hug you!” smirking fondly, “We’re friends Giyuu! I mean, you brought extra socks for me!” rolling your eyes, “If you can do that, then surely you can ask me for a hug?”

“Of course,” he practically whispers, falling, falling, falling into your glow, “I’ll ask, next time.”

With a satisfied huff, you reattach yourself to his arm, entirely unaware of the downpour flooding his heart, drowning in the reassurance of your touch.

~~~

Kiss Me Like You Mean It by Kate Yeager; 400; mild sexual content

“You’re really leaving me?” you whine, head sticking out from under the covers, sunlight tickling your nose.

“It’s Tuesday,” Muichiro shrugs, smiling softly at your bedhead, “Work beckons,” bare chest disappearing from view as he buttons up his shirt.

“Tuesday, schmuesday,” you huff, “It’s Valentine’s Day,” curling a sly finger toward him, “And I’m beckoning too,” winking exaggeratedly, “So what’s it gonna be? Work…” stretching in what you hope is a sexy manner, “Or me?”

Shaking his head, he allows himself a breath to admire your cozy, sunlit face, snorting inwardly at how you look more like a lump than anything remotely seductive, “You realize that would be more effective without the blankets on?”

“You realize how cold I would be without the blankets on?” you retort, promptly pulling the covers up and over your head, voice muffled as you sulk, “Whatever, go to work, see if I care. I’ll just have all the orgasms by myself.”

Gasping playfully, he steps quietly toward the bed, amusement in his tone, “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh I would!” you quip, legs moving beneath the covers, “You’re gonna be late for work, by the way,” hips lifting to tug down your flannel pants, “Don’t mind me,” grunting at the effort required to strip while submerged in blankets, “Nothing to worry about here!”

Rolling his eyes, he stands beside you, knees barely brushing the mattress, waiting for you to resurface.

“Can’t- Breathe!” you exclaim, head finally popping out again, swallowing your surprised shriek with practiced ease when his proximity eventually registers, “MUICHIRO!”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he declares calmly.

“I already said that!” cheeks hot as his fingertips trace along the underside of your jaw, “What about work?”

“I’ll call in sick,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing at the dilation of your pupils, “If that’s okay with you?”

You nod wordlessly, abdomen warming, still in mild disbelief that your teasing actually accomplished something.

“Mind helping me undress?” he asks smoothly, hovering above your eager hands, chuckling as you reach for the top button.

“You planned this,” you mutter accusingly, “Bet you requested today off weeks in advance.”

He doesn’t answer, opting instead to kiss your forehead, your nose, your ears, melting into the scent of you and your delighted giggles, scooping you into his embrace as soon as you undo the last button.

“Maybe,” he whispers into your skin, “Maybe I did.”

