#i feel so numb knowing all I’m ever going to be good for is feeling out at home which is the most unfulfilling thing ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xxsabitoxx · 2 months

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Ryomen Sukuna NSFW A-Z

Part of my 20k follower celebration (past due)

Warnings: if it isn’t abundantly clear, this is smut :)

A/N: in honor of hitting 20k followers a while back, I’m going to be posting 10 NSFW alphabets for JJK men — scheduled post 11 :) - I've developed an unhealthy obsession with true form Sukuna... he is all I think about now. Forgive me because this one is for sure a bit OOC since he like... loves you

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you managed to break the hollow icy shell that is Sukuna’s heart and make yourself someone important to him… Sukuna is pretty damn good with aftercare. He’ll clean you up, even ordering someone to get numbing salves because he tore you the fuck up and he know’s you’ll be sore and aching within a few hours if you aren’t already. He’ll use two arms to cradle you gently while his other set works on cleaning you up and making sure you’re okay. He’ll wait until you’re sleeping to whisper praises to you, telling you that you did so well for him and that he adores you. He’ll never really say these things to you when you’re awake though.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sukuna loves your legs and thighs, he loves your hips and your stomach too. He loves having things to hold and your body provides so much softness for him. He loves to kneel before you – that’s right the king of curses kneeling before you – to lick all the way from the top of your foot up to your inner thigh. He’ll cover your legs in bruises and bites, making sure everyone is well aware that you are his property and nobody else can have you. He adores your stomach, often resting his head against it and letting you pet his hair lovingly. Sukuna will only show this level of vulnerability to you, letting down some – not all – of his walls.

Sukuna loves his entire body, four arms, two mouths, two dicks, and all. He considers it his masterpiece and it deserves to be worshiped. He has no shame in proclaiming this either.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

If he’s not dumping several loads into your cunt/ass then what’s the point? Sukuna treats his cum just as he treats the rest of his body… It's sacred and a privilege to have it. He toys with the idea of painting your face or chest in it but ultimately doesn’t see the point in letting something so valuable go to waste. So creampies are the only way in Sukuna’s eyes. And trust me when I say this man cums a fucking boat-load. I don’t care if it’s realistic or not, he’s making you look bloated by the time he’s done with you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sukuna would let you do anything you wanted to him… he just hasn’t found the strength to give you that knowledge yet. He hates the idea of someone holding power over him, which is why he’s ever so mildly terrified of you. You may not realize it, but you have Sukuna wrapped around your finger… that man would kill the entire planet for you if it meant seeing you smile.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Sukuna is very experienced, having tens if not hundreds of harlots laying around for his use. But that was before you. You changed his view on that sort of thing and he got rid of every single one of them… you are all he needs to remain satisfied and that is a feeling Sukuna never thought he'd experience in his existence. Sukuna knows what he’s doing and he knows what he’s doing well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sukuna’s favorite position is holding you up so your back is pressed to his chest. He has a hand hooked under each of your knees and he’s holding you up that way, spreading you apart further than your legs really allow. Sukuna is either sitting or standing and honestly he prefers when a mirror is present so he can watch your face contort in a mix of pain and pleasure. He has you impaled on his cock, easily able to trust in and out of you as you fall apart.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not even a hint of goofiness in this man when he fucks you. He is all about business… I mean for real it was actually kind of terrifying at first but now you’re used to it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sukuna doesn’t really give a shit about his hair down there… and yes it’s pink like the rest of his hair. It may sound fucking bizarre but if you want to trim and clean him up down there? He’ll let you do it. You bathe him often so it’s not necessarily out of your comfort zone to sit there and groom his nether region. He doesn’t really care what you do down there either. You can simply trim him to your liking or shave him bald. Whatever you’re into, he truly doesn’t care.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sukuna is… romantic in his own way. He’s not detached from the situation at hand and he’s not focused entirely on himself. Sukuna shows his “romantic” side by letting you cum, maybe sparing you a few kisses, rubbing his thumb across the nail marks he left on your legs… he’s not one to say “I love you” or really express how much you mean to him. But it’s the small, subtle little things that hint towards his affection for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s got four hands, you’d think he’d use one of them to get himself off but he simply doesn’t see a need for that when he can have a random whore come do it for him. When it comes to you though? You never leave him, like Uraume, you’ve earned your spot by his side. He has you to assist him with those kinds of needs when they arise (heh). Though, he’s amused you once or twice by jerking himself off for your own enjoyment. Making a show of using two hands to jerk off his two cocks but stopping just before he comes because – as i’ve said – he doesn’t like to waste any of it, not a single drop can be spared.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Slave/Master kink for one… he just likes the feeling of being superior even though he doesn't need to “roleplay” to get that feeling. BDSM… or whatever equivalent there is for the Heian period. He likes it rough, messy, even a little bloody. Sukuna has a massive breeding kink but doesn’t want kids, he just likes the idea of filling you over and over again (regardless if you have the ability to get pregnant or not). Dacryphilia for sure, your tears turn him on. Orgasm control (both denying and overstimulation) are just another aspect that plays into his love of power. Sukuna loves restraints in any form, not him, though. He will for sure try and fist you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere. Sukuna will fuck you where ever the fuck he wants too with no shame. He’ll fuck you on his bed, ruin the luxurious sheets and break the bedframe over and over. It’s gotten to the point where he actually got rid of it all together because he was sick of the wood splintering and nearly hurting you. Sukuna can and will fuck you on a raised platform in front of his petrified subjects. He wants everyone to know who you belong too – even if you don’t need to be fucked stupid in front of hundreds of people for them to know. It’s quite obvious. To be totally honest, Sukuna loves the mess and mayhem of fucking you in the tub. Watching the water slosh everywhere then ordering a maid to come clean up the damage, it makes him laugh.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There is an innocence to you that really gets Sukuna going. You’ve done the most downright filthy things with him, you’ve stood beside him as he makes a bloody mess of someone… but somehow you still retain this sort of innocence to you that he loves to try and taint. It’s not to say you’re oblivious… you’re very smart in Sukuna’s eyes and he knows you have a mean streak. But when you’re with him… there is something about you that he wants to break so badly and he has such fun trying to do so… you’re resilient which would usually piss him off to no end… but with you it’s endearing and he can’t figure out why he can’t get enough (you’re in love dumb ass)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Shit. Yeah no that’s the one thing he can not and will not deal with. He’s had his fair share of bodily fluids – to say the least without going into detail. But he draws the line at anything to do with vomit or scat. It disturbs him… which is saying a lot. He’s had women offered to him as sacrifice that have done several things in fear and he can say he truthfully cannot handle it. Also, no threesomes ever. He’s not sharing you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a healthy combination of both (shocking). Sukuna loves watching you struggle to even take one of his cocks in your mouth nevermind both. But your mouth feels so damn good even though you struggle to get more than the tip past your lips. Sukuna loves to go down on you though, keeping your thighs spread apart so he can eat you as he pleases. Your arousal just tastes so good to him, he can’t get enough and he will not stop until he’s satisfied.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and cruel for the most part. But he can be even meaner when he goes unbearably slow, splitting you open agonizingly with two cocks opposed to one just to see those pretty tears slip down your cheeks as you beg and plead for mercy (mercy he never gives). Sukuna will fuck you stupid with one cock most of the time, that’s his little bit of kindness towards you, but you’ll get fucked twice at least… ya know… gotta get the second cock off too. He’ll give you a choice, get fucked twice with one cock each time or get fucked once with two… mind you it’s never just once even if it’s two cocks at the same time or one each. You’re smart enough to take one cock multiple times unless you want to be bedridden because you can’t walk. Both options have happened to you many times though… so you really can’t tell why he offers you a choice.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sex can take up a whole day when it comes to Sukuna. So, no, he despises quickies. He doesn’t like to be rushed, he doesn’t care if he gets caught, he’ll make people watch. What is there that would really appeal to him??? It seems more annoying than anything really.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He will experiment but only on his own accord. He won’t say it outright but Sukuna is at least a bit mindful of the experiments he does… he doesn’t want to really hurt you or scare you away. So he picks and chooses what he wants to try on you. If there is something very intriguing to him that he worries will make you uncomfortable? He’ll force two other people to play it out while he watches and decides from there… he’s oddly considerate of you in that sense.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As you saw above… sex can be an all-day process for Sukuna. He can last as long as he wants to… and I mean that seriously. His stamina is infinite, nothing will stop him but himself. He can go multiple rounds until you’re so fucked out you’ve lost count. He can last anywhere from 15-25 minutes per round, he could last much longer but his goal is inevitably to cum so why bother… praying for you honestly.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys like we know today don’t exist within his era (the Heian period) and honestly?? Sukuna is a fucking jungle gym in his own right so you really don’t need toys… and even if they did exist and were at his disposal? Sukuna isn’t using them. Why the hell would he rely on a stupid little toy to get you off when he’s more than capable?? He’s not intimidated by them, he just would think they’re absolutely useless… modern day though… if you begged him for a vibrator he would probably cave and get you one. He may even find amusement in it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sukuna and fair do not belong in the same sentence so it should shock nobody that this man will tease you until you are nearly dry heaving with how hard you’re crying. He will tease you for hours, to the point it feels like genuine torture, before he feels like getting you off. Then, the unfair attitude continues because he will not stop even when you start begging him to. He likes how quickly he can make you regret your words, seeing those pretty fat globs of tears leaking down your cheeks only makes the experience better for him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sukuna will curse and groan but that’s about it. He won’t try and hide his noises, either, but he will try and make sure he’s not too loud. It’s rare to get a moan, whine, or whimper out of him. Especially since he has such good control over himself. But he will not hesitate to groan about how good his cock is feeling because of you… he has to give you a little something to get you to stick around, ya know? Not that you have a choice… and not that you’d really want to leave him anyways… giving up your luxurious lifestyle and being on the king of curses’ good side isn’t something just anyone can obtain, you know.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sukuna hates your family, ever since you were dropped off to him to be a sacrifice. He doesn’t care about his donors and their sacrifices since all of them are mediocre pieces of shit at best. Though he knows a scumbag like him is not one to talk. But you? You arrived to him nearly beaten to death, half naked, with little to no emotion left in you. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? Where was the fun in playing with something that was already half dead. Though, as he was about to kill you, something in your expression moved his icy heart. That truly petrified him but he’d never let anyone know it. He kept you instead of killing you, ordering for the immediate execution of your rotten family instead. He likes to joke that he had the perfect specimen nursed back to health, in his eyes you really were perfect.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Sukuna is a tall man… while we don’t know his exact height in true form… he’s been guesstimated to be anywhere from 7.5 feet to 9.8 feet. A tall man is going to have a monstrous cock… or cocks in his case. When he’s soft he’s about 8.5 inches in length, and when he’s hard he’s just over 11 inches. He’s monstrous, girthy and sticks straight out… both of them do. He will hurt… he will make you feel like you’re getting ripped in half and he will often try and fist you to prepare you for him. He cannot fit all the way inside of you, as much as he’d love to, he's not trying to kill you by rupturing your organs. He’s a tan color, one dick is circumcised, the other is not… he was feeling quirky, and has a deep rosy pink tip… or tips… you know what I mean.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sukuna has to fuck you at least twice a day, if he doesn’t, he’s extremely irritable. He has at least 5 hours of his day set aside just for you. But really he makes his own schedule so he can do whatever the fuck he wants when he wants to. His sex drive is pretty damn high and he does absolutely nothing to deal with it or hold off. He will get off the moment he wants too.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sukuna prefers falling asleep after you do, which can be pretty instant considering how long he may have been fucking you. So the answer is anywhere between 30 seconds and 10 minutes.

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levitiquee · 5 months

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All that's left.

“I know you’re there.”

Levi called out, startling you. You’ve been watching him from the side of the wreck, watching as the ghosts of your comrades appeared for one last time, one last salute. One last declaration of all they dedicated. One last goodbye.

And when Hange gave you a nod, you nodded back.

You two are all that's left.

You stayed out of his sight even after they disappeared, giving him the privacy to mourn. God knows he needed it. You didn’t think he had noticed your presence, but then again, who were you trying to fool? His extraordinary instincts were never to be underestimated.

Sighing, you pushed yourself to stand straight and stumbled forward. He glanced at you with the side of his eye. Ever resilient, ever strong, the cracks were so slight, just barely there. But you knew. You could always tell.

“Hi.” You mumbled. He stared at you as you dragged yourself in front of him, slightly limping.

“Nice of you to make it out alive.” He said.

“Who would’ve thought?” You shrugged.

“You made an ugly titan by the way.”

“I’m sure you would’ve looked charming.”

“Bet.”

You smiled. The conversation was so unbelievably normal. Here, in the wreckage of everything, all the corpses, smoke, blood and ruins, here you were, back to how it always was. It almost felt surreal. Almost as if you concentrated hard enough, all of it would go away and you’d find you and him back in the soggy cafeteria of the scout headquarters, back to bantering with him and arguing about silly little things that don't really deserve arguments but it’s you and Levi so of course it’d end up an argument.

You felt so old suddenly.

How come you ended up here? In this way?

And Levi looked so tired, you could cry. Hasn’t he given enough? Doesn’t he get to rest now?

“Does that..” You glanced down at his leg, the one he had spread out in front of him. It was clear it was beyond repair. The fabric of his pants were torn at the knee, from where it was crushed between the titan’s jaw, a bloody, mangled mess. “Does that hurt?”

