#It really had me sweating for nearly an hour straight

[peopleinlovestink]

That was a good finale

That was a really good finale

#love in the air #👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 #Well done #It really had me sweating for nearly an hour straight

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,924 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the prison Warnings: language, mild gore (killing walkers), really none! it's mostly fluff! Summary: Daryl realizes how touch-starved he's been and exactly who he wants to satisfy that with. Really just sweet, vulnerable Daryl.[he is baby in this fic 100%]

Daryl startled awake, shooting straight up on his bed.

“Wow! Sorry! I was trying to wake you up gently!”

He looked up at her with a steely glare. Then he let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, the frantic alarmed feeling passing quickly as he realized it was just Carol. “The hell ya wakin’ me up for at all? I didn’t fall asleep until the sun was nearly up,” he growled, swinging his legs down over the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the floor. He still had his boots on.

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Sorry… but I really could use a hand. The water line is clogged up with mud again. The others are going to keep the herd on the fence occupied and thin the numbers down while I try to clear it. I could use you to watch my back.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, alrigh’. Just gimme a few minutes. I’ll meet ya out in the yard.”

“Okay, Pookie” she teased him, smiling. She reached to affectionately smooth a hand over his tousled hair but he deflected it hurriedly and shot her another look that made her laugh. “I’ll see you in a minute,” she chuckled.

“Yeah, go on and get outta here… Pain in my ass,” he grumbled, climbing to his feet.

As Carol’s footsteps retreated outside his cell, he glanced at his reflection in the cracked mirror hanging on the cell wall. His hair was a mess and he did what he could to hastily smooth it with his hands before abandoning the effort with a grunt. He hurriedly grabbed his crossbow and fixed his knife in its sheath at his hip. Relacing his boots to make sure they were tight, he called it good and made his way through the prison.

As he stepped outside into the sunlight, he could already see that things were busy despite the early morning hour. Rick and Carl were in the garden plots with Hershel and everyone else seemed to either be chopping and stacking firewood or working down on the fence. It was rare for Daryl not to be the first one awake and it left him feeling off-balance. He hadn’t been sleeping hardly at all and it must have finally added up to pure exhaustion since he’d actually caught a few hours until Carol woke him.

His blue eyes, squinted against the light, searched for you out of subconscious habit. He spotted you alongside Glenn and Maggie on the fence. He felt his heart skipping a beat.

The gravel crunched under his boots as he headed to meet Carol who was waiting at the gate that led to the alleyway between the fences. She greeted him with a tight smile. “Ready?”

“Yep. Good to go,” he replied.

Carol opened the gate and Daryl followed her in. Soon they were passing by you, Glenn, and Maggie putting down walkers through the chainlink.

“Are you alright, Daryl?” Maggie called out, shading her eyes with a gloved hand. “I thought maybe you were sick or somethin’,” she said.

“Yeah, unusual for any of us to be up before you,” Glenn agreed, leaning on the metal rod in his hand.

“Christ, ev’rybody’s got somethin’ to say about it,” Daryl retorted. “Can’t a man get a couple hours of sleep for once?”

You turned after putting down a particularly large and loud walker, gore dripping off the end of the sharpened makeshift spear in your hand and you wiped at the stray strands of your hair that were sticking to your face with your arm. You skin was already glistening with sweat despite it being far from the hottest part of the day. You smiled at Daryl, squinting against the sun. “I didn’t say anything,” you laughed.

“Yeah, well thanks for that,” Daryl said, meeting your eyes. “Yer the only damn one…” He gulped, always a little nervous when your full attention was on him.

“Alright, alright,” Carol said, laughing. “I think we’ve teased poor Daryl enough for actually sleeping. Just keep the herd down this end, away from the water line, okay? We’re heading out to clear it now.”

You all nodded and returned to the task at hand. Daryl couldn’t help glancing back at you over his shoulder a few times, until he slipped out of the hole to the outside behind Carol and closed it back up behind him, lacing the sturdy wire back through the fencing and pulling it tight.

Carol pulled the water line up out of the creek and began twisting apart sections of it to clear out the mud and muck. “Yuck… no wonder we were hardly pulling any water in,” she said, shaking a particularly large chunk of red Georgia clay out of the nozzle.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes scanned the surrounding tall grass and trees for any approaching stray walkers, but he found that they continually seemed to return to you on the fence almost on their own.

“Hey. Hey!” Carol was suddenly laughing. “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?” Daryl’s eyes snapped back to her. “Sorry.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him and a small, perhaps slightly knowing, smile curved her lips. “Distracted?” she asked.

He shifted. “Are ya done?”

Carol laughed to herself again and dusted off her hands. “Yeah, I think so.” She walked back to the stream with the end of the hose and dropped it back into the creek. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked as the two of them started back up the slope toward the fence.

Daryl shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe work on my bike. Probably due for a tune-up,” he drawled, slinging his crossbow back over his shoulder.

She nodded. “Sorry I woke you up. I was shocked you were still sleeping to be honest. I waited around a bit but—"

“Nah, s’alrigh’. I probably needed to get up anyway,” he replied, glancing ahead toward the fence again. The herd of walkers was dwindling with the efficient work of you and the others but the bodies were piling up on the outside now. Clean-up duty would be needed.

“Well, you should head inside and eat something,” Carol said. “I know you haven’t had anything yet today.”

He ran a hand back through his hair and nodded. “Yeah… maybe in a bit. I think ‘m gonna start pilin’ up those carcasses. We’ll need to burn ‘em later and it ain’t no good havin’ ‘em up against the fence, attractin’ new walkers.”

Carol stopped. ��Oh. Yeah, true. I’ll help. Looks like they’re about done anyway,” she said.

He nodded and they strode over, dew down in the longer tufts of grass wetting their boots and hems. There were maybe six walkers left clawing at the fence and they were quickly cut down to three as he and Carol approached on the outside. Daryl pulled his gloves from his back pocket and tugged them on as Carol walked over, watching the last upright body fall onto the pile a moment later.

“How’s the water line?” you asked, gripping the fence, the tips of your fingers poking through.

“Should be all cleared out now,” Carol said. “Nice work,” she said, referring to the pile of bodies at her feet. “Daryl and I will start pulling these away from the fence and piling them to be burned.”

“Alright. I’ll come help,” you said, setting down the metal rod you’d been wielding and briefly wiping at the sweat glistening on your forehead with your forearm again.

“You sure? You’ve done more than your fair share of hard labor today,” Carol said. “Looks like Maggie and Glenn are already heading back up to rest.”

“Yeah, it’s alright. I don’t mind,” you said. “It’ll go faster with three of us.”

“Alright. Come on out! Thanks,” Carol said, giving you a grateful smile.

You nodded and hurried to let yourself out the makeshift opening to the outside. Daryl had already dragged away four bodies in the time it took for you to make your way over. You offered him a wide smile that had his heart jumping and he paused before he grabbed another walker, lacing the fingers of his gloves together in a nervous gesture. “Ya alrigh’?” he drawled. “Ya ain’t gotta help with this. Ya did a lot of work on them from the other side,” he said. Your cheeks and chest were flushed red with heat and effort and the cotton of your t-shirt was clinging to your damp skin.

You shrugged. “I’m all good. It’ll get done sooner this way,” you said. He watched your eyes flickering up over his face a couple times and he became suddenly self-conscious.

He cleared his throat. “What?”

You laughed lightly. “Oh—it’s just—you’ve got this one piece of hair sticking up—it’s been defying gravity since you first came out here. I’m just a little surprised it’s still hanging in there,” you joked. You pulled your gloves off and stepped up to him. “It’s just sticking straight up,” you laughed again, attempting to smooth it gently.

An electric shiver ran up Daryl’s back as your fingers combed through his hair. “What’s it matter?” he drawled, attempting to sound gruff and not what he was actually feeling… which was completely jittery. “Ain’t like ‘m tryin’ to win a beauty contest out here.”

“Oh, so you want to be a unicorn? Got it,” you teased him, redoubling your efforts and using both hands and your fingernails to try to combat the stray strand, but it only sprung right back up. You laughed again, your eyes crinkling at the corners. A fluttery feeling burst between Daryl’s lungs. You sighed and shook your head, stepping back and crossing your arms, surveying him. “Nope. Won’t cooperate. I guess you are stuck as a wild unicorn today,” you said. “At least until it comes in contact with a wet comb.”

“Comb? I dunno if I’ve even got one of those,” he joked. “Thanks for tryin’,” Daryl said, half-sarcastically. You only flashed him another grin. You pulled your gloves back on and headed back to the fence to grab a walker. Carol stopped beside Daryl and he grabbed the body she was dragging by the ankles and helped her swing it onto the newly-formed pile. She gave him an appraising look when she stood up, her eyebrows lifting slightly. “What?” he asked.

“No, nothing,” she said, smiling vaguely. But it certainly wasn’t lost on her that when she had attempted to ruffle his hair, her hand had been pushed away brusquely.

Daryl ducked his head and went back to work. You were still at the fence when he walked up beside you. You were attempting to untangle a disgusting mass of limbs to pull a single walker out. Your nose wrinkled and you let out a noise of disgust. “I don’t think I will ever get used to the smell of them,” you mused aloud.

Daryl looked up, about to respond, but suddenly your feet went out from under you and you were landing hard on your back, all the breath pushed out of your body. “Y/N!”

There was a surprisingly strong hand that had emerged from the pile of bodies gripping your ankle and low, muffled growls emanated from a walker beneath the heap that was not quite dead.

Daryl jumped into action immediately, stomping his boot down onto the grasping arm until it released you and then quickly tugging you away by gripping you under the arms. He collapsed down on the ground behind you and you came to rest partially against him, still gasping for air as your lungs had not yet returned to normal, still seized up from the fall. You found yourself completely unaware that you were laying back against his chest as you just focused on trying to breathe. Daryl didn’t dare move.

Carol came running over at full speed. “Oh my God! Are you okay?!”

All you could do was nod urgently, unable to talk still. You pressed a hand to your chest and willed your lungs to start drawing in air again. Your heart was pounding.

“Fucker didn’t scratch ya ,did he? Please, tell me he didn’t…” Daryl gasped. “Carol, check her ankles quick!”

Carol quickly bent over you and looked, sighing with relief. “No, she’s clean.”

It was about that time that your lungs started working again and you realized you were sort of on top of Daryl. “Oh, shit,” you breathed, sitting up and turning. “I’m sorry. I—I’m leaning on you,” you said hurriedly.

Daryl shook his head, his brow still furrowed deeply. “S’alrigh’. Are ya okay? Ya sure?”

You nodded, trying hard to slow your breathing and heart rate. “I’m okay. Just startled me more than anything.”

Daryl climbed to his feet and offered you his hand. He pulled you up. You both watched as Carol kicked a body aside and plunged her knife into the head of the walker that had grabbed you and was still moving. “Got him,” she said, straightening up, her knife dripping blood onto the grass.

It was then that you realized your hand was still in Daryl’s. He hadn’t let go. You could feel the calluses on his palms from digging with the shovels the week before and the calluses on his fingertips from drawing back his crossbow. His thumb was closed gently over the back of your hand. He seemed to have realized then that the moment had passed when he should have relinquished his gentle hold on you and he suddenly drew back, wiping his hand on his pants as if that would rid it of the electric tingle on his palm. “Are ya sure yer okay?” he asked again.

“Fine. I’m fine… just knocked the wind out of me for a minute,” you said.

“How was that one not dead?” he growled, moving to peer down at the body.

“Here,” Carol said, pointing at the neck. “Looks like whoever was trying to put it down just missed the back of head.”

Daryl straightened up, looking worried still. “We’ll have to remind ev’rybody to be more careful on the fence. What if somebody had gotten bit ‘cuz that fucker wasn’t quite dead?”

“It could’ve been my fault,” you said quickly. “I was working the fence too.”

“Well, I doubt ya need the reminder now,” Daryl said seriously, giving you a concerned look. You only nodded. “Look, why dun ya just head back up to the prison for a bit. Get outta the sun and get some water.”

You cocked your head as you looked at him. “What? No,” you laughed. “You think that’s enough to scare me off? Hell no, Dixon,” you said, already smiling at him again. “Let’s get this shit done.”

Carol smiled and shrugged. “You heard her, Dixon,” she teased, leaning down to grab another corpse by the wrists and pull it away.

The pile moved away from the fence and ready to be burned, you and Carol were about to start back to the prison when there was a rustling in the brush nearby. A scraggly looking walker wandered out and started toward the group of you, reaching up with hands that were missing several fingers.

Daryl unsheathed his knife with a well-practiced movement. “I got it,” he said, jogging over to put it down with a skillful stab to the head. He paced back, wiping his knife on his pants. “I’ll ask Rick where he put the gas/oil mixture for burnin’ this later. Ain’t no reason we gotta do it in this sun. Let’s head back up,” he drawled.

You nodded in agreement and pulled your gloves off, glancing at him with a half-smile. “Hey, do you have your bandana on you?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he said pulling it out from his back pocket and offering it to you. “Why?”

You took it, stepped in close to him, and dabbed at a spray of blood on the side of his neck from the walker he’d just put down, wiping it away. “You didn’t feel it?” you laughed. “Apparently it was a juicy one.” You held his bandana out to him again.

“Thanks,” he said, feeling his face flush a little with heat. He noticed Carol watching the interaction with that same vague smile on her face. He ducked his head and cleared his throat. “Alrigh’. Let’s head back inside them fences… One close call is more than enough for today.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

When Daryl saw you again in a few hours, he could tell you’d cleaned up after your morning shift on the fence. Your hair was down, framing your face and was shining in the sun. There was no more sweat or grime clinging to your skin anymore. You waved as you caught his eyes already on you and he gulped as you made your way over.

Daryl, on the other hand, was still just as filthy as he had been when you all left the pile of walkers outside the fence behind, perhaps moreso. His hands were covered in oil and grime from working on his bike. He felt suddenly self-conscious as you stopped beside him in your fresh clothes.

“I was looking for you,” you said.

“Me?” Daryl straightened up next to his bike.

“Yeah. Carol said you haven’t eaten anything all day,” you said pointedly, your eyebrows lifting.

He shrugged. “Just ain’t gotten around to it yet, I guess,” he drawled, fiddling with the tool in his hands.

“I see. You’re just entirely too busy to take care of yourself?” you retorted. As you talked, you reached out and wiped away a smudge of oil on his forearm casually.

Daryl, however, couldn’t be casual about the spark he’d just felt from that little touch of your fingertip. It jumped up to his arm and seemed to have made its way to his heart, because it was now racing. He gulped.

“Well, what if I fix you a bowl of something and bring it out? You worked hard this morning. You should eat,” you said, cocking your head at him. “We can’t have you suddenly passing out out here and faceplanting onto the cement,” you teased him.

He fixed his blue eyes on you for a long moment. “Ya ain’t gotta do that. ‘M almost done out here. I can come in and—”

You grabbed his arm again and Daryl almost stepped backwards from the way his body seemed to react to your touch again. It was nearly overwhelming. “Daryl, what I asked was if you would eat it if I brought it out. It’s a simple question,” you said, shooting him a playful look. “So?” Your hand was still on his arm. It was light and gentle, but he could feel the softness of your skin. He stared at it for a long second and then managed to clear his throat enough to respond. “Y—yeah, I’d eat it, I guess.”

“Good,” you said, nodding. “I’ll be right back then.” You disappeared back inside.

Rick happened to wander by carrying the gas can for burning the pile of walkers just a minute later. Daryl was bent over his bike, muttering expletives under his breath. “Ho—watch out!” Rick said suddenly, and Daryl shot up as he felt Rick’s hand brush his back.

Daryl jumped, spun around, and shook him off. “What the hell, man?” Daryl growled.

Rick laughed and held his hand up, palm out. “Sorry! You had a huge horsefly on your back! You’re welcome.” He shook his head. “With that reaction next time I might just let you get bit,” Rick joked.

Daryl shook his head. “Sorry. Ya just startled me is all.”

“It’s alright,” Rick replied. “I’ll go take care of those bodies.” He gestured with the gas can.

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh’. Be careful out there. Fire will probably bring more of ‘em in.”

“I’ll take Glenn out with me,” Rick said, and then he was off.

A moment later you were back with a bowl of food for him. It was some kind of noodles with some venison and a few fresh tomatoes from the garden. “Alright. Break time, Daryl,” you demanded. “I need to make sure you actually eat, since apparently you won’t.”

Daryl tugged his bandana from his back pocket and mopped at the oil on his skin the best he could.

You set the bowl in his hands and your fingertips brushed his skin. You didn’t seem to notice. For Daryl it was impossible not to. “Thanks,” he murmured, grabbing a seat on a nearby concrete block.

“No problem.” You came and sat down next to him, sighing good-naturedly and looking out over the green grass of the yard. Rick was just lighting up the pile of walkers outside the fence. A breeze was blowing the tops of the trees around, sending the leaves fluttering and changing their hues. Fluffy clouds drifted by lazily.

Daryl dragged a hand across his mouth. “Mmm. S’good. Thanks,” he murmured, hurriedly taking another bite. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he’d started eating.

You smiled at his voracious eating habits and leaned your chin on your hand, your elbow propped on your knee. You reached over again with your free hand and attempted to smooth that same stubborn strand of his hair that had been sticking up all day. Goosebumps rose up Daryl’s back.

“Thought ya gave that up as a lost cause,” Daryl said through a mouthful, holding absolutely still while your fingers were in his hair.

“I did. Was just… I don’t know,” you shrugged, smiling. “I kind of like it.”

He shot you a look like you were crazy.

“What?” you laughed. “It’s endearing!”

“Yer nuts,” he joked, ducking his head again and turning back to his food. He didn’t see you biting your bottom lip as you looked at him, a fond and soft light in your eyes.

_ _ _ _ _ _

That evening, most of the group was gathered around a bonfire out in the yard. You’d all roasted scraps of venison from a deer Daryl had shot the day before, supplemented with vegetables from the garden and everyone was full and happy. Carol was rocking Judith and cooing over her. Maggie, Glenn, and Beth were playing a rowdy game of cards. Rick and Carl seemed content to watch the people they loved enjoying themselves and you and Hershel were off to one side talking about plans for fall crops when cool season time rolled around again.

Daryl was the only one who had wandered away by himself and seemed to be standing watch on one of the guard platforms. You noticed his broad-shouldered silhouette against the sky and excused yourself.

He turned at the sound of steps on the rattling metal stairs and straightened up when he saw you come around the corner.

You looked up and smiled at him and his heart jumped. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Hey. Everythin’ alrigh’?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. You came to stand beside him at the railing and leaned forward on your forearms. “You okay? Were we all too rowdy down there?” you asked.

“‘M good. Just thought somebody should be on watch, ya know?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nodding.

“It doesn’t always have to be you though,” you said. “You take on a lot. You’re allowed to relax too. Your worth as a person isn’t tied to what you can do for the group.”

He looked at you with a semi-startled expression on his handsome face.

“And I see now that you needed to hear that,” you said your eyebrows lifting. “It’s true.”

You turned and looked back out over the shadows settling into the yard and the warm orange glow illuminating your found family.

Daryl was chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. He lifted a hand to rub at his right shoulder, wincing a little as he rotated it.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nah, s’nothin’. I must’a tweaked it when I was movin’ my bike this afternoon. Tha’s all. S’fine.”

“Hmm. Alright. Turn around,” you said, straightening up.

“What?” Daryl asked, one of his eyebrows quirked up with the question.

“I said turn around,” you said again.

“Why?”

“Just turn around!” you laughed. “What, are you scared of me?”

“Maybe a little,” Daryl replied, a half-smile turning up one corner of your mouth.

Your hands landed on your hips and you cocked your head at him with attitude. He surrendered and turned so his back was to you.

Your hands landed gently on his shoulders and you worked your fingers into his stiff muscles. They seemed to melt beneath your touch. “You are tense,” you said. You moved to massage his sore shoulder and you could feel that one specific spot seemed particularly tight and inflamed. Your touch became gentler and Daryl’s eyes shut. He was almost leaning into the light workings of your hands. “How’s that feel?” you asked him.

All he could get out was a satisfied hum which made you smile.

“You definitely pulled something over here. You’ll have to go easy on it for a bit.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Maybe ya can just keep doin’ that ‘til it’s all better,” he drawled.

You laughed lightly. “I take it this feels okay then,” you said.

“Mhm,” he hummed again.

You smiled to yourself. The man deserved a little TLC. After all, you had scared the shit out of him when that walker grabbed you. You’d never forget the sound of his panicked voice yelling your name.

Just then, there was more clattering on the stairs and your hands left Daryl’s shoulders as you both turned to look. Carol came around the corner and stopped short. “Oh—sorry. I hope I’m not interrupting, um, anything,” she said, smiling.

You felt your cheeks flush and Daryl was feeling the same thing in his chest and face. “No. Not at all,” you said, leaning back against the railing.

“I was just looking for Daryl,” she explained.

“You found him,” you said. “I should head back down and see if Rick needs help getting Judith down for bed anyway.” You glanced back over at Daryl and gave him a small smile. “Night. See you in the morning. Night, Carol.”

Daryl watched you go until you disappeared into the deepening darkness. Then he felt Carol’s eyes on him. He turned at looked at her and her expression and postured, crossed arms and all, could only be described as smug. “What?” he asked, nestling the edge of his thumbnail in between his teeth and biting down.

“I’m really sorry if I did interrupt something,” she said pointedly.

“Interrupt what?” he drawled, a little irritated.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. “Let me just ask you something. How come eight out of ten times if I go to ruffle your hair or wipe a smudge of something gross off you, I get my hand smacked away, but Y/N always seems able to make contact, hmm?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. He simply stared back at her. Internally though, his mind and his heart were working in overdrive.

Carol laughed. “You don’t have to answer. I think we both know why,” she said with a satisfied smile.

Daryl sighed and ruffled a hand back through his wavy hair before resuming his position leaning on the railing next to Carol.

“You do like her though, don’t you?” Carol asked.

Daryl only continued to stare out over the dark yard, chewing on his bottom lip in that signature way of his. Carol’s smile widened and she nodded.

“I thought so.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Well, you beat all of us awake again today. I guess everything is back to normal,” Glenn said, kindly reaching out to give Daryl a friendly pat on the shoulder as he passed him. The archer flinched and Glenn gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he said quickly.