~~~

8 Letters by Why Don’t We; 300; mild sexual content

From the beginning, I love you has burned slow on Giyuu’s tongue. What started with a tentative wave—Is that him?—snowflakes caressing the softness of your hair, excitement expanding your chest, pavement crunching beneath your boots—He’s more handsome than he gave himself credit for—all the while a subtle, sweet warmth tickled the back of his throat… What continued with finally understanding familiar, the gleam in his eyes, thigh snug against yours, amusement curling his lips—I can get us another blanket, no need to hog—shaking his head fondly as you nuzzled your nose into his shoulder, pointing firmly at the tv—You can’t miss anything!—already knowing better than to mention—We could pause it—lest you shot your daggered glare at his already trembling heart… all the while an irrevocable heat twirled certain and spicy from the pinpricks of his taste buds to the roof of his mouth. What blossomed into an aching, playful, wild masterpiece, laughter stealing your breath as your smile stole his—You’re not funny!—hopelessly poking at his cheeks, unwilling to sip from your overflowing cup of devotion, spilling through to the secrets in his bones—Then why are you laughing?—smugness in his tone, honest longing in his gaze—Because I love you!—declared without judgment or expectation… all the while, a searing epiphany begging to jump, I’ve never felt this way before still clinging afraid and unaware to the tip of his tongue. “I love you,” he murmurs on a fairly regular Tuesday, “I love you a lot.” Flames somehow stronger as he seeks to smother them in your embrace, tracing your lips, your mouth, the smoothness of your jaw, the pulse within your neck; a promise of Until the sun ceases to set as he presses I love you into every inch of your skin.

~~~

Never Was by REAVES ft. Katelyn Tarver; 400; none

Sanemi keeps his apartment as bare as his heart's been since you walked out. It didn't end with a bang, tears, or even a raised voice, but with the depth of your pleading eyes stenciled permanently across the scar tissue of his regret. Some days, he contemplates getting them tattooed onto his sternum, their dry lashes, familiar heaviness, and all. Other days, he wishes he had bottled the flutter of his skin whenever you touched him, the criss crossed numbness in his chest tenderly and decisively worn away by your stubborn, adoring fingertips until he could finally—miraculously—feel his pulse.

Most days, he misses you.

He misses the trinkets and knick knacks lining his shelves, the occasional spoon or fork left in his kitchen sink, and the scent of your commitment to him lingering on his pillowcase (because apparently he always had the comfier pillow, even when he'd secretly switch them).

He misses the random sock popping up in his laundry from time to time, immediately texting you—Look what I found...—because you'd lamented its lost two weeks ago. He even misses the dreaded noise of something shattering behind him, already anticipating your sheepish, frantic explanation as he sighs and braces himself—Really? You had to target my favorite mug?

He misses you.

Perhaps, definitely, he should've told you. Should've told you how you inspired him to do better. To be better. Should've laid out his bare bones for you to understand just how much better. Should've pressed his secrets into your warm, safe palms for you to understand just how much worse he could be. How much worse he'd been.

And he absolutely should've showed you, despite having never fully done so.

Should've showed you how capable and strong he could be. How gently he could love; how earnestly he could cherish you. How even as you stripped him of his pride, his silence, his animosity — he could still hold your hand as your equal. Not lean on you. Not take you for granted. Not shiver in the fragility of his reflection and rebirth. How he could build you up as you tore him down, providing what you needed just as you gave breath to him.

Sanemi keeps a single photo of your brilliant smile: as soft and promising as he never was.

~~~

You & I by One Direction; 400; none

"I'm surprised we've been together for so many years," Giyuu remarks softly, his hand cool and calloused as it envelops yours.

To anyone else, his statement could feel offensive, and not particularly suitable for a Valentine's stroll, but you aren't anyone else.

"Me too," you chuckle, eyebrows pinched slightly, fingers wiggling playful and sweaty in his grip, "You're way too sophisticated for me."

"I'm the opposite of sophisticated," he deadpans, stepping off abruptly, dirt sinking beneath his boots, lips warm and fleeting against your forehead, "Your statement's impossible."

"Impossible?" you snort, "Have you seen yourself in a suit and tie?" winking as the usual flush creeps up his neck, "I'd call you sophisticated," voice lowering teasingly, "And then some."

Shrugging, his free hand tugs lightly at the hairs tickling his nape, lifting your knuckles to his mouth, "I hate it. Suits are too fancy, and ties are too confusing."

"You can hate something, and still wear it well," you're undeterred, body pressing close to him as your words press even closer, "Fortunately, I only require a couple nicer evenings out per month."

And thank gosh for that he sighs audibly, fond smile grazing your skin, "Do you think you've gained more spending your years with me than spending them..." alone? Or with somebody else? "... not with me?"

Bright laughter greets his tentative question, letting go of his hand to fidget with the lapels of his coat, your delayed response filling the distance between his anxiety and your certainty with a familiar hum.

Well? he almost pushes, generally so indifferent, yet somehow so pliant and demanding in your palms.

"I can't say whether I've gained more," you begin slowly, "But I can say I'm content with you," nodding firmly, "I can say I like you, I love you, that I'm in love with you," patting his cheeks, swallowing a giggle as his flush creeps up further, "And I can say that my feelings for you are stronger and happier than any desire to worry about what might've been," squishing his cheeks for good measure, his nose and ears pink as ever.

"I feel similarly."

And although part of you wants to cross your arms and huff—Really Giyuu? I answered you with a passionate monologue, and you give me a blunt sentence?—a larger part of you is touched by his echoed sentiment, knowing all too well by now that your beloved, sophisticated man would rather hold an umbrella over you while getting soaked himself than utter anything verging on romantic.