“Not really, no.” His eyes went to where yours were. “Numbed down a while ago. Can’t feel shit really.”

You sighed. "Not very humanity's strongest anymore, huh?"

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" He said. "Careful, I could still kick your ass."

"I'm sure."

You grinned. Then went ahead and dropped yourself beside him. He frowned.

“Shouldn’t we be getting up now?” He said. “Why are you getting all comfortable?”

“Why not?” You muttered, pulling your legs upto your chest, hugging them. “What’s it matter what we do or not? Armin’s the hot shit now, let him deal with shit.”

He didn’t answer, but he made no attempt to get up either. If anything, he looked more relaxed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend the rest of your life here. After all, you were so tired, and you were sure he was too. This was as good as anywhere else would be.

Because there’s no home to return to anymore.

“Do you think there’s anything left of Hange to bury?” He suddenly said.

You shuddered. What do you answer to that?

And your head pounded so hard, you couldn’t really think. Far away, you could hear someone yelling at another someone, but you couldn’t bother to pay attention to the words. Armin and the others would figure something out surely.

You were exhausted.

“Say, Levi.” You said tiredly, nudging him slightly.

“What?”

“Wanna get married?”

Levi almost choked, he was suddenly all uptight, stiff as a board as he looked at you with wide eyes.

“What the fuck?” He asked, scowling. “Are you seriously gonna make jokes here? Here?”

“Not joking.”

You lifted up your head, tilting it to look at him. It was hard to tell whether he was annoyed or flustered. You’re not sure where the sudden boldness came from, but this is as good a time as any. Might as well. “You’re right. It’s a bad time to make jokes. So I’m dead serious.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.” You nodded, turning your expression very serious.

“You’re weird as fuck.” He sputtered out after a few attempts to speak. The tips of his ears were red, red as it always was whenever you used to jokingly suggest that he should date you. Except you weren’t really joking anymore. You haven’t been joking for a long, long time.

“I mean..” You closed your eyes. You were too tired to even feel embarrassed. “We’re the only ones left. Me and you. You’re all I have left, Levi. So, why not?”

He stared at you for a few seconds, gaping. Then he started shaking his head. “You’re insane.” He finally said.

“You’re just realizing that?”

“No.” He muttered. “You’re insane. And it’s rubbing off on me.”

He turned to you, peering at you with one good eye, pondering. And finally, he made up his mind.

“You’re insane. And I’m no fucking different.” He sighed. “I must’ve hit my head pretty damn hard because I’m actually considering this shit.”

You grinned. “Go on, say it. You like me.”

“Wrong. I tolerate you.”

“Good enough. You don’t tolerate a lot of people, so I’ll take it as I'm special.”

He sighed, turning away, hoping that’s enough to hide his heart from you. You were special to him, always. But you didn’t need to know that. He didn’t want you to know that. He didn’t know how to let you know that.

“Can you believe us?” He scoffed. “We’re practically sitting in a graveyard. Half the world’s ruined but then there’s us.”

“That’s fine. Let’s keep being us. The world can go fuck itself. Meanwhile, we can—”

“Do not finish that sentence.” He glared.

You stopped, a laugh breaking through. And you laughed so hard your stomach ached and there were tears lining in your eyes. And even Levi smiled, just the slightest, barely. A subtle quirk of his mouth.

“We’re insane.” You admitted. With that, you stood up, stumbling a little before you found your balance. You reached out your hand to Levi, who took it without question.

“Come on, Lev.” You pulled him up, letting him wrap an arm around you to brace himself. “Let’s go home.”

You were right, Levi thinks as he limps with you, letting you support him. It was nice to finally let himself lean on someone.

You two are the only ones left.

You’re all he has now.

The world has taken enough from him. He’s so tired of letting go.

And he’d be damned if he let you go too.

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harstyle · 3 months

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pretty

Summary: Your good friend Harry Styles might just be the hottest, most gentleman-liest guy you‘ve ever laid eyes on, so it really is a shame that you‘re not his type. featuring lotsss of pining, insecurities on both sides and a hefty crying sesh (it‘s all a bit pathetic and cheesy really😭)

Pairing: uni-student!y/n + uni-student!harry

Word Count: 6.2k

—

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?”

He was impossibly close, nose mere inches away from hers, and held this expression that could easily make her cry if only she looked at it long enough. Y/N couldn’t handle the pressure of the moment, his intense eyes on hers. It was something out of a romance movie.

And she was left so speechless that all she could say to him was: “uh, t-thanks. Thanks. You too.” It wasn‘t like she disagreed with him, but the sheer intensity, the closeness with which he delivered his compliment made her weak at the knees.

He smiled at her like he’d known she would cower away and brushed some stray hairs away from her eyes. “James doesn’t deserve you. You know that, right?”

In full transparency, Y/N had forgotten all about James. She’d forgotten the reason for her tears the moment Harry had shown up at her flat to give her that long hug she’d been needing.

The only reason James had stumbled into her life at all was Harry anyway. Call it a distraction, a means to numb the jealousy she felt whenever she saw Harry out with another girl.

“I get it, though. I should’ve known he’d be that way, people warned me before going out with him. That he only takes out cheerleaders. Should’ve known he did it for a laugh.”

Harry was similar to James in that regard— he had a type and everyone knew it. Y/N didn’t fall under his category of ‘girls to date’. She often wondered why she always went for guys who would never even look in her direction— a bit of self hatred, maybe. A will to punish herself.

“Hey, stop that. You’re beautiful. Don’t find excuses for his behavior.”

“I’m not, I just… I should’ve seen it coming, is all.”

“No, what we’re not going to do is blame ourselves for other people’s mistakes. James fucked up. He did. And that’s it. You move on, you come back stronger and show him he didn’t leave even a tiny scratch.”

“You’re right. Of course.”

He smiled, “do you feel better?”

“A bit,” Y/N nodded with a sturdy exhale, “thanks for being there for me always. I really appreciate it.”

“What are best friend for, ey?”

It never felt less unnerving to hear those words coming out of his mouth. And really, she knew that realistically they were nothing more, but sometimes, especially late at night when no one was around and all of her uni stress had been shoved into a closet for the day, Y/N let herself believe it was real. That he liked her back. She needed to get a grip and open her eyes to the cold harsh truth; that a friend was all she would ever be in his eyes.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and averted her eyes towards her interlinked fingers. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

Y/N had long mastered the art of feigning a smile, so it came easily for her to flash her teeth at Harry in this moment.

“Course. Let’s make some dinner, I’m hungry.”

—

“Hey, it’s Y/N right?”

Y/N had seen this girl around before. She remembered because every time she would pass by on campus, Y/N had to admire her beauty; how her makeup always seemed effortless and her clothes complimented her perfect figure in just the right way, how her hair was always in a wave that Y/N could never perfectly recreate and her walk never droopy or tired, perfected by an angelic touch.

Y/N didn’t know this girl, but she’d always wanted to be like her.

“Yeah, hi.” Despite the inherent intimidation, Y/N smiled at her, “can I help you?”

Y/N felt ugly standing in front of her. She’d had to rush out of bed this morning for her analysis class, forgotten mascara and her staple lip balm. She looked monstrously unwell.

“My name’s Iris, I was wondering… god, this is a bit embarrassing, but you’re good friends with Harry, right?”

Y/N saw where this was going off of the jump. It happened way too often for her not to.

And her heart broke just a little more then, because so far, it’d been random girls she knew stood no chance with Harry. But Iris was just perfectly crafted for him, cookie cutter pretty and impressively confident. She had everything Y/N was still hastily working on.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I was wondering if you could give him my number? I saw him at the party last night and we chatted for a bit, but I forgot to write it down for him.”

Y/N had been at that party too, she just didn’t see that. Harry had barely even left her side. Must’ve been when she‘d gone to the bathroom.

“Oh, sure.”

“Great! Thank you so much.”

Iris handed her a little post it with her digits written along with a lovely note about having had a fun time.

Y/N walked to her 8am analysis class with a crucial feeling of hatred for the world and everything in it bubbling in her chest.

—

“Hi, babe.” Harry pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek like it was normal before finding his reserved seat next to her, surprising both her and their friends. If Kacy was all too shocked, though, she didn‘t show it, simply widening her grin in response to Harry‘s presence. “Hi, guys.”

“You finally showed up!” Kacy exclaimed, drawing the attention on him with her loud voice. Harry was so busy that he could be hard to track down, which made him an easy target for the occasional jab. In all fairness, he’d seen Y/N almost every day, just not his other friends— and in full honesty, that was enough for him.

“Yeah, sorry, finals week.”

“Y/N found the time,” Sebastian chimed in, tone laced with a tinge of earnestness, although Y/N and Harry could tell he was only teasing.

Harry retorted fairly quickly, “cause she has no other social life.”

At Harry’s words Y/N turned her head at him, mouth dropping open in genuine offense. She couldn’t do anything other than laugh, but really she should’ve hit him for saying that. “So you’re a whore and a backstabber!”

Harry cackled, that beautiful laugh escaping his mouth and blessing her ears, pulling her into his side and hugging around her frame. “I’m only joking!”

“Whatever. I’m not speaking to you the rest of the night.”

“Sure. You try that and we’ll see how that works out for you, babe.”

Everyone but them saw what their future could look like if they both stopped being stubborn and admitted their feelings for one another. Even sitting here, Kacy could see the way Y/N’s lips molded into a smile at Harry’s touch and the way he beamed whenever she played into his antics. Their bond was effortless in the way many couples wished theirs to be— it looked so easy for them to mesh together. Their friends knew they could be happy together and it frustrated them to see no progress being done.

By the end of the night, Y/N and Harry were blubbering drunk messes leaving the bar together. Y/N had taken it upon herself to call the uber back to his for the night.

“God, that was sooo fun,” Harry slurred out, “shame they’re closing soon.”

“You should come more often, we do this every week!”

Both Y/N and Harry were all smiles, looking at each other with excitement radiating from their bodies. It’d been long since they really let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here with me, you know that?”

Her heart rate plummeted.

Sometimes Harry said things drunk that wouldn’t pass as ‘normal’ when sober. He was close, grinning at her like a puppy in love and spoke with such confidence that Y/N was sure he couldn’t have not meant it.

“I’m happy you’re here, too, H.”

“No, like seriously though. You’re the best person I know.”

Heat rushed to Y/N’s cheeks. He was really testing her waters here.

“Oi, shut it. What do you want from me? Why’re you buttering me up?”

Harry shrugged, “nothin’. You really are. Just accept the compliment.”

“Fine,” Y/N smiled in a bashful manner, “thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Y/N stared at her boots, grinning to herself. Comfortable silence went on for a few short minutes, just the sound of the wind wafting by and quiet, calm breathing. Occasionally a car they looked up to to check it wasn’t their ride.

It was such a nice atmosphere.

Y/N was sure nothing could ruin this night for her. She was so happy, so careless in the way uni had long prohibited her from being. She wanted to exist in her little snug bubble forever, a place to hide from the real world with the person she admired most. She‘d sacrifice anything if she could keep this feeling for a bit longer.

And then, as if god disagreed with Y/N‘s pursuit of happiness, a needle set out to burst her bubble.

That needle was Harry, and outside of the bubble, it was cold.

“Can I kiss you?”

The ground beneath her shattered at his words.

Was he… serious?

Because this was her dream. If he‘d been serious, then her dreams came true in exactly the worst way.

Y/N had wanted a kiss from Harry since they became friends all those years ago, but not like this. Not drunk. Not on some stupid impulse. Not when they would wake up and realize it had been a mistake in a few hours. If she’d been willing to risk their relationship because of one shortlived kiss, she would’ve done it a long time ago.

He couldn’t do this to her! He couldn’t do this because to her, this wasn’t just fun. It wasn’t a cute little memory to look back on. Oh remember when we got drunk and kissed? Wasn’t that so funny? No, to her this was more. It was her whole livelihood, the cruxes which her heart depended on.

So although it hurt more than anything she’d ever had to do, Y/N shook her head. Her head barely moved, like her brain was plotting against it as well as her heart, but it did shake just enough to give him an inkling.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He was quiet for a few seconds (although she could feel his eyes burning a hole into her) before eventually retorting with a weakened, “why not?”.

“You’re drunk.”

“Been wanting to for a long time, Y/N.”

“Harry,” she stressed, voice quivering. Her next words came out in a whisper, “shut up.”

This time, he surrendered.

They waited for their uber in complete silence and when it came for them to sleep, Harry chose to stay on the couch instead of sharing the bed with her. Although Y/N was excruciatingly tired, she couldn’t for the life of her close her eyes.

She’d fucked up so badly.

—

Y/N felt slightly out of place as she slid into Harry’s kitchen in the morning. She looked at him already sat at the breakfast table with an array of pastries waiting for her.

“Hey.”

Harry nodded, “hi, help yourself. Went to the bakery on my run.”

“Thanks,” she murmured quietly, almost to herself. She was too scared to look at him.

“I don’t want it to be awkward between us, so I’ll just cut to the chase: I’m sorry about last night. I know I was drunk and weird and it won’t happen again. You were right.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up just slightly, the sheer surprise evident on her features. He was really bringing it up now!

“… right about…?”