“Oh—nah, s’alrigh’,” Daryl drawled. “Just startled me… And yeah. Hope ya slackers had a good snooze. Some of us gotta get shit done around here,” he joked, shouldering his crossbow and heading toward the door to leave.

You happened to be coming back in with Judith in your arms and Daryl nearly ran into you, stopping short to avoid the collision. You laughed and greeted him, one of your hands reflexively landing flush in the center of his chest and staying there until the two of you had side-stepped around each other.

Glenn came to sit beside Maggie again, handing her the cup of tea he’d just gotten for her. “Did you see that? How he flinched?” he asked, a little sadly, his head indicating Daryl before the archer slipped out the door.

“Mhm,” Maggie nodded. “But did ya see that?” she asked, a faint smile tugging on her lips now. She nodded toward you across the room where you were sitting with Judith.

Glenn shook his head. “No. What? I was at the stove.”

Maggie’s smile widened. “Daryl nearly ran into her. She put her hand out and it landed right in the middle of his chest and it stayed there until they made their way around each other. And it almost seemed like Daryl didn’t want to step away from her. He didn’t flinch. He may have even moved in closer. He couldn’t stop lookin’ at her,” Maggie said.

Glenn nodded slowly, his eyebrows lifting as realization dawned on him. “Well, last night… the two of them disappeared from the bonfire... You don’t think—?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie laughed jovially. “But if they aren’t, they should. Daryl needs that. And he’d be good for her too. He’s always been so protective of her and you can just tell there’s somethin’ there.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

It was late afternoon when you spotted Daryl taking a break out in the yard. He was sitting on the stump used to chop wood, the axe leaning up against the wood pile nearby. Having just finished sorting some of the newly discovered supplies with Carol, you were ready for a break yourself.

“Hey,” you greeted him, tugging another round of wood over next to him.

“Hey,” he returned, watching you take a seat beside him. He found himself wringing his hands a little nervously.

As you settled in next to him, your arm floated behind him for a moment, your palm gently rubbing across his shoulder blades, almost giving his back a gentle scratch, and then tapering off down his spine in an affectionate gesture. Daryl froze, fluttering bursting to life in his chest again. Electric tingles ran up his back. He swallowed hard. “Why d’ya do that?” he asked suddenly.

You turned and gaze him a questioning look, the small smile dying on your lips. “Do what?”

“Ya know, ya rub my back or—or try to smooth down my hair—”

Your eyes went a bit round and then your brow furrowed, casting shadows over the rich color of your irises. “Oh. Does it bother you? I’m—I’m sorry, Daryl. I probably should have asked you if you were okay with me breaking the touch barrier like that with you. I’m really sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I won’t—”

“What? No. No, it doesn’t—I, uhh—I just mean—” Fuck. How could he explain this without having to confess all his deeply held feelings for you on the spot? “It’s—it’s nice… is all,” he finished lamely.

Your expression relaxed. “Yeah?”

He nodded, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. “I just—I ain’t ever really had anybody that—that did that kinda stuff with me, ya know? I mean—” he broke off. He didn’t want to go there. He’d had sex. He wasn’t completely inexperienced, but it had never felt anywhere near as intimate as your fingertips brushing his arm did.

Your lips formed a soft pout and the worry lines in your forehead reappeared. “You mean, touched you… affectionately?”

He nodded a little, keeping his eyes fixed toward the horizon, unable to look at you in that exact moment. “Yeah.”

Your heart ached. You nodded. “I see…” you breathed. You paused thoughtfully for a moment. You thought of all the people in your past who had touched you with love of all kinds—your parents, your best friend, hugs from extended relatives and friends, playfully holding hands as a child, touches with past partners… To think Daryl had never really had any of that broke your heart. You turned toward him and your fingers landed lightly along his jaw, gently turning his face toward you so you could see his bright blue eyes. You clasped his face for a moment and his eyes closed for just a split second. He actually leaned into the touch of your palm and you felt another pang in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, your fingertips trailing off his skin. “You should have had people your whole life touching you with love and friendship and care. And I’m so sorry you didn’t. We all need touch. It’s something fundamental to us as humans.”

You were close together, your knees almost bumping together.

Daryl’s eyes flickered between yours. “Yeah… I dun think I realized that until—pretty recently,” he said. “But ya don’t, uhh—I mean, I’ve noticed ya don’t… do the same thing with ev’rybody. I mean—not—not exactly the same,” he ventured.

“You noticed?” A small smile came back to your face. “No. You’re right. I don’t,” you agreed. You gave him a significant look and his heart began absolutely pounding in his chest, like he was running for his life, hard and fast.

“Oh…” he drawled, his eyes going suddenly unfocused.

“Yeah,” you said with a laugh, your cheeks heating with a blush. “Um, listen—come find me after dinner tonight. I’ve got first watch in the guard tower. Alright?” You stood and Daryl found himself looking up at you, wishing you wouldn’t go.

He could ask you to stay… but he just nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Alright. Tonight.”

“Great,” you said, flashing him a smile that made him glad he was sitting down already. You would have nearly knocked his knees out. How was he going to make it through the rest of the day? The waiting would be excruciating…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl looked up at the guard tower and could see your silhouette out on the platform against the warm splash of color from the setting sun. Inside the tower, a lantern glowed softly, illuminating the windows. He made his way up the winding stairs, trying to swallow his nerves to the best of his ability, but he found it wasn’t much use. He wiped his hands on his pants, suddenly aware that his palms were sweaty.

He pushed into the tower and found the door out onto the platform standing open. You looked over your shoulder at the sound of his boots and smiled at him, before returning to leaning on the railing, staring at the hues of salmon and orange and deep reds blazing across the sky as the sun sunk behind the trees at the horizon.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” you asked, meaning the sunset.

Daryl licked his lips nervously, but he was looking at you. “Yeah,” he drawled.

“I like how the sky is never the exact same. No two skies are alike. Something is always different with the colors or the clouds or the particular shade of blue. It makes me feel like even though the world has gone to complete shit… it hasn’t really. You know?”

Daryl leaned onto the railing beside you on his forearms and drank in the scene, humming his agreement. “Mhm.” He nervously shifted. “Um… why’d—why’d ya ask me up here?” He couldn’t stand the strenuous anticipation and wondering any longer.

You turned giving him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. You’ve probably been wondering all day. Well… I was wondering if I could kiss you and this seemed like a nice place to do it—private, nice view, stars will be out soon, unlikely to be interrupted…”

Daryl thought he must have heard you wrong. “Wait—what?”

You smiled at him, your eyes sparking with light. “I’d like to kiss you, if that’s alright?”

He stared at you. “Ya wanna kiss me?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Huh… well—what if I wanna kiss you first?”

You gave him an amused look, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Then, I’d say this works out for both of us?” you laughed.

He ducked his head for a moment. “Cuz I’ve wanted to kiss ya for—for a long time now. Prob’ly longer than you’ve wanted to kiss me,” he admitted. He shot a cautious look at your expression but you still just had that serene smile on your face.

“Daryl—” you said, stepping in toward him and gently taking hold of the front of his vest, “I don’t care who initiates it, but I’d like it to happen n—”

You didn’t get the last word out, because Daryl’s lips landed flush on yours and his hand was tangling into your hair, the other landing lightly on your waist. He seemed a little tense at first, nerves maybe, but quickly you melted into each other, your knees weakening, and he tugged you against him as your arms looped around his neck.

Your hearts were racing in time together and you were both breathless when you broke apart, pulling back only enough to breathe. Daryl’s fingers drummed anxiously on your lower back.

“Was… that alrigh’?” he asked.

“Alright?” you repeated. “It was perfect,” you said.

He looked relieved. “Good. ‘Cuz… it was for me too,” he said softly. “And I’d like to do it again, if tha’s alrigh’?”

You grinned and arched into him, crashing your lips against his. This kiss was fiery and hungry and you didn’t break apart for a long time. Daryl held your body firmly against his and the two of you moved without any clumsiness or reticence, reading each other easily and sinking into it.

The sun was now nearly completely gone and the first stars were appearing in the inky sky. The moon was rising. You bit your bottom lip, looking up at Daryl. “I was hoping you’d stay until my shift is over.”

“Mmm,” Daryl nodded, his hands still on your waist. “Alrigh’. But s’gonna be hard to keep watch with ya distractin’ me.”

“Well, there are two of us… only one of us really needs to be watching at a time,” you joked, laughing lightly. You stroked your fingers through his wavy hair, brushing it away from his face, and his eyes closed at your touch. “I brought a blanket up to sit on. Come on.”

Daryl settled down on it first and then nudged his head in a way as to request that you sink down against him. His arm draped behind you and landed on your hip. His fingers moved a little absently, feeling your softness and angles. “Thanks,” he said suddenly.

“Hmm? For what?” you asked, looking over at him and catching his eyes for a moment before he ducked his head and shrugged.

“For bein’ you and… bein’ the way ya are with me,” he drawled. He didn’t know how to voice that as long as he’d known you, every little touch you gave him, innocent or maybe more, felt like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he found himself craving it, craving you. But he’d never known for sure, beyond the doubt instilled in him, if it was one-sided or not. Now, he knew.

"You don't have to thank me. You deserve to feel wanted, Daryl. You are." You smiled at him and then tucked yourself against him, your head resting under his chin, your hand moving softly on his bare arm, leaving tingles in its wake. The last light of the sun disappeared and was replaced with the cool glow of the moon and endless stars, and the two of you soaked in each other. Daryl seemed more confident as the minutes passed and drank you in, slowly touch-starved no longer and hoping he would never be again.

#daryl fluff #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

[kachowder]

Yandere Jock x Reader

You did not want to be here.

The seats were cold. Your butt hurt. It was loud. And the smell of sweaty feet and gym shorts was nothing short of a headache this early in the morning.

You knew you were being dramatic. Nobody liked gym class. Well. Nobody except maybe Loren. The campus “wonder boy”.

You guess you understood the hype. I mean the guy was a star player for your colleges team. Not to mention, insanely athletic, and good at about, well, just about anything. Except for y’know. His studies.

Which y’know gotta have that little cliche in their right? Who doesn’t love a big dumb jock huh?

And of course he was otherworldly pretty. Because obviously.

Okay maybe you were being a little hard on the guy. You didn’t hate him. Hell you hadn’t even talked to him!

A small part of you was willing to admit it might’ve been a slight case of jealousy

But only slight! The guy had everything practically handed to him and here you were busting your ass!

It sucked yknow? I mean what’s someone gotta do around here to get a helping hand-

“Hey! Watch out!-“

Suddenly the sound of rubber against skin boomed in your ears. A sudden shadow blocked your sight, and it took a moment for the sound of your own heart beat to settle, for you to realize what had just happened.

“Hey, you okay?”

The shadow moved, revealing a large hand, firmly grasping a stray volleyball. A volleyball that would’ve smacked you straight in the face because you were too busy monologuing to-

“Hello?”

Oh right

You hesitantly moved your eyes upwards, and nearly groaned out loud.

Wonder boy. Of course.

Time to embarrass yourself with your poor social skills!

“Oh shoot, hey, sorry-uhm..thanks for totally saving me back there! I mean, saving might be a stretch cuz the worse that could’ve happened might’ve been a bruise or on the very slim chance a concussion- but still I appreciate-“

“Pfft..”

Mother fucker did not just

Loren must’ve noticed your sudden change in mood, because he quickly coughed into his empty fist with a shy smile. His brown eyes were twinkling obnoxiously in your opinion, from the reflection of the faux lights.

“Sorry- sorry…I just uh…you’re kinda dorky”

This bitch.

A scowl quickly took residence on your face, a snarl being on the verge of pouring out.

“Right. Well I said thanks so, I think I’ll be on my way now. Thank you, again for the save. Or whatever.” The last part came out as more of a grumble than anything, and yeah you might’ve been a little petty for it, but come on who says that to someone you just met??

As if realizing his mistake, Loren’s grin fell agape, and with slow reaction time, unusual for someone like him, he moved to follow after you towards the door way.

“Hey wait no! I meant it in-“

The door closed with a thunderous slam.

“-a cute..way.”

“……”

A hand perched itself on Lorens broad shoulder.

“Hey man! Who you talkin to?”

A fellow player chirped at the brunette, who’s lips had settled into a troubled frown before he snapped his eyes towards the other player.

He didn’t know his name.

There was a brief moment where the player swore he was being glared at by the Star member, but it was gone so fast he figured it to be a trick of the artificial light.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get back to the group yeah?”

—————————————-

God what a long day

Loren sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that hour, sweat pouring from his brow as he roamed the mostly barren halls.

It was fairly late in the evening.

There was the occasional straggler, most of who greeted him enthusiastically.

“Hey Loren! Can’t wait for the game this week!”

“Loren! You goin to the BMZ’s party tomorrow?”

He responded the way he normally would. Smiles, “hell yeahs”, and high fives. Though at this point he was just going through the motion. He didn’t really feel the need to show up to the parties. But he decided he’d wait to see how he felt by tomorrow.

Right now, he just wanted to get home and relax.

“Stupid- fucking professor! Couldnt wait till I- goddammit!”

Maybe home could wait a while longer

Loren peeked around the corner, and swore he almost did a backflip at the sight of you slouched against an empty classroom door.

Perfect.

“Hey!”

The moment your eyes drifted to his he swore he almost forgot how to breathe. You were way too cute.

But the frown on your kissable lips was disheartening to say the least.

“What do you want?”

Okay that hurt a little, but he kept his easy going grin as he strode to stand above you,

a visual he found…almost unnatural really.

It felt weird. Wrong, to be standing above you like that. But he disregarded the feeling for now. No matter how strong the desire to drop to his knees was.

“Need a hand?”

He heard you scoff

“Right..the professors gone so unless you have a key to the city than-“

Click!

He wanted to laugh at the stunned look on your pretty face. But that didn’t go well last time so he settled for a smile.

“…Ta-da!”

You looked less amused than he had hoped, with the way your head whipped back and forth before you carefully stepped in.

“Why the hell do you have a key that opens this classroom?”

“When you’re the “School Pride” you get a few extra privileges sometimes.”

You mumbled something at that, but he was unfortunately stood too far away to hear what you said clearly. He figured it was a jab at him. Not that he minded.

With quick, but still obviously cautious steps, you peddled on over to one of the front desks, where a lonely bag sat.

Quickly and nimbly you scooped it over your shoulder and made your way back to the brunette, who stood guard at the doors entrance. Almost dutifully.

Loren had to beg the universe that you didn’t hear his thundering heart and stuttering breath when you stopped directly infront of him.

Fuck you were so fucken cute up close what the fuck

“Thanks.”

“Huh?- Oh! Yeah of course anythingforyou”

.

.

.

.

“What?”

“What?”

“……”

You eyed him suspiciously for a moment, before seeming to sigh in resignation.

Moving out from the doorway, and away from him, you paused outside where you had previously had your little breakdown.

“Anyway. Thanks again. For the double save and stuff.” You almost looked pained saying that if he was being honest. But he’s take what he could get for now. “See you around. Or something.”

Wait what?

You were leaving again? Already? He barely even had time to stare at you!

I mean. Talk to you. And make up for embarrassing you earlier!

“Wait!”

You paused, almost irritatedly but seemed to ultimately decide to be civil and hear him out. Probably because you liked him now.

(No you were just tired.)

“How about you come to my game this week yeah? It’s on Thursday.”

.

.

“Why?”

“Because i want you to. And I wanna make up for this morning.”

Loren watched anxiously as you seemed to weigh your options.

“Please?”

Again, you sighed, before turning around and beginning to stalk off down the hall.

“I’ll think about it. I guess I owe you anyway.”

Nowaynowaynoway

Loren waited for you to turn the corner

“YES!”

He jumped up excitedly, “yes yes yes! Hell yeah!” clenching his fist with a enthusiastic grin, eyes practically shooting beams of excitement with how bright they were.

This was it. This was the beginning.

Fuck yeah! He was so pumped now!

You could consider this Thursday’s win dedicated to you.

———————-///—————

A/N: this ask/story was so fun to read and write about! I love getting asks so don’t worry about sending too many btw <3 thank you so much! Perhaps we’ll see more of Loren in the future? Hope you like my take <3

#yandere #x oc #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere jock #Loren Oc

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hello!! I love your Korra X readers so I’m just gonna ask if you could do a Korra x Fem!reader (or GN up to you!) with the cliche plot of Reader being injured and not telling anyone until later? Hope you are doing well!!

YURR lets go. I initially wrote this as a fem!reader, but I didn't even use the reader's pronouns in this so, gender neutral reader it is!

Kiss It Better | Korra x Beifong!Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: With your girlfriend saving the world all the time, you take it as your job to not worry her with your own problems. If you needed help with something, you'd figure it out or get someone else's help. What happens when your "selflessness" nearly costs you an arm?

╰┈➤ WARNING: Injured!Reader, Suggestive Mentions, Cursing, Not Proofread, Beifong!Reader

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

It was a simple fracture. You were training with Bolin and a cluster of Earth hit you too hard in the arm. Bolin apologized and even offered to take you to the infirmary, but you rejected him.

One, you were a Beifong; you don't get hurt. Two, if you go to the infirmary, chances are you'll get a cast or some sort of sling. That'll worry your girlfriend, the Avatar, and with all the duties she had to attend to, your fractured arm was the least of her worries.

"Oh, fuck," you hissed, leaning back into your plush sofa. Typically, the plush cushions and fuzzy fabric would comfort you. The cushions would allow your muscles to relax and for your body to find comfort in the warm snuggles of your girlfriend's blanket. But now, the cushions only make your body hurt worse.

There was no support in the cushions. The plushiness was too plushy and the warm comfort typically found within the blanket was annoying.

"I'm home!" Korra announced. The woman kicked off her boots, put up her short hair, and plopped beside you on the couch.

You groaned, holding your bicep.

Korra tilted her head, raising a brow. "Hey, you okay? Was I too loud or something?"

Time slowed as you forced a laugh out of your chest. If you laughed too hard, your arm would ache. If you didn't laugh enough, Korra would assume something was wrong.

Nothing was wrong. At least, to her knowledge.

"Oh, sorry!" you smiled at her, "I was actually practicing this new joke Mako taught me. I was supposed to make this sound, but I guess I haven't mastered it yet."

"Oh... haha," Korra forced out of her. "No more taking joke suggestions from Mako. He doesn't have a funny bone in his body." The Avatar nestled her head on your chest. She hummed, snuggling into the warmth of your body.

"Right," you chewed on your lip. "I don't know what I was thinking."

-

"One, hit! Two, hit! Three--!"

"Okay!" you howled. You and Bolin have been training for three hours straight now. Something must've inspired Bolin because he's been sending over disks, boulders, and other forms of Earth toward you like there was no tomorrow. While he was losing pounds by sweating alone, your arm was screaming at you.

"Please stop moving me!" "I'm hurt!" "Why do you hate us?!"

You wished you could listen to your body. You really did. But you read somewhere that certain fractures can heal on their own with the proper rest and care.

You thought you could take it easy in training today, but obviously, Bolin had other plans.

"Oh," Bolin smiled, peeling himself away from his boxed stance. "Did I go too far? Sorry. Opal said something last night about guys working out and how she loved watching me train sometimes, so I wanted to work extra hard this practice so I wouldn't feel bad for showing off."

Your chest heaved up and down as the boy spoke. The fire in your arm was excruciating and it was spreading to your shoulders.

You trudged along the training center, going to a lousy bench where your water bottle and workout towel lay. "No, no," you told Bolin, "it's okay. I just need a break. That's all."

Lowering yourself onto the bench, your muscles and all the meat on your body felt like falling off the bone like you were a tenderly cooked piece of chicken. Your thighs ached and shook, like after an endless night with Korra. You took your towel and slung it over your good arm. You carefully opened your water bottle to take a sip.

Bolin followed after, mindlessly yapping about Opal and how pretty she was. Once he sat himself next to you and drank from his water, his eyes bulged out of his head, and water sprayed from his mouth.,

You whipped your head toward him, perplexed. "Oh, my Spirits! What was that?"

"What happened to your arm?" the boy exclaimed. He pointed at the swollen and bruised skin. Your rotator cuff was a deep purple with blue specs. He couldn't see it, but the bruising gave a pulsing sensation.

You scoffed and went for another sip of water. "Nothing. Just bumped into a pole."

"What kind of pole hit you like that?" he exclaimed again, now out of his seat. His green eyes were now filled with fear; his body trembled with worry.

You tried to shrug, but since your hurt arm was alarmingly tough and sore, only your good arm moved. "I don't know," you mumbled. "It was a while ago, I think. I can't really remember."

"Well, you have to at least let a nurse or someone qualified check you out! This looks bad, Beifong. No pole could've done this."

"Bolin," you rose to your feet. "I'm fine. Don't make me say it again." You didn't let Bolin get another word in as you gathered your things. "And Bolin, don't mention this to anyone."

-

Bolin can't keep a secret and honestly, it's your fault for telling him to keep one. You're his friend and Bolin doesn't believe in keeping his friends in danger. You need medical attention, even if you are too stubborn to admit it.

Immediately after practice, he ran to Mako who ran to Asami who told Korra.

When she first heard the news, Korra had mixed emotions. She was vexed because she didn't notice your pain and you didn't tell her, yet worried about the extremity of your injury. Could your arm fall off? What if the injury was actually worse underneath?

The Krew discussed your injury and how to intervene in your careless ways of living. There was a plan where they tricked you into going to the hospital, another where they took you out to dinner and would finesse you into spilling your guts, and then there's the plan they actually went through; the plan that made the most sense.

Korra was to go home with a smile on her face, cuddle and kiss on you for a while, and then ease into the conversation of training and injuries.

Mako thought the subtle conversation topic would force you to talk about your injury without actually forcing you.

Well, it's been two fucking hours of medical talk and Korra wasn't getting anywhere.

The two of you were cuddling on your bed, legs entangled with each other and her arms around your waist. She had her head on your good arm and from the corner of her eye, she could see the black and blue bruising that was growing to your neck.

Your pajamas acted as a pathetic way to hide it.