In fact, you suspect he may be missing romance and its acquaintances from his personal dictionary altogether.

~~~

Bonfire Heart by James Blunt; 600; explicit language, implied alcohol, mild sexual content

After a day, what will you think?

The softness in your eyes makes Sanemi balk inwardly—Maybe I should’ve buttoned more of my shirt?—creeping tendrils of intrigue and pity spilling from your stare; wrapping around his wrists, along his arms, caressing the scars across his chest and torso; your mouth opening then closing then opening again.

“What?” he snaps, stalking toward you, “You are [y/n], right?”

Fucking blind dates as he struggles with the buttons of his shirt; Fuck Tengen and his wives the closer he gets, buttons still uncooperative; Fuck Obanai and his worrying watching warmth fill your cheeks; Fuck their colluding wondering how on earth they thought you’d be a match for him.

“You know, I was warned you’d be underdressed,” you finally remark, faint humor and light awkwardness in your tone, “No need to make yourself uncomfortable.

They got a warning? he nearly snarls, promptly giving up on the buttons Why didn’t I get a warning that they’d be severely overdressed?

"But you look nice,” you offer a small smile, holding out your hand, “[y/n],” compliment tumbling from your mouth before you can stop it, “And you smell good.”

I smell good?! his glare sharpens, rough hand practically smacking yours as he grips your fingers, “Shinazugawa Sanemi. I’m hungry.”

Your skin feels… polite. Kind. For a fleeting moment, he imagines your fingertips cool and gentle against the tautness of his back.

“And, uh,” swallowing thickly, avoiding your gaze, “You look nice too,” sighing loudly, “Nicer than me.”

After a week, how will you feel?

“No way, a second date?!” Obanai exclaims, enthusiastically punching Sanemi’s shoulder.

“I’m offended,” Sanemi scowls, fixated on his phone, scrolling diligently for the perfect gif.

“And I’m surprised,” Obanai retorts, snatching Sanemi’s phone with a sly grin, “What’s occupying you, buddy?” grin widening when he realizes exactly who Sanemi’s texting.

“Fuck off,” Sanemi groans, not even bothering to wrestle for his phone.

“How long have you been searching for cute cat gif?” Obanai cackles gleefully.

“Fuck. Off.”

“Dinner and drinks on me tonight!”

“The fuck?”

“Tengen thought you wouldn’t survive five minutes. I thought you’d fall head over heels.”

“Head over heels?”

“Dude, you are the world’s driest texter, and suddenly you’re interested in cute. Cat. Gifs?”

“Whatever,” Sanemi mutters, resisting the urge to toss Obanai through the wall, “You’re driving,” and I’m getting wasted.

After a month, what will you want?

“Nemi,” you murmur, carefully poking his bicep, “Did you hear me?”

Oh I fucking heard you.

“Are…” you inhale deeply, thumbs stroking smoothly over his calloused palms, “Are we dating?”

What else would we be?

“Like, is this casual? Are we official? Monogamous? What…” trailing off as his breath catches, “… what are we?”

Blunt as ever, he grits out, “What do you want?”

“I want to date you, officially, nobody else involved,” your wry smile seeping through his stiffness, “But you seem, upset?”

Shit he blinks Maybe Tengen had a point exhaling lowly I’m hopeless.

“I’M NOT UPSET!”

“But you’re yelling?” your eyebrows furrowed.

“BECAUSE I LIKE YOU!”

Oops Sanemi blushes, embarrassment promptly melting as your arms fling around his neck, forehead knocking into his Oof, your joy so radiant he has to consciously stop himself from shying away The hell is this?

“I like you!” you squeal, lips squishy and determined as you kiss him once, twice, until he’s noticeably red, “You’re so fucking dumb,” biting playfully at the tip of his nose, “And I really like you.”

After a year, why will you stay?

“Sanemi?”

“Hm?”

“Do you still like me?”

“Babe,” deadpan, “I love you.”

“Buuut you still like me too?”

“More than anything.”