“Bout it not being a good idea. I’ve never… I was really out of it, you know? Wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.”

Wow. Yes, obviously it would’ve been a mistake, Y/N knew that more than anyone. But his apology did more damage than good. It was like a knife was being pushed through her chest, agonizingly slow as to make it more painful. Harry had confirmed exactly how uninterested he was in trying anything more with her and it just about devastated her. And yes, in all fairness, it was unjust because she’d been the one to reject him last night but a tiny sliver of hope that he would reach out his arms and say ‘I still feel the same, I still want to kiss you!’ still possessed her delusional mind all night.

“Oh, that. Yeah.”

Harry tried to catch her eyes, “so are we cool?”

“We’re cool.”

Y/N was barely floating now. She didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to exist.

It hurt too much to exist sometimes.

“Y/N?”

She snapped out of it. “Hm? yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. You just reminded me of this girl I met yesterday, Iris,“ her shaking hand slid into her pocket to find the little note she‘d kept stored and handed it to him without making eye contact. Her body was on fire.

“Oh.”

“She wanted me to give you her number, said something about a party where you lot met.”

Y/N watched as realization dawned on him, probably a fleeting memory of Iris now soberly imprinted on his mind. She could imagine all the ways in which he thought about somebody like Iris, somebody who would be so perfect for him.

“Right. Thank you.”

“No problem. I should probably head out to mine and get a few uni things done before I get too lazy.”

Unprompted, Harry ignored her statement. She had a feeling he didn’t even want to hear her. “I didn’t want to text her. Completely forgot about her, actually.”

Y/N couldn’t find the answer as to why.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I didn’t… I don’t really like her like that.”

“Really? Iris was under the impression that… I mean, maybe she’s mistaken, but she told me about your little hangout sesh and it seemed nice, you know?” Harry’s eyes held something a little different— confusion, curiosity and a bit of sadness. It drove Y/N crazy deciphering him. “And Iris seems exactly like the type of girl you’d like.”

Then his eyebrows drew together, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N shrugged, body sinking and slowly becoming one with the chair, “just… pretty, is all.”

“A lot of girls are pretty, Y/N, doesn’t mean I automatically wanna date them when I talk to them once.”

“Yeah, but… Iris is your kind of pretty. She’s confident and I’m sure she’s funny.”

“My kind of pretty? What are you implying?”

“Nothing! Jesus, Harry, I just think Iris would be a good fit for you. She’s your type, is all.”

Harry scoffed like he took offense to Y/N’s reply, “and I’m sure you know exactly what my type is, huh? Cause I’m so surface level that I’m only into the same girl, yeah? What, blonde and tall?”

“Harry, that’s not—“

“Then what do you mean to say by that?”

“I just—“

“You’re boxing me together with that dickhead James!”

“No, Harry, I’m not— and if you would just listen to me, you’d understand that!” Y/N finally broke, raising her voice by a few notches so Harry would hear her over his loud accusations. “I’m not implying to you, by thinking you might be into her, that you’re surface level. I’m just saying, Iris seems like she would be your type because in the past, you’ve gone for girls like her. That isn’t bad, okay? I’m not criticizing, just pointing out. You’re into pretty girls.”

“Prettiness is subjective, Y/N, and what you’re doing right now is putting me in a box. What does that even mean, pretty girls? Clearly you’re implying I only date girls that are conventionally attractive because that’s my definition of pretty.”

“So what if it is? I didn’t say it’s anything bad,” Y/N leaned back in the chair, volume lowering as if she couldn’t argue with that statement. “Everybody’s allowed a type.”

“It’s just… you’re using the word type in a derogatory way.”

“How the fuck am I using the word type in a derogatory way?”

“Sounds like you’re saying I’m some dickhead who only goes off of looks. Only goes for tall blonde girls cause they’re tall blonde girls and not because they’re nice people.”

“When did I say that?!” Y/N was bewildered by this. She hadn’t meant anything bad by it! “I have a type too, you know that! And that’s okay!”

“Oh yeah fucking tell me about your type, Y/N, go on.”

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that you were just crying about James only dating cheerleaders a week ago and now you’re here putting the same thing on me!” Y/N breathed out in distress, finding less ways of deescalating the situation. “Be honest, then, what do you really think of me?”

“What are you even… I love you, H, I’m your best friend, I would never dream of insulting you. I was just saying that you seem to have a type, which there is nothing with!”

“So then what does pretty mean?”

“Just… pretty, okay? Don’t read too much into it.”

“No, I want to hear it. Describe pretty to me.” The word pretty had been spoken out so many times in such vain, that its meaning had became trivial at best.

“I don’t know, H, Girls like Jess, Angelina, Diana, Elle… which, if you were to write out their characteristics; they’re all blonde, tall, skinny girls. I’m not saying that you go off of looks, but I do think you have preferences, and that’s fine. That’s healthy, even.”

Then he scoffed again, but significantly quieter this time around. “Right, you brought the fucking receipts to the table, didn’t you? Do you usually think so lowly of me everywhere you go?”

It hurt to have this distance between her and Harry. They’d always gotten along so well before, so why did this have to become what it had? It had all come out of nowhere and Y/N didn’t have the strength or the energy to lose the one thing she constantly depended on to be okay.

“I don’t… Harry, I don’t think lowly of you. I just thought that you might like Iris.”

“I’m sure you did then.”

“Harry,” she sighed, “please, I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“I didn’t, got it perfectly clear. So one question though, am I allowed to like brunettes? Or is that too daring?”

“Harry, stop. Why are you being such a dickhead?”

“I’m being a dickhead?”

“Yes, you are.”

“At least I have history with girls for you to come to that conclusion yourself, right? Maybe when you find the courage to actually talk to a guy I’ll be able to find out what your kind of pretty is.”

And it wasn’t meant to be a jab, surely, at least not a terribly painful one, but it hit Y/N stronger than she would have liked. Who was he, making fun of her dating life? This wasn’t the Harry who reassured her after every pathetic bad date, who convinced her that it would be okay if she didn’t find her man straight away as long as she was happy. She’d loved Harry for a year now and there was something so liberating in exploring unknown territory, in partaking in the so called ‘chase’ (maybe somewhat masochistic, liking the torment of the unknown) but that feeling came to a full stop now that it had become clear that Harry didn’t love her back. Before, it had been speculation— now, it was real. And although she’d expected pain, this was cold blooded torture.

Harry didn’t look regretful, but that was because he had no idea what his words actually meant for her. Sometimes she wondered how the people she loved most could hurt her so much as to kick her down to the floor and repeatedly stomp on her body.

Without a word, Y/N stiffened her shoulders in an attempt to seem stronger and stood up from the table with a low intake of breath.

“Y/N.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” she muttered quietly but defiantly as she slipped on her shoes and opened the door out.

She didn’t have anywhere to go, but she knew anywhere else would suffice better than here.

—

Y/N wasn’t even surprised when she saw Harry and Iris arriving at the party together with the biggest smiles on their faces. Kacy turned to her and widened her eyes, motioning to the couple by the door with a questioning stare. Y/N simply shrugged.

She’d been hurting by herself, cramped away in her flat with a bottle of wine and three boxes of tissues and hoping for a little break when Kacy had asked her out tonight— but here he was, ready to ruin her minute of relief.

“She gave him her number through me last week… guess he finally called her.” Y/N explained, lowering her voice. “We haven’t talked since that morning after the bar.”

Kacy’s eyes widened again, because the last time Y/N had spent so much time away from Harry had been Christmas— and even then, they’d called each other every day.

“Why?”

Y/N simply shook her head, unwilling to elaborate. All Kacy could do was pull her into a tight hug and ask her what she wanted to do next.

“I just…” Y/N’s breaths shook, “I’m so tired, Kace.”

And although Y/N had never brought up the topic of Harry, Kacy knew exactly what she was referring to and her heart broke for her friend.

“Let’s go to one of the bedrooms.”

Y/N gave a stuffy nod and followed as Kacy lead the way upstairs.

Once they’d sat down, Y/N began to open her mouth. Her arms hugged around her own frame and tears were building in her eyes.

“Talk to me, Y/N. What happened?”

“He… I don’t know, Kace, he just got so mad at me. I was giving him Iris’ number and he said that he didn’t like her. I told him he should probably call her because I think she’d be good for him— I think I said ‘she’s your type’ or something like that, which is a normal thing to say! And then he went ballistic on me.” Y/N sniffed her nose, “I was just trying to be nice. He started accusing me of finding him surface level even though I implied no such thing.“

“Oh, honey,” it was through Kacy’s pitiful expression that Y/N noticed the ugly tears cascading down her swollen cheeks. “I don’t wanna make you feel worse, babe, but that doesn’t sound like Harry. Maybe you worded something wrong? Or he just heard you wrong?”

“No, I tried multiple times to clear it up, but he kept the attitude.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, I said that he likes pretty girls and he said what do you mean pretty girls? and so I described what I thought his type was, which is tall blondes, you know? And I even said that having preferences is healthy and that I don’t mind but he thought I was boxing him in. But don’t you agree? Isn’t that his type?” Kacy took too long to answer, making Y/N grow insecure, “Come on, he only dates tall blondes!”

“That’s not even true, Y/N. What about Vanessa?”

She rolled her eyes, “fine, one tall redhead.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… I think he was offended because he thought you were calling him some kind of jerk who only goes off of looks.”

“But he’s… he’s great, Kace, really, and I love him, but he does always date attractive supermodel type girls. I mean, good for him, but you know? And I don’t at all think I’m ugly, I think I’m pretty, but not his kind of pretty.”

“Okay, but… okay, what were you talking about before the whole Iris thing?”

“It’s a long story,” Y/N groaned, head falling into her hands, “when we were drunk he asked me if he could kiss me. I said no.”

“What?! Why would you say no?”

“Because we were drunk! And then the next morning he said I was right, that it would’ve been a mistake and we would’ve regretted it.”

Kacy’s mouth was kind of wide open, “and then you brought up Iris?”

“Yes, because I needed a change of topic.”

“But right after that he said he didn’t like Iris.”

“Yes.”

“And then you accused him of being surface level and he got mad?”

“Kacy, I literally didn’t! I—“ Y/N stopped defending herself because she knew she couldn’t cheat her way out of it. “Yes, maybe, okay? So what?”

“So he totally loves you.”

At that point Y/N started laughing— a genuine laugh made its way out of her mouth and she started shaking her head. Her laugh simmered down to a little chuckle and then she got tears in her eyes again. A rollercoaster of emotions.

“Right, sure. Hope you stretched before you took that reach! He said right before that he’d never have asked if he was sober.”

“He was saving face because you refused to kiss him.”

“Kacy, no,” she sighed, “don’t feed me that bullshit. You’re going to give me hope and I can’t take any more of that, okay?”

“He got mad you think he only likes blondes because he loves you and you don’t even see it,” Kacy elaborated even further, which bothered Y/N on so many levels. She’d told her to stop.

“I can’t, Kace,” Y/N cried, covering her eyes with her palms and letting the tears flow out, “I’m so fucking tired of feeling unwanted and like I’m not enough. Like whatever I do, there’s still some other girl who gets his attention. I can’t go on loving him and being his second girl every day. He goes on bad sex dates and comes home to me, goes to parties where he does body shots off of other girls, and then cuddles me in bed. I just can’t do it. One day he’ll get married and expect me to be his best man and that’s way more than I can take.”

“Look, I understand, but all you need to do is talk to him.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to lose him.”

“Isn’t it better to lose him now than to feel like this every day and lose him in a few years when you’ve physically broken yourself down over it? Isn’t it better to know? I know you won’t lose him because I see the way he looks at you and I see how he treats you. And he’d be stupid not to like you back. But if I‘m wrong, wouldn‘t it still be better to know?“

“No. I can do without knowing. If he knows and he doesn’t feel the same it’ll be weird and I can’t lose him. I can’t, Kace, he’s the only thing holding me together. Look at me, I’m such a fucking mess.”

“Y/N, eyes up,” Kacy ordered, taking ahold of Y/N’s forearm and forcing her to look at her, “you’re allowed little moments of weakness. Love does crazy things sometimes. You need to tell him or you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”

Y/N’s eyes stung hard.

The door opened in that moment, forcing the sound of the music into the otherwise quiet room with a force. Both girls looked up to find Harry by the door, his eyebrows drew together in concern at the sight of his teary eyed best friend. It didn’t matter what they were going through, their bond was strong enough for him to know something was seriously wrong.

“Are you okay?”

It was then that Kacy took her cue to leave, to Y/N’s dismay, and stood up from the chair to let Harry take her place. She closed the door behind her to give the two of them privacy.

“Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah,” she tried to smile, though due to the tears it was clear as day that she was perpetually telling him lies whenever he asked her that question. “I’m okay.”

“Hey, come on,” he whispered into the quiet, inching closer to trap her chin between his fingers, “tell me what’s wrong. Did some asshole hurt you?”

“Yeah,” she nodded with a small sniffle. The asshole is you. “I’m just… having boy trouble. It’s okay. You should go back to the party.”

“Fuck the party. Who hurt you? I hope you mean your feelings, not physically…” He’d started raking over her body to check for bruises, a tick in his jaw.

“No! God, no, just my feelings. And I’ll get over it.” I couldn’t ever get over you. “Isn’t Iris waiting for you? I saw you arrive together.”