Korra was done playing the nice game. She had Asami in her head telling her to play the nice game and to ease into it. (She also had Mako claiming that Korra was unable to play the "nice-and-ease-into-it" game, but what Mako doesn't know won't kill him).

"Bolin told me," Korra spoke, her eyes fixated on the wall in front of you two.

You hummed, keeping your eyes closed. The ache and burn on your arm weren't as bad anymore. You also read somewhere that heat would inflame the injury more so after a quick lukewarm shower, you iced. You iced and replaced the ice for hours until Korra came home.

You were missing that ice right about now.

"Told you what?"

"That you have a disgusting bruise on your shoulder." Okay, so Bolin didn't describe it as disgusting, but what you don't know won't kill you either.

You snickered. "I ran into a pole, okay? It's not the big of a deal."

"Then why are you lying to me?" Korra pulled herself off of your chest. With delicate fingers, the Avater peeled the soft fabric off your shoulders.

The subtle movement of the fabric made you wince and the natural instinct was to push Korra away, so, you did. You pushed on her stomach to move her away from you. "Korra, don't."

"Oh, what are you gonna do?" she scoffed. Korra sat on her knees, shoulders squared to you and arms crossed over her chest. "Threaten me? You saw how that worked out with Bolin, nice move by the way." Korra's words were stern and leaning towards the angry side of things. Her nose scrunched while her nostrils flared. She was also gripping her arms so hard, her grip made marks.

"I didn't threaten him," you claimed.

"So, what would you call it? Being a bad friend? Telling him to keep your health a secret knowing damn well it's on the line?"

"My health is not on the line!" You've sat up from the bed now. Your bad arm rested on a mound of pillows and your good arm held it for support. "It's a tiny injury, sprain if you wanna go that far."

"That's rich," Korra scoffed. She shook her head, getting off the bed. "You can barely talk to me without the corner of your mouthing ticking from the pain. I can barely put my hands on your shirt and you can barely sit on the couch without groaning in pain."

You suddenly found interest in the ceiling. You took note of the texture and the color. You would find any new fact you could about this ceiling if it meant you could avoid Korra's burning gaze and her rising anger.

This is why you didn't want to tell her in the first place. She's worried about everyone else and for once, you wanted to be someone she doesn't have to worry about. But now she's here, yelling at you because she cares. Because you didn't tell her.

"I didn't want you to worry about me too," you mumbled. Your gaze dropped to the comforter. "You have so much on your plate, I wanted to ease the load. You shouldn't be stressed about me, you're the Avatar. You have more people to worry about."

Watching you struggle to look her in the eye, Korra sat herself on the bed. She put a soft hand on the mound of your knee, using her thumb to soothe the skin. "Hey," she spoke. "I am your girlfriend first and the Avatar second. I will always worry about you. You deserved to be worried about and cared for."

You swallowed thickly. The back of your throat scratched like you had a cold yet your mouth was eager to say something back. Your brain couldn't think of any words to say.

"Your struggles and problems aren't inferior to me. I want you to come to me with your troubles, not because I'm the Avatar, but because I'm your girlfriend. It's my job to care for you, to heal you when you're sick, and to pick you up when you're down. Master of the Elements or not, that's my job and it's yours too," she sighed. "So, please, for the first time, tell me what's wrong and what I can do to help you."

The moment your eyes locked with hers, a flood broke through you. You wept as you told her what was wrong with your arm and how long you've tried to sustain this injury, four days.

Korra could kick herself over and over again for not noticing how much pain you were in, but you were a good pretender. In some way, she had Bolin and Opal to thank. Without Bolin's sudden desire to train extra hard, you wouldn't be forced to stop pretending.

But instead of wallowing in self-pity and throwing a really weird party for the couple in her head, she comforted you. She pulled you to her chest and held you as tightly as she could without hurting you further.

The two of you stayed like that, you in her arms, for a while. You didn't take notice of the time spent in the position. You two focused on each other's breathing and warmth.

And finally, for the first time in a long time, you let Korra take care of you.

WC: 2,071

#pastel-peach-writes #gender-neutral terms #pastel peach writes #gender neutral terms #sapphic #avatar korra #the legend of korra #legend of korra #korra #korra fanfic #korra x y/n #korra x you #korra x reader #beifong!reader #lok x reader #lok fanfic #lok #legend of korra fanfiction #legend of korra fanfic

[the-traveling-poet]

hi lovely! 💓 Here to request some Levi x reader where is just period comfort? Maybe during a training (so between S1 and S2) reader gets awful cramps that don’t allow her to train (happened to me this morning) and so Levi steps in? Thank you, take your timeee! 💕

══════════════════════

Pains

══════════════════════

Monthly cycles suck, but not nearly as badly when you’re expected to work up to 12 hours a day in the military.

Thankfully, you have your lovely boyfriend to soothe the aches and pains with his persistent comfort.

══════════════════════

Pairings: Levi x F!Reader

Warnings: period struggles :/, cannon!AU, fluff, established relationship, AFAB reader.

Taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe @starrylevi

══════════════════════

A/N: Great timing Anon! Mother nature hit me on new years and I suffered till the 8th, so this one’s personally written I’m sorry and thank you. :)

Also I apologize for the wait! I had my first midlife crisis of the month! (There any many per month and this is 2024th first one)

Enjoy~

══════════════════════

Landing on your ass during training was always a pain. Not only from the physical pain it erupts through your tailbone, knocking the breath from your lungs, but also because of the embarrassment that usually followed.

Yet despite this, today, it was all you could do to not cry out when it happened.

Every aching cramp you had the displeasure of already feeling was amplified, shooting sharp pains not only through your tailbone but across your hips and femurs as well. Had your spine just fractured?

Surprised that you hadn’t gotten up yet, paired with how your face twisted in obvious discomfort, Eren raised a brow as he knelt before you.

“Oi, Y/N. You alright?” He asked slowly, unsure how to perceive this moment of weakness you were displaying.

“Fine,” you grunted out, accepting his offered hand to stand once more. Immediately you were lightheaded, unable to stand straight up as your abdomen clenched in nauseating defiance. It was as though half the blood in your body made a rush towards your pelvic floor, as thought gravity suddenly had a stronger pull over you.

Attempting to play it off, you placed a hand on your hip and discreetly squeezed it hard, while keeping your thighs held close together.

“I think…I think I just need a breather. We’ve been at it an hour straight,” You huffed, wiping your brow of the sweat that had gathered there.

Still regarding you curiously, Eren opened his mouth to speak, but was caught off guard as a shout from across the field intrupted him.

“The hell’s going on over here, brats?”

Cursing under your breath, you slowly looked up and attempted to straighten your poster. Meanwhile, Eren was already in full salute.

“Captain Levi!” He greeted, albeit anxiously.

“What, you get tired Jaeger? Decided to take a little break from training?” Levi approached the two of you, stopping only a short distance away with his arms folded over his chest and a slight furrow to his brow. Silently, he observed Jaeger first, before his eyes landed on you. The furrow in his brow let up, but only slightly.

“Actually-“

“It was me, sir. I needed a break,” You interjected, cutting the poor titan shifter off with a look of worry. For your well-being or Levi’s harsh tone, you couldn’t be sure.

But it never came from the raven, as his eyes scanned you up and down curiously. You’d have been nervous by this, had you not known the man so personally behinds closed doors. You matched his stare, silently trying to convey to him you really needed a break. Finally, Levi tore his eyes from your frame with a sigh.

“Very well; Jaeger, continue with Mikasa.”

“Yes, sir!” Eren responded, finally dropping his salute. With one last curious look over his shoulder, Eren was off.

Sighing in relief, you allowed yourself to slump forward once more now that you and your lover weren’t in direct sight of the others on the training grounds.

“Sorry, Levi. I…I can’t train right now. I tried, but it’s too much.”

Levi regarded you curiously, once more looking you up and down. But this time, a slight tug of his lower lip hinted at a frown.

“You look constipated.”

“Thanks, I actually kinda am.”

He scoffed at your equally sassy remark, taking a step closer to you.

“You’re pale…the hell did that kid do to you? Do I need to go kick his ass?” He asked you softly, nimble fingers starting to brush your hair back for you. Stifling a giggle that you knew only too well would cause more discomfort, you shook your head.

“He didn’t do anything to me, I’m just uhh…” You sighed as you fought to find a way to convey what you were going through eloquently. As another sharp pain nestled into your side, you sighed in frustration.

“Oh to hell with it, I’m bleeding out, babe.”

Levi raised a brow at you, clearly unamused. “You could have just said you’re on your menstrual cycle.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t convey my anger,” you hung your head in defeat. You expected another witty retort, but instead you were pleasantly surprised when Levi half knelt before you and tucked his arms under your knees and across your shoulder blades.

Now held against his chest, you nearly protested as he began to walk back towards HQ. But you bit your tongue. Just how often did you get the privilege of being carried around like a princess, anyways? Especially by your usually closed off boyfriend. So instead, you took advantage of such a situation and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Can you carry me every month?” You asked him softly, giving him your best attempt at puppy eyes.

Looking down at you in his arms, he held your stare as he walked, then turned his attention back to the front, muttering a quick “Dunno, maybe.”

Content for now, you nuzzled up against his chest with a sigh.

“Where are we going, anyways?”

“I could have brought you to Hange’s lab and fed you to one of her new pets, and you wouldn’t have thought to ask that till now?” He paused, and you could tell he was trying his best to hold back a slight smirk.

“I’m taking you back to our room.”

“Our room? I wasn’t aware we shared a room just yet?” You snickered, biting at your lip to hide your excitement at the idea.

After caching his slip up, he mumbled “Well, it could be our room…if you want. I meant my room.”

Warmth filled your chest at his offer, as you leaned up to peck his slightly pink cheek.

“I’d like that. But why your room? I’m all sweaty from training.” You asked softer this time, worried your favorite germaphobe hadn’t thought this far ahead yet. But it seemed he had, as he merely hummed dismissively.

“You’re dont training today, and you’re going to rest where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Awe baby,” You cooed, ignoring the way your abdomen screamed out in protest to moving yourself in his arms. “So you can get me things I need?”

“So I can make sure you don’t make any messes. And besides, I have my own shower. Captain perks or some shit.” He corrected, but this time wasn’t able to keep up that serious expression of his through his teasing.

After entering his room, adjacent to his office space, he set you down. Much to your digression.

“Carry me to the bed?” You asked pleadingly, clutching absentmindedly at your abdomen as the dull aches started up once more.

“Patience, brat. You need these uniforms straps off if you want to rest comfortably.”

Rolling your eyes, despite your silent agreement, you reached down to start undoing the belts lining your thighs, abdomen, chest and shoulders. But when your hand brushed against his, you stopped cold in your tracks. He looked up at you as he knelt, a flicker of nervousness flitting across his eyes before it was gone just as fast.

“I’ve got it, just hold still.”

So you did, watching with bated breath as he made quick, yet gentle, work of undoing each belt with ease. He even went so far as to remove your boots and socks for you, and hung your jacket up alongside his. Every light brush of his thin fingers against your uniform pants and shirt made your mind slip further and further away from the pain that wracked your body from your shoulders down.

Standing back up with you snuggled up in his arms once more, he made sure to place you down with utmost care upon his mattress, as though he saw you as made out of glass all the sudden.

Standing back up, he looked you over from head to toe, and saw how you were still scrunched up slightly in discomfort. With a sigh, he spun on his heel and left the room.

“Levi?” You called out, not nearly ready to have him leave yet. You’d only just gotten to see this softer side of his, you’d be damned to see it go away so quickly. Just as you’d started to stand back up, you heard from the other room him lightly call out.

“Just sit still brat, I’m getting you something to drink.”

Settling back down, you curled up under his sheets. They looked unbothered before Levi had set you here, and you wondered if he even used his bed. It certainly smelled like him, so maybe he did.

Indulging in the little pleasure of breathing in his slightly musky and calming scent from his sheets to distract you from what felt like literal death, you curled in on yourself and sighed.

You lost yourself to the fantasy of sharing this room with your man, this very bed with him, and didn’t notice Levi had returned until the bed dipped slightly behind you. Lazily looking up, you were greeted with steely eyes looking down at you in concern.

“That bad?” He mumbled, gently placing his hand onto your hip.

“Worse than you could imagine,” You grumbled out, face half buried in his pillow. You heard him sigh as the weight was lifted off the bed, and a slight shuffling that followed. Peaking over your shoulder curiously, your face lit up with a blush.

“The hell you doing?” You mumbled.

“Shut it, and move your ass.” He grumbled back, removing his own jacket, straps, and boots.

“Make me. I’m comfy here,” You whined, wrapping your arms tighter around your hips. Were you really that comfy? Not entirely. But the look on his face made you want challenge him in some way. Why? Why not?

Feeling his arms push down on the mattress and slide under you, you whined in discomfort as he quite literally slid you more towards the middle of the bed. But your complains were quickly snuffed when he placed himself right up against your back.

He removed your arms from around your waist, and replaced them with his own. Light pressure, nothing to intense. But the warmth he provided through this simple touch, it warmed you instantly.

“Too tight?” He whispered in your ear, lightly squeezing your middle. Shaking your head as best you could, you snuggled back against his chest.

Humming thoughtfully, he let his arms relax around you and set his chin atop your head, as his legs bent at the knee to fully encase your body with his own. The feeling was like none other, being fully spooned and cuddled by Levi nearly had the breath leaving your lungs. The faint brushing of his thumb across your abdomen was just the cherry on top.

“There’s tea on the dresser, whenever you want it. I’ll get it.” He mumbled against your hair, continuing to gently rub your abdomen.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You suddenly whispered, voice quivering just slightly enough to catch Levi’s attention fully.

Holding you a little closer and peppering light kissed across your neck, he pressed his chest closer to your back with a humored huff.

“I should be asking you that. But now, just rest darling. Relax, let me help you out in any small way I can.”

His soothing words lulled you into a sense of comfort once more, lacing your fingers through his as they traced aimless patterns across your abdomen.

As miserable as your cycles were, perhaps you now had something to look forward to during these weeks during every month.

Bringing his hand up to place a quick kiss across his knuckles, you allowed yourself a small smile as the cramps started to subside.

#lynn’s requests #lynn’s oneshots #period comfort #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk #aot #aot x reader #aot fluff #aot x y/n #aot x you #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x female reader #aot levi #shingeki no kyoujin levi #attack on titan levi #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi attack on titan #captain levi #levi fluff #snk x reader #aot x female reader

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 3 - ( c.s )

part two

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, a bit of drinking

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: part three baby here we go! hope you guys enjoy!! if i forgot a tag it either wouldn’t let me or i missed it (if i missed u pls comment and i’ll fix it right up). anyways kisses for u all i hope ur having a good day, my inbox is open for anything as always MWAH

@cutenote @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @l9vesick @bb-1s-blog @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @annamcdonalds67 @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @luckistar-posts @angelworldspost @ponyosturniolo @rainyenthusiastdaze @heartz4chris @sturnvvz @cupidsword @wurlibydominicfike @mattswrld @yoursopretty15 @poopydroopt @latinasforchrizz @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner

it’s been a day since the kiss, and you still haven’t told a single soul. for some reason, you’re way too scared to admit what happened to your roommates, even though you know they’d be the last to judge you for it.

and yet you just can’t, despite the fact that it’s been eating you alive for over twenty-four hours straight. saying it out loud makes it real, so you decided it was best to keep it inside.

however, you still need to give chris his jersey back, which you’ve been neglecting to do because you don’t want to see him.

or maybe because you’re scared.

it’s an involuntary thought, and it makes you angry. there’s nothing to be scared of, because he doesn’t have any power over you.

right?

you grab his jersey off the top of your dresser. it’s all clean, and it still smells like detergent from when you washed it yesterday. you’ve been putting it off all day, and it’s time for that to stop.

the sun is nearly gone, so you head down the stairs, silently thankful that ramona and cassidy are both are both runnings errands as you slip out the front door.

you’re in your comfy clothes, black sweats and baby blue hoodie that you stole from cass, and you’re immediately regretting the fact that you didn’t grab a jacket.

you hurry across the lawn, passing the cars parked in the driveway. there’s an unfamiliar red one at the end, and it almost makes you pause, but the possibility doesn’t fully connect in your mind yet.

so you head up the steps and knock on the door loudly, still very much so a woman on a mission.

it takes a moment, a long moment, before someone comes to open it for you. it’s connor, which is unfortunate, because you really weren’t prepared to speak with anyone besides the one boy you’re actually looking for.

he looks a little confused, but he smiles nonetheless. “what’s up?”

“i’m just, uh, trying to drop off chris’s jersey.” any bit of confidence you had is gone now as you choke on your words.

connor’s eyes widen a little as his grin fades, though you can tell he’s trying to play it off. “he’s a little busy right now, but i’ll get it to him.”

your eyebrows furrow as he reaches his arms out, like he’s trying to rush the process along without any more interrogation.

“busy with what?” you question, though you hand it over regardless.

he looks at you for just a half a second too long, like he’s waiting for you to piece it together, and then it clicks. chris is busy because he has a girl over, and that’s her car in the driveway.

you wish it didn’t phase you, but you can feel your face morphing into an emotion that borders disgust and anger.

“oh, i see.” is all you say, because you’re already fucking embarrassed beyond belief.

you turn and head back down the stairs, trying to ignore the way your stomach is flipping like you’re going to throw up.

connor doesn’t say anything. instead you hear the door close, and you feel completely numb as you walk back to your own porch. part of it is because of the cold, and part of it is because you feel so stupid.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but that was exactly what you should’ve anticipated knowing chris.

you step back into the warmth of your own home, and even when you close and lock the door, a shiver chases you.

you head back up to your bedroom, kicking your shoes off by the door. you want further confirmation, so you peek through the curtains that hang over your window.

chris’s room, which is coincidentally directly across from yours, reveals nothing besides a dim light that peeks through the closed blinds.

you let the drapes fall back into place, still in shock. it was so ridiculous to believe for even a second that he was any different than he had been for the last six months.

you should’ve taken him at his word. he doesn’t date, and he’s not interested in you beyond teasing you or making you look like an idiot.

and you refuse to be taken for a fool.

you pace along the floor for a second until you decide you deserve some wine. you know there’s at least half a bottle in the fridge, and maybe it’ll help you calm the hell down.

a few minutes later you’re back upstairs, huddled up in your bed with a book you had started earlier in the day, sipping from your glass as you read.

it’s hard to fall into the fantasy world you picked out at first, but then you begin to feel your cheeks flush and your eyes are suddenly devouring the words.

you’re so enveloped in the plot, completely unaware that your roommates had gotten home until ramona walks in. it startles you, so much so that you lose your page.

she pauses to take in your state; the empty glass, the minimal leftovers in the bottle you brought with you, your droopy eyes.

“wine before 7 p.m. on the lord’s day? you’re crazy.” she jokes with a grin.

you shrug, also smiling a little bit. “felt like getting a little wild.”

mona puts a hand on her hip and nods toward the door she just entered through. “well, could i maybe convince you to take this crazy train downstairs so we can catch up on VPR? we’re like, three episodes behind now.”

you snap your book closed and roll out of bed, which you can tell by her snort looks far from graceful.

“all you had to say was VPR.”

you sit at your desk, gnawing on your bottom lip as you try to focus on the stupid online homework prompts that are due soon. the overcast afternoon light pours into your room, and you hear your phone buzz against the wood.

chris

still playing hard to get?

you roll your eyes before you can help it. the text doesn’t surprise you, because he’s been messaging you for the past few days, ever since he inevitably found out you stopped by from connor.

chris

that’s clearly a yes.

you wonder how many times he’s going to text you as you put your phone down to pull your hair out of your face, tying it up at the back of your head.

once again, you hear the device vibrate, and you flip it to glance at the screen.

chris

i can see you ignoring me you know

your eyes betray you as you glance out the window, just to find chris standing in front of his own. he’s pouting at you with his phone in his hand, hair all curly and damp like he just got out of the shower.

you stand up from your chair without a second thought and take a few steps so you can yank your curtains closed.

he might refuse to believe it, but you’re not playing hard to get. you just can’t fucking stand him.

chris

now that’s just cold

come onnnnnn princess

y/n

holy shit

do NOT call me princess

chris

you love it

y/n

i hate you

chris

if you don’t stop this i’m coming over there

y/n

i’d like to see you try asshole

chris

fine.

you pull back one curtain to call his bluff, and your heart actually drops when you see that he’s not standing there anymore. that just means he’s probably on his way over already.

you have no idea if cass or ramona are home or in their rooms or what. but you do know that you’re locking your door, and if he makes it through the house undetected he’s not getting into your room.

you sit on the edge of your bed for a moment, waiting because you don’t know what else to do with yourself. and then the knock comes, right before chris twists the handle and finds it locked.

“open up.” he demands, his gruff voice muffled through the door.

“no.”

“i’ll go downstairs and get cass if you don’t let me in.” he threatens, which doesn’t really scare you.

cassidy will kick his ass out if she realizes you don’t want him here. you’ll have to explain some things, but it’s probably time to do that anyways.

“you’re being a baby and you’re wasting your time. go home, chris.” you reiterate.

“come on, i just want to talk.” he wiggles the handle once again, like that will somehow open it.

“then call a sex addiction helpline.” you reply hotly, glaring at the slab of wood that separates you as if you can actually see him, though you’re glad you can’t.

“can you please open the door?”

“nope.”

“jesus, you’re so stubborn it’s ridiculous.” he groans, and you hear his forehead thump against the door.

he’s growing frustrated now, and even though you’re heated too, you kind of love it.

“so are you! how many times do i have to tell you to leave?” you shoot back.

it’s silent for a moment, which scares you. then you hear a small sigh.

“i didn’t think i would have to do this.”

the lock on the door begins to twist and turn rapidly, and you leap forward to grab it with your hand.

chris twists it hard and your fingers fumble to keep it jammed. your thumb is already in pain, and the harder he pushes the closer you are to failing. you’re finally forced to let go as chris comes shoving his way into your room a few seconds later.

even though he stumbles slightly, he looks so proud of himself, clutching the heavy duty paper clip he used to get inside.

“there, that’s better.” he says smugly.

you watch his eyes take in your room, covered in posters and full of random artifacts, and you hate it. for some reason, it feels deeply personal.

“holy shit, why don’t you just go home already?”

it’s impossible to keep your tone level anymore as you turn away from him.