~~~

Where You Are by Gavin Degraw; 400; none

Kamado Tanjirou. Tanjirou. — The man who traces love into your skin every time he holds your hand, calloused thumb rugged and adoring against the center of your palm. “Let’s stay like this forever,” bright grin so familiar, yet somehow always catching you off guard, “Okay?” — The man who rings your doorbell at 2am, eyes tired, bedhead evident, limbs warm and sturdy as he embraces your shaky frame, careful to avoid stepping on your bare feet. “Tan? Why’re you here?” murmured drowsily. “You had a bad dream,” he says, the rush of scrambling around in the dark for the past half an hour ebbing as you sink into his chest. “To be fair, I didn’t expect you to see that text until the morn-” “And I don’t expect you to sleep poorly,” he hushes you softly, “I’m here now, aren’t I?” “I suppose,” you shrug, clammy fingers reaching up to stroke his cheek, “Let’s get in bed.” The man who sets his wet shoes neatly by the front door, tugged willingly along by your gentle grip until you’re folded into each other, dreamless touch finally lulling you to rest. — The man whose actions speak louder than words, stumbling over sentences and paragraphs, fixing his mistakes with an apologetic smile, commitment to you apparent… even as he accidentally ruins your favorite pot while cooking mac and cheese. “Seriously?!” you exclaim, mouth open slightly, eyes wide, a long exhale following as you blink slowly, “Kamado Tanjirou.” “That’s me!” he squeaks, face red, eyebrows furrowed. “You couldn’t have experimented with a different pot?” poking at the burnt mess with a partially melted spatula, “Or how about sparing my spatula?!!” “I’m sorry!” “That’s it, we’re going on a date.” “Huh?!” “We’ll take one of those couples’ cooking classes,” you huff darkly, “Because clearly someone needs it.” “I’m normally fine at cooking!” he protests, itching to rattle off all of his usual repertoire, “I just…” “You just…?” “ForgotIwascookingsomething.” — The man who shows up when it’s important, and when you insist that it’s not, because he knows better. Knows better than to ever leave you hanging, leave you wondering, leave you hurting at the thought of more. “Thank you for loving me,” you whisper, moonlight glistening on his eyelashes. “Thank you for loving me,” he whispers back, wishing he could weave the starlight in your eyes.

~~~

Not Yet by Brett Young; 400; alcohol

I’m in love with you Mitsuri realizes as you reach for the bottle of rosé, dry fingers brushing her knuckles, your eyes widening as your cheeks fluster.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Baby,” she chuckles, patting your hand before relinquishing the bottle, “You’re okay!” tilting her head, tone playful, “Should we give up and-”

“No!” you exclaim, “No wine glasses!” the bottle’s neck slender and fragile in the eagerness of your grip, “We drink out of the bottle because we’re classy!”

“We’re definitely classy,” she giggles, watching the rosé slosh precariously, “Don’t forget to unscrew the cap this time.”

“Heyyy,” you pout, sticking out at your tongue, “There’s a reason I recap it!” aggressively shaking the bottle, “See!” grin triumphant and smug, “No spills!” flipping it upside down, “M'a genius!”

“Alright genius,” she murmurs pleasantly, tamping down alarm, “How about we get the bottle upright and take a sip?” a small sip tacked on silently.

“You think I can’t hold my liquor,” you scowl, cradling the bottle against your chest, “I’ll have you know I’ve helped drink half of this bottle!”

Aaand therein lies the issue she sighs, endeared smile tugging at the corner of her mouth nonetheless, “I know, love. You’re amazing.”

“Lemme have one more sip, okay?” you wink, leaning toward her soft, frangipani scent, “Then we can eat snacks and talk ‘bout life!”

Her laughter soaks through your clothes, warming your skin, bones straining to partake in the irresistible sensation, a knowing weight in her gaze as she nods slowly.

“One more sip,” her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, “But only if you pinky promise snacks.”

“And talking about life!” you gasp, “What are snacks without life? What is living without snacks?!”

And what is living without you? she sighs again — a gentle, devoted sound. A sound of acceptance and amusement; of adoration and affection.

“I want to kiss you,” you hiccup, “Change of plans! Kisses, then sips, then snacks, and talks!”

“Sips?” she blinks, gradually processing your declaration, “I can certainly provide kisses,” heartbeat quickening at the thought, “But there shall be no sips for you.”

“You’re no fun!”

Humming teasingly, she carefully pries the bottle from your now inattentive grip, setting it aside with a lazy thud, “My kisses are no fun?”

“Your kisses are fun,” you huff, eyes rolling impatiently, “But limiting my sips? Not so fun!”

“Sweetie,” she snorts, “You’re cut off.”

“On Valentine’s Day?!”

“Especially on Valentine’s Day.”

~~~

I Like The Sound Of That by Rascal Flatts; 500; mild sexual content

“It’s 2am,” you yawn, eyes blinking tiredly, “Go to sleep.”

Squinting, Tanjirou flicks your nose, heart fluttering as you let out an indignant squeak, “No.”

“Rude!”

“But you’re so cute,” he grins, bumping your thigh with his knee, “All sleepy and cuddly.”

“You’re sleepy and cuddly,” you huff, kneeing—much harder—at his groin.

“OI!”

“Go to sleep.”

“How am I supposed to sleep if you kick me in the balls?” he pouts, rubbing carefully—placatingly—at your knee, his own legs crossing (a protective measure).

Shrugging, you tug the comforter up and over your head, inhaling the soft, warm scent of recently washed sheets and freshly showered Tanjirou, “I missed.”