“Oh,” his features hardened for a split second. Y/N blinked and it was gone. “No, we ran into each other outside and talked for a bit. She asked me out, so… I think I’m going to go.”

It was like he was testing her, staring into her eyes to capture the exact moment she crumbled. But she didn’t. She held her head high and gave a subtle nod. “Sounds good.”

He sighed. It was quiet and could almost be classified as a simple exhale, but she knew it wasn’t.

“So who’s the guy?”

Sometimes he could be so oblivious that Y/N wondered how he’d made it so far in life. Surely he was only playing the part, right?

“Doesn’t matter,” Y/N shrugged. She was starting to cry again. “He’s insignificant.” You could never be insignificant to me.

“Should I talk to him?”

Yeah, that would be good. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just… get over him.”

“Well I don’t like seeing you hurt, baby,” he tilted his head, cupping over her jaw and brushing over her skin delicately. The room was dimly lit to make it all the more romantic, but Y/N couldn’t fully be immersed in it. “No guy is worth your tears. You’re beautiful and brave and so so funny. I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Y/N. You’re the most perfect girl there ever was and if he can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t speak of her the way she always wished he would speak of her, but not mean it. It showed her what he was capable of— loving her, paying her attention the right way. She was left shattered.

“See, you say that, but you…” Y/N broke down in tears, “but nobody ever means it.”

He tilted her head up so he could stare deeply into her eyes and utter his next words in full honesty, “I mean it. I promise you, Y/N, I mean what I said with everything I have in my body. I mean it every time I say it when I’m drunk and I mean it when I’m sober. I mean it when you’ve just woken up and I mean it when we’re studying together at night. I mean it and I will always mean it.”

Instead of making her happy, his words made her cry even more.

“Harry,” she cried, bending her neck forward so the top of her head rested on his chin, “it hurts so much.”

“Come on, baby, it’s not worth it.” Then he started kissing the crown of her head, moving down to her temple and rubbing circles into her shoulders. “It’s not worth it.”

But he was worth it. He clouded her vision and made her feel lightheaded. He had the power to make her cry and the power to make her so unbelievably happy that she couldn’t imagine having ever been unhappy. He made her wonder how she could’ve lived such a mediocre, painful life before he entered it— that was the kind of power he possessed.

Y/N didn’t have to think twice about kissing him, she just did. She looked up at Harry and inched closer to rest her lips on his, and it caused emotions in her body she didn’t even know were possible. Harry seemed surprised but he caught on fairly quickly, letting her take the lead in the kiss until it’d been a few seconds and he felt her deepening it.

He pulled away, eyes finally opening.

She was startled. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

He shook his head gently, letting a reassuring smile sit on his lips, “no, but I’m worried about you. I don’t think it’s a good idea to do this when you’re crying over another guy, you know? I don’t want to be your numbing medication.”

“You’re… not,” her eyebrows drew together.

“You didn’t want to kiss me last week. It’s seeming like an ‘I miss another guy so I’ll hook up with you to numb the pain’ situation and I just… I don’t want either of us to regret it.”

He was trying to be nice— and he was, really was, but the sinking feeling in Y/N’s stomach worsened.

“That’s because we were drunk last week.”

“You’re hurting over another person, Y/N.”

“He’s not important, I just want to kiss you. I want to have sex with you. Okay? Because I want to, not because I’m into some other dickhead.”

Harry seemed to have trouble believing her, “I can’t.”

“Okay, whatever. It’s fine.” Y/N stood up from her chair, creating some distance between her and Harry and started walking away from him. He held onto her hand though, preventing her from moving too far.

“Y/N, come on.”

“No, genuinely, I don’t want to coerce you into having sex with me, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She was being honest. She didn’t want Harry to feel like she was using him under false pretenses.

But having him think that was still better than confessing.

“I didn’t think you were coercing me into doing anything, Y/N, I just don’t want you to regret it.”

“Yeah,” tears built in her eyes again and she bit her lip to hold them in, “you’re a really good guy, Harry.”

When he stood up to offer her comfort, she immediately took a step back and held her hand in front of her in an effort to force him away. “Please don’t.”

“Y/N…” He looked pained and thoroughly confused at her cold behavior. Harry knew she tended to close off whenever she felt bad about herself, but that had applied mostly to other people. Harry, on the other hand, had always been successful in finding a way to pull back her in.

“No, I’m embarrassed. Jesus, I’m such a mess! I was talking about this with Kacy, I‘m just… I‘m all over the place.”

“You’re not a mess. You’re hurting, that’s normal.”

“I just asked you to fuck me, that’s… who the fuck does that? Since when am I like this?”

“Since you’ve been hurt,” he countered, “love makes you do weird things. God knows I get a bit crazy too when I’m in love.”

“No you don’t,” she said to him, voice hoarse and uncomfortable, “you’re fucking Mr. Perfect. Everyone loves you and you’re hot and you’ve got the brilliant mind. You can’t do anything wrong.”

“Everyone doesn’t love me,” he replied with a leveled tone, “if everyone loved me, I’d be with the girl of my dreams right now. But I’m not, so… not everyone.”

“Can’t fucking imagine that,” Y/N muttered, wiping under her eyes. “You probably just communicate badly and she doesn’t know you love her.”

“Same with you.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest.

“He’s way out of my league.”

“Who is this guy anyway? You’re gonna hype him up to me and not even let me know who it is?”

“He’s, uh…” Y/N walked further away from him and sat down at the edge of the bed, covering her face with her hands, “he’s from uni. Tall, dark brown hair, green eyes, sometimes glasses. He’s really nice but dates girls who are the complete opposite of me—you know, really model type girls. And I just… whenever I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of just how unattractive I am compared to them— and don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with me but they’re just better. I can’t keep up with it. And god, I feel so pathetic talking about myself like this but he’s just… he‘s so perfect and I love him and I don’t want to lose him. He makes me doubt myself sometimes, you know?“

At the latest he must’ve known now. Y/N could hear his brain professing that information, double and triple checking all possibilities until it dawned on him that she was talking about him.

He cleared his throat, stepping closer. “So he’s… where do you know him from again?”

A short pause before committing to the method, “we met at the fresher’s party three years ago.”

“And you see each other a lot, I assume.”

Y/N was still not looking at him, head buried in her hands.

“We… yeah. We hang out every day. He’s mad at me right now though.”

“So you… you love me.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. She’d given up, left it all to fate; if he would turn her away and never talk to her again or ask to continue being friends. It all became obsolete.

“I’m sorry,” she muffled into the palms of her hands.

“D’you wanna hear about the girl I’m in love with? Have been in love with for a year now?” Y/N wanted to shake her head, but she didn’t, so he continued. “She’s from uni too, spends about three nights a week at my flat even though hers is bigger. She can be really distant, but when she gives you attention it’s like the whole world healed. She’s so sweet and considerate and brings me little gifts sometimes and even though she’s damn near perfect, she gets really insecure about things, especially when it comes to her looks and stupid dicks.” Y/N had started looking up at his words, spotting Harry closer to her but not sharing any of her own emotions. He was taking the piss, wasn‘t he? “Locks herself away in her room until she feels ready to leave the flat. She’s selfless, gives me other girls’ numbers even though she’s in love with me— even makes me go on dates even though I’m sure it hurts her feelings whenever I do.”

“You love me?” she sniffled, “I’m not joking about this.”

“I love you, Y/N. I do. S’why I got so mad last week, wanted you to realize that I’m more than some shallow asshole. Didn’t know you felt the same, though.”

“How could you not? I literally get so weird around you these days.”

“Thought it was just stress or something,” he cupped her cheek, thumbing away some tears, “I’m sorry you cried about me, should’ve just said it like a normal person. Just didn’t want to ruin us.”

“Me neither.”

“I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

This kiss was a thousand times better than the last one. Y/N felt giddy as his lips ghosted over hers, as he pulled her up from her seat and sat back down to have her climb over his lap. She breathed into his mouth, ground against his crotch like she was a horny 16 year old girl being touched for the first time. There was no heavy feeling weighing down on her chest, she could just be free of concerns.

After a few minutes of making out, Y/N laughed. She damn near cackled into his mouth and when he questioned her with a confused stare and a cute laugh of his own, she shook her head.

“Remind me to thank Kacy later.”

—

disclaimer: this is NOT meant to offend anyone based on their looks— it‘s just a depiction of a girl feeling insecure because she thinks the guy she loves doesn’t see her the way she wants him to. The description i used of his ‘type’ and the inevitable perception of what Y/N looks like in this story was completely random and is completely up to you. I hope it doesn’t come across as anything other than that!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles

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taegimood · 2 months

Text

thinking of subby switch soobin getting fed up with being edged to outer space for the last 45 minutes, you calling him your big dumb bunny as he whines underneath you — “so much bigger than me and still can’t do anything but lay there and take it” — and in his desperation he decides he’s had enough.

flipping you over onto your back with a strength you should’ve expected him to possess, your thighs slung over his and your hips pressed down against the mattress as his giant hands grip tightly onto your waist, and without hesitation he’s pistoning in and out of you like a madman — making you squeal and moan at the sudden shift as you quickly grab onto the sheets to keep yourself from jolting up the bed from the force of his thrusts.

he’s panting and breathless and desperate; “still a dumb bunny? huh? still a big dumb bunny?” and you can’t even formulate a single response as you go slack-jawed from the way he’s completely rocking your shit.

fucking into you fast and deep, all messy and on the verge of letting go himself as he continues his breathless babbling, “dumb bunny fucking you so good, huh, can’t even speak? gonna make you cum? gonna cum on your big bunny’s cock even though he’s just so stupid?”

he’s now not only degrading you but degrading himself at this point, and all you can do is moan for him, gasping out his name as he takes you how he wants, fat cock bulging in your tummy as he cums hard, collapsing on top of you and filling you up for what feels like forever with his huge load as you clench and tremble around him in your own mind-numbing climax.

“soobin, what the- holy fuck.”

you’re panting, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief as your boyfriend’s large frame lays draped over you, his own heavy breaths hot against your neck.

he lifts his head tiredly with a sheepish smile; “sorry,” he breathes, but you know that he isn’t.

“soobin. i’m pretty sure that was one of the hottest things you’ve ever done and i’d definitely be lying if i said i wasn’t still insanely turned on right now.”

and from the flicker in his eyes and the way his cock twitches inside you, you can tell that he doesn’t mind that one bit.

all i’m saying is that soobin sure seems to live up to the stigma around rabbits and how they breed like crazy ‘cause 😗

#i’ve never been more desperate for anyone i fucking swear #soobin just does it for me #mj’s hard thoughts #txt #txt x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt thoughts #txt smut #soobin #soobin x reader #soobin hard thoughts #soobin thoughts #soobin smut #taegimood

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a-aexotic · 1 year

Note

i loved grumpy rafe and sunshine reader!! would love to see more of them <3

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings. mentions of partying, alcohol, hung-over, and also so much fluff that u might just have a heartattack.

summary. hung-over rafe's cure is your cuddles, unforunately for you.

ren's notes ! dude i love soft rafe i would write a whole series on him, also rafe w/ a buzzcut makes me absolutely feral.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

part 1 !!

Last night was a haze for Rafe. You and Rafe had gotten invited to Kelce’s birthday party, and per usual, it was crazy. All Rafe could remember was a cocktail of some sorts with Dr. Pepper, vodka, half of a Starbucks Strawberry Acai and dried blueberries. He remembers throwing Topper in the pool for ‘accidentally’ touching your shoulder and accidentally tripping you causing you to fall in the pool on top of Topper. Rafe followed soon after that.

It was a weird blur after that. He doesn’t remember anything else that happened.

He was sleeping comfortably in your bed, snoring away as you got up early to make some breakfast. You weren’t hungover; you barely had anything to drink. Rafe, on the other hand, had 5 drinks of Kelce’s special cocktail. You had to drive Rafe back to your house because you knew Ward would kill him (and you) because of how absolutely shit faced his son was. So you concluded that the best idea was for him to sleep over. Which was a bad idea on your part.

You had gotten the worst sleep ever. Rafe slept directly on top for three straight hours, your arms going numb. Every time you moved, he’d squeeze harder. When he eventually moved, he took all the sheets with him.

You went back up to your dark bedroom after making breakfast, opening the door and opening the blinds. You heard Rafe groan, moving the sheets over his face.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

Rafe grumbled in response, making you smile in amusement. “Come on, get up babe. I made your favorite.”

“Crepes?” Rafe finally removed the sheets, peeking his head to watch you.

“Uh, no. I made pancakes, though. That’s pretty close.”

Rafe yawned and sat up. “No, crepes are better.”

You glared at your boyfriend, “I’m not your maid, Rafe. Take it or starve.”

Rafe had a small teasing smile on his face at your reaction. “Okay, calm down. I’ll eat them.”

You rolled your eyes and he got up from the bed, coming to you. “You know I only tease you cus I love you, right?”

You smiled at him. “Since when is Rafe Cameron a romantic?”

“Since I met you, babe.” He scrunched his nose at his words, cringing.

You laughed, then grabbed his shoulders and gave him a kiss on cheek. “Come on, my pancakes are going to get cold.”

You and Rafe sat at the dining table, eating the breakfast you had made. You noticed Rafe wasn’t talking that much but you just assumed it was because he was beyond hungover. After breakfast, Rafe excused himself back to your bedroom to sleep some more.