“i’m here now, so you have to talk to me.”

“no, i really don’t.” you reply before plopping down onto your mattress, crossing your arms as you lean against the headboard.

“don’t be a brat.” chris follows your lead, even though you weren’t inviting him to join you.

he falls beside you, sprawling out on his back by your feet. his shirt raises over his sweats, exposing a bit of skin above the band of his boxers, and you have to tear your eyes away.

you can feel the warmth of his body, can smell his aftershave mixed with hints of some kind of fresh body wash, and all of it drives you crazy.

you curl your body into itself so there’s as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“why are you so mad?” chris turns his head slightly so he can look at you.

“i’m not mad, you just disgust me.”

this makes him smile. “i beg to differ, i think you like me.”

without hesitation, you extend one leg to kick him in his side. even though it’s not very forceful, he lets out a little groan of surprise, hand going to rub his hip as he frowns.

“you didn’t have to kick me, damn.”

“you deserved that.” you argue, tucking your knees back to your chest.

this time he stays silent and just looks at you. his eyes scan your face, darting down to your lips every other second, and you’re suddenly very aware of your surroundings.

“what the fuck are you staring at?” you ask in a brief moment of panic.

his eyes are so unnerving. it’s like he can see right through you.

“you’re pretty.” chris shrugs before averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

your face flushes, and you force yourself to remember the embarrassment from the other day, how stupid you felt after discovering that he’s still the same old player that sits beside you now.

“shouldn’t you be giving some other girl an STD or something?” you snap, and he huffs out a breathy laugh.

“first of all, i’m totally clean. and if you’d actually let me explain, you’d realize the girl that was over on sunday is just an ex fling who was picking up some old stuff.”

his clarification shocks you, though you still don’t necessarily believe it yet. he could be lying, even though it doesn’t seem like he is.

“you’re seriously telling me you weren’t hooking up with her?” you ask.

“it was strictly platonic. nothing happened.” he confirms, shifting to face you again.

chris lifts his hand to trace gentle patterns along your shins, and you don’t shy away this time. the feeling of his palms, even when separated by your leggings, is far nicer than you imagined.

“okay.” you mutter simply.

“you’ve been ignoring me the entire week and all i get is an ‘okay’?” he halts his movements so he can curl his fingers into air quotes.

“what would you like me to say?”

“an apology would be a nice start.”

you bark out a laugh. “an apology for what? for not talking to you? because i really didn’t take you for the sensitive type.”

he just shakes his head, nudging your legs with one of his knuckles lightly. “god, you and that headstrong attitude will be the death of me.”

“can’t wait.” you quip back, and now its his turn to chuckle.

silence settles over the two of you for a moment, and you’ve been far too close for too long, so you move to stand once again.

“alright, well, we talked. time for you to get lost.” you motion toward the door.

chris sits up, running a hand through his messy hair before he replies. “look, we don’t have another game until sunday, so we’re hosting at the house tomorrow. you should come.”

you raise an eyebrow and tap your chin, like you’re really contemplating. “i’ll have to think about it.”

“please? it’ll only be fun if you go.” he flashes you a charming smile, and you hate that it actually does kind of work.

“maybe i’ll make a special appearance. maybe.” you point a wary finger at him as he gets back on his feet.

“that’s what i like to hear.” chris says, making his way toward you.

you expect him to pass right by, but he lingers, like there’s something else on his mind. he stares down at you with those big blue eyes, and you can feel yourself slipping into dangerous territory.

“is there something else?” you ask softly, and the sound of your voice is maddening to him.

you don’t even try to tempt chris on purpose, he knows this, and yet everything about you is so enticing. not to mention he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss since it happened, or that pretty little mouth of yours.

but he shakes his head again, because the things he’s thinking about you so early on in this strange relationship frighten him.

“uh, no, sorry. i’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

and then he blows right by you without waiting for a response, disappearing just as quickly as he arrived.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #hockey!chris #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #fanfic #new series #sturniolo fanfic

[helen-with-an-a]

Something About Finals pt 2

Hiya. So this is Part 2 of Something About Finals. This was originally all 1 story but then it was almost 10K so oops. Anyways, have 2 stories ahahah

shout out to @lyak12 for fixing my google translated German

Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2

Description: R and Finals do not get along

Word Count: 6.3k

also these pictures are doing something to me

And then you were off to the World Cup.

You were shocked to receive the phone call that informed you, you had made the final squad. Lena wasn’t though, she had seen the hours of work that you had put in, the dedication, the effort, the blood, sweat and tears. You had kissed her goodbye much like you had done before the Euros, reassuring each other that no matter what, you were there, and you loved the other with all your heart. You weren’t able to watch many of her matches since you often had some form of training or your own matches that got in the way. But you always had the score notifications on. England sailed through the group stages with comparative ease … well definitely easier than Germany had. You had flicked on the final seconds of her match to see Lena sink to her knees. You heart broke for her, a lump forming in your throat as you saw the love of your life look so devastated. You sent her a quick text asking her to call you when she had a moment and reaffirming your love.

“Hey, bubba,” you said softly as her facetime call connected.

“Hi, liebling.” You had never heard her sound so … down. Even after losing the Champions League and the Euros, there was still a little life to her voice. But not now. Now, she sounded so low, so unlike your usual Lena.

“It’s not your fault, you know that, right?” You cut straight to the point. You knew what would be going through her mind. She wouldn’t make eye contact with you through the phone. “Obi, my love. Das ist nicht deine Schuld.” You said emphatically.

“But, if I had just-” She started, trying to prove to you that it really was her fault

“Lena Sophie Oberdorf,” you snapped. “I will not hear it. Das ist nicht. Deine. Schuld.” She nodded but you could tell she didn’t believe you. You carried the rest of the phone call, telling her about the silly in-camp gossip and drama, nearly pulling out a whole stand up show to get her to laugh, or at least smile again. You had ended the conversation as the clock flashed 12, probably a bit too late for you to be up but you wanted to keep talking for as long as possible.

“Bubba, I need to go to sleep,” you said as you went about your night routine, grateful that FIFA had splurged on giving you your own rooms for the tournament.

“Don’t go,” she whined, equally as tired but just as unwilling to hang up the phone.

“Ok, honey. How about I stay on the phone until you fall asleep, yeh?” You could see her perk up slightly, despite the dark circles under her eyes that told you she was not getting enough sleep in the past few weeks. You waited until you heard her breaths even out, her phone in a similar position to you resting against the pillow. You smiled softly, wishing her sweet dreams as you hung up the phone. You sent two texts before you snuggled down to sleep yourself. One to Lena for her to see in the morning, telling her how proud you were of her and how much you loved her. The other was to Alex, sending her the biggest hugs and asking her to keep an eye on Lena for you until you could make it back to her.

The World Cup was a rollercoaster of emotions. But now you were in the final. Just like the Euro final, there was an aura of nervous calm across the England changing rooms … if that was even the best way to describe it. Everyone was doing their pre-match rituals and routine, getting themselves in the right headspace to step foot on the pitch. But there was a nervousness in the air, the anticipation of finally gaining that star above the badge.

Everything was not going to plan. You were still 1-0 down with just 5 minutes left of regular time. Hermoso had the ball as you crowded her out, pressing yourself against her to toe the ball away from her. You had succeeded too, letting Kiera tap it over to Georgia to start another press. You had the weirdest sense of Déjà vu as you turned around, separating yourself from the Spanish defender and moving into the open space. You gasped as you twisted, something popping in your right knee. The familiar pain radiated down your shin and up your thigh causing you to scream as you collapsed to the floor.

No, no, no. Not again. This could not be happening again.

“Kid, what’s wrong?” It was Lucy who appeared by your side first, exactly like the last time.

“Not again.” You whimpered, letting out a sob as you hit your fist on the grass, trying to push the pain away.

“Is it your knee?” Millie asked. This was all too similar to last time and it made you cry even harder. You couldn’t tell if you were nodding or not, but Millie just scratched your head. Just like last time. “It’s ok, honey. The medics are coming.” She patted your hand as you clutched at it. You groaned and whimpered as the medics moved you around, never letting go of Millie and staring straight at Lucy, the layer of tears making it hard to see properly.

Just like last time, the hideous orange stretcher lifted you away as you were clapped off the pitch. Just like last time, you were carried into the medical room and placed on the awaiting bed.

“Kid?” A voice called out as they ran down the corridor. Someone must have pointed whoever it was in the right direction as the next moment, a very flustered and out of breath Leah appeared, phone gripped in one hand. “Yeh, I’m with her now," she directed to whoever was on the phone. “Honey, I’ve got Lena on the phone," she said as she came to your side. You nodded, wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

“Hey, liebling.”

“H-hi.” It set you off on another round of tears, Leah drawing you into her.

“Oh, liebe. It’s ok.” Lena said so gently as she tried to fight her own tears.

She was sitting on the couch in your flat back in Wolfsburg watching the final with most of the team. The disappointment she felt when the ball bounced past Mary’s fingers was nothing compared to the fear she felt as you went to the floor. Not again. Please don’t let this happen again. She thanked the lucky stars she had the forethought years ago to ask for a few of your national friends phone numbers in case she needed to get a hold of you but couldn’t during international breaks. She had just pulled out her phone when Leah’s contact flashed on her screen. She accepted it before she really knew what was happening.

“I’m going down to see her now,” is what Leah had said as soon as the call went through. Alex had rubbed comforting circles on Lena’s back as Jule held tightly onto her open hand.

“Let me switch to facetime,” Leah said, gently taking the phone off you and pressing the right buttons. Lena’s concerned face popped up, taking in Leah’s frazzled expression and your hair pressed against her shoulder, hiding your face from the world. “C’mon, honey.” Leah coaxed you out from her neck, handing you her phone and moving to step away.

“Stay.” You croaked, clutching onto Leah like a lifeline. She nodded, moving her arms to support you as you rested your head back on her shoulder.

“Hallo, liebling.” Lena started again, moving off the sofa and into your bedroom, the soft expression of love visible on her features. “It is your knee?” You sniffed, nodding at her words. She hadn’t seen you look this small, this unsure … ever, she doesn’t think.

“I don’t think I can do this again,” you whispered. Leah knew you were talking to Lena, but she couldn’t help but squeeze you even tighter at your words, her heart breaking. Only you and Lena knew of the extent of your bad days. The days that getting out of bed seemed like too much effort and all you wanted to do was sleep and embrace the darkness. The days were all you could do was silently cry, gripping onto Lena so tightly your knuckles had turned white, and your fingers had started to cramp.

“Das kannst du, liebling. Das kannst du auf jeden Fall. Erinnerst du dich, an das, was ich nach dem EM-Finale gesagt habe? Du schaffst das, und ich gehe nirgendwo hin, du nusst das nicht alleine schaffen.”

“It hurts, bubba.”

“I know, liebe. I know.” Lena implored, Leah squeezing you again at you words. “Aber, du bist so, so stark. Du kannst das.” You shook your head, letting the tears roll steadily down your cheeks. “Ich liebe dich so sehr.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your lashes wet and face red. Did she really mean that? How could she love you after all you had put her through in the past year? Why would she want to stay with you after the nightmare you had been? And now, you were going to put her through it all again. You had clearly disappeared into your mind, certainly enough for Lena to notice. You eyes had unfocused, a faraway look on your face as the thoughts spiralled out of control. You couldn’t do this again. The last time was almost too much to bear. This time … you couldn’t let yourself lean on Lena like you did … she wouldn’t want you to. Why would anyone want a washed-up 21-year-old footballer as their girlfriend? Why would someone want a partner who struggled to keep the bad thoughts at bay? Your breathing had slowed down, the breaths coming far fewer than necessary.

“Hey, hey. Komm zu mir zurück.” Lena called out, catching Leah’s eye in the camera, and exchanging worried looks. Leah shook you gently when you made no effort to acknowledge what Lena had said. You jumped slightly, clearly coming back to the room around you.

“Ich denke … I think … ich denke das könnte mich kaputt machen.” You whispered, sounding so scared of what the future might hold. It was easier to say in your second language. It made it less real.

“Dann werde ich da sein, um dich wieder aufzubauen.” Lena promised. “We all will be.” You looked at her unsurely. How could she promise that? “I know what you’re thinking … stop it.” You looked away sheepishly, turning into Leah more. “I love you more than you will ever, ever understand,” Lena said emphatically, willing you to feel her love even though you were more than 10,000 miles away. She wanted nothing more than to be there in person. She should have stayed in Australia. She should have been at the final, cheering you on. She should have been in that small medical room, letting you cry into her chest.

A throat cleared from the door, a man in the England medical staff shirt sheepishly stuck his head through the gap.

“I’m sorry, duck. But we gotta run some more tests and stuff. Get you strapped up and whatnot.” His broad Yorkshire accent echoed in the small space. You nodded, looking up at Leah, then back to her phone.

“We’ll just be a minute,” Leah smiled at him. He frowned then realisation dawned on him. He smiled at you and shut the door.

“Bubba, I’ve got to go.” You said shyly.

“Ok, liebling. Stay safe, ja?” She smiled; even through the pixels, you could tell it wasn’t meeting her eyes all the way.

“Stets,” you replied automatically. “Ich liebe dich.”

“Ich liebe dich auch.”

“Don’t worry, Lena. She’s in safe hands until we can get her back to Germany,” Leah smiled, rubbing her hands up and down your arms and winking into the camera.

“She better be, Williamson. If she doesn’t make it home to me in one piece, England will never get their captain back.” She faux-threatened, grateful to see the small smile gracing you lips.

The flight back to Germany was nothing like the flight home from the Euros. Instead of Lena guiding you through the airport, sending intimidating glares at anyone in your path, you had Leah and Jill. Leah was absolutely useless. You gave her a little bit of grace considering she was still very much recovering from her own ACL injury but still, she was completely unhelpful and very much not the safe hands that she had promised Lena. Jill was … less useless. She at least took the initiative to wheel your suitcases along for you and helped guide you through to the right gate. But she was a horrible flyer. She was nervous and that led to the constant need to fidget. When she eventually fell asleep, it had been on your shoulder, pinning you in place for the majority of the flight which did not help you swollen knee. You had never been more grateful to hear the Captain announce your descent into Braunschweig airport. You were so thankful that Leah and Jill had diverted their flights to Wolfsburg for you instead of flying straight to Gatwick, but you couldn’t help the desire for them to, in the nicest way possible, fuck off. They were constantly bothering you; they were always checking if you needed anything or wanted something. You knew they meant well, and you were so, so appreciative of their efforts but it was very irritating when all you wanted to do was sleep away the flights and layovers.

Seeing Lena at the arrivals gate was like a breath of fresh air, like breaking the surface of a pool after being under for too long, like stepping into an air-conditioned room on a hot summers day.

“Hey, liebling.”

“Hi, bubba.” You crutched your way into her embrace, her warm, soft, strong arms cementing themselves around your shoulders as you buried your nose in her hoodie, taking deep breaths of your favourite smell, letting the scent seep into your bones and ease your aching muscles.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to ours? We’ve got a pull-out couch and an air mattress.” She asked over your shoulder to Leah and Jill.

“Nah, it’s all good mate. We’ve got flights and stuff tomorrow so we’re just staying at the hotel here.” Leah explained. You lifted your head out of your hiding place and extending one arm towards Leah. She took you hand, and you squeezed tightly.

“Thank you.” You said to her, sending a tired smile her way. She smiled back.

“Of course, kid. You know I’d do anything for you, we all would.”

“Stay safe, yeh? Have lots of rest and drink plenty of water.” Jill reminded you, taking your hand from Leah and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Yes, mum.” You teased lightly, although Lena knew it was only a façade, an attempt to prove you were fine.

“Love you lots, kiddo.”

“Love you too, guys.” You watched them both walk away before turning back to Lena, never once leaving her embrace.

“Willkommen zu Hause, superstar,” Lena whispered in your ear, smiling as your arms tightened around her waist. “Let’s get you home, liebling.”

“Just … wait. Let me stay here for a minute.” You refused to loosen your grip. You took deep steady breaths that Lena could tell was your attempt at pushing away the darkness.

Eventually, you did make it home, Lena’s hand on your thigh the entire time. The movement of the car, Lena’s soft hum as she sang alone to the radio, the comforting smell … all of it was too much. As you entered your flat, you couldn’t help but let the tears flow. You had been doing that a lot recently. Your knee was hot and sore, the brace was itchy and ugly, Lena was too kind and comforting, you were tired and angry and scared and sad, and it was all too much.

“Liebe?” Lena asked as she came back from the bedroom. She rushed over to where you stood, in the middle of the tiny living room hysterically sobbing. “Oh, liebling.” She didn’t promise you it was all ok, that you were fine and that things would work out in the end. She knew that was not what you wanted to hear. “Es kann sein, dass es dir im Moment nicht gut geht,” she said as she pulled you to her, letting your tears soak her collar. “I can be ok for the both of us, right now,” she vowed. “I’m not going anywhere. You are safe. You are loved.”

You didn’t know how long you stood in the middle of your tiny flat with Lena whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but you did end up in bed, your leg elevated and iced and your girlfriend curling herself around you.

“I’m scared, bubba. Really, really scared,” you whispered into the darkness, long after you should have gone to sleep.

“And that’s ok, liebling. It’s ok to be scared. What happened was really scary, especially so close to last time.” She whispered back, her fingers drawing shapes on the exposed skin of your waist. Only 385 days in between tearing your left ACL and snapping your right one. 1 year and 20 days. 55 weeks. 9240 hours. 554,400 minutes. 33,264,000 seconds. “I love you. And I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.

The next year of your life was the hardest you had ever done. Every time the shadows threatened to overwhelm you, to engulf your entire being and never let you back into the light, Lena was there. She didn’t even realise most of the time. The first few days after returning from Australia was tough but manageable. You had cried some more … a lot more, especially after you shut the door behind Jule and Sveindís as they left your home. It was controllable up until Lena had to go back to preseason training. She had delayed it as long as she could, the club had allowed her a few days to help you resettle into your routine. When her alarm chimed at 8 am that Monday morning, you knew it was going to a rough one. The tiredness, the ache that had settled deep within your soul felt extra heavy. Lena had been reluctant to leave you, and you had wanted her to stay so, so desperately but you slapped on a brave face and watched her from underneath your mound of blankets on the couch as she went about her morning routine. Bathroom. Shower. Coffee. Breakfast. Bathroom again. Out the door. It was a routine the two of you had mastered years ago had hardly ever deviated, yet here you were – catching the kisses she blew your way as she left for the day.

You had tried really hard to keep the darkness away, and you had almost … almost achieved it. It wasn’t until one late afternoon, a week or so before the regular season began, when you had tried to make yourself a cup of hot chocolate and had splashed boiling water of the side of the cup and dropped the mug that everything came to a head.

You were angry, and frightened, and unsure, and in so much pain. You screamed. It hurt your throat, but you didn’t care. You yelled, cursing the universe for doing this to you. It was pure emotion that bubbled up inside. You tugged at your hair, you scratched deep red lines across your stomach, rubbed harshly at your eyes. Anything … anything to make these feelings disappear. You didn’t even realise Lena had come home. She knew you hadn’t been doing well. The physio had pulled her aside after your session to ask for help. Every member of the team, staff and players alike, had recognised your slow descent into the blackness. It wasn’t like the previous time. You had been optimistic last time, excited to be reaching your milestones and goals. But this time it was a struggle to get you into the training centre, let alone the gym and to do any exercises. You weren’t yourself and it was painfully obvious that something was wrong.

She rushed to your side, dropping her bags carelessly on her way over.

“Ok, ok,” she shushed you, wrapping her arms tightly around you to stop yourself from hurting you even more. You struggled at first, out of shock or anger neither one of you was really sure. But you slowly started to calm down. Her body ground you, the warmth at you back providing an anchor to cling to. She rocked you gently from side to side, mindful of your knee but knowing the action soothed you. She stayed silent until you leant heavily against her, most of your weight now being held by her.

“I need help.” It was all you could say. This was no way to live, and you knew that. That’s what made it worse for you was that you knew you weren’t ok; you knew you needed some serious assistance and had been needing it for quite a while. She hummed in agreement, thankful that you could recognise how bad it was.

“We can talk about it later. But first a shower, and then snuggles in bed.” There was no room for argument, not when she was already guiding you to the bathroom. The shower was hot and steamy as Lena cleaned your skin with her body wash, littering kisses as the water washed the suds away. She massaged your head as she worked the shampoo and conditioner through your hair, taking care to untangle the knots. She worked your moisturiser across your body, taking time to go through your neglected skincare regime and pull the softest t-shirt she owned over your head. She took your hand as she guided you to the bedroom, picking up your brush and hairdryer on the way to the vanity. She was so gentle as she dried your hair, braiding it back for you once it was dried. She settled you against the pillows before she slipped in beside you, resting her head against your collarbone and throwing a leg across your waist.

“I’m sorry.” You stared at the ceiling trying very hard not to cry, instead letting your fingers card through the brown strands of hair that were loose down her back.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she argued softly, squeezing you as she made her point

“Yes, I have. I’ve been a shite girlfriend.”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve been going through some real shit.”

“But,”

“Nein. Ich werde es nicht hören,” she refused, drawing shapes on your arm. “You have been through hell and back, yet you always ask about my day. You always stand next to me when I make dinner. You always hold me at night. You always let me choose what to watch on TV, even if you don’t like it. It might be a little dark for you right now, but I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I told you I was in this for as long as you want me, remember?”

“Of course, I do.” How could you forget your unconventional way of getting together?

“And do you still want me?” she asked.

“Of course, I do.” You repeated, kind of shocked that she would ask such a thing. “I want you forever.”

“Then you have me forever. I’m not going anywhere, and it’s time you started realising that.” You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry for a totally different reason.

“You are perfect, Lena Oberdorf.”

“You are perfect, Y/F/N Y/S/N.” You pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I think I need to talk to a professional, like go to therapy or something.” You said a little while later. Neither of you had moved, just soaking up each other’s presence.

“I think that a very smart idea,” she answered, choosing her words carefully. “Do you want it to be with the club or completely separate?”

“I don’t know,” you worried. You hadn’t really got that far in your thinking, you only recognised that you needed the professional intervention.