“And you’re not going to make another attempt?” he chuckles quietly, grin returning at the adorable lump of you under the covers.

“Hm,” you respond nonchalantly, cool fingertips making their way toward his bare stomach, “Maybe not.”

“What are yo- AHHHHH!”

“Everything okay?” you hum innocently, savoring the surprised flex of his muscles, palms pressing eager along his sides, mouth nuzzling fond and satisfied at his chest — a stark contrast to the uninhibited, gleeful torture of your cold palms.

“You’re! So! Mean!” he gasps, eyes squeezed shut, resisting the urge to jerk away, hands gripping gentle at your shoulders as though to brace himself, “You'reluckyIloveyou!” gulping for air as your ministrations continue.

“Oh hush,” you mumble into his skin, beginning Phase 2™ as your feet go in for the kill, outright cackling when his body goes rigid, plaintive whimper burying itself in your hair at the touch of your frosty toes, “You signed up for this.”

“I! Did! Not!” he whines, grip tightening, teeth gritted, internal mantra of I love them, I love them, I love them the only force keeping him in place.

“Did too!” you declare, smooching wetly at his collarbone, “Thank you for being my favorite space heater!”

“I take it back,” he huffs, shivering despite himself, “You’re not cute at all!”

“But I am sleepy and cuddly,” you retort, “Aren’t I?”

Disgruntled, he pulls lightly at your ear, endearment audible in his tone even as goosebumps creep up his forearms, “Absolutely.”

“Are you cold?” you coo teasingly, fingers grazing the curve of his pelvis, “My favorite space heater’s struggling.”

“Nope,” he mutters, “Not cold, not struggling,” stubbornness narrowing his eyes, “I might start sweating, actually.”

“Sooo I can use them then?” you ask sweetly.

“Use what?!” he swallows nervously, immediately on alert.

“The forbidden hand warmers!”

Shortly thereafter, Tanjirou almost wishes you’d just gone for another knee-to-balls… your contented sigh hardly enough compensation for his embarrassing shout and consequent shuddering + the temperature shock and potential flash freeze death of his sperm.

—

“You’re dramatic,” you giggle, wiggling upward to meet his begrudging gaze, apologetically kissing his forehead.

“And you’re cruel,” he scowls, expression quickly breaking into an exasperated smile, because I love you, “You better sleep with one eye open!”

“Ooh is that a threat, my sleepy man?”