After finishing up the dishes you went up to go sleep with Rafe. As you walked in, you looked over at Rafe and realized he wasn’t asleep.

“Hey. You okay?”

He looked very grumpy and you know that means one thing; cuddles. Rafe would never ever admit this (not even to himself, at times) but the best cure to his grumpy moods is your cuddles.

“My head hurts. Remind me never to drink again.”

You laughed at his statement, knowing next weekend it was all going to happen again no matter how many times he preached it.

“Alright Rafey, do you want some aspirin?”

He shook his head, “I already took some.”

“What would make you feel better then, babe?”

He looked over at you and that was his silent way of saying cuddles. Usually, you would force him to spell it out for you but you knew if you pulled that right now, he would rip your head off. You nodded and walked over to the bed, getting in and moving close to Rafe.

You opened your arms and he moved so he could be right next to you, moving his head to your chest as he laid. Your hand was on his back, drawing circles absentmindedly; you always did that out of pure habit but it was one of Rafe’s favorite things. It never failed to comfort him.

He sighed contently in your embrace, finally feeling the headache fade away as comfort settled in.

You kissed his head, “does that make your boo-boo feel better?”

He rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, making your chest heave as you laughed to yourself. Then, Rafe decided he wasn’t close enough to you so he moved his leg on top of yours, as he moved himself completely so he could be almost on top of you. It was his favorite cuddling position. It wasn’t your complete favorite because you were one move away from choking and passing out in your sleep, but you’d do anything for Rafe. Even if it meant dying in your sleep due to his abnormal cuddling styles.

Rafe fell asleep like a baby in your warm embrace and you eventually did, too. Rafe loved you but he loved your cuddling a tiny bit more.

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cntloup · 1 month

Text

G/N!Reader implied rough sex, light choking, use of safe word/gesture, aftercare

@yumethefrostypanda

You try so hard to get into it. Maybe your body isn’t responding correctly.

Is there something wrong with you? All your friends are into this kind of stuff.

But no. You feel nothing but pain as he pounds into you harshly, your legs propped on his shoulders and his hand around your throat, lightly squeezing.

You start to feel dizzy, but not the good kind and your legs start to go numb.

Two taps on his wrist and he stops immediately.

“What’s wrong, love? Did I hurt you?” he asks as he halts his movements, panting heavily, concern written all over his face.

His worry grows bigger at your lack of response.

He slowly pulls out and rolls on his back, pulling you in with him so you’re in his arms with your head resting on his chest.

You wince as he moves you, “Fuck! I'm so sorry. Does it hurt?” he asks

and you can only nod as tears start to roll down your cheeks after you come out of your previous shocked state.

“Shh, baby. It's ok...” he coos as he embraces you tighter and you sob in his arms, clinging to him.

“Si, I'm sorry!” you hiccup, “What for, love?” he asks, confused.

“For not liking it. I couldn’t get into it, no matter how hard I tried.” you reply, voice breaking with sobs.

“Hey, hey. You don’t have to force yourself to do something you don’t like. I wish you had told me sooner to stop. But it's not your fault, love.” he responds, tone filled with sorrow as he silently blames himself for hurting you.

“You’re not mad at me?” you ask, lifting your head to look at him.

“ ‘course not, love. You did nothing wrong. I'm sorry for being too rough.” he says apologetically, almost ashamed that he went too far and didn’t notice the signs of you being hurt.

He got too lost in his own pleasure, too selfish.

“It’s ok, Si. You didn’t know. Please don’t blame yourself.” you whisper softly to him as you caress his stubbled cheek with a smile.

He wipes your tears, returning the smile, eyes filled with regret.

He gently cups your face in his hands and brings you in to capture your lips with his, mumbling ‘I'm sorry’ into the kiss over and over again.

“I'm gonna run you a bath, love. How does that sound?” he asks, trying his best to soothe your pain, physical and mental.

“Hmm. That'd be nice.” you hum and he slowly gets up, trying not to hurt you any further.

He goes into the bathroom and returns after a few minutes.

“Can I pick you up?” he questions worriedly, almost afraid to touch you in case he hurts you again.

You nod and he gently takes you in his arms, lifting you up so delicately as if you’re made of glass.

He places you in the bathtub and washes your sore body tenderly as he sheds silent tears.

He swore that hurting you was the last thing he would ever do, yet here he is, tending to your aching body which he is the cause of.

More tears slide down his cheeks as his eyes land on each bruise on your body that he, his hands, his body have caused.

“I’m so sorry, love.” he apologizes again, holding back sobs and you turn to look at him.

“It’s ok, Si.” you place a tender kiss on his forehead.

“Please forgive me.” he mutters into your neck.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and nuzzle the back of his head, “I forgive you.” you whisper back.

He gently picks you up and wraps a towel around you, then carries you to bed, delicately wrapping his arms around you as you lie on his chest.

"You feelin' better, lovie?" he asks quietly so as not to disturb your peace, his heart weighing heavy in his chest.

"Yeah. Just a bit sore." you reply softly, mind beginning to drift off,

'sorry' he murmurs against your temple and places a soft kiss on your skin.

"I love you." he whispers, kissing your forehead, leaving the subject for now so you can get some rest.

"Love you too, Si." you mumble as you drift away into a slumber.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

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powermakar · 27 days

Text

This is me Trying - LS2

A/N: I feel so bad for Logan after what has happened. Please don't send any type of hate to Alex.

Summary: James tells Logan that he won't be racing on Sunday and everything goes down hill.

Logan Sergeant x female!reader

Warnings: panic attacks and some swearing

I just wanted you to know that this is me trying, at least I'm trying.

“-so you won’t be able to drive this weekend”

“What?”

“Alex is going to be driving your car this weekend since his car is severely damaged.”

“Oh, okay,” Logan felt numb. He couldn’t feel his hands shaking, but he could see them physically shaking.

“I know it’s a lot but the team really needs this Logan. Thank you for doing this,” James said before walking off.

Logan began to feel himself lose touch with reality. It was a feeling he was beginning to feel comfortable with. I mean at this point it was happening every race weekend now, so he just HAD to get comfortable with it. At first, he didn’t know what it was, maybe he was just getting sick; but after a few times and some Google searches, he figured out what it was.

Panic attacks.

No one knew that he experienced them. Not James, not his trainer, not Oscar; hell, his own girlfriend did not know that he got them. He had to get out of there fast so no one found out. God, he couldn't even imagine what the media would do if it became public knowledge.

Tears and ragged breaths while hidden in the corners of his driver’s room became his go-to when he didn’t know what else to do. This time it felt different though. The sobs were louder and his vision was blurrier, he felt weak. He felt stupid. How could someone fuck up so badly and he still would get punished. He knew life wasn’t fair and he knew that Formula 1 wasn’t fair either.

But fuck, it wasn’t fair. At all.

The knock on the door did not register the first time, nor the second or third. He only realized someone entered the room when he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder.

You, the love of his life, was seeing him at the lowest he had ever been. Gasps in between sobs were loud and short, and Logan felt embarrassed. He felt shameful and afraid. He couldn’t breathe and he was scared for his future.

“It’s not fair, it's not fair, it’s just not fucking fair. I'm trying. I’m trying so fucking hard. Can’t you see that? Can’t anyone see that,” he babbled out.

“Logan I- I know that this is hard, you worked so hard. You deserve to be driving, you shouldn’t be placed on the back burner because someone made a mistake. You’ve worked so hard for so long and it kills me to see you like this. Have you thought about how Alex may-,” Logan cut you off before you could say anything else.

“No, no. Do not even start with Alex. I know he’s better, I know I am a liability, but I know I can try to be better,” he got up suddenly. He felt lightheaded, he felt dizzy. Stumbling around his room trying to get away from you. “I finally out-performed him and it just gets ripped out from underneath me. Literally,” Logan laughs bitterly. He didn’t care what he looked like now, he probably looked like a madman, but who the hell cares anymore?

“Logan- please just listen to me. Alex probably feels like shit. Yes he crashed his car but it's not his fault the team gave him your car. It's the team,” she pauses “It’s- it’s James’ fault.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is. I just care about the fact that this is probably going to be one of the last times I'm going to be in F1. My time is going to get cut short, no one has any faith in me anymore. I don’t blame them though, I’m failing and I'm terrified,” Logan says. He could finally breathe normally but he could still feel his heart pounding in his ears.

He didn’t understand any of it. How could he be failing so badly at something he used to be so good at? He glanced back at you, ready to face the disappointment he knew you secretly hid.

“Just tell me you can’t stand me anymore. Tell me that I embarrass you. Tell me that you hate me. Tell me that you are disappointed in me. Please just tell me, please.”

“Logan-,” you were in shock. You never knew that he felt like this, about himself. He hid it so well, almost to the point where it was impressive. “You know I could never say any of those things to you. I love you so, so much and I'm so proud of you,”

Both of you heard a knock on the door and one of William’s PR managers called out, “Media in 10, Logan!”

How they expected him to go out into the media pen and act like everything was fine was beyond you. Reaching up to cup his face in your hands, you quickly wipe away a stray tear that fell at your confession. Logan gently squeezed your wrist and smiled sadly. A silent, but meaningful conversation.

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #williams formula 1 #williams racing #williams f1 #williams #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant fluff

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angelisverba · 8 months

Text

bug

in which harry is spider-man, and y/n happens to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time

word count: 4k~

pairing: spiderman!h and y/n

warnings: sexual assault. danger. angst. kissing. grinding. kinda mask kink?

author's note: i know i said i was gonna work on florist... but let's be honest, when have i ever done what i said i was going to do? he just grabbed me by the throat okay? i'm sorry.

Harry… he’s not like everyone else.

He does things he doesn’t always enjoy doing, but he does them because he has to. Because if he doesn’t, then who will? These aren’t things he can hide, and he’s judged for them. Not everyone likes what he does.

But it’s fine. It’s part of the job.

Being Spider-Man isn’t easy.

The moment he was aware of what he could do, Harry accepted his fate of fighting crime, defending those that couldn’t with superhuman abilities which came from the bite of a radioactive spider at the lab he interned for.

He felt so alone, so alienated under the harsh newspaper headlines that labeled him a demon, a criminal, a havoc, that sometimes he wondered what separated him from the bad guys he caught so violently with. It was a struggle to keep in mind his end goal: keep his city safe. To fight for good. To protect.

Some nights, like tonight, he was so numbed by the repetitive nature of his days, the brutal fighting over and over again that seems to never end, that as he stooped on the ledge of a tall building, he wanted so carelessly to damn it all to hell. Why him? Why, why, why?

Harry was tired, having not slept more than eight hours in the past week, and he the strain on his senses is noticeable. Every sound makes his breath catch in anticipation, any movement agitating his hyperfocused irises. He felt like a thread pulled tight. So tight, he was beginning to fray, to snapping. Normally, the suit he wears goes unnoticed. But tonight? He felt it on every inch of his skin. Harry wanted to rip it off.

He’s playing with the fabric, snapping it against his skin, when he hears it.

“No, please. I don’t have any money, please stop touching me, I’m begging you.”

The voice was female. Sweet and innocent, but filled with fear. It didn’t sound right. He swung off in the direction of the yelps before he even knew what he was doing, why he was doing what he was doing.

“Oh, we know that,” a man laughed and there was a rustle telltale of struggle. He was a drunk, Harry knew by the phlegm in his tone, “you’ve got something much better than money.”

He was getting closer by the second, could almost feel his webs sticking to the girl’s assailant. All the fatigue from earlier melted off him as he entered the necessary headspace to fight someone.

“Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting me!” The mystery girl was crying now, panic taking full control of her voice.

“Quit moving, girl!” Harry could tell by the increased scuffling that her attacker was getting frustrated, his movements more aggressive.

He was a blue of red and blue as he swung into the alley where a large bearded man had cornered and was pawing a young girl. He saw flashes of skin and clothing, and didn’t hesitate to kick the man off her.

“She told you to stop,” he chastised. The webs shot out of his wrist at their own accord, wrapping around the man’s ankles and wrists and clamping over his mouth. He was on the floor now, thrashing and trying to regain some sort of balance, but Harry knew he had fully incapacitated him.

The dim light leaking in from the flickering street lamp sprayed on the girl as she crouched in the corner, shivering with wide, wet eyes, and Harry’s heart broke.

“It’s all right now, sweetheart,” he said softly so he wouldn’t scare her anymore than she already was. He knew what the media thought of him.

She flinched at the sound of his voice, so he tried again, “I’m not going to hurt you-“

A loud grunt interrupted him, and a prickly feeling of irritation ran down his spine and jerked him into action. Harry picked the man up by the collar, grumbled out a shut up, motherfucker and knocked him out cold with a punch.

“Sorry about that,” he huffed once the man slumped down silently, “did he hurt you?”

The girl tilted her wobbly chin up, and it felt as though he had fallen from the tallest building in the city and smacked down on the ground back first, all the breath from his body vanished. She shook her head and shivered again, sniffling.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked, whispering. Hoping that the smile hiding underneath his mask was audible.

“Y/n,” she peeped, side-eyeing him like she was testing him, “and yours?”

He chuckled, the sound low in his throat, “you know my name.” It wasn’t a question, but y/ nodded anyway. He thought the name was cute, fitting. He thought she was cute even in her disheveled state. Hair a flurry around her, her eyes rimmed with red and her cheeks pink from the chill of night. “Say it.”