“That’s ok,” she reassured you. “The club can recommend someone, like a ... Sportpsychologe, or you can go to the doctors and sort something out by yourself.”

“Would … would you come with me to talk to the club doctors?” You asked. It was silly really, she spent almost every waking hour reminding you that she was by your side.

“Natürlich. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else … unless you want to be alone,” she rushed.

“No, no. I want you there. You keep the bad thoughts away.” You had never told her that, you were sure she knew it in some way.

The next morning, you felt lighter, the ache in your body not as pronounced as previous days. Lena walked with you to the medics office, standing like a silent lighthouse to guide you through the choppy waters. She kissed you softly as you parted for training, her going out with the rest of the team as you went to the gym. It was a sudden change; it wasn’t like a switch had been flicked and suddenly you were all better. But with every passing training session and talk with the therapist, you stood slightly taller, you no longer looked at the weights with distain, you huffed at jokes and eventually started laughing again. You still had your dark days, but things were slowly looking up. The storm was clearing for you, the path more clear with every little success. Walking on one crutch. Walking with no crutches. Weighted exercises. Running on the treadmill with assistance. Running on the treadmill without assistance. Progress was slow, much slower than last time, but it was happening, nonetheless.

The biggest factor in your progress came from an unexpected source. Lena had been approached by her agent in November about an offer from Bayern. The two of you had talked it through at length and came to the conclusion that she should go for it. You had lamented over the idea of long distance, but you knew your love was one for the ages. If Lena could put up with you during the dark days (although she hated when described it as putting up with you. It had been the spark of a few arguments), you knew you could last the time. You still had a year left on your contract for you to be going on a free, so you also reached out to your agent to tell him to start the process of looking at a potential move. It was then that he said an email had come through from another team in Germany looking to sign you. You had questioned the legitimacy; how could a club want to sign you when you had so little playing time? You cried when the forwarded email arrived in your inbox. Bayern wanted you too. The email explained that they were willing to spend the necessary money to get both you and Lena on their team, recognising the undeniable chemistry you had. It was true; almost every goal Lena scored when you were on the pitch, you had been involved in. It was a no brainer – you were phoning the agency back to accept the deal before you even spoke to Lena. You kept it under lock and key for about 2 weeks, making sure your surprise was perfect.

“Liebling?” Lena shouted as she walked through the door, confused as to your location. Normally, when you were home before she was, you were either making a start on dinner or on the couch – both of which were visible from the entryway.

“Nur eine Minute,” you shouted, voice coming from the closed bedroom door. “Sit on the sofa please, I have something to show you.” Lena did what she was told, highly puzzled by your behaviour. Was she missing some important date? She quickly ran through the key ones in her mind, your birthday? No, her birthday? No, that was in December, your anniversary? No, that was in between Christmas and New Year's. Valentines Day? No, it was only mid-January. In all her worrying, she had missed you walking out of the bedroom. You waited for her to notice you and when that was not forthcoming, you nudged her gently with your foot. She jumped slightly, looking up at you. She drank in your smooth bare legs, blinking in surprise and smirking appreciatively when she realised that you only had on a shirt, your hair fluffed up and makeup done to perfection.

“What’s all this?” she asked, reaching out to hold your hips. You stepped back, chuckling at her pout.

“Look at my shirt, bubba,” you nodded down at your chest, hoping she would catch the logo. As she scanned up the red fabric, she began to recognise the material, the infamous Allianz logo splattered across your torso had the gears turning in her head. Finally, she made eye contact with the Bayern logo.

“Ein Bayern-Trikot?” You span around, showing her your back – although she was more focussed on your exposed arse than whose name was on it. “I am loving the view, liebe,” she teased.

“No, dipshit. Whose name is on the back?” She reluctantly broke her stare and scanned the writing.

“Y/S/N? Liebling, I don’t think Wolfsburg will like you wearing a personalised Bayern shirt.” God, she could be dense at times.

“No, bubs,” you sighed, turning back to face her and shoving lightly on her shoulders. She shuffled back on the couch, allowing you to straddle her lap. Her hands automatically went to your waist, although the confused expression still lingered on her features.

“You can be so thick sometimes, Obi,” you laughed at her offended squawk. “I got an email from my agent a few weeks ago,” you explained, pulling her hair out her ponytail. “I’ve got an offer,” you hinted, playing with the ends of her now-loose strands. You raised an eyebrow, looking from her to the logo on your shirt and back again.

“B-Bayern?” She whispered, trying to keep the hope and excitement at bay.

“Bayern,” you nodded, a wide grin spreading across your face.

“Scheisse … oh, mein Gott. Oh, mein Gott!” She launched her body forward, slamming you into a hug. “You’re going to Bayern?” She asked, her voice muffled by the fabric.

“We’re going to Bayern,” you corrected, drawing her head away from your collarbone.

“Ich liebe dich,” Her eyes flitted between yours and your lips.

“I love you,” you drew her to you, relishing in the quite hum she let out.

It took until the spring for you to start training with the team again. Lena had been with you the whole time. If you thought she was excited the first-time round, she was on cloud 9 this time. She had been buzzing with energy when you told her you were to go out on the grass again. You could see her practically vibrating with joy as you slipped on your underused boots again. She had bounded over to you, chatting away and generally irritating everyone, but her energy was infectious. Running again after so long was … words could not describe the feeling.

Slowly but surely, you were returning back to your old self. You and Tommy had sat down with the medical team discuss your return to match squad. You were performing well at training and things were looking up. You felt ready for the ‘less important’ matches. With the league mathematically won by Bayern with 2 match days to spare, Wolfsburg were more willing to let you return sooner rather than later. But with the Pokal final being the only chance at silverware, the management was reluctant to even sub you in. And honestly, you weren’t sure you were ready for a final just yet. The last three finals you had played in, the Euros, the Champions League, and the World Cup, had not gone your way, two of them being the worst games of your life. You agreed to be on the bench as an unused sub, you knew you had to start getting over the phobia and figured this would be a good way to start – just being in the atmosphere of a final with no pressure to play or perform. You could do that.

You stuck to your old match day routine, the known comforts helping to calm your nerves. It all started with the pitch inspection with Lena, hands brushing together as you walked too close to just be friends, although you had quickly darted over to see Georgia.

“Are you playing?” Georgia asked.

“What? No, oh my god, hi, I haven’t seen you in so long?” you teased, hugging her tightly.

“Hi,” she said bluntly, “are you playing?” squeezing you back just as tightly.

“No,” you shook your head. “Apparently, I’m to view this as a form of exposure therapy.” She looked at you quizzically. “Doing your ACL twice, both of which in a final, kinda fucks with your head,” you joked. She nodded solemnly. “Also, I have some news,” you added. “But you better keep your bloody mouth shut though, Stanway,” you pointed a finger at her. “No telling Leah or Kei or Luce or anyone else until at least the end of the season,” you threatened.

“Alright, alright, what’s the big news then, if it’s so top secret?”

“I got an offer, I’m leaving Wolfsburg.”

“Oh, my god. Where to?” She squealed. You had voiced your concerns to her over the phone about staying in Wolfsburg without Lena.

“Um …” you took a deep breath. “Bayern,” you said confidently. She paused, her mouth open slightly.

“You’re moving to Bayern?” She screeched.

“Lock and key, Stanway,” you emphasised but nodding and smiling anyway. You looked over your shoulder when you heard Lena call your name. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you soon, yeah?” You hugged her again.

“Love you lots and lots,” she said, shaking you jokingly.

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, hope you play like shite,” you jested, laughing as she flipped you off.

The final was going well, you remained calm and collected. Lena had brushed your hair into your usual hairstyle, taking care to smooth your fly aways down. You returned the favour by lacing up her boots, pressing kisses to each knee as you finished. Things were going swimmingly, until Lena got tangled up with the Bayern keeper, and fell to the ground.

“Mein Knie.” You heard her shout from all away across the pitch. You blood froze, your heart sank. No, no, no, this could not … no. You reached blindly for Sveindís as the medics ran on, your eyes never leaving Lena’s body.

“It’s ok, she’s fine.” Sveindís promised, squeezing your hand.

“Her knee,” you croaked.

“Sie bewegt sich, siehst du, die Sanitäter sind jetzt bei ihr. Sie redet, sie bewegt sich. She’s ok.” Marina squeezed your shoulder from behind you, sending you a comforting smile, despite the fact you couldn’t see it. You kept your eyes on her even as she stood up, flexing her knee and walking off the pitch with the medics. Despite reassurances from all the team and the medical staff who had treated her, you never looked away from Lena. You had to make sure she was ok. You stared at her face, trying to register any slight look of discomfort.

When the half time whistle went, you were the first out of your seat, hovering by the tunnel entrance for Lena to appear. She must have seen your anxiousness from a mile away. You were fidgeting with your fingers, biting your lip as you scanned the incoming players.

“Hey,” she said, tapping you on the shoulder. You careened into her, your arms tightening around her waist. “I’m ok. I’m ok,” she repeated over and over again, her hand rubbing up and down your back, feeling you shakily take breaths to stop any waterworks.

“Don’t ever do that again!” You pulled back from her, keeping her in an embracing though.

“I’ll try not to,” she chuckled at your seriousness.

“I mean it, bubba. That was terrifying.” Your mouth setting to a firm line and eyebrows furrowing.

“I know, liebling. And I’m sorry I caused you so much stress.” She let her thumb move across your cheek. “Aber ich verspreche dir, mir geht es absolut gut. My knees are ok, your knees are ok. Alles ist gut.”

“Fucking hate finals,” you grumbled, twisting your body so you could walk back to the changing room without letting go.

“Ich weiß, dass du das tust, Liebling, ich weiß."

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

#woso community #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso oneshot #woso series #lena oberdorf x reader #lena oberdorf #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #lionesses #vfl wolfsburg women #vfl wolfsburg frauen #vfl wolfsburg x reader #fc bayern #dfb frauen #fc bayern women #fc bayern frauen

[hellyeahsickaf]

I get disability memes on my Pinterest feed but after getting one for ER Drs/nurses that I found concerning, I kept seeing more and more like it and I went down a rabbit hole. I know it's one of the most stressful jobs someone can have and I really appreciate the medical staff that have been kind to me. These things are definitely made by the types of people who haven't been.

I think it's important because memes are kind of a way to let off steam but they mean what they're saying. They're not just jokes but they're framed in a way that they can say it more comfortably. Sometimes they're just straight up admitting to crimes and malpractice. It's like when someone says something that crosses a line in a joking tone so that if you feel attacked they insist it's just a joke and you're taking it too seriously. But my life is constantly in the hands of these people and I've been mistreated time and time again by medical personnel

I'm gonna go through them because honestly I hate them and there are a lot of repeating themes

These are extremely common. The focus of the meme being that a whiny patient is asking for pain medication that they clearly don't need. Something commonly mentioned in these is disbelief that the patient has an allergy because it's common for someone trying to get drugs to claim they have an allergy.

Also the Confucius one is both ableist and racist so double whammy I guess!

I've dealt with people I know are silently assuming this of me. I'm allergic to NSAIDs- deathly allergic and at risk for asphyxiation or anaphylactic shock. Medical staff sometimes have this attitude of "we know when you're faking your pain" (no really I had one say this shit on my post about this) and that has traumatized me immeasurably because they'd rather me wait for 4+ hours in some of the worst pain of my life than risk the possibility of me being an awful scheming mustache twirling addict.

This category is just as common. "I don't like you so I'm going to drug you". That's more fucked up than they seem to think it is.

Then there's the category of "you're a whiny little bitch and I don't believe a word out of your mouth". Which contributes heavily to medical malpractice and abuse

Again these are doctors and nurses making these, people responsible for treating patients with care and dignity and respect. Especially if they want any in return

Aaaaand this one is just a crime. One that's happened to me actually- reporting examinations that never happened to get rid of me because I was such a nuisance (crying, hardly coherent, drenched in sweat, 9/10 pain on arrival)

And then there are the ones like "don't mess with me because i handle your treatment/meds 💕". Things like "the way you treat me is the deciding factor for how fast I'm going to get your painkillers 😊". Which to me is just... evil?

I've never in my life mistreated medical staff but people in a lot of pain get mean sometimes. It's a survival instinct actually- for aggression to accompany pain or panic. Not that it's ever okay but it isn't personal

These are just a few examples really, there are so fucking many of these with this awful, cruel, cynical tone. There are some funny ones that aren't mean or degrading towards patients but so many of them are and in nearly every one I see a mean spirited healthcare worker that I've encountered at some point who damaged me in ways I will never psychologically recover from

#chronic illness #chronic pain #disability #actually disabled #cfs #chronic fаtiguе ѕуndrоmе #spoonie #fibromyalgia #me/cfs #cfs/me #cripplepunk #cpunk #long covid #medical ableism #ableism

[koisuko]

Hear me out, but how about a shy female reader who has been chosen as one of earthrealm's champions but Bihan doesn't see it due to her being short and shy, he makes a comment about it but is shocked when the reader gave a smartass response to his comment which peaks Bihan's curiosity about the reader?

Tw: none, shy reader, fem reader, no use of y/n

You lived a fairly reclusive life, hidden away in a densely forested area surrounded by high mountains. There were very few homes nearby with the nearest neighbor being 100 kilometers away. Just how you liked it, away from strangers in your cozy cabin. It was a paradise, a shy persons dream.

You sat on your brown sofa, the cushions so pillowy it nearly swallowed your petite frame. Beside you, your sole company in the isolation you live in, a small black cat. Soft purrs accompanied the crackle of the flames before you, your toes wiggling near the fireplace for warmth. A sigh left your lips, at the relaxation taking a hold. All the chores were done, you finished your reading, and you had gotten off your online job just an hour ago. You had nothing to do but relax. A hand stroked the silky black fur of your cat, the purrs a gentle lullaby. Your eyelids grew heavy, barely having the strength to fight the impending nap. Not that you wanted to, naps were your favorite thing after all.

One..two..three knocks on your front door jostled you from your drowsy state. A spike in anxiety hit, fear of who or what could be here. You never really had visitors, or many friends outside of your cat and family. There is no one you know to be visiting anytime soon, so who is it? Slowly, you approached the front door, a nervous expression on your face despite your best efforts to seem confident. Armed with nothing but your fists, you stood just inches from the wooden barrier. You knew how to fight, if it was necessary. A woman in the middle of no where needs her protection! You’d be damned if you unhooked the chain lock at the top of the door. You mustered up the courage to place a cautious hand on the door knob. Was it hot in here? You could feel the sweat begin to bead at the ridge of your brow. A sigh left your lips as the door slowly creaked open. On the other side we’re not one, but three large burly men. This is your end, isn’t it? “U-uh h-hello?” You squeaked out, earning a scoff from a man wearing blue. His face seemed molded into a permanent scowl, and his scrutinizing gaze locked on to what little of you peaked from behind the door. The first to speak, was a man with bright white eyes. “Greetings, I am Lord Liu Kang, God of fire, Protector of Earthrealm,” his voice was oddly calming, but not enough to block out the body guards beside him, “May we enter?” Enter? As if! His title seemed like something straight out of one of your novels. “M-may I ask what business you have here?” You cleared your throat, anything to rid the lump making it hard to speak. “N-no offense but..I think you have the wrong house.” Liu Kang’s bright orbs creased at the corners in a smile, “I assure you we are at the correct residents.”

Shit, you thought. A thick clump of saliva made its way down your throat, causing you to nearly choke on it. “We can talk outside, if you wish,” he added. Something about this man was…strange yet peaceful. What choice did you have? You puffed out your chest and unhooked the chain keeping these intruders outside. All within a split second, you swung the door open and readied yourself for a fight with a defensive position. Unfortunately, a pathetic squeak left your lips as soon as the door smacked the wall. The two men behind Liu Kang chuckled, one with a more lighthearted giggle, and the other a demeaning one. Liu Kang smiled once again, bowing his head respectfully. You straightened up with an awkward gulp so loud the birds outside could hear it, “I uh..sorry.” He shook his head, “it is understandable, your bravery is admirable.” That soothed your nerves just a bit, until, the man in blue spoke for the first time. “This is the chosen champion?” His lip curled into one of distaste as he eyed you down, “pathetic.” It was one thing to hate everything around you, but to insult you before seeing your skills was a whole new level. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, popping a hip out with a snarl, “you look like a mere boy with sticks for arms compared to the men I’ve fought!” He didn’t say a word, instead, he scoffed and averted his gaze elsewhere. Although, despite his initial burning expression, his eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly when looking at you. It was barely noticeable, but a spark flickered just behind that ice cold exterior.

#fanfic #fanfiction #mk1 #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat1 #bi han sub zero #request #no use of y/n #fem reader #mk bihan #bihan x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #bi han mk #bi han x you #bi han mortal kombat #mk1 bi han #bi han imagine #mk bi han #bi han x y/n #mk1 bihan #mk fandom #mk1 imagine #mk sub zero #mk1 sub zero #mortal kombat sub zero #sub zero #mk1 x you

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 2

the girlies asked so I deliver!

read part one here, or check out my masterlist!

summary: after the accidental cafe run in, harry and y/n have wound up with each others numbers. and are quick to go from casual texting to organising another time to meet up. including a cafe trip and an unexpected ice creamery visit.

warnings: fluff, swearing, minor mentions of alcohol, nothing too heavy, just our lovely italyrry who is the sweetest ever.

a/n: thank you all so so much for the incredible amount of support on the first part of this official series. and also for your patience in waiting for me to hurry up and post an update. i know it’s been like 2 weeks since the first part, but I really wanted to give you something i took my time working on <3

———

There’s a certain type of disbelief that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s the kind that you feel straight to your core. That randomly dumps on you during the day like a bucket of water, and leaves your head spinning like that very bucket came crashing down with it.

It happens in a single moment, but lingers for a long time after the fact.

That’s exactly how you felt after harry texted you first. Because not even a few hours later after you’d exchanged numbers, he sent you through, not only a message, but a photo of all things.

One that made your heart swell with its endearing qualities.

A photo of a plate, filled with the food you’d told him earlier that day was one of your favourites.

Sent with a further little message below it,

Your favourite is currently up for grabs at the family gathering. H

The way he’d signed his intial off at the bottom had you nearly throw your phone across the room at how adorable it was.

Like as if you didn’t even know who you were texting.

Again it strewn your thought— is he aware the kind of mental effect this is having on you? Because you’re borderline going to need to phone for an ambulance.

You’re a simple person. A fangirl, to say the least. This shit, despite being able to say ‘I’ve met and talked with Harry Styles for more than 10 minutes’ does not just disappear.

And you had promised yourself not to tell anyone that this had happened— or was happening? Because there would be nothing worse than this somehow ending up online.

And not to treat him like a flighty deer instead of a grown man, but you would hate for that to place a kind of distrust in his hands.

However, all of that self-agreement doesn’t take away the nagging voice in your head that just wants to tell at the very least your immediate friends and family.

But you’re proud to say— after a long 2 minutes of pacing around your hotel room— you manage to craft a reply back.

Well, only after a few rough and undeniably embarrassing drafts that quickly get deleted out of the text bar.

You’re back to sitting on the floor against the bed frame, facing the window looking out on the gorgeous colours of the evening Italian sky.

Heart pounding, and you’re sure this scene from a third person perspective would look like it was pulled from a hallmark movie.

Girl fawning over man’s simple text. Kicking her feet in the glow of Italian sun, with a glass of wine on the floor next to her.

You stared at your finalised message and decided if you didn’t send it now, you would spiral into a never ending pit of doubt. And just end up overthinking the whole thing.

So you just did it. And now on the screen, under his blue message, was your own grey one.

there’s no way. it looks so good! im gonna see if it’s on my room service menu tbh. consider me inspired.

You bit your knuckles. Acting up like a fucking teenager. Waiting for the shock to subside before you actually get up to find the hotel menu.

After you replied back, you were sweating, honestly. Anxious at the fact you had just sent a text to Harry Styles. And unlike a conversation, that shit is permanent. So too bad if it comes off embarrassing.

Which of course, it didn’t on his end. Unbeknownst to you, he almost physically gleamed at sight of your name on his screen for the first time.

You’d nearly dropped your glass of wine when your phone vibrated up on the counter of the hotels kitchen where it was charging.

It’d been about half an hour from when you replied, you’d since ordered room service and sat in your bed to watch tv.

You made sure to place your glass elsewhere as you ran over to grab your phone.

If it wasn’t already all gone I’d save you some. Any luck with the room service?

You’d replied back swiftly, disregarding any kind of waiting to text back rule. You were all too eager to wait.

i managed to score some up from the room service. didn’t look as appetising as yours, but it was still enjoyed. x

And at this, he smiled, looking at the Italian sunset as he thought of you with a curiosity he recognised as all too unhealthy.

———

If you had told yourself two days ago in that cafe, that you have had several full conversations with harry after getting his number… you probably would have laughed.

Yet its not a joke of any kind. You can pinch yourself over and over again looking at those texts, but all you’ll end up with is a bruise and they will be just as real.

But as you read over the most recently received one, pinching would have not been enough of a reality check.

Maybe a frying pan? Probably would do the trick.

You scanned over his words, rubbing your eyes like you were tired and seeing shit— even though you’d been awake since 9am, which was 2 hours ago.

Unless you have plans, I’m going to try this cafe a friend recommended me a while back, if you wanted to tag along?

[ 1 attachment link]

And there’s simply no way that this is happening? But after 30 seconds without a follow up text telling you he’s accidentally sent this to the wrong person, you sit up straight.

Well, you’re not about to ask him if he’s serious right now, so you channel every fibre of casualness left within you and use it to construct a response.

id love to! I’ll get ready to go soon if you want to meet there before 12:30?

That works perfectly. did you need a lift, or are you in walking distance. I can pick you up if you need.

You almost keel over at his offer, and the absolute gentleman move he just made.

You also realise you didn’t even look where the cafe was. Because if Harry Styles asks you to go somewhere with him the answer should always be yes. Figure out the means of getting there and back later.

Either way you open the link and get taken to google maps, and the cafe in question is literally a 10 minute walk away from you.

im in walking distance, it’s about 10 minutes away. so I’ll just make my way there at about 12:15! thank you for the lovely offer though.

And you move as quickly as possible from your bed to your suitcase, ready to tear that thing apart for an outfit.