“YES.”

~~~

Elysium by Mars Mignon; 500; 18+NSFW, explicit language, Fem!Reader, oral

“Beautiful,” Sanemi murmurs, breath warm on your inner thigh, firm arms wrapped around your legs, “So fucking stunning.”

“You know what would be even more stunning?” you hum cheerfully, fingers tangled through his hair, tugging affectionately, “Less staring, more doing.”

“Don’t fucking rush me,” he mutters, nipping lightly at your skin, smirking when you yelp, “Thought you liked me sappy and shit?”

“Yeeeah,” you huff, thighs attempting to squish him closer, eyes narrowing as he refuses to budge, not even straining, “But I prefer sappy time separate from sexy time.”

“You’re impatient,” he snorts, thumb sudden and smooth as he spreads your folds, low rumble in his chest at the sight of your body rippling, “Now let me admire your perfection in peace, fuck’s sake.”

Hoping you don’t sound too breathless, you manage to quip, “If this is your idea of admiring, then I’m five seconds away from going to the bathroom and admiring myself, alone.”

Rolling his eyes, he flicks delicately at your clit, smugness filling his stomach as you whine loudly, “You do that, and I’ll barge through the door.”

“Not the poor door,” you protest weakly, head tilting backward, pile of pillows plush beneath you, “Could you please do something.”

“Are you thirsty?” he chuckles, feathery kisses along your slit short circuiting your frustration, lips sticky as he inhales your scent, “I can get you a glass of water.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you grumble, hips bucking gently, “Could you please use your tongue to play with my clit,” tacking on gruffly, “And thank you in advance.”

Swallowing amused laughter, he acquiesces, familiar, delicious heat sliding wet and languid between your folds, your essence tart and viscous as the tip of his tongue slips teasing and coy around your clit.

“Did you forget where it is?” you snap, gasping at his immediate, scolding pinch to the crook of your knee, “I said please.”

“Say it again,” he demands, hovering over the slight swell of your clit, satisfied smile nearly touching it.

“Again?!”

“Beg.”

“Nemi,” you pout, cheeks darkening, pussy clenching at the bite in his voice, “I…” faltering as his index finger smears the slow drip of your pleasure, retort caught in your throat.

“Hm?” he prompts, fixated on the flutter of your pussy, resisting the traitorous itch to devour you whole.

“Please use your tongue to play with my clit,” you exhale shakily, legs parting wider, back arching, pretenses forgotten as desire coats your veins, “I want you, need you, to make me cum.”

The prettiest fucking cunt is his only thought as he promptly obeys, tongue sloppy and ravenous as he worships the squelching mess of your pussy, spit dribbling down to your asshole, hardly breathing as he melts into the rhythm of your moans Gonna make you cum and cum and fucking cum again, gonna break my fucking record for sure.

#milestone event #15.0 #drabble #modern au #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #tanjiro x reader #mitsuri x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #giyuu x reader

249 notes · View notes

aclowntiny · 2 years ago

Text

Silent War- Wonwoo x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 2,543 | Fluff, Humor, Slight Rivals to Lovers, Gamers 😎 | Warnings: nothing really, just one minor swear lol | Note: 20,000 won is about 15 bucks USD so yeah hehe

Corny pinball dings and flashes abound as you stroll into your haven, marching confidently to the card loader as if you owned the place. Which, frankly, sometimes you felt like you did.

Ok, that was a bit dramatic, but holding a consistent high score on your favorite arcade game gave you a unique childlike high of smugness that only grew stronger with the familiarity of your spot. You knew where everything was, the best table that didn’t wobble, which pizza was the best, how to load credits onto your card without asking for help, all of it. Visiting the arcade was your way to relax, a healthy way to release all your stress and aggression onto pixelated enemies. Not that you were a physically aggressive person anyway, but still. Take that, aliens.

There was a nice adrenaline rush associated with beating your personal best, something exciting but still relaxing. No need to sweat it up like some people did for their rushes.

Swipe.

Points added. Have fun!

Strike Shot was a janky, cheesy-looking console with some of the side design worn off, but so satisfying to huddle over and press the controls as fast as possible. Which honestly was faster than it looked like the machine could operate. The music was intense, upbeat techno you would have just listened to on its own, and the play was fairly simple: fly your ship, shoot down aliens, don’t run into asteroids, ships, or anything that makes you explode. It required focus and deftness, traits you’d honed for months. It was your corny old game, the star-dotted leaderboard suspended above the screen always topped by your initials.

Except today. Shotzfired, your username for that console, had fallen. It was second place. Second. After months of domination, someone had taken your crown. Some player by the name of Number원.

Oh, no. This would not do. Not at all. Number원 thought they could score 53,850 points, unseating you by a mere 300? Well, the joke was on them.

Stretching your hands, you got to work.

It happened again. You strode across the ridiculously dated carpet patterned with squiggles, triangles, and squares in yellow, magenta, and cyan to find Strike Shot again topped with Number원, this time beating you by a less narrow margin. Your eyebrows involuntarily furrowed, gaze narrowing at the display as if it would reveal Number원’s secret.