It came out like a prayer from her lips, and he’s sure that he wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for his superhuman hearing. A thrill ran though him, his body tensing as if preparing to fight “Spider-man.”

“That’s right,” his nod was a mere chin dip. He cocked his head, crouched low so they were at an even height. “Are you scared of me?”

“No.”

“Good. How ‘bout I take you home? Spider-style.” He sprung up and held out his hand, waiting, hoping, for her to take it.

She was tender in his palm, soft. Wrapping his hand around hers securely, he helped her to her feet and slung a web towards the bags she had dropped in the midst of her fighting. She tried to pull back, but Harry held her still and shook his head.

“This won’t work if we’re not touching, you that right?”

He watched as the realization set in, her eyes widening and her pouty lips parting.

“We’re-?” She gestured loosely at him and the buildings, and he chuffed. Yeah, she was cute.

“Yes. We are. Unless you want to walk?”

“No.”

“Good. Come closer. Closer,” she steps timidly forward until her mary janes are touching the tips of his booted feet. “I’m going to grab you now,” he warned.

“Okay-“ looping an arm around her waist, he clutched her close. She was cold, smaller than him. Y/n was shaking, her heart beating fast. He could tell that she was still running high on adrenaline, and that it would only spike further.

“Where do you live?”

She rattled an address he recognized as one of the semi-safer parts of the city.

“Ready?”

He doesn’t wait for the full yes to leave her mouth, and together they leave the ground. They swung between buildings, Harry reveling in the way she held on to him and squealed in his ear. It felt a lot like sharing, and when she laughed, he felt a little less lonely for the first time since all this happened.

When they land on her fire escape, he tries not to think about how erotic it feels to have her slide down the front of his body, or how her palms glide down his chest. Or how her breath hitches when he involuntary leans forwards.

Instead he holds on tight to her goodbye, letting her sweetly mumbled “night, spidey” lull him to sleep when he gets home.

And that was the first time they met.

****

The next time, it’s burglars.

It’s two guys in ski masks throwing bricks through the glass window of a romance bookstore, and a shrill scream that halts everything to a stop and sends him leaping down and swinging from light poles to get to the shop. The sun isn’t even all the way down yet.

And Harry knows she’s there. His sense doesn’t pick up on people, but he knows because a funny feeling kicks it’s way through his gut and his heart beats a little faster.

These guys have empty backpacks and thick jackets, heavy duty boots. Briefly, it occurs to Harry that out of all the places to rob, this is the most stupid.

But it doesn’t matter how stupid the crime is, because it’s still dangerous, and she’s still in danger.

From his vantage point behind the guys that didn’t even hear him land, he can see that y/n has taken a place behind the register and is on the phone- with the cops most likely. There aren’t any customers inside because- as the signs on the door says- they had just closed. So it’s just her.

Harry waits for them to actually trespass (another crime to keep them behind bars) before actually doing anything. He shoots a web at one of the guys feet and another at his hands quickly, silently. The first, now on the floor, is yelling so that his partner, deeper in the store, gets a warning.

“Fucking get the girl, Sly!” He shouts.

Sly, the other guy in the store, takes one look over his shoulder and does as he was told. He jumps at y/n, and suddenly there’s a gun in his hand.

Suddenly, Harry can’t breathe because it’s pressed against y/n’s temple. She’s in a chokehold at his chest, clawing at a meaty bicep and choking back tears of fear.

“Now, Sly,” he held his hands out in front of him and slowly walked forward. “There’s no need for all this. Let the girl go.”

“Shut up! Shut up! I need to think,” Sly’s eyes were wide beneath his mask. He’s frazzled and huffy and Harry’s so scared he’s going to act irrationally. His senses are peaked, eyes tracking every minuscule movement in search of an opening. Y/n is trying to make eye contact with him (or at least as much as she can through the mask) to gain some kind of reassurance, and it’s crushing him that he can’t look at her.

Sly fucks up, using the gun to scratch his head while thinking, and Harry steps in, webbing his hand to the nearest fixture in a move that knocks the weapon out of his hand. The other however, is still around y/n, so he’s running forward to snatch her away while he’s busy glancing at his hand.

Once she’s safely deposited on the side somewhere- and he doesn’t miss the way her hands follow him as he falls away, as if mourning the loss of his touch- Harry eagerly pummels the guy.

“Fuck you and you’re thinking,” he grits out, clocking him once, twice, and three times before he’s unconscious on the floor.

His chest is heaving, his fist flexing out from its clench. Turning and stepping over the body, he asks, “Are you alright, y/n?”

“You remembered my name,” she said. She stood up, walking towards him as he did the same. They’re chest to chest, and she lifts a hand. Trying to touch him.

But he can’t bear it. Can’t bear her touching him because he knows it’ll break him. So he catches the and holds it mid-air. Tries to appease her by combing her hair back with his free hand, and it works.

“‘Course I did, sweetheart,” he’s taken by the way she leans into his touch, nuzzling his hand like a puppy. In a trance almost, one that’s broken by the distant screech of cops. “I have to go.”

He lets her go, and- “Spider-man, wait!”

But he couldn’t wait, the sirens were just around the corner.

****

The third time it’s by accident, and she doesn’t even know it’s him.

The brush shoulders at a coffee shop, and the distinct smell of her perfume making turn around, like those cartoons with the pie, to watch her walk down the street through the window. Harry is mesmerized by the swing of her hips and is surprised by his Victorian fascination over the swish of her skirt against her ankles. Teasing. She has a tote bag slung on her shoulders, and a book in one hand while the other brings her iced tea to her lips. His eyes lock on her tongue swiping up a droplet of her drink, and his teeth clench. He can’t do this. Not with her. He can’t lust after her. She’s too sweet.

He frowns and shakes his head because she’s reading while walking, and in the city that’s just begging for an accident.

He glances down at the title.

And then he goes to buy it at the bookstore she works at.

****

So it’s the fourth time now. Not even two days after he saw her at the coffee shop. And again, she doesn’t know it’s him.

He understands why she got hired at the pink romance store. He’s walking around like a creep, an isle over as she makes her way through the customers, asking if they need help and recommending her favorites (all of which he memorizes) or whatever might fit their inquiries. Her voice sweeter than all the times he had previously heard it. She has a very interesting way of talking about sex in books, very innocent. And suddenly, Harry realizes she isn’t.

He finds the book she was walking around with the other day, and is flipping through it when she stumbles upon him.

“Oh!” she stutters, skirting to a stop and glancing down at what’s in his hands. He keeps his gaze locked in her face, notices the way her skin flushes when she notices what he’s holding, and how she struggles to maintain eye contact with him as she says, “that one is- it’s uh- really good.”

Just to fuck with her, he tucks the novel under his arm and cocks a hip against the shelf. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yep.” She rolls her lips in her mouth and flicks her eyes over to the shelf next to him, then back to the book under his arm and her face turns red.

Harry attempts to hide his smirk, and fails. “Got any other ones you liked as much as this one?”

Nodding, “A few.”

“Great, I’ll take them.”

She rings him up, bright red, and stutters her way through a conversation about what it’s like to work here, if it’s safe, if the rumor about the robbery was true.

And he’s so, so pleased, when she said, “spider-man took care of me,” with the dreamiest smile dawning on her angelic face.

****

The fifth time he can’t stop thinking about her.

He’s incredibly surprised at her explicit choice of reading material.

Two out of the three novels explore mask kinks.

Who do they both know wears a mask?

Him.

In the novel she was so caught up in she couldn’t even put it down as she was walking down the street, the female heroine is rescued my a masked vigilante whom she later has very kinky sex with. Mask included.

And… well, Harry just can’t but think that it’s such a coincidence that she picks up this book after their interaction. That she’s so consumed by it she can’t leave it alone, not even while she’s walking, and then she blushes at the mere mention of his name. Could it possibly be that… she was thinking of him?

No.

No it couldn’t be.

She was too… too sweet to be reading this absolutely filthy things. Too pretty.

He’s confused, and maybe that’s why he finds himself pacing the roof of the building across from her in the dead of night, staring at her fire escape like a total weirdo. The newspapers would have a field day with what he was doing, and y/n would run for the hills screaming if she knew what he was thinking about.

Flashes of all the indecent things he wanted to do to her ran through his mind like a torture montage. His head between her thighs with only the bottom half of his mask pulled up. Kissing her while she’s completely naked, sitting in his lap while he’s still totally dressed in his suit.

He wanted to-

There was a flicker of light at the window he knew was hers, and everything in him stilled. He watched like a peeping tom as y/n opened her window and crawled onto the fire escape. She was in a flimsy pair of shimmery shorts and a t-shirt that just barely grazed her belly button.

She wasn’t wearing a bra, and from his vantage point he could see the peaks of her nipples poking against the fabric, taunting him.

Harry groaned, low in his throat.

And then she looked at him.

Eyes wide, lips parted, her hands clenching and unclenching against her thighs that were pressed together and-

A breeze swept through in his direction, and carried the scent of arousal.

Her arousal.

She mouthed hi.

And then he was on her fire escape, standing right in front of her. His body was tense, ready to spring into action. Silently, he crouched at the opposite end of her, the space between them small on the rickety fixture.

“Spider-man,” she whispered, as if testing the waters. There was an eagerness in her tone, and Harry had an idea of why that was. He felt it too, hard in his cock.

“Hello, y/n,” he rasped.

“What are you doing here?”

“You know. You know why I’m here.” He tilted his head and beckoned her, “come. Sit.” Harry pointed at his thighs, and sluggishly, y/n got up and straddled him. He could feel her thighs quivering around him, weak from nerves or lack of balance, so he placed his hands on her hips and guided her so their centers aligned, and they were looking right at each other’s face.

“I don’t understand,” her lips were pouty, shiny under the mooonlight. He wanted to bite them until they were swollen.

“Don’t lie,” he pinched her thigh in punishment and then soothed it with a soft caress. “Lift up my mask.”

Her shaking hands crept up his chest, feeling, and he groaned, absently thrusting up into her. She gasped, but her hands continued to move, wrapping delicately around his throat in search of the seam. When she found it, she pulled the mask up, but stopped so it rested at the bridge of his nose. Just as he knew she would.

Chilly fingers skittered on the line of his jaw, over his lips. Her eyes dazed, memorizing, “What’s going on?”

“Will you do as I say, y/n?”

“Yes.”

Their mouths came together in a rush, wet and lacking any order. Like they were picking back up in the middle of a make-out session. She tasted like mint, cool and fresh and dulcet. Her tongue was timid, submissive to his, but equally as curious. His teeth grazed her lips, and she purred. Her core felt molten hot even through his suit, and he knew without even having to touch her that she was so wet for him.

Harry pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, their chests heaving as they greedily suck in air, “take what you want from me. I’ll give it to you. But don’t ask questions. And don’t take off my mask. Understand, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Now sit,” to emphasize, he pushes her down on his thick cock and rubs her back and forth, “in my lap and grind your sweet little pussy on me until you come.”

Y/n flushes at his vulgarity, and leans back in to kiss him, her hands finding purchase on his shoulders as she begins to move just how he showed her. The weight of her pussy on him engulfed him, and as she dragged up against him, slowing down and pausing at the head of his dick and swiveling so he could feel her clit, stars exploded behind his clenched eyes. Y/n was already whimpering, hot mouthfuls of air puffing into his mouth so it was clear she wasn’t breathing right. He pulls back and dips his head so he’s able to kiss down her throat and to her chest, bringing his mouth to the plushy mouth of her tits.

“That’s it,” he praises against her nipple, “that’s it, sweet girl, you’re almost there.”

Her moans fill the air, increasing and climbing until she shatters and Harry fucks up against her like it’s the real thing. A wet spot darkens the front of her panties, and he’s sticky inside his suit. They’re both spent, heaving as they clutch each other on the fire escape.

Y/n nuzzles against him, “will you come back?”

“I’ll try, sweetheart,” he whispers kissing her forehead and standing with her in his arms so he can place her safely back inside.

He doesn’t follow, doesn’t cross the threshold.

Because if he does, their night won’t end just yet.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x yn

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 8 months

Text

Protector

Requested by @captaincvans

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, a little bit of Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: your big brother Dean has always been your protector

It started when you were four years old. Dean answered one of John’s phones, and was shocked to hear your tiny voice on the other end.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“My mommy,” you were sobbing into the phone, and Dean’s heartbeat picked up. Had someone hurt the little girl on the other end? “My mommy said to call if-if bad things happened. She said it was my daddy’s number.”

To say Dean was shocked would be the understatement of the century, but he forced himself to remain calm, if only for the little girl who clearly needed help. John had gone out on a job, and Sam had walked to a nearby store to grab some supplies.

“Ok, well where’s your mommy?”

“The monster…he-he…” you broke down into sobs, and Dean didn’t need to hear anything else.

Dean was usually used to waiting for John’s orders before doing just about anything, but somehow now he knew just what to do. Every instinct inside him screamed to help you from the moment he heard your voice.

He didn’t know then, but that instinct would follow him for the rest of his life.

…

Dean’s relationship with you was different than his with Sam. Dean had practically raised Sam, but he literally raised you. The older the boys got, the more John left them for hunts. And there was the age difference; he was only four years older than Sam, but Dean had already grown up and started hunting by the time you came into his life. And after John died, the two of you became closer than ever, and he took on his role as caretaker even more seriously.