You don’t want to be over the top, but you have to go with something on the shorter side because it’s already in the high 20’s and it’s not even afternoon yet. So you lug out the many summer dresses you crammed in there, hoping that one of them will strike your interest.

Some get tossed back into your bag as you filter through them, not making the cut for a variety of reasons— like showing too much of your cleavage.

Yea, a good few of them get ruled out for that reason.

But eventually— and thank god, because you were starting to loose hope— you find one that is perfect for the occasion. It’s all types of flowy and comfortable, but still maintains the pretty connotation that summer dresses are known for.

Before putting it on, you go into the bathroom and do your morning routine— fixing your hair as a final step, but deciding to leave it out since there is hardly any wind outside to make it a mess. Plus it will suit the dress.

You somehow managed to take long enough that the next time you look at your phone you realise it’s nearing 12:15pm a lot faster than you expected. So you hustle to get the rest of your shit together, and make your way out the door.

The walk there is as peaceful as you could imagine, just the sounds of chatter from passer-by’s and birds lingering in trees dotting the sidewalk.

But on the inside you are still panicking. The last time you’d meet him in a cafe was a total surprise. This time it’s planned, and that leaves too much room for your brain to overthink it.

As you finally push through the doors of the cafe you had found your way to, a tiny bell above jingles. But you’re hardly focused on it as you look to the front counter.

Seeing the exact person you were here for already grabbing two drinks from a barista at what you can only assume is a pickup counter.

As he spins around, he catches your momentary surprise, complimented by flushed cheeks. To this he smiles and nods you over with his head.

He looked excited to see you. Like a longtime pair of friends meeting up again after a while apart.

Your feet kick back into gear at his nod, following him over to a table that’s tucked into the corner. He had his pleasing bag slung across the top of the chair.

“Hi lovely,” he says the minute you’re close enough to hear his deep voice.

“Hi Harry.” You smile, heart still beating too fast. The words feeling different as they get spoken from your mouth.

He walks the few steps around the table, closing the gap still between you— and he doesn’t wait for you to hug him, he just pulls you straight into the warmth of his arms.

Wrapping you up in a way that you can smell the cologne lingering on the dip of his neck into his shoulder.

His accent is muffled by your hair as he talks gently, “how’ve you been?”

The common question has your head reeling. In its simplicity is still sweetness.

You pull back, his eyes training on yours, looking keenly at you, awaiting an answer from your almost shy lips.

“I— yes, I’ve been really good thank you.” You nod, how could you not be? Look where your standing, who you’re standing with.

“What about you…?” You ask, watching as the corners of his pink mouth upturn.

He’s freshly shaven, you notice, and your fingers twitch with the need to glide over the smooth skin of his cheek.

You resist as he answers, still relatively closer than you should be out in a public place.

“I’m doing well, even better now.” He raises his eyebrows, a cheeky grin coming on his face.

He revels in blood that rushes into your cheeks, reddening them up like you’ve just run a mile.

“Oh, stop it. You’re a bloody flirt.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to play it off, and you also take a step back to seat yourself in the chair at the table he’d picked.

Maybe he was a flirt at most times. But from his perspective, with you in a dress like that? Not to sound like he’s drawing on the one direction lyrics, but as if you don’t know you’re beautiful.

I mean, sure, he thinks you’re aware that you’re pretty. But in the way it’s working him up, you seem to be clueless.

Because he’s almost stumbling on his words at the sight of you, soft fabric flowing seamlessly over your tan skin, cutting off above your knees leaving him with thoughts that he should not be having in a public space.

But at the same time, he tries to convince himself it’s nothing but a wholesome coincidental friendship. Even though if at any point tabloids get a hold of this, it will be very very far from that.

You’re watching as he looks a little caught up in thought, and you chuckle at it.

The sweet noise breaks him out of it, and he’s grateful for that. It was a rabbit hole he was happy to just not go down right now.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs, going over to his own seat.

“Now, i need the full story of what happened with your friends luggage at the Singapore airport?”

You let out a laugh, a little surprised he even remembers to bring it up. You had been texting about travel, and told him the time your friend had her luggage lost in a layover between Singapore and London last month.

“I mean, where did it leave it off?” You had explained a partial amount of the story. But told him, if you’d planned another cafe trip it would be a lot easier to explain the ins and outs.

And he was overly excited to watch you tell the tale. Watch the way your hands moved as you animatedly told the story, and the way your eyes get a little lost in thought.

He caught tiny glimpses of it the first time you’d met, but he craved to watch it happen in full. Among other things.

You told him how you’d had 12 hour layover, but that you guys didn’t want to book a hotel since they were so expensive. But you were still meant to collect your luggage— and everyone else but your friend Bonnie got it back.

“She’s Scottish, crazy red hair and she is like a fire cracker. She was actually at the last show, in the front with us, but anyway— so she’s running around Singapore airport accosting all the staff with her stressed out and angry Scottish accent.”

You went back and forth with the many fuck arounds of that day, how you went from halfway across the airport to a misplaced baggage unit per a staffs advice, only for the lady at the front desk to say it wasn’t there— and to go back to the support centre.

“It was not funny at the time,” you said, “but fuck, looking back now it’s pretty good. And it makes a fun story to tell.”

“So where did she actually get her stuff back?” He asks, frowning with a curious smile.

“Oh, like 6 hours after we originally got off the plan. They’d told us to wait up at that little customer support place and after like another hour and a half, some really frazzled guy came running up with it.”

And you laughed at the image in your head, sweaty and looked terrified he’d gotten the wrong bag, “We asked where it had gotten lost, but he just asked if it was certainly ours, then when we said yes he nodded and practically ran the other way.”

Harry was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“God, is that quite a story.”

“See why I said texting it would have been way too hard.” You amend, reaching for the deserted cup of tea you hadn’t even drank out of yet, taking a sip.

Exactly how you like it, and you smile. Watching him watch you drink it.

“Just how you like it, yea?” He asks to confirm. But also lost a little in the way the liquid seamlessly travels from the cup down your throat.

“Yea, perfect.” You nod, clutching the warm cup between your hands, tongue swiping out over your lips.

“Anyways, what about your own crazy travel stories. Since you’ve done plenty of it.” You prompt, unaware of his remaining gaze.

The afternoon went of just like that. Telling stories and sharing funny little anecdotes that had you laughing so hard that tears were about to spill from your waterline.

You slowly forget that it’s Harry Styles you’re sitting with. And of course that sounds weird. But it’s like there came a certain point in the afternoon where he just became simply Harry.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It had been a rather long time you sat in that same cafe with him. So much that the chairs, originally very comfortable, had started to become the opposite as time flew on.

“Are these chairs starting to hurt your ass too?” He asks, humour lacing his tone as he watches you adjust yourself in the chair for the third time in the last 10 minutes.

“Yea, the metal seats are lowkey not it.” At this he laughs, the way you word things somehow being more entertaining than most.

“Well, cmon, I already paid, we can go for a walk if you want?” He rises from his place, and you’ve never stood up quicker.

“Braving the Italian sun at its very brightest are we?” You joke, smiling as he grabs his bag and slings it over one of his broad shoulders.

“Could be a big regret, could also be very scenic.” He says as you grab both your empty cups.

“I forgot to put sunscreen on as well, so might have a different colour forehead to the rest of my body but… oh well.” he shurgs, following you over to the small bin by the cafe door.

You’re immediately thinking of the time he went to a show after going out golfing and he had a sunburnt head.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” And it takes you by surprise that the teasing words made it out of your mouth.

Yet, he seems happily indifferent to it, like it’s of course something you’d know, “Whatever you.”

Your laughing at his response as you hold the door open for him, exiting the cafe into the heat.

A tortured sigh is let out of you both at the swelter of it. The concrete pavement doing nothing but intensify it.

“I underestimate the weather every day here, I’m wearing too many layers of clothing to be dealing with this.”

“Take your hoodie off you dolt.”

He usually keeps layers on so that his tattoos are less visible. Since they’re often a dead giveaway of who he is. So his hands hesitates as they slip to the hem of his jumper.

“Don’t tell me you went out with just a jumper on, no other layers. In Italy?” You shake your head, still smiling as you slowly walk into the shaded part of the sidewalk.

“No— I did.” He laughs, “just m’tattoos usually garner some attention.”

He clarifies, “that sounded really egotistical, not the tattoos themselves, I meant people recognise me easier when they’re out.”

“Oh!” You stumble a little in your thought process. Feeling a little silly for not realising.

“I kind of like… forgot?” You say, coming to a stop as he eventually succumbs to the heat and peels the jumper over his head. Folding it up and popping it into his bag, glancing at you with a tiny breathe of relief at his new found ventilation. Hands moving to tousle with his hair in attempt to flatten it after pulling the jumper over it.

“I mean, i did. too honestly.” He agrees, continuing to walk forward.

You read into that a million different ways. But he makes sure you don’t get confused, “Y/N, don’t look so worried. I just mean you’re a very easy person to get… i dunno, lost in.”

Oh okay? How does one just casually continue putting one foot in front of the other after someone says something like that?

“You flatter me too much.” You roll your eyes, still as awful as ever at masking your shock or adoration for something someone’s said.

“Cmon, you’re just too humble i think.” He bumps you with his shoulder.

You’re laughing at him. But stop dead in your tracks as you stop something across the road.

“H.” You say, and he also comes to a halt. Taking a moment to process your use of his nickname. Like the way it so gently came from you.

Yet you sound almost dire, so he’s looking over where you are, scanning the sunny street for something that could possibly concern you?

For a moment he thinks it may be paparazzi, but this side of town is usually much better in regards to that.

He feels protective of you, “What? Are you okay?”

“There’s ice cream over there.” You say, hand coming up to cover your mouth a little.

A breath of relief fills his lungs, “i— you made it out like this was a life or death situation about t’unfold.”

Your expression turns to a grin, “no, i just love Italian ice creameries!”

“Can we please go and get some?” You glance back to him, and his own smile widens at your face. Gleaming with this unfiltered excitement over something so simplistic.

“Of course we can.” And you’re immediately grabbing his wrist to tug him across the road towards the shop.

“As if I could say no to you, anyway.” He laughs as he keeps up with your quick pace, clearly on a mission.

Once inside the store, with its pink and mint coloured walls and decor, you move to look at the collection of flavours.

The staples such as vanilla and strawberry, but then a small selection of more slightly diverse ones, like peanut butter brownie or salted caramel.

Their cookie dough ice cream looks amazing though, filled with chocolatey chunks of cookie. So you decide relatively fast that’s what you want.

And then you turn to Harry, whose eyes are still darting between flavours indecisively.

“What one do you want?” You ask, and he adverts his eyes to you.

“No I’ll order.” He shakes his head.

“No-no. Let me get this for you, please.” He goes to protest and you nudge him with your elbow, “don’t be stubborn. I want to get you something.”

“I— fine. But know you’re just as pushy as i am.” He scoffs with a laugh.

“I’ll get… maybe chocolate?” He points to it, and you nod.

The older lady at the counter is overly lovely, and you’re rattling off your order to her with a beaming smile.

Harry watches your interaction with her, and how you take a moment to compliment the heart covered apron she was wearing.

His heart trips over it’s own rhythm at the sight.

You pays and he still feels a little guilty, but figures he can make it up to you next time they go out by getting you a cookie or two with your tea.

You come back to his side with the two cones, stacked two scoops tall, and hand one to him.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to though.”

“It’s fine, Harry. Do you wanna find somewhere outside to sit?” You ask, turning to wave at the lady who served you as your slowly exiting the shop.

“Sure, i saw that little bench under a tree a couple shops down near that park.” He nods, taking his turn to lead the way there.

You shortly find the way there, sitting yourselves down on it, looking out onto a small playground with some kids swinging on monkey bars and sliding down the slide.

“Italian ice cream will forever be the best kind of ice cream.” You sigh out with pleasure, licking over the cool scoop.

He unwittingly is blushing at the sight, suddenly batting away mental images at the sight of your pink tongue jutting out of your mouth.

Shaking his head, he pushes them aside. “Definitely. You can tell it’s handmade.”

He busies his own tongue on his own ice cream, only stealing occasional glances to you at his side.

But he can’t help but tilt his cone to you, “Wanna try the chocolate?”

His offer comes as the equivalent of a brick to the head, but you’re invested in making yourself not seem psychotic.

So you nod nonchalantly, “i will, but I have a feeling that’s just because you want some of mine.”

“Mm, maybe I do a little.” He agrees, but any other coherent thought dies where it was in his head at you leaning over to his own cone. Your tongue running over the ice cream, collecting up its sweet residue.

You nod, “That’s so good.” Acting like you’ve got a normal internal monologue right now. Even though she’s hurling things at you that you can’t all process in such a short flash of time.

You just put your mouth where his has been! He is about to do the same thing! His eyes look a little blown out! What the fuck!

Pretty much what it sounds like up there, along with some alarm bells and screaming.

However you just gesture your cone to him, taking mental images of him mirroring what you did just before.

He hums a sound of enjoyment as he pulls back, glancing up at you, pinning you with his green gaze. “Good choice.”

You agree with a slight mumble, shaking your head momentarily to clear your thoughts. Ready to change the subject so you can internally recollect yourself.

“I only regret sitting out here since it’s melting so fucking fast.”

“I know,” he also settles quickly back into the normality of the moment, “i cant eat it quicker than the rate it’s melting.”

“It’s cold though, which is at least a win.”

Conversation trails on as normal while you finish off the ice cream. Discussing if biting the bottom off an ice cream cone is normal or not.

And before you know it you check your phone when you get a text from your mum, asking what time you’re able to call tonight.

She misses you heaps, you can tell. But despite the timezone difference you are making it work.

You also glance up at the time and realise it’s nearing 4pm. And you have just spent majority of the afternoon with Harry.

You also realise you’d agreed to have dinner with all of your friends in one of their hotel rooms tonight.

“Seems like it’s my turn to have to be the one to bail.” You say, popping your phone in your back pocket and looking back at Harry.

“That’s okay, love, what’s the plans for the evening.”

You explain that you’ll go over the the girls hotel room and probably just eat pizza, and then go back to your own room and call your mum for a bit.

He feels a little sad you even have to leave, which is odd, but he nods anyway, “That sounds fun. Solid plan.”

You reluctantly rise from your seat next to him. “So…” you take a tiny breath in, “am I the one picking the next cafe we go to?”

He beams internally at the fact you’re also trying to plan the next time you’re able to meet up with each other.

“I reckon so, Angel.” He stands as well, “I’m good for any day.”

Any plans he has can be rearranged for you.

“Alright!” You feel better immediately knowing you can see him again soon.

“Thanks for the ice cream too, by the way.” He says, walking back over to the pathway with you.

“It’s okay.” You smile, nervously being the one to give him a goodbye hug. A small flutter erupts in your stomach as his hands pull you flush to him around your lower back.

“I’ll see you soon, mkay?”

“Yea. Ill talk to you later.” You remind yourself that he’s easily accessible to talk to. You literally have his number.

“Bye H.” You give him a squeeze, pulling away with a smile, “Bye Y/N.” And you wave as you start the walk back to your hotel. Plenty of things to think about.

———

“Did you guys see the supposed pics of harry today on harryflorals? He was hanging out with someone apparently!” Nina asks everyone.

Only two of you hadn’t, including yourself.

She passes the phone first to you, and you frown.

“I know, looks like it’s taken on a potato.” She says, assuming your furrowed brows are due to the fact the image is really hard to get anything from.

Unless you know that park bench he’s ‘allegedly’ sitting on. And that the blurry figure next to him is almost certainly you— but no one else can tell.

“Yea… shit that is…” You pause, brain freezing a little, “bad quality.”

You hand her phone back. But caption of the post still festering in your head long after the moment is over.

HARRY *SUPPOSEDLY* WITH A GIRL IN ITALY TODAY! but this is the only pic we got 💔

———

ahh and that’s part two! I hope you guys are enjoying this, and I’m so excited to write more about these two. cant wait for you to see what’s in store for them.

thank you again for your patience while waiting for this second part, and to all the lovely people who requested this oneshot to be made into something more.

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @lquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #famous!harry #fangirl! y/n #welcome to the final show #series #harry styles series #strangers to friends to lovers #fluff #harry styles writing #hes so perfect #italyrry

[skele-ghost]

Fuck in the Graveyard (not really)

Summary: (Graves/Reader) You’ve been taking illegal suppressants for wayyy too long, and when you miss a dose, it all comes crashing down.

Content Warning: A/B/O Omegaverse dynamics, reader is afab, female pronouns?, substance abuse, technically is a fuck or die situation, p in v, knotting, brief fingering

Graves is kinda sweet in this one. I’ve never posted my stuff anywhere before and this is the first fic I’ve written in second person. Let me know what y’all think. I do not take requests.

(*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

The thing about taking illegal suppressants is that you have to time them perfectly. You’d better have your cycle down to a science, and you’d better take them three days before your heat, during, and three days after—and don’t you dare take them any more than 24 hours apart.

That’s how you wound up completely fucked: you took one dose two hours too late, and now the suppressants were completely ineffective. Was it really your fault? No, you’d been in the middle of a firefight, for fucks sake! But by some sick case of luck and science that made next to no sense, your heat started to build.

You hid being an Omega as much as you could. It wasn’t exactly a secret—it was there in your file for anyone to see. But so long as your heats were taken care of and you weren’t sending every Alpha within a mile radius into a rut, the military was happy.

And you were happy to let them believe that you were taking the regular course of suppressants that they prescribed you, and not the dangerous, high-dose, illegal ones that you preferred. They made your scent next to undetectable and made sure you could actually think straight when you were suppressing your heat, unlike the regular ones.

You were a specialist, an asset of high importance, and you’d be damned if you’d let your own biology stand in the way of that.

That’s why you liked the Shadows. Graves sent you a job offer after working with you on a mission gone sour in Urzikstan. He admired the way you kept your head cool when the world was falling apart around you. Even when you disclosed your designation, he shrugged it off.

“As long as you can keep your head cool like you did out there, we won’t have any problems,” he’d said.

And you’d kept your promise for nearly two years, now. But that was a long time to go without a heat, and a long time to be surrounded by the heady scent of Alpha unclaimed.

You were ashamed of the way you had to take off earlier. Once everyone was back from the mission, in one piece, settled in, you bolted, feeling the heat and sweat cling to you like a second skin.

It was sheer resolve that allowed you to keep the scent patches on for so long, little bandages clamped over your glands with a strong deodorizer, not letting anything out. You nearly passed out from the intense pain of prying them off your neck and wrists, the scent glands over-sensitive to even a breeze.

You blink away the tears quickly; you have to stay focused. You’ll drive to the safe house and crash there, get something planned. You knew the consequences of completely suppressing your heat for so long with such toxic drugs. Now you had to live with the consequences.

The little white farmhouse is remote, nestled deep in an old growth wood. It was beautiful, living up to the pictures you’d seen when Graves had shown it to you as a precaution. It had been in his family for generations before he fixed it up and decided to turn it into a safe house.

You pant as you put the car in park, staring at the building for a moment, your thoughts jumbled and disconjointed. As much as you want to melt into the seat, you have to get inside. A cold shower—that’s what you promise yourself, meek little motivation.

It manages to pull you out of the truck, onto shaky legs that want to collapse underneath you, but you push on.

They key is behind a brick on the foundation beneath the porch. It takes you a moment to remember which one—Graves had only shown you once.

Since you are the only unclaimed omega in the Shadows, he told you where the house was and how to access it. Just in case you had, in his words, “omega-related problems.” It isn’t too far from base. You’d have to figure out some way to show your eternal gratitude for the man…if you ever saw him again.

You retrieve the key and turn to make your way up the stairs, and that’s when things go sideways. You trip on the last step, crashing onto the porch with a force that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

The key falling out of your hand is the last coherent thought that you have before the pain takes over. Your sensitive skin and muscles cry out and it feels like hitting a sore bruise, everywhere.

You whimper, tears rolling down your cheeks as you stare up at the watery image of the porch’s ceiling. There’s a wasp’s nest, gross, but it’s November. They’re either sleeping or dead from the cold.

And thank god it’s cold, because at least your skin doesn’t feel like it’s completely on fire.

You know this is bad. You’ve deteriorated too quickly, the heat sneaking up and hitting you like a blitz attack from the dark.

As much as you hate to admit it, heats are necessary. It gets rid of built-up chemicals in the brain, provides a release to make new ones. Not quite like sleep was necessary, but in a similar fashion.

You’re worried that this one might kill you. You’re worried that if this one isn’t quelled and satisfied, you might end up brain-dead or in an eternal coma like the people in those stories your middle school health class scared you with.

But in the face of death? All that you wish is that you could apologize for the inconvenience. What kind of paperwork would Graves have to fill out for your corpse? Would he get in trouble for not monitoring you, for not knowing about your use of the illegal suppressants?

You slip into unconsciousness, the word ‘sorry’ on the tip of your tongue.

-

A whimper is all you manage as you stir awake, the first thing you notice being the thick, heavy, intoxicating scent of an Alpha, and one you know.

Graves smells like bonfires and bourbon, or maybe it’s whiskey? You make a breathy moan at the smell, brows furrowing as you feel yourself being carried.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, his voice making a nice rumble trail down your spine.

He’s holding you bridal style and then holds you close to him as he sits down, tucking your head into his neck so that you can scent him.

It cools the flames slightly, letting your mind clear itself of the fog as you finally stir, opening your eyes.

“Com-mander?” You ask, voice not much louder than a whisper.

He pulls you back, glancing down at you, his blue eyes filled with concern. “(Y/N), what’s going on? You don’t smell right, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Suppressants…not working,” you grit out, whimpering as an uncomfortable cramp begins in your gut.

“The ones you’ve been taking? Why, what’s wrong with them?” He lays you down on the bed he’d been sitting on and you whine at the loss of contact, squinting your eyes shut at the cramping.

You can hear him search through your bag, the one that had been digging painfully into your back a few minutes ago, and you hear the rattle of a pill bottle.

“Oh, (Y/N), you didn’t…” he says, and you can only imagine what his expression is as he looks at the bottle. It’s pretty damning—the prescription bottle with someone else’s name blacked out on it, half empty, label reading exactly what’s inside.