Had you ever seen this person in the arcade? They certainly didn’t seem to share your schedule considering you, a teenage couple who went by LOVERZ, and one kid innocently named MRCOOL once were just about the only people you’d ever seen playing Strike Shot. It wasn’t nearly as popular as the gambling simulators or basketball hoop matches. Heck, even the whack-a-mole got more traffic.

Number원 was a slippery character.

You were barely even surprised by the third time. Fire flew into your eyes, spurring you onward to defend your title. Number원 had to realize that you were not going down without a fight. Suddenly, motions that had become second nature to you felt important again, your energy and focus sharpening.

The rage of battle overtook you, every alien ship becoming a proxy for your newest enemy. Defeating the spacecraft shooting little purple blasts at you, sending them spiraling out of the sky, was your way of dropping Number원 off of your throne. Pew, pew. Take that, aliens. There’s only one ruler of space.

It was stakeout time. You’d had it. Number원 being on top was bad enough, but changing the username to Number원 ㅋㅋㅋ? It may have taken two weeks, but now it was personal.

Defeat was a challenge, mockery was all-out warfare. A purple-shirted arcade employee walked by you that day, stating “I’m glad you’ve been enjoying this game so much,” and it took every fiber of your being just to accept it and not explain that what you were doing was an act of silent warfare. You weren’t sure if the employee was enough of a gamer to get it. He was definitely younger than you, that was for sure. Teenagers had a tendency to roll their eyes at adults, right?

So, the day after you beat Number원 ㅋㅋㅋ, you went to the arcade. Day off be darned. Some of the familiarity had melted away, that usual kid replaced by a middle-aged woman you suspected was both the place’s owner and the boy’s mother. They had the same warm smile.

You stationed yourself at the pinball machine adjacent to Strike Shot, getting in a few rounds of a game you hadn’t enjoyed in too long anyway. You were rusty, so you honed your flipper skills while glancing occasionally at your home game, which remained empty.

After several rounds of pinball and even one on the claw machine around the corner (you didn’t win, the thing was totally rigged), it was break time. Couldn’t waste too many of your credits, after all. They didn’t exactly spring up out of the garish 1990’s carpet, after all, and you couldn’t help but chuckle as you wondered what your boss would think if he knew some of your wages were going to this.

A trio of middle school boys ran boisterously past, beelining for the basketball. LOVERZ strolled by hand in hand, the girl giggling at something her boyfriend said as she straightened her shiny black pigtails.

One lonely-looking guy tried his hand at the zombie shooter, gripping the plastic gun like much more of a pro than you would have expected. Usually you saw him at the claw machine. No one touched Strike Shot, you reflected as you crossed the floor over to the pizza parlor, ordering two slices of your favorite.

When you sat down and started tearing into the greasy goodness, you were surprised to see you weren’t the only one there. A guy near your age, give or take a couple years, sat two seats away from you finishing up some pizza of his own. You’d never seen him before; maybe he wasn’t a regular.

For some reason, he intrigued you. Maybe it was the way he casually yet deftly pushed his glasses up or the calm he exuded, but you decided to try your hand at conversation.

“Is this your first time here?”

You saw his posture shift, clearly in surprise at being addressed, before he turned toward you, shaking his head with a small smile. “No, I come here quite often, actually.”

“Me, too,” you replied, brow furrowing, “I’m surprised I’ve never seen you before. I thought I knew everyone!” You added with a chuckle.

“I usually come on tuesdays and thursdays.”

You nod slowly. “Oh, that’s why. I’m usually here on mondays and wednesdays. Took out some overtime this week.” You grinned. “I’m (y/n), by the way.”

“(y/n),” he repeats, “My name is Wonwoo. Hey, while you’re here, would you be interested in being Player 2 for Death Risen? I’ve always wanted to play, but I come here on my own.”

“Sure,” you nod, taking another bite of your pizza, “I’ve never played either, though, so I may not be up to my usual standard.”

Wonwoo cocked an eyebrow at that. “You have high standards, then?”

“Can’t come here this often and not, right?” You joked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Watch out. Watch out. Watch-” BLAM! Warnings received, you whipped around and took out the ghoul that charged from behind, somehow managing a headshot. “Nice,” Wonwoo commented.

He was really good at games, his calm smile fading into a sharp, focused look the moment he pressed start, but still kept that relaxing presence. You didn’t feel like you had to perform for him, like he didn’t care about pretense at all. His demeanor was a natural damp on nervous energy too, making you feel balanced out. You’d practically forgotten about Strike Shot, your mind devoted to shooting ghosts and demons out of the earthly plane…and maybe trying to switch your work schedule to heavier tuesdays and thursdays. Given you worked from home, that could be manageable if you-

Wait. Had this guy already gotten that far under your skin? You’d played one long round of Death Risen and you were already-

“Look, we got the high score! Great job, (y/n)!” Wonwoo reached over for a high-five, a big smile on his face and joy lighting up his deep brown eyes as the victory screen reflected in the lenses of his glasses.

Yep, you were interested. High-fiving back, you took in the feelings of your hands together for the fleeting moment you were offered. "Wanna play anything else?"

"Sure," Wonwoo nodded, "have you figured out the secret to the claw machine yet?"

Your eyes widened with interest. "That thing? It's so rigged."

He smirked, turning his game card in his hands like a master gambler plays with his poker hand. "Not if you know the trick."