So, needless to say, hunting wasn’t in the cards for you. Of course Dean taught you how to defend yourself, but he knew that once you started hunting, you’d be stuck in that life forever, and that wasn’t a choice he was going to let you make as a teenager.

A part of you always wanted to fight him on it, not because you thought you’d love hunting, but because your big brothers risked their lives on an almost-daily basis, and you wanted to be there to help them. However, it didn’t take long for you to realize that being on a hunt would just put them in more danger; Dean would be so worried about you that he wouldn’t keep his head on straight. You weren’t going to be the reason he got distracted and killed on a hunt.

So you stayed behind.

But that didn’t mean that you were always safe.

…

“Crowley I swear, if you touch one hair on her head-“

“Let me guess, they’ll never find the body?”

“Oh no, they will,” Dean’s fists were clenched so hard, his palms were going numb. “They’ll find it, and they’ll keep finding it. Little bits, everywhere, maybe I’ll even drop you in a couple of different states. I’ll cut you up nice and slow, it’ll take weeks before you’re dead, and that’s if I’m feeling generous enough to let you die at all.”

“My my my, someone is very protective about his little pet. However, your mummy should’ve taught you some manners, because you see…” Dean flinched when he heard your screams over the phone. “I don’t like to be threatened, squirrel.”

“Ok, ok!” Dean relented. Your screams stopped.

“Good. Now, here’s my ultimatum,” Crowley’s voice rose in anger, “If you ever want to see this little runt again, the first thing you’re gonna do, is drop the attitude, and show some respect!” Crowley cleared his throat, and returned to his easygoing, neutral tone. “After all, I am the king of hell. And then, after that, you’re going to stop meddling in my affairs. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Dean was about to throw out a snarky response when your voice broke in.

“Don’t listen to him, Dean. He’s just a liar, he’ll betray y-“ your desperate, frightened voice cut off with a high-pitched scream, and Dean could swear he heard Crowley laughing.

“Now now, darling, that’s not very nice. Name-calling is for children. Oh that’s right,” Crowley’s laughter started up again. “You are a child.”

“Stop it!” Not seeing what was going on was driving Dean insane. He could only imagine what Crowley was doing to you. “Alright, Crowley, you get what you want. Just let her go!”

The screaming stopped again.

“Now, that’s sweet, Dean. But I’m afraid I don’t exactly trust your word. So, I’m going have to keep your little rugrat here for a little longer, just to make sure you make good on your promise. Deal?”

“No no no, Crowley you can’t just-“

“I think we’re done here.”

The click that followed might as well have been an atomic bomb.

…

“We got a location.”

Dean had never jumped up that fast in his entire life.

“Finally, let’s go.”

“Dean, hold on,” Sam placed his hand out, stopping Dean in his tracks. “We don’t know how many demons are guarding it.”

“You know what, Sam? I don’t really care. There could be a thousand demons in there for all I care. She’s in there, so I’m going.” Dean brushed past Sam, who reluctantly followed him into the Impala.

“I’m just saying, it would be nice to have a plan.”

“I have a plan.” Dean peeled out of the driveway and sped along the road.

“The plan is get her back.”

…

You heard them before you saw them. It would be impossible not to; the screaming of demons and the thud as bodies hit the floor wasn’t exactly quiet.

However, when the door burst open, it wasn’t your brothers who came in.

Crowley rushed toward you, his hand outstretched to grab you and teleport you with him. A split second before his hand reached your shoulder, the demon blade whizzed past his ear and struck his arm, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. Before he could get back up, Dean was on him, not even bothering with the knife as he pounded on Crowley’s face. Sam rushed in after him, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and pulling him off.

“That’s enough, Dean! Just use the kni-“

Before either brother could move towards the demon blade, Crowley had disappeared.

“No!” Dean slammed his fist against the wall, and was about to do it again when he heard it.

“Dean?”

Never, not even when you were little, had Dean ever heard you sound so small; so fragile. He turned, his gaze instantly softening, his fists relaxing as he rushed to your side. He quickly untied the ropes holding you to a metal chair, and as soon as you were free you collapsed into his waiting arms.

“You’re ok,” Dean’s eyes stung as he gripped you tightly to him. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

“Is she ok?” Sam stepped up behind Dean, and Dean reluctantly pulled away to check you for injuries.

There was a gash along your cheek, and he saw several cuts on your arms and legs, but what really worried him was the blood covering the front of your shirt.

“Baby, can you…” Dean touched the pool of blood dripping down your stomach. You lifted your shirt a few inches, and he saw a deep cut running along your ribs. Blood was still gushing freely from the cut, and Dean quickly removed his top layer of flannel, pressing it against the wound.

Sam flinched when you cried out, and Dean winced.

“I know, I know it hurts honey. I need you to hold it there, though.” You took the shirt from him and he nodded, “Yeah, good, press it tight.” He glanced around one more time to be sure no demons were coming, before he scooped you into his arms. You cried out again when he jostled you, and he tried to ignore you as he turned to Sam.

“You gotta watch my back, I’ve got her, but I don’t know if there are any more demons still here.”

Sam nodded, taking the demon blade.

“Alright, I’ll drive.”

…

“Do we need to take her to a hospital?” Sam glanced to the back of the Impala, where your head was resting in Dean’s lap as he held his shirt against your cut.

“I’m ok,” your voice was quiet, almost sleepy.

“We should take her in,” Dean insisted.

“It doesn’t look like she’s lost that much blood,” Sam hesitantly argued.

“Dean, I’m ok,” you turned your gaze from your injury to your big brother. “Really, just stitch me up. I’ll be fine.”

Dean relented hesitantly, mostly because he didn’t put it past Crowley to try to alert local authorities to all the bodies he’d left in his wake saving you. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in a hospital while Sam and Dean got arrested.

“Alright, ok. But you gotta stay awake, understand?”

You were silent for a few seconds, and when your voice lifted he could hear the tears you were trying to hold back.

“He wouldn’t let me sleep.”

Dean felt the white-hot anger rising in him, but he forced it down.

“You…but you were gone for three days.”

“I know. But ev-every time I tried to sleep…” you picked at one of the cuts, and Dean got the picture. He glanced up to see Sam gripping the steering wheel with all his might, his knuckles turning snow-white.

“I’m sorry,” Dean’s soft voice was only beat by the softness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m so sorry. But you gotta stay awake just a little bit longer, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t just apologizing for that.

“Dean, it’s not your fault.”

He turned to look out the window, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

“Dean,” you tried to raise your voice, but it just sent you into a fit of coughing. His head whipped back to look at you, and he squeezed his hand under your head, lifting you up a little so you could breathe.

“Honey, don’t talk, don’t talk. You’re ok, just breathe.”

“Dean,” you took a deep breath, “Dean it’s not. It’s not your fault-“

“Shh, shh,” he insisted, eyes flitting nervously over your face. “Kiddo please, don’t talk.”

“Then say it.”

Dean sighed, and you knew he wouldn’t mean it, but you wanted him to say it anyway.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

…

“I’m sorry,” Dean winced when you sucked in a breath, trying desperately to stay still as he sewed you up.

“I’m ok,” you insisted.

“Ok, I’m done,” Dean tied off the last stitch, and you hesitantly stood and headed to your bathroom to shower off the blood that was all but covering you.

Dean sat on your bed while you were gone, staring down at the blood on his hands, disgusted but somehow unable to get up to wash it off.

He stayed there until you returned, a clean shirt and your pajama pants on. You stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. You tugged on his arm without speaking, and he followed you mechanically as you pulled him into your bathroom.

You turned on the sink water and guided his hands under the flow, rubbing his hands until they were clean and your blood was running down the drain. You handed him a soft towel, and he slowly dried his hands.

The two of you stood there in silence, unsure of whether to move or not. Then suddenly, the two of you moved in sync. He opened his arms just as you moved towards him, and he wrapped you into his arms. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, while the other rested on the small of your back. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew that you could scream it til doomsday and Dean still wouldn’t believe it. So instead you said what he needed to hear.

“I’m ok.”

…

You weren’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep during your captivity, and you knew it. Dean looked horrible, his eyes dark and his hair greasy and sticking out in strange angles. You didn’t think you could convince him to eat or shower, not yet at least. He hadn’t left your side in the hour since you got back, and you figured he would want to watch over you while you slept.

So, if you couldn’t make him eat, you figured you at least knew a way to make him sleep.

You let him tuck you into your bed before grabbing onto his arm as he turned to go.

“Stay with me,” you insisted. He nodded and reached to grab a chair.

“No, with me,” you lifted a corner of the blanket. Dean didn’t speak, he just climbed in next to you and let you lean against his arm.

After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing evened out and you smiled.

He was your protector, always.

But maybe there was some ways that you could save him, too.

#dean winchester x you #the winchester brothers #dean winchester x reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x you #dean x reader #sam and dean #sam x sister!reader #supernatural sam #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural dean #supernatural

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gentlyweeps-world · 1 month

Text

always with you

summary: they promised to always visit you.

pairing: logan sargeant x fem! reader | oscar piastri x fem! reader

warnings: death

genre: angst | sad

notes: oops? I was feeling something sad 😋

words: 820

follow up

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

No one imagined that in 2023 something like this would have happened.

The driver's safety had evolved, thanks to Jules Bianchi, no one expected another fatal death after his. Sure injuries, but certainly not a death.

Logan and Oscar didn’t expect it. You had been one of, if not the most, determined person they have ever met.

It was only your rookie year. Just one year.

You three had known each other since karting, and through the ranks. Constantly battling each other and hanging out.

Then you guys made it to Formula One, everyone’s dream. It was unbelievable.

You had made history, well- and Logan.

Oscar to McLaren, Logan to Williams and you to Alpha Tauri.

It was finally coming together.

The season went well for the most part, you had scored some points, not many, but that was expected.

Although there was one race you were dreading, Qatar.

“Guys…it’s way too hot out for this..” You say with a groan, leaning into Logan.

“Yeah so don’t lean on me..” Logan mutters out, gently shoving you off him. In response you let out another groan, just leaning back into him.

“Shut up..” Oscar mumbles out, scrolling through his phone, looking at something.

“Hey Osc..we qualified well, right? Do you think we could get on the podium?” You ask, looking over at the Australian.

“Maybe”

That night you guys didn’t get on the podium.

“Y/n, do you need to retire?” Your engineer asks, concern evident in his tone. You didn’t sound good, you didn’t feel good and you weren’t driving well.

“No! No- I’m okay, I need to do this..” You respond, head already starting to spin as you grip at your steering wheel.

“It’s okay to retire, Sargeant did..”

You wish you had listened.

“No I’m okay”

You weren’t okay.

“Right, just let us know if anything is wrong”

Everything was wrong.

“I will don’t worry”

You didn’t.

The ringing in your ears got louder, you could feel the sweat start to drench your balaclava. It was disgusting.

You could hear the thump of your heartbeat, even your breathing as you gasped for air in the humid atmosphere.

Your hands started to shake, dark spots forming all around as you let yourself relax. You needed the rest, didn’t you?

Your foot stayed on the pedal, it didn’t matter, you were all the way down to P17 (last with the dnfs) with seconds, actually minutes, separating you from the pack.

In the moment you felt peaceful, well you had passed out, but it was peaceful.

You couldn’t hear the worried shouts from your engineer, or the questions from the commentators.

You couldn’t see the barrier you were about to crash into at full speed.

Numbness. That was the one word to describe it.

Every driver pitted. The race was off, really it should have been off in the beginning, it was too dangerous and it showed.

Logan freezes in his place, still in his FW45 in the garage, watching the TV show your AT04 in flames and in pieces.

The TV cut to black, it was too visual.

Oscar didn’t know what to do, actually no one did.

Maybe it would be another miracle? That’s what Haas hoped.

It wasn’t. It didn’t look like it.

It dawned on Oscar and Logan, they had lost you.

Logan didn’t get to confess his love.

Oscar didn’t get a chance to share a podium with you.

It didn’t feel real. Everyone was silent.

Logan unclenched and clenched his fists, tears forming in his eyes as his throat tightens up, he wanted to scream, he wanted to help you. He didn’t want to be useless anymore, he didn’t want to take up space.

They knew what happened. They knew the halo couldn’t have saved you this time. They knew.

“Hey Y/n…it’s been a year..we miss you, everyone does..” Logan says, voice cracking as he tries to contain his emotions.

“Osc and I are doing well…he’s doing much better than me but hey- you’d probably do way better than us..”

He lets out a sigh, “I miss you Y/n. Oscar does too, he didn’t want to come visit, didn’t want to bring down your spirit, whatever he means by that..”

“I had so many things I wanted to tell you..” He mumbles out, voice starting to break once more. Logan takes in a deep breath, blinking away his tears. “I wish- I wish I could have held you in my arms once more..”

“If only you knew..” He whispers out, finally setting the flowers down by the barrier.

“Osc and I will do better for you, we’ll always be with you Y/n, we’ll always visit you..” Logan says with a sad smile, looking longingly at the barrier before he walks away.

Everyone missed you. Even the guys on the grid you didn’t talk to.