Graves returns to your side, his cool hand on your cheek turning you to look up at him. He looks…betrayed? Crestfallen? Worried, above all else, as he holds the bottle up with one hand.

“(Y/N), tell me you didn’t take these—tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” he demands, the command in his tone making a gush of slick escape you, adding to your already soaked panties.

“M’ sorry,” you whisper, tears blurring up along your waterline.

“Shit, (Y/N),” he growls, tossing the pills onto the bed, running his hands through his hair. “What do I do? You need to go to a hospital, is that it?”

You shake your head, “no, they can’t do anything. And I’d get arrested—ah!” You cry out, curling inwards as a sharp, painful cramp rolls through. Slick gushes out of you again, your organs overproducing as if they need to make up for all the missed heats. After a few agonizing moments it calms down and leaves you gasping, tears rolling down your cheeks.

You know what your options are, you know how fucked up this is, and you know that Graves is probably going to fire you after this—but you also know that you’re not ready for the final alternative.

“Please, it hurts!” You beg, pleading up at the sight of your commander above you, “please, Alpha.”

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, pursing his lips in that way you’ve always found so hot, “are you sure? You’re not thinking clearly, (Y/N).”

You nod frantically, grabbing his arm and scenting his wrist, keening at the smell, “please, please, Graves.”

His restraint snaps and he climbs ontop of you, pinning your wrists to the bed and placing his mouth on yours. You moan into it, trying to lift you hips up to get some kind of friction to no avail.

He pulls away and you tilt you head aside to give him better access to your neck as he scents you, breathing in deeply and growling. You cry out as he runs his tongue and teeth along the glands.

“I never got a good smell of you, (Y/N), you always wear those damn patches and I always want to rip them off,” he nibbles along your jaw, your whines and whimpers filling the small bedroom.

“Alpha, please,” you beg, desperate, clenching around nothing when you want to be clenching around him. “Inside, please put it inside.”

“I know, baby,” he says, pecking your lips again before he pulls back, hands gliding along your sides as he pulls your shirt off. “You’re burning up.”

Tears prick in the corners of your eyes and you squirm, whining and babbling as he pulls your bra off, too. The cooler air feels nice on your sweat-sheen skin, and you buck your hips as Graves gets off of you, hooking his fingers to pull your pants and panties down in one fell swoop.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he curses, then groans at the sight of your slick, how it clings to your parties in wet strings before he pulls them away.

Your boots are still on and he didn’t get your pants all the way off, but maybe seeing how soaked you are makes Graves hasty.

The most pornographic moan escapes you as he sinks two fingers in your hole, your sweet little cunt sucking them in and clenching down.

“Fuck, good Omega,” Graves groans, slipping in a third finger that has you moaning even louder.

Every spot he hits is the right one, every move pure ecstasy. Your voice is a broken babble of pleads and curses and moans, begging for your commander to fuck you, to take you, to make you his.

You almost sob when he retracts his fingers, not even caring to wipe them as he rolls you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips and pulling them up into the air, right against his own.

Feeling his erection against your ass, you turn downright frantic, “please please please, please fuck me, Alpha, please I need your knot so bad!”

He hisses as you rub against him and he begins unbuckling his belt, which only spurs you on more. He manages to still your hips and get his pants down, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick.

You keen embarrassingly loud as he enters you, slowly letting every inch of himself be swallowed up by your greedy cunt.

When he bottoms out, pressing against your cervix, it’s like a switch flips. You cum, whining as your legs shake, as Graves gasps behind you.

“Goddamn, baby,” he drawls, squeezing into the meat of your hips. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?”

Your brain is too melted with lust to be able to form any coherent sentence. When he pulls out and slowly thrusts back into you, testing the waters, you all but go limp, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you moan.

“Goooood girl,” he praises, speeding up his thrusts and finding a steady rhythm, your skin slapping together. “So slick and tight for me, omega, good god—“

All you can do is moan and take it. There’s no more painful cramping, and though your skin is still hot it’s not as bad. Your body is getting exactly what it needs: a good, hard fucking by a big, strong Alpha.

“(Y/N),” Graves moans, his voice sounding so sweet to your ears, “so good, baby. Better than I ever imagined.”

You keen at that, at your alpha wanting you—well, he isn’t yours, is he? It makes your heart sting slightly but that’s quickly forgotten with a slap to your ass, sending shockwaves of excitement through you.

You can feel yourself getting tighter, getting ready to be thrown over the edge again, and you can feel Graves speed up his thrusts, his knot slowly beginning to swell inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, “gonna give you my knot, gonna fill you up good—“

His thrusts get even harder, even rougher, and you cry out, feeling yourself come tumbling violently over the edge as his knot catches on you, cumming in waves like the sea crashes onto shore.

Graves stills inside you, making good on his promise, shooting ropes and ropes of hot seed. You can feel his swollen knot inside you, just past your entrance, making your pussy full in the most delicious way. You hear him catch his breath before he carefully rolls you both over onto your sides, laying down with you on the bed.

You hum happily as he wraps his arms around you, placing a chaste kiss on your shoulder as both of your ragged breathing calms.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he says, his voice husky in a way that makes you wish you were his.

“Yeah,” you manage to reply, running your hands along the arms that hold you.

“I don’t want you taking those damn pills ever again,” he growls, making you shiver. “Understand?”

You open your eyes and turn to look at him, confused at the soft expression on his face. It’s almost…vulnerable? Wasn’t he going to fire you?

“Commander?”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he says. Behind his blue eyes is a fire you know well, akin to the one that dances in his eyes on the battlefield. “I’ll drug test you if I have to, but I’m not going to lose you to some stupid suppressants.”

You blink. “You’re not going to fire me?”

“What? No,” he says like you’re crazy for thinking so. “But if you want to stay, darlin,’ we’re going to need to set some ground rules.”

“Okay,” you agree, relieved. You didn’t want to lose your job, it’s a good gig. The employee benefits are killer…and you’d miss your commander.

“It’s simple, (Y/N), no more illegal suppressants, and you come to me for your heats,” that bastard smirk of his returns and you giggle.

“Are you propositioning me, Commander?”

“Hell, yes I am,” he says proudly, reaching up to caress your cheek. “Probably should’ve done it sooner.”

You lean in and kiss him, enjoying how it sweetens his scent. Your heart flutters in place, content, elated; you had only ever dreamed of this. You finally have him.

“Oh, and no more scent patches. You smell too damn good to be covered up.”

You roll your eyes at him, still grinning. “You sure about that? I don’t think you’ll like every other alpha sniffing after me.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll keep you safe,” he says confidently, placing a lingering kiss to your cheek. His eyes hint at something darker, “besides… they’ll catch on.”

#phillip graves #Phillip graves/reader #Graves/Reader #graves x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod x y/n #shadow company #have I ever told y’all how much I hate the name phillip #honestly it’s a turn off ngl #but graves is cute even if he is a war criminal <3 #cod omegaverse #a/b/o #omega reader #alpha!graves

[trashmouth-richie]

𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗

pt 2 of do you like the way the water tastes?

eddie x fem!reader

summary: eddie walks you home but doesn’t do what you expect, when you try to confront him it doesn’t go as planned.

Your work shoes were rubbing at your ankles, friction from the water and the inability to never really feel dry after spending the afternoon at the pool, prevalent on your reddening skin. 

  But you could care less. 

  Eddie and you had been walking home in small awkward silence for the last ten minutes. Every once in a while his boot would crack a rock down the sidewalk and you’d kick it back to him, playing again, like children. 

  The silly boy at the pool with you was now being coy, rosy cheeks hiding behind a curtain of curls when your knuckles brushed his while you walked. 

  He clears his throat a few times, maybe the chlorine was making his throat scratchy? Or possibly his bravado fell once the two of you were alone?

  Either way, you focused on the way his fingers went to his mouth to bite the nail in a nervous habit, the click of his tongue ring on the back of his front teeth in another little routine for him. The noise makes your belly burn. so you break the ice.

  You bump into his shoulder, one hand twirling the ends of your hair, the other taking advantage of the heated skim of his skin on yours, “really had me fooled at Benny’s.” 

  he chuckles quickly, exasperating a small snort that he covers with a cough, “ ‘m sorry, probably should have said something better than that— just thought you’d like to ditch work and swim with me— I mean us.” The pretty blush creeps across his cheeks again and you can’t help but grin. 

  “Well,” you joke, stretching an olive branch out to him, “I’m glad your sick little plan worked.” 

  The heat creeps up to his ears and he chances to look down at you. Your smile widens and his gaze has you turning away, suddenly sheepish. 

  His eyes never leave you, but his better judgment stops him from grabbing your hand.  “yeah,” he manages, hot tongue licking his own lips. Daring to stare at the way the sun catches on the slope of your nose and sweat beads on your cupid’s bow, “lucky me.” 

  —

  “No kiss or anything?” Stella squeals through the end of your phone a week later. 

  Eddie had walked you all the way to the door of your apartment building. The small talk was sweet along the way, and you thought when he paused on his way to leave and looked at your lips that he would lean into a kiss. 

  But he never did. And you felt stupid. 

  Surely he’d ask for your number? 

  But he didn’t do that either.

  Instead he leaned into the door frame, ghosted his nose along your chin and whispered into your ear, the same clink of his tongue ring on his teeth, “see you around, sweetheart.” 

  What probably took a matter of 5 seconds lingered on your skin for hours. His smell; all chlorine and cigarettes. The way his cheeks burned in a crimson tinged tan from the sun. 

  It was intoxicating. 

  Addicting. 

  And you were left confused. He had almost kissed you at the pool… so why was he shy when you were alone? And even worse, silent. 

  “Nancy Drew couldn’t crack this case,” you explained to your best friend, “I thought we would… I don’t know.. go out? Maybe sneak a kiss?” 

  You were annoying yourself. Why was this bothering you so bad? It’s not as if you had a ton of boyfriends in your lifetime, but you knew when someone was flirting. 

  And Eddie Munson was laying on the charm, hot and heavy. 

  “Maybe he has a girlfriend?” Stella quipped, “maybe he was just letting you down easy?” 

  Sweet Stella was always so genuine, she'd tell it to you straight but deliver it in sugary goodness. And even though she was sweet the words cut you like a knife. 

  “Fuck, who knows, I gotta go… see you at work?” 

  She says her goodbyes and you slam the receiver down, the ding satisfying to your ears. 

  Was Eddie playing you? Your stomach twists at the thought and you nearly kick yourself for letting him get the best of you. You didn’t even know him enough to be this upset. 

  Pushing him out of your mind the best you could for the rest of the afternoon you wait tables, pocketing next to nothing in tips because you won’t crack a smile. Coffee stains your apron, and ketchup coats the toe of your shoe, the smell making you gag in disgust. 

  Anything and everything that could go wrong at work did. At least to you. Stella and Dawn seemed to be having a great shift but you were brooding in your own head about the audacity Eddie Munson had to not even call, or have the balls to tell you that he wasn’t interested. 

  Being led on was worse than rejection. And this stung horribly, wedging the stinger into your chest further with every huff of annoyance you let out. 

  Stella’s smile cheers you up, her uniform cinching her curves in all the right ways, her pockets nearly bursting with loose change and folded bills in tips.

  “Maybe he’s shy?” She says over a shared cigarette in the back near closing time, her brain had been working overtime trying to make you feel better. 

  Shrugging your shoulders you scoot onto the plastic bucket you’ve used as a chair since starting at Benny’s junior year. “I dunno Stell, I feel like a giant fucking loser.” 

  It was true, you hadn’t heard anything from him since he walked you home. You even made an embarrassing call to Gareth to see if you would bring Eddie up. But he never did. You were annoyed with yourself for giving a shit when clearly he didn’t. 

  “Well how about this,” she says sliding down next to you, “I’ll close up tonight and you go home and rest. No sense in feeling like shit  and being at this dump .” 

  —

  The drive back to your apartment is short, and hot, the air conditioning that hasn’t worked all summer in your car suddenly driving you mad.  The old radio that fuzzed and only came clear in one station decided to quit indefinitely right in the middle of your favorite song. 

  Before the transmission is thrown into park, you’re on the verge of screaming, and when the key sticks in the ignition you slam your hands into the steering wheel. Could this day get any worse? 

  Frustration brews when you finally finagle the key just right so it pops out of the vice and your elbow catches the dash, hard. The last straw. 

Smoldering tears well in your eyes, but you swallow them down. And it’s in that moment that you decide you need answers right the fuck now. 

  —

  Forest Hills Trailer Park was on the outskirts of town, nestled up against a vast, thick tree line. You didn’t know which trailer was his, taking a chance on a tan one that had a van parked out front that looked similar to his. Only to be embarrassed beyond belief when an old lady with missing teeth and tight curlers cursed you out for interrupting Oprah, a slam of her shitty screen door in your face. 

  Stomping down the steps you narrowly avoid a nail on the second step. Causing you to lose your balance and topple over into barely-there grass covered lawn. Face first into the dirt.

  Great. 

  The drag of soil  and the pull of grass snapping from the earth rings into your ears and shoves under your nails as you scrape your hands on the yard of lot 11, pushing yourself up. 

  The first rogue tear slides down your dirty face and you don’t even bother to wipe it away. Simply shifting to sit on your butt while you dust gingerly at the gravel and fresh blood from your knees. 

  You were wrong before: today could get worse. Much worse. Coffee, ketchup, grass and dirt all paint your work uniform. You were a mess. A pissed off, mess. 

  You hear your name in a question. And when you look up there he is. The one you had been searching for. Standing above you with a concerned expression, trying hard to hide a grin. He’s wearing a bandana around his head, the pungent smell of grease and sticky oil wafts to you when the wind picks up and he gets closer, a socket wrench gripped lazily in his hand. 

  The dirt on your cheek and bits of twigs stuck in your hair only add to the messy glamor of how you already looked. But Eddie can’t help but stare, the same heat in his cheeks and swimming in his stomach from the day at the pool when you look up at him, tears ready to fall. 

  “Didn’t know Miss Jeanie had a granddaughter,” he says with a slight tease, “thought she was too damn mean to ever be married.” 

  When the scowl set on your face didn't budge he changed his tone, shifting his weight from laid back and almost cocky with a hip out to standing like he was getting scolded. Both feet locked in place and his head down, shoulders sagged, peeking at you through his bangs, he stammers, “a—are you okay?” 

  A loud sniff leaves your body as you shove yourself up from the ground, not seeing the hand Eddie threw out to help you, “yeah,” you spit, wincing slightly as the bend in your knees stretches open the broken skin, “just peachy, I try to spend my Saturdays falling down the steps of some rickety ass trailer in hopes of avoiding a nail through my foot.” 

  Eddie only stares, mouth set in confusion as he tries to think of a quick reply, something witty, maybe something to make you laugh, but you don’t give him the time. 

  Turning on your heel, you stumble over a rock but catch yourself. Again, not seeing the way Eddie had ran forward with an outstretched hand to help. You’ve never been more mad and embarrassed in your entire life, and all you wanted to do was get the hell out of here. 

  It’s not until you have the door of your car open does Eddie register what he wanted to say, “what are you doing here?”

  It comes out wrong, accusing compared to the way he thought it would fall flirty from his lips. And you’re stunned, the tears falling freely now. 

  “Fuck, I mean— shit—” he stutters through his explanation, tongue tied and twisting in on itself, “n—not like ‘what are you doing here?’ but…” embarrassment works up his neck and hides on the tips of his ears, “I—I meant, Uhh— shit, d’ you need a band aid?” 

  The tears make clean streaks down your face and you wipe at them angrily. “N-o I don’t need a f-frickin’ bandaid, Eddie!” You needed a hot bath, a nap, a fucking cigarette; anything but this frustratingly awkward conversation with you resembling a bum and Eddie looking like a Greek Mechanic God.

  “Well, you’re bleeding,” he emphasizes and points to the bloody scrapes on your knees. 

  You knew they were bleeding, they stung and burned with each step you took, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of helping you out. 

  “I’m f—fine,” you stutter.

  “Shh, c’mon sweet girl,” Eddie says, closing the steps between you both and shutting your car door, his forefinger curled to catch a tear from dripping down your cheek, “lemme clean y’ up and then you can tell me what brought this cute little face down to the slums.” 

  You had come here to give him a piece of your mind, demand to know why he was so hot and cold. Instead you had made a fool out of yourself, and were a blubbering mess. 

  —

  Eddie’s trailer was the one next door to Miss Jeanie’s. Misjudging the yard his van was parked in as hers, you silently kick yourself as you follow him up the three steps leading inside. 

  His trailer is welcoming in a young bachelor type of way. Comforting outdated trinkets, guitar amps and cords strewn across the surfaces— keeping the dust and empty beer cans company.

  “Sorry,” he says, picking up some beer cans and tossing them into the trash, “roommates a slob, have a seat Uhh— wherever,” he says gesturing around with his hands and disappearing down a narrow hallway. 

  You look around and take a seat at the table, “didn’t know you had a roommate,” you call out, looking around the small cluttered living space. Tapes and magazines cover the small table along with a faded green homemade ashtray filled almost to the rim. 

  Eddie comes bounding back down the hallway, carrying a small first aid kit and a washcloth, “I don’t,” he quips, delivering a wink that has your stomach somersaulting. And when he notices the heat rise on your cheeks, he gives you a toothy smile in an attempt to hide his own blush. 

  And it was like no time had passed. Like he hadn’t been avoiding you for a week, but rather that you were still swimming in the cool blue water of the pool, kissed by the warmth of the sun and his arms around you when he pulled you in. 

  His thumbs trace the edges of the kit in a nervous habit, “Alright, let's take a look at those knees,” he looks from you to the kitchen counter, “do you uh.. here—” with a sweep of his arm he shoves the magazines and scattered tapes in a dusty cardboard box and tossed it on the table, “sit up here.” 

  Quirking an eyebrow at him, you give him a puzzled expression, which he answers with a laugh, “Dr. Munson needs to be able to see what he’s doing.” 

  For the first time since arriving in the trailer park, you let out a small smile, “doctor huh?” you question hoisting yourself onto the counter. 

  Eddie works beside you filling a bowl with warm water, “shyeah, I’m the band's primary caregiver,” he explains in a mockery tone, “even gave myself stitches a few years back after hiding from the cops when Jeff’s party got busted.” 

  He extends his pale arm towards you brandishing the silvery crook of a scar on his forearm, “twelve stitches, not the prettiest thing but it did the job.” 

  The air of your giggle was exactly what he was looking for, and his dimples dip into his cheeks with a smirk, hiding behind uncombed curls. 

  Thick fingers open the lid to the kit and he pulls out the old packages of gauze and bandages. Dipping a washcloth into the warm water he whistles a tune you haven’t heard, wringing the cloth out, the water splashes gently into the bowl. 

  He glanced over at your cut knees and winced, “not gonna lie to you, ‘s gonna hurt like hell.” 

  Nodding with a sniffle you quietly say, “I’ve had scraped knees before… doctor.” The grin he tried to hide spreads and tickles the corners of his eyes. 

  “Just want my favorite patient comfortable,” he says leaning into the joke.

  “Favorite or only?”

  His laugh is loud and boisterous, a thousand leagues away from his gentle touch on the delicate raw skin as he presses the cloth carefully around the scrapes and cleans the wound. 

  “Both,” he says, looking up at you through the thick black weeds of his lashes, holding your gaze for a second longer than he should have, pushing the limits. “Ya gonna tell me what you were doin’ playing in the dirt by my trailer or should I guess?”

  “I— I was,” you think quick of a lie, but you almost tremble when his head lowers and his curls tickle the tops of your bare thighs, the feeling sends prickles of goose flesh in its wake. All senses on overload, and you squirm when his warm hand sits atop one of them. 

  “I heard that there was a place to rent here, and well yeah if you must know— I was researching that information for Molly and Gareth.” 

  The sensation is quick lived as he hurriedly empties the bowl and struggles to open the bandaid package, using his teeth instead and spitting the paper to the floor.

  “Really?” He questions, in almost a whisper, after expertly placing the bandaid over the cut. Leaning with palms on either side of you, his stare is playful, “cause Gareth told me they already found a place.” 

  Your blood runs cold and you can smell the brine of sweat on his bandana as he gets closer and boxes you in. Stuttering out a phrase somewhere between, ‘I-was-looking-for-my-other-friend’ and a muttered gasp, he only laughs. 

  The same click from his tongue ring you heard at the pool on the back of his teeth as he clucks his tongue sang in your ears, you’d do whatever you could to hear that again. Shaking his head, he looks at you with the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen, “you sure about that?” 

  Here he was again, laying it on thick and juicy. But two could play this game. 

  “Yeah,” you counter back, leaning forward into him, not giving him the upper hand but wanting to tease him— unable to forget the week of silence. 

  Whispering and curling your lips close to his ear you can hear the way he shudders, “thanks for the bandaids Doctor Munson,” your breath fans on his skin, and you ghost your lips across his cheek, “but, I gotta go.” 

  You didn’t. But the satisfaction of having him close and then you being the one to to push him away was fucking satisfying. 

  Eddie scoffs and pushes off from the counter, crossing his arms across the stained front of his once white shirt, “Two lies from those pretty little lips, sweetheart you’re just asking for trouble.” 

  “I’m not lying,” you say innocently, hopping down from the counter and walking towards the door, bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

  You were. 

  “That's three,” he says, eyes following you like he was lost. The flirty vibe he had been giving was falling away from him. 

  Turning the knob you glance over your shoulder, “looks like I’m out.”  

  In two long legged strides he’s beside you, pulling the door shut with a big hand over your own, his face looks almost flustered like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of you, “Go for a drive with me.” 

  “No,” you sing-song to him looking at your bare wrist as if you were wearing a watch, biting back with a teasing hint of venom of your sour attitude, “it’s late, maybe next week.” 

  He snorts a laugh and the dimples he had tried to hide earlier appear, making you almost melt into the worn linoleum. 

  “Ahh c’mon Pinocchio,” he teases, reaching to your cheek to brush a smear of dirt from it, “maybe a little fresh air will help you remember why you came here in the first place.” 

  “I’ve already ridden in that death trap on wheels, screw boy,” you say pointing a finger into his chest. 

  He crowds you again, licking his lips and biting his tongue ring through his perfect teeth to show you the silver bulb. 