Apparently, the trick was to shake the machine too. "Isn't this cheating?"

"Do you want a rubber duck or not?" Wonwoo shot back, laughing as you palmed the sides of the big rectangular chamber. "I'm sure they only cost this place like ₩20,000 for a lot of a hundred. It's not like we're cheating on the one that wins you a switch."

"Ok, ok," you let go of the machine to put up your hands in surrender, "you sold me. I wouldn't feel good about stealing a switch, either," you clarified.

"You're barely into stealing a rubber duck," Wonwoo teased, bringing warmth to your face.

"Yeah, yeah, let me know when to move it."

"Alright, go ahead. Which one do you want?"

"Hmmm, if you can go for the one with the cowboy hat, I like him."

"Done."

You walked away from the claw machine with Wonwoo at your side and your rubber duck, which you named Ranger, peeking out of your pocket.

"So, do you have a favorite game here?" You asked Wonwoo, peering at his handsome side profile as you broke the comfortable silence.

"Yeah," he nodded, grinning, "but I think only one other person ever plays it. I'm the best, though."

"I'm a regular, remember? Try me."

He tilted his head toward a purple console with faded wrapping on the side, aliens with faces worn away, the menacing effect totally lost as the screen flashed invitingly, enticingly.

"Strike Shot," he tells you with a smirk as if you didn't have every button, every chip of that game memorized, "someone keeps trying to beat my high score, but I beat them every time."

It hit you like a ton of bricks, your eyes falling open. Number원. Wonwoo. This was the guy whose ass you'd been trying to beat for two weeks.

"Number원," you muttered before you could stop yourself, tone a little more intent than the half of you that was attracted to this guy would have wanted.

What were the odds? This guy, this really chill, stupidly handsome guy you were going to try to swap numbers with was the newfound bane of your gamers' pride's existence?

Wonwoo for his part chuckled, smirk widening. "Shotzfired?"

"You're going down. One final match."

"Why, because if I beat you bad enough you won't play anymore?"

"That's it," you stop, crossing your arms and stepping closer to him, only inches separating the two of you. You'd totally forgotten yourself, forgotten Wonwoo and that you two were still relative strangers and that you were just thinking he was hot enough to rearrange your work from home schedule just to see him. In that moment, all you saw was the red of your silent war. "I'll show you. You'll eat those words."

That calm smile broke across his face, somehow much more infuriating than the smirk was. Wonwoo looked completely unbothered by your words, more faintly amused, like you were cute. The part of you that wanted him to find you cute had gone to sleep, though. Mostly. You still felt a little flushed, the realization of the way you two had been standing for just a little too long hitting you. But there was no backing down, not when he said what he said, that peaceful happiness still painting his face.

"Make me, (y/n)."

You won. You. Freaking. Won. By only a hundred points, but you topped the leader board with a smirk, crossing your arms once more as you swiveled to face Wonwoo. "Take that."

"That's ok, I'll just beat it next time you're here. You're so happy, I'll leave it for now.”

“That’s ok, maybe next time I’ll be here to stop you.”

“Oh?” Try as you might, you couldn’t read into the ‘oh’ very well. He sounded a bit pleased, but you weren’t sure if it was just the competition talking.

“Or would you rather just show up and see?” You backed off a little, suddenly feeling self-conscious, like maybe you’d taken it too far.

“If I’m being honest? I like having someone here to play with. Ever since we started going back and forth in first place, it’s been more fun, don’t you think?”

You had felt a new fire in you as you played to beat Number원, not just fill your own space. It had filled you with a new anticipation every time you’d entered the arcade, hoping to see someone else standing at Strike Shot for you to challenge. Heck, you’d even gone full stakeout more on your usual errand day just to get a glimpse of the person you were locked in a battle with. It had been the most fun you’d had in a while, a revitalization of a stale routine.

“Yeah,” you smiled, this time softly, gladly, “it has been more fun.”

“Same time next tuesday, then?”

“You’re on.”

Waving to the owner lady, you strode out of the arcade with a smug look, but this time your high score was completely forgotten. After all, Wonwoo had asked you for your phone number.

“Get him! Get him!”

“I’m trying! You’re making this difficult, (y/n).”

“What do you mean?” You teased, hands sliding a bit further up Wonwoo’s waist as he tried to hit the right combo of buttons.

“You won’t be laughing when I topple your Strike Shot score again,” he shot back, but he turned to away during the little zombie cutscene to peck your lips.

“Well then, I’ll just beat it again like I always do. Like I have been doing for, let’s see…”. You counted on your fingers innocently. “Five months now?”

He shook his head. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you just agreed, blinking at the stars in your boyfriend’s eyes, memories of you guys reading together, watching and reviewing movies, laughing at how silly you looked playing whack-a-mole like a kid, the way Wonwoo’s unique mind opened you up to new details of the places you’d seen countless times and the way you dragged him out to have fun everywhere you went, and of course your first kiss shared at your doorstep all playing through the haze of your mind, “but you know you love me.”

Wonwoo leaned down, resting his head on yours. “That I do.”

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #rivals to lovers #sorta hehe

163 notes · View notes