They wanted to witness you make history.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

radio 🪩: no comment

permanent taglist: @cixrosie @amajixi @i-wish-this-was-me @nelly187 @hannahwsworld @sltwins @itsprashimusic

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girlgenius1111 · 2 months

Text

I'll Make It Through The Winter If It Kills Me

putellas!reader stops taking her antidepressants because she doesn't think she needs them anymore, keeps it from alexia, but she eventually finds out. super angsty, but fluff follows. warnings: mentions of self harm.

-----

You weren't stupid; you didn't think you knew better than your doctor. You were just so tired of everything feeling so... dull. Feeling so empty, even when things were good. Even when they were bad. It felt like your emotions were in sight, but just out of reach. Like you could graze them with your fingertips, the sharp sting of anger, the thrill of excitement. No matter what you did, though, you couldn’t get your hands around them. You couldn’t make the feelings stay. You weren’t sure you’d know what normal felt like if it hit you across the face, and no matter what you told your doctor, she kept encouraging you to give the meds a longer chance.

It wasn’t really intentional on your part, to stop taking them. It just…happened. You missed one day. And then another. And then it had been a week, and even though your head ached, and you had a bit of a hard time sleeping, you felt… better. Not great, not really even good, but better. More like yourself.

That lasted another week, before suddenly, you were back where you started. The joy you’d rediscovered in living faded away, plunging you back into a cave of misery. It wasn’t numbed now, either. It was encapsulating, suffocating. You weren’t okay, not at all. You didn’t know what to do, though. You didn’t want to go back on the medication, and you knew you wouldn’t survive if you kept going like this. You told yourself that you just had to let your body get used to the lack of the medication, and once it adjusted, you’d feel normal again. You’d been high, and now you were low, and the next step had to be a middle ground. The trouble was keeping yourself going until you got there, as well as keeping your sister off your back.

You hadn’t meant to start hurting yourself again, either. It just happened, it was just the coping mechanism you turned to. It was just supposed to be temporary, until everything balanced out and you felt normal again. It kept going, though, you kept going. Until you had to be careful about changing in the locker room, and you couldn’t go a day without doing it. It was the only thing that made you feel, the only thing that made it better. You just needed time. That was it. Just time.

-----

“Wake up pequeña, I am not going to come in here again.” Alexia said with a sigh, poking her head in your door to find you still very asleep in bed. You both knew she’d be back in 5 minutes, ready to drag you out by your ankles, but you grumbled a response and sat up. You’d only gotten to sleep a few hours ago; sleep had evaded you, even as you felt more exhausted than you’d ever been in your life. It was just an adjustment, you, told yourself. Everything would even out.

“If I come in there and you’re still asleep, so help me,” Alexia shouted from the hall, before throwing your door open rather aggressively. You turned to look at her blankly, wrapped up in your duvet, sitting on the edge of the bed. Your sister paused, taking a closer look at your face.

“Do you feel okay? Are you getting sick?” She asked, entering the room and pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. You shook her off, discarding the duvet behind you and moving with as much energy as you could muster over to your dresser.

“No, just sleepy.” You answered shortly, and Alexia narrowed her eyes at you.

“You look sick.” She argued, crossing her arms over her chest in a rather intimidating manner.

“Thank you.” You replied sarcastically. “Now get out, you’re going to make me late.”

Alexia scoffed indignantly, but walked to the door regardless. “I’M going to make you late. Me. You lay in bed till the last minute, and it’s MY fault.” She mumbled, shutting the door behind her a little harder than necessary.

She wasn’t really that bothered, but she did dramatically complain about you to Olga once she reached the kitchen. Olga, however, didn’t quite share her exasperation with you and your inability to get up on time. Instead, she saw this as cause for concern: you hadn’t been this hard to wake up since before. When things were bad, and they didn’t know. Looking back, the signs were obvious, and Olga wasn’t about to miss them again. Or let her rather emotionally oblivious girlfriend do so either.

“Ale. She’s been sleeping a lot recently, no?” Olga asked quietly, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand to get her attention.

Alexia looked up from the coffee she was making for you, turning to the brunette in confusion. “I haven’t noticed. She’s hard to wake up sometimes, that’s all.”

Olga restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Sometimes, she wondered if Alexia really was oblivious, or if she was just in denial.

“Not like this. The last time she slept this much, she wasn’t doing well, remember?”

Alexia turned back to your coffee, stirring absentmindedly, lost in thought.

“You think she’s having a hard time?” She asked finally.

Olga shrugged. “I’m not sure. She’s been acting a little off recently. It could be nothing though.”

“But it could be something?” Alexia replied. She was never so aware of her shortcomings as a sister than when Olga saw something she didn’t. That was the good thing about being with someone who was so different from her, though. Olga was there to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks with you, a role she’d taken on without a second thought when you moved in.

Olga didn’t have a chance to reply, because you made your way into the kitchen, reaching instantly for the coffee Alexia was making, one you knew was for you. Ale always got up a bit early to make her and Olga coffee, climbing back into bed and drinking it there.

Alexia handed you the coffee silently, and if you noticed that her eyes lingered on you longer than normal, you didn’t say anything about it.

-----

It wasn’t accidental that Alexia had the two of you sharing a room over the next away trip. Ever since her conversation with Olga, she’d been keeping a closer eye on you, and she wasn’t loving what she was seeing. Normally, she’d pawn you off on one of your younger teammates over away games, needing time with her friends, and knowing you needed time with yours. Now, though, her overprotective instincts were kicking in and she didn’t trust anyone but herself to keep an eye on you.

Alexia noticed that you put on a good show, but when people weren’t looking… you looked so desperately sad that your sister longed to drag you away from the group by your ear and pry whatever the problem was out of you. She didn’t, though. Olga had given her a harsh warning before leaving, as did Alba, that you wouldn’t respond well to being cornered, to being forced to talk. You needed to come to her. So while Alexia kept you very close, she made an effort to remind you that she was there, whatever you needed.

The first real, tangible, issue that Alexia figured out was that you weren’t sleeping. She’d passed out before you, as expected, but when she stirred a couple hours later to the sound of you sniffling quietly from your bed, she was immediately wide awake.

You were so tired. Nothing you were trying was working, you just couldn’t sleep. It felt pathetic to be crying, but you were exhausted, you had a match tomorrow, and you just wanted your brain to turn off, even if it was only for a bit. You were trying to keep the volume down, though, because Alexia was famously a light sleeper, and her bed was only a few feet from yours.

Your efforts proved unsuccessful when Alexia sat up in her bed, flicking the light on. She squinted over at you, finding you curled up on your side, furiously wiping at the tears on your face, horrified at being caught.

You were expecting 20 questions from your sister. She liked to fix things, and this situation would definitely be something that worried her. Alexia surprised you though.

Even though there were 20 questions on the tip of her tongue, she remembered both her girlfriend and her other sister’s warnings not to push you. Instead of pestering you like she wanted, she flicked the light back off, sliding out of her bed and gently nudging you over until she could slide onto the edge of yours.

“Ale, what-?”

“Shh.” Alexia whispered, scooching closer and cuddling up to you like she used to do when you were little, and wanted nothing more than her affection. If Alexia was feeling particularly nice, she’d let you curl up against her while the family watched a movie, or while she finished her homework. “You can’t sleep?”

You wondered how she knew. Sometimes, Alexia could be completely dense when it came to your feelings. Other times, though, she was incredibly perceptive. “No.”

Your sister’s presence next to you, though, was already helping, and you felt your eyes drooping as you rested your head against her chest.

“Do you want me to sing you a song?” Alexia teased.

You appreciated that she wasn’t forcing a conversation now, more than you could articulate.

“No, I think my ears bleeding would keep me up more.” You replied, laughing quietly when your sister huffed indignantly, shoving you away from her, before very quickly pulling you back into her arms.

“You like my singing, I’m a good singer.” She retorted, even as she tucked you back under her chin. “Really, nena, how can I help?”

“Stop talking.” You murmured groggily, cuddling in closer to your sister. Alexia smiled against your head, but stopped talking, rather proud of herself for solving this problem for you, even if it was just temporarily. Even if it was just a symptom of a much bigger problem.

You slept that night, without waking up, for the first time in a while. You tried not to let yourself think about the fact that if Alexia fixed this problem, she might be able to help you, just in general, if only you’d talk to her.

-----

Alexia hadn’t meant to snoop. She’d done you a favor, picking up your new prescription, and she was just putting it on your nightstand. Was it possible that she opened the drawer and peeked at your old bottle? Maybe. She was glad she did it, though. Because she found it full. And everything suddenly made a lot more sense.

-----

"Pequeña?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is this full?" Alexia asked calmly, holding up the little pill bottle and giving it a shake.

"That's- that's my new bottle." You replied, looking away from her accusatory stare.

Alexia shook her head. "No, this is your new bottle. I picked it up for you today." She held up a little bag from the pharmacy, and your stomach sank. Your sister would not like this, not at all. She wouldn't like you doing something so unhealthy, and she wouldn't like you lying about it. There was nothing you could say, she'd caught you.

"Nena, I asked you a question." Strict Alexia was making an appearance, and you kept your eyes locked on the ground in front of you. "Hey. Don't shut down on me. What's going on?" She walked closer, arms crossed over her chest.

"I stopped taking them." You said finally, looking up in time to see your sister sigh heavily, and run a hand over her suddenly very fatigued face.

"Why?"

"I just did." You told her.

"That's not good enough. This is why you've been so anxious recently? So depressed?"

You shrugged noncommittally. Alexia was silent for a minute, before her expression changed, face tightened. You knew what was coming before she asked.

"Roll up your shorts." It's given as a command, not as a request, and you backed up on instinct. "Nena,"

"No. I'm an adult, Alexia. I can make my own decisions."

Alexia regarded you carefully, her eyebrows pinched with concern. "Roll up your shorts, please. I won't ask again."

You hated when Alexia got like this. You knew she wasn't really as angry with you as she seemed, she was worried. It just felt so much like you were in trouble. Maybe because you knew you were doing something you shouldn't be. Alexia's worry always manifested as frustration, anger. Maybe because for her, she was angry with herself, for not seeing a problem sooner.

"Alexia, I said no." You turned away from her, stomping towards your room.

"Nena, come back." Alexia demanded, going after you when you didn't respond. She reached your door just as you shut it and locked it, and Alexia felt a spike of panic run through her. Your behavior over the past few weeks was beginning to make more sense and, honestly, she didn't know what headspace you were in, how deeply the lack of the medication was affecting you. If you were back to doing this, it could be bad. Alexia knew she wasn't the expert in helping you with this, but she did know that, right now, she was not comfortable with a locked door in between the two of you.

"Nena, open the door." She fiddled with the knob, even as it wouldn't budge. "I'm being serious, open the door. Now."

You weren't really hearing her. You were thinking about how disappointed she must be in you. She'd been horrified to find out that you'd been doing this to yourself the first time, almost a year ago now. She'd yelled, and you'd run out of the house, all the way to Mapi's. You'd sat on the terrace with Ingrid, talking about everything and nothing, while Mapi gave your sister a piece of her mind. You were sick, she'd told the blonde. You needed support. You weren't doing it for attention. Alexia needed to do better.

And she had. She'd apologized for yelling. She'd gone with you to every therapy appointment for two months, knowing how nervous they made you. She sat outside the room, answering emails or looking at her phone, just in case you needed her. She supported you, wholeheartedly, when you took a few weeks off from the team to focus on your mental health, as you got your medication figured out. You weren't good at communicating your needs to your sister, and she wasn't good at reading your mind, but somehow, it worked.

Repetitive pounding on the door broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked towards the door, half expecting to see your sister's fist emerging through the wood.

"Nena, open. Now, por favor." Alexia begged.

Your anger with yourself only grew. Your sister sounded close to tears and it was all your fault. All your fault. Shakily, you stood up from the bed and walked over to the door, unlocking it. Alexia practically fell into the room, head swiveling frantically as she looked for you. Your eyes dropped to the ground again, and you looked so small, so very shattered.

Alexia knocked the wind out of you a little with the force of her hug, squishing you into her arms and holding you tight against her chest. "You can't do that, you can't lock the door. Not right now, not when I don't know what's going on with you. Please, pequeña, I won't make you talk to me, just don't lock the door." She was pleading with you, and you'd never heard your normally very calm and collected sister so panicked.

Maybe it was the pleading that got to you, or maybe you were just so tired of pretending to be okay. Either way, words you never thought you’d say out loud were spilling from your mouth before you could stop them.

“I’m scared, Ale. I don’t have control anymore, I thought I did, but I don’t, and I’m scared. I’m so tired, I don’t think I can do this anymore. Please help me, I need you to help me,” you sobbed, the admission feeling both terrifying and relieving all at once. At least the responsibility wasn’t on you anymore. Alexia would take care of you, take care of this.

“Okay, okay, nena. It’s all going to be okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’ll get you help, we’ll get you whatever you need. Whatever it takes. I love you so much, pequeña, we’ll get you better, I promise.”

Alexia kept you wrapped up tight in her arms for a while, and it only reassured you more. As long as she had you, nothing would happen. She wouldn’t let anything happen. While your sister was around, you would be safe. Even if she was keeping you safe from yourself, she’d do it, no matter what.

-----

me: you need to stop making everything have a part 2. just make a longer one shot.

also me: let me know what you want to see in part 2 🙂🙂

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #putellas!reader #platonic #woso one shot #woso fanfics

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