  “Oh baby no, we aren’t driving the van,” his fingers wrap around the hem of your sleeve on your work uniform and he looks down at you with a devilish grin, “we’re taking my bike.” 

tag list: @em-guitar-pick @joejoequinnquinn @raven-rust @hiscrimsonangel @josephquinnsfreckles @strangerfreak @bebe07011 @b-irock @chloe-6123 @whenshelanded @take-everything-you-can @mandyjo8719 @parmawiolets @mommybaby-witch @hellfirefiend @nevermoreraven1 @emmaisgonnacry @secretdryrose @eddiemunson4life420 @littlegingerbat @tlclick73 @definitionwanderlust @yvedesi

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie fan fiction #eddie fanfic #eddie munson imagine

[nebulousbrainsoup]

Hard hours are open ? ? If I may ~ ?

Thinking about boxer San cuz honestly the bouncy mv and the whole scene of San and wooyoung in the underground boxing ring made me dizzy 🫣🫣 really want that man to ruin me for me,, maybe as a lucky charm or a good luck quickie (maybe with a dash of wooyoung on the side 🤭😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫)

Idk your very recent mingi fic/ask is making me feel things lol

oh you absolutely may, my dear. that whole entire scene???? had me thinking Thots(tm) from the moment I saw it and I... mm. yeah for SURE I'm with you on this one.

18+ under the cut ; minors/ageless dni

buy me a ko-fi?

tags/warnings: gn!reader, woo's a lil jealous, lil bit of public sex, voyeurism, sorta poly, woo's a creep (affectionate), pet names (baby, my little charm), mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex (boo)

Because the thing about San—about nearly everyone in that dingy, sweat-filled basement, is that they do their best work when their blood's already pumping. Even when the place is nearly empty, only the fighters and their select entourages milling about, the residual energy is palpable. Wooyoung is not immune to it, as much as he may turn up his pretty nose at your pre-match antics. You think he does it more for his own pride than anything, trying to put himself above the fighters he manages, to maintain some degree of separation. Both you and San can see straight through that façade, and it's quite a laugh for the both of you each time he "accidentally" stumbles upon you. Each time, you're met with exasperation, and each time, once you're both sated, you fall into a fit of giggles over it.

Neither of you are stupid. You can see the way Wooyoung's eyes drag over the taut muscles of San's back and ass as he rails you against the wall under the stairs. San catches lingering stares when he's got you bent over the bathroom sink, his friend's eyes glued to where his cock is disappearing into you. You both have caught him glancing back at you in their dingy van's rearview, and San has his own little secret tucked away, having caught your name falling from Wooyoung's lips late at night. It's kind of fun to see how long he'll keep it up, so you bide your time, waiting until he comes to you. Until then, San has you, anywhere and everywhere he can.

At first, the whole "C'mon, baby, it's like a quick little testosterone boost" bit was just that, an excuse to get you under or over or on him (as if he needed one), but after the first match you couldn't make became San's first loss, you became his good luck charm. They'd shown up at your place before the next match, their blacked out van sticking out like a sore thumb, and both practically begged you never to miss a match again. Who were you to say no to their cute little pouts? Time was tight that night, you having gotten off work with just enough time to make it to the match yourself, so San had yanked you into the back and taken you then and there.

You were distantly aware of Wooyoung's wandering eyes, catching his gaze in the mirror once or twice for fractions of a second before he had to pay attention to the road again. Each time, you found yourself clenching around San's cock, a lazy smile spreading across your lips as his moans grew louder, hips snapping more roughly against your own. Your moans pitched up with the rough-handling, and your eyes snapped back to San's face, finding him smirking down at you.

Within seconds, he had also glanced up to the front of the van, smirk breaking into a grin as he moaned lowly into your ear. "He's eating this up," he muttered, leaning down to suck a mark into your skin. "Might wreck us; he's too busy jerking himself off up there."

Your walls fluttered around him as you felt the coil in your gut tightening, a heady "Sannie!" leaving you.

He hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, this time speaking loud enough for your companion to hear. "I know, baby, I'm almost there, can you just hold out a few more minutes for me? You know how much more it helps when my little charm cums with me."

The soft moan you let out pitched up violently as the van jerked to a stop, the sudden change in momentum driving San deep into you, his cockhead slamming against your sweet spot. You saw stars as you came unraveled, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling of the van. Wooyoung's voice and the shifting of San's hips brought you back down to reality, the latter muttering in his pout, "I was so close, dammit."

"Too bad, we're here. Put your fucking pants back on and take your frustration out in the ring," you heard Wooyoung mumble, the engine dying a second later. "I'm going in to stall. You have five minutes, tops."

San sighed as the driver's side door shut, his head hanging just slightly. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before moving to your lips, muffling your whines of overstimulation as he slid his still-hard cock from you.

"Not gonna use your five minutes?" you prodded, sitting up with him to straighten yourself out.

He shook his head. "And leave you with more of a mess to clean up? I've already got my lucky charm taken care of."

"Such a gentleman."

He grinned, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek. "I'd rather save it for a victory lap anyway. Especially if you can get Woo to join us."

You raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously as you buttoned your pants back up. "I'll see what I can do."

taglists (open): permanent: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @.soul-jae ateez: @pyeonghongrie-main @thatonenoona special: @jaehunnyy (come get ur mans baby)

© June 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work

#neb.requests #soul-jae #it thinks 😈 #ateez hard hours #neb.atz #choi san #choi san smut #ateez smut #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #woosan #nebulous writes

[fairyyarchive]

I LOVED FWB ZOROOOO I GOT SOME MORE

Running into him after hes all sweaty from his workout in the sunny and asking him to feel his muscles 😩😩 (can u make the reader bite his biceps once or sum LMAO)

HEY BESTIEEE tysm for your requests you keep me going <3 this one is a little rushed but i promise my upcoming uploads are so worth it hehe. Ty as always for the love and don’t hesitate to send me literally any and all ideas you have you’re the best!! <3 faye Content: afab reader, training, martial artist reader, sweaty zoro, suggestive content, flirty and fun bc these two are my favs rn

bad form

An empty day, in this economy? It truly seemed impossible. However, the fact remained true, leaving the members of the Straw Hat crew finding ways to occupy themselves. Nami had offered for you to come with her for a few errands (since when does Nami run errands..?) but you declined in favor of using the Sunny’s training room. Training with the view of the sky and sea outside, air blowing in through the windows gave you a sense of clarity and calmness that allowed you to train at your best.

You quickly discovered that you weren’t the only one with that plan; a familiar green haired, broad shouldered, toned back… swordsman. Crewmate. With benefits? You weren’t sure yet, exactly, but you did know that since the first time you’d slept together, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you really knew how those muscles worked now, and not just in battle. 

Regardless of your situation, you still wanted to get some basics in, at least. Zoro seemingly didn’t notice you enter the room, focusing instead on the swords in his hand as he ran through his exercises, precise and strong and sure of his movements, as always.

You began your stretches, shifting your focus from previous escapades with your –devastatingly hot– crewmate to the sounds of the ocean and breeze outside. It wasn’t what you’d grown up with, but you’d found that as long as you were where the sounds of nature could find you, the focus you required found you as well. Your focus was so in tune, in fact, that you hadn’t noticed Zoro’s presence just behind you. 

“Form’s a little lax today, got something on your mind sweetheart?” His hand is on your waist, the other running up your back to straighten your posture. You turn around in his arms, concentration definitely broken. His breathing was heavy, nearly bare chest heaving and sweat glistening from what was likely hours of training before you’d seen him. His body buzzed with warmth and energy behind you, sparking electricity in your veins.

“You’re lucky I was just warming up, I could’ve swept you in no time. Bam,” you punched his arm, small fist hitting stone muscle. Ugh. 

“Yeah? I’d have had you headlocked in no time babe, your knees were locked and your back wasn’t straight at all,” he chuckled. His forearm barred your chest, pulling you flush against him and knocking the breath from your lungs. Your back hit his absolute wall of a chest, bodies now alight with the sparks that flashed between you.

“Yeah well…” You huffed. It wasn’t fair that he always got the upper hand, though you knew you’d rather be wrapped up in him than kicking his ass - at least today. That didn’t mean you couldn’t be a little annoying while you’re at it, though. You started softly, craning your neck to plant soft little pecks all over Zoro’s arm.

“Hey, what are you – Ow! What the hell?” Zoro flinched back when you bit down on his forearm, teeth pinching the skin totally surprising him from the sweet kisses you’d been giving him. 

You giggled, twisting around in his grip and using your right foot (and his surprise) to sweep his ankle, knocking him to the ground. You toppled on top of him, wasting no time in straddling his waist and locking him in between your legs. Zoro had seemingly given up, knowing his raw strength could overpower you but opting to give you this win instead, just to see the cocky grin on your face. 

“I win,” you smirked, leaning close to his face to kiss him. 

“This time,” Zoro smiled back, warmer than before. 

Yeah, he’d let you keep thinking this was your win. 

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

loved doing this actually bc even without smut Zoro is so obviously obsessed hehe, more to come soon! ty for all the love <3 faye

✩ taglist @msmisasoup @puff-hugs @mrsyixingunicorn10 @buggy0827 @tr4psta @aj-1154 @henrioo @eelnoiz @justbepeace @gamzee-makara7 @fancysharkengineer @youcantfindmeyetimhere

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#one piece #one piece live action #one piece fluff #roranoa zoro #zoro smut #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro fluff #one piece x reader #fayesfics

[ickadori]

Getou takes pride in his hair.

He has a very meticulous process, and it’s possible he took it a bit too serious, but the results were worth it in his eyes, especially with the way you fawned over the onyx strands, gushing as you so frequently ran your hands through the healthy locks.

“It’s so long and pretty, Suguru!”

“It feels so much softer, did you use something different?”

“Your hair always smells so good, Suguru, I love it.”

Your praises and compliments never fail to make him hide a grin in the crook of his elbow, and he finds himself researching different hair tips more often than not to keep the praises coming. But as serious as he takes the health of his own hair, he takes yours even more seriously.

“Ow, Suguru, that hurts.” You complain as he brings the comb through your hair, and he lowly tsks, reaching to grab a few more pumpfuls of conditioner before lathering it into your wet hair.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you didn’t let it get so tangled,” he resumes the de-tangling process, making sure to start at the ends and work his way up to the roots. “And it wouldn’t get so tangled if you let me comb it every day instead of leaving it in those damn buns.” You dramatically groan when he snags on a kink, and he sets the comb down to instead work it out with his fingers, carefully parting the strands to get it out.

“I thought you liked my buns.”

“I do.” He liked whatever style you decided to put in your hair for the day. A simple bun, sometimes two, curled, straight, crinkled, braided, plaited, even when you slapped a hat on. It was cute, everything you did was, really. “But I don’t like when you let your hair get like this.”

The section he had been working on is finally tangle free, and deft fingers quickly part and twist three strands into a tight plait before he’s moving onto the next section. He starts off with his fingers, and then he follows up with the comb, only to switch back when your complaints get too loud.

“Can we take a break?”

“No.”

“Suguru.” You tilt your head back to look up at him from where you’re sat between his legs, a cushion underneath you, and he sighs through his nose at the sight of your wet lashes. He nearly gives in, but he remembers that he already has, four times, and that’s why the two of you are still sat here hours later.

“No, now turn around so I can finish.”

He resumes, taking care to avoid snags as best he can, and using his fingers instead of the comb when the tangles aren’t too bad. He periodically checks on you, leaning over so he can see into your face, and you always answer his silent inquiry with a scowl that he chuckles at each time.

When he nears the front, he has you tilt your head back so it rests in his lap, forcing you to look up at him. He pays no mind to the water that seeps into the fabric of his sweats, instead intensely focused on separating the strands. He’s acutely aware that you’re most sensitive at the edges of your hairline, and he tries his best to be as gentle as he can, working slowly.

By the time he’s finished you’ve dozed off, and he lets an unbridled smile spread across his face at the sight of you. You’re lightly snoring, lips parted and lashes brushing against the tops of your cheeks, and he bends to press a kiss to your open mouth.

You don’t stir, and he does it again, and again, until your nose is twitching and your eyes are blinking open. “Suguru?” You yawn, and he moves to kiss your nose. “You’re done?” He hums in confirmation, and with a final kiss to your forehead he’s straightening up, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your temples.

“Just gotta wash it now.” You sigh and relax against him. “Then I’ll blow dry and you can style.”

“Hm,” you purse your lips. “Maybe I’ll do buns again.” He pinches at your cheek, and you squeal out a laugh as you bat his hand away.

“It doesn’t matter what you choose to do, really. I’m gonna sweat it out either way.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

#getou x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

[woongisi]

Gym Buddy // Seok Matthew

dom!Seok Matthew x sub!gn!Reader // SMUT

WC// 1.9k

Synopsis// You were no stranger to visiting your boyfriend to hang out while he did his workout routine. Some days, you fail to hide how watching him do so drives you absolutely crazy.

Warnings// degradation, facefucking, choking (on dick, reader receiving), minimal dubcon (reader is somewhat hesitant), blowjobs, sweat + scent kink

Author's Note// This quite literally came to me in a dream and changed my life. Absolutely wasn't into sweat or anything of the sort prior... also may have accidentally killed @gothlcsan !!!

---------

Situated in his little home gym, fashioned from an unfinished basement, you'd been spotting Matthew for a couple hours now. Perhaps your definition of “spotting” was liberal at best, but what mattered was you were with him while he worked out. You always had some great chatter when you came to visit. Listening to his stories, blasting music a bit too loud, and serving as his impromptu cheerleader.

These sessions always had an unfortunate side effect, which you tended to ignore, but your patience ran thin today. Watching Matthew do his sets in his tight white tee with sleeves rolled up and green basketball shorts that rested just above the knee always left you aching between your legs. Sometimes, you wondered if he forced his strained groans just to drive you up the wall.

Crawling off the leg press machine and stretching his arms above his head, Matthew had caught you staring off into space. Certainly not thinking about his strong arms around your waist when he’s pounding into you or anything of the sort.

“Hey, you ok?” Matthew leaned over to meet your eye level and cocked his head to the side.

Snapping out of your daze and in turn nearly toppling off the bench you were perched on, you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Uh… I'm fine. Just thinking about a couple things.”

Matthew popped a knowing smirk.

“You're blushing, you know.”

“Fine,” You started. “If you wanna play this game.”

Staring directly into his eyes and messing with the hem of his tee shirt, you spoke quite slowly and deliberately. “I… need you… to take your cock out.” You paused. “After you take a shower.”

Matthew huffed, pretending he couldn't feel the redness rising on his cheeks. Of course he knew how he bothered you but it wasn't common for you to be so direct.

“After I shower? That's no fun. You look like you're about to explode and you insist on waiting?”

Asshole.

The way you looked from his face to his bulge with furrowed brows was telling enough for Matthew to laugh at your neediness and take you into his arms. Telling you that's what he thought and pushing you to your knees once he replaced where you were previously sitting on the bench.

Part of you was still determined to act like this wasn't exactly what you wanted, glaring up at him with faux anger. Another part of you wasn't keen on having your face anywhere near his crotch when he'd just been sweating like crazy for two hours straight. The view of his chest outlined by his damp t-shirt and strong arms crossed over one another was enough to push your doubts to the side, at least mostly.

Matthew’s breathing was still heavy, his mouth hanging open, finding it harder to recover from his workout when he was now looking at you placed between his legs. Your hand slipped up beneath his shirt, running along his abs, but causing you to mentally cringe at the wetness his sweat created on your palm. You could feel his patience already running then, he had plenty of pent up energy left and the intensity his gaze held as it rested upon you was enough to convey it.

“Shirt.” You mumbled, prompting Matthew to pull his tee over his head, nearly tearing the thin white cotton in the process. God, he really was hot. The sheen of sweat accentuated the contour of his chest, his abs, and everything in between. The way you ogled at his figure simultaneously stroked his ego but fueled his impatience.

“That's enough. You wanted this so badly, yeah?” He growled and put one hand on the nape of your neck. Matthew pulled you forward, smushing your face against his groin cheek first which coated the side of your face in his sweat. Your startled gasp caused you to take in his scent in its entirety, sending an electric shock from your stomach straight to your groin.

“Matthew, that's f-fucking gross.” You whined and the way he flashed a pretty smile at you almost pissed you off.

“You're enjoying it, you slut.” His words were cruel in contrast to his expression but you had no rebuttal. As filthy and hot as he was, his natural smell was more intoxicating than you were willing to admit to yourself or to him.

Opting not to say another word, you licked a sloppy stripe along what of his cock you could reach while he held your head in place. Matthew's sigh of relief was music to your ears. “Good…” he muttered under his breath, removing his hand from your neck only after giving it a brief reassuring rub.

Placing your hands on the outside of both of his thighs, you breathed in his scent, rubbing your head against him while you kissed at the outline of his dick. He gradually hardened under your touch, throbbing under the soft fabric of his shorts that was slowly shifting from light green to dark, becoming wet with precum and your saliva.

Matthew’s soft pants filled the air, his breath catching each time you granted extra attention to his tip. You rubbed the expanse of his muscular upper thigh with one hand, using the other to fondle his sack through the fabric.

“Shit, baby,” His head dropped back against the wall. “So good to me, thank you.”

“You smell so good…” Your own words surprised you and your gasps against your lover made his head spin. He chided you for being so adamant about him showering which left your face burning with embarrassment. You aided Matthew in pulling off his shorts, his cock slapping against his stomach. You cupped his balls lightly and peered up to see the way he smiled down to you.

“Fuck, dude, you're so full.” You scolded yourself for calling your boyfriend such a name when his cock was right in front of your face. “When's the last time you jerked off?!”

“I haven't, sweetheart. Knew you were coming within a week.” He carded his fingers through your hair. “Thought I was gonna die, but now I'm thinking it was worth it.”

He’d even taken the time to trim his hair for you. The way you pulsed against your underwear quickly began to frustrate you, forcing yourself to remember that if you're patient you'll get exactly what you want. Wrapping your hand around the base of his length, you took one of his balls gently into your mouth.

“My poor boy must be so sore.” You feigned empathy between breaths. Lolling your tongue around him eagerly. You took careful note of what Matthew seemed to enjoy most. What made his hips shudder, fingers tighten their grip, and high moans fall from his lips. He seemed to particularly enjoy each time you gave his balls a light suck and tug. The weight of his sweaty dick in your hand felt so filthy yet only made you squirm more. You were well accustomed to his taste by now, finding the added salty flavor to be a bit jarring, but more exciting than anything.

Matthew tapped your shoulder a couple times, grabbing your attention.

“Babe, babe please~” He never needed to beg you for a thing but you didn't mind this desperation. “Need my cock down your throat. Missed those pretty lil’ lips around me so badly.”

“Hmm…” You pretended to ponder his request, knowing full well you've been craving exactly that. “Since you did so well keeping your hands off yourself I’ll reward you. You can use me, as hard as you want.”

Matthew's face lit up, thanking you profusely for treating him so well. You stuck your tongue out, allowing him to place the end of his cock on it once he stood up and positioned himself in front of you. He gathered a ball of spit in his mouth, leaning over so that he could let it dribble down onto himself. Your lips closed around him, Matthew harshly grabbed a fistful of your hair, lending his free hand to brace your cheek.

“Deep breaths, baby, tell me if it's too much.” He started carefully at first, pumping in and out until you were accustomed enough for him to completely bottom out. Matthew’s hips bucked forward unintentionally once he hit the back of your throat, feeling you gag against him. He was girthy, so weighty on your tongue and adorned with prominent veins. As soon as you gave his thigh a reassuring stroke, Matthew thrusted into your wet mouth harshly.

You relaxed your throat, allowing him to fuck into you with ease. Your nails dug into the flesh of his thighs, leaving crescent moon marks in their wake and making Matthew’s cock twitch. He picked up the pace, holding your head in place as repeatedly bottomed out.

His hips connected with your face haphazardly with every thrust of your hips. Each time you choked on him sent shockwaves throughout your whole body. In the moment, you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck to his hearts content and it made want to melt.

Pulling out to allow you to breathe for a moment, you coughed harshly with your chest heaving. Tears rolled down your cheeks in steady rivulets. Allotting you little time to prepare, Matthew shoved his entire length down your throat, letting out a strangled moan when your muscles clenched down hard around him. You scarcely had any time to take in air, feeling dizzy and painfully turned on while Matthew abused your throat for all it was worth.

Thick strings of your saliva and Matthew’s leaking precum created a lewd visual of a hot sticky mess on your face and the base of his dick.

“Such a good fucking toy for me,” Matthew spat. “Taking my cock so well like the worthless piece of meat you are.”

It was rare for him to be so harsh to you, so degrading and so cruel. It only served to deepen the building coil in your stomach. You were lightheaded, eyes rolling back in your head at the lack of oxygen.

“Just a little longer, know you can take it. Be good for me, alright?” You weren't sure you truly could handle more without losing consciousness but the resounding moans and strings of curses falling from Matthew's mouth had you determined to stick it out.

Suddenly, Matthew buried himself deep in your throat and forced your head to keep in place. White hot ropes of his cum gushed down your throat, choking you in the process for what felt like forever. He tasted so good, so mouthwatering, you wondered briefly if he'd been changing his diet just for this too. Once he pulled out, you sputtered out whatever of his seed hadn't made it completely down your throat. Your chest was heaving, fresh air relieving the burning in your lungs. Your legs were trembling, heart slamming against your chest, shakily moaning as you recovered.

Matthew took your hand into his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze and caringly stroking your hair.

“Are you alright, love?” He pouted with a tinge of worry. “Was I too rough?”

You shook your head eagerly. “S-So good, Matt, so fuckin good.”

He helped bring you up on to the bench, peppering kisses across your face. “You did so well for me, my favorite little slut.”

“Matthew…” Your eyes set heavy with lust, intensely staring at your lover while taking in his scent that had only increased.

“Hm?”

“Need you in me. Now. Think I might lose my mind without it.”

“Shit, after what you just did? How could I ever deny you?”

Maybe you'd have to visit his gym more often.

#[gray fucks zb1 ❄️] #zb1 smut #zb1 scenarios #seok matthew #seok matthew smut #matthew smut #zb1 matthew #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone smut #zerobaseone imagines