#Smoked salmon I love you. Kissing you on the mouth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

incognitobobcat · 5 months

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Quit Eating My Food!

Description: Fluff, lots of food nicking and cheekiness, Tomas being a boy

Characters: Female Reader x Smoke/Tomas Vrbada

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There is one thing that you’re sure of in your current situation: you love your boyfriend. While you have known him for over a year, you and Tomas had made it official around six or seven months ago.

It wasn’t that hard for Smoke to sweep you off your feet, as he had been the one to pursue you until you finally surrendered to him due to his charming and bold, yet kind and gentle spirit. How it had made him so happy (and relieved) that you finally accepted him as your boyfriend, as you initially were reluctant and had reservations about being in a relationship with him. But in the sweetest ways possible with no malicious intent, “boys will be boys”, especially when smitten.

Because of his duties as the Shirai Ryu’s Second in Command, it was challenging for him to spare a decent amount of time to spend with you. But when he has free time, you sometimes invited him over to your place where you cooked meals for him. The other favourite past time shared by the both of you was to visit the night markets that Osaka has to offer and go on dinner dates.

While you were very fond of Tomas, he, like any human, has his quirks and habits that annoyed you. One of those habits was sneakily eating your food.

The first time was during a visit to your apartment. It was your day off and you had made yourself a smoked salmon sandwich on a milk bun with spring greens and cream cheese, which was one of your favourite comfort foods, since you were starving.

Tomas had arrived way earlier than expected, and before you took your first bite, you heard knocking on the door. Surprised, you opened the door for your lips to immediately be gently caressed by his soft lips. One arm snaked around your waist to pull your body against his in a firm embrace while the other hand cupped your cheek gently. You giggled and reciprocated the affectionate gesture for what seemed like a very long time before he broke off the kiss, both of you sighing.

“Wow…” your murmured, both hands on his cheeks.

“Hello beautiful,” your boyfriend greeted softly with a smile.

“Hello yourself, handsome,” you replied grinning starstruck, “Come on in!”

You led Tomas inside the apartment and he made himself at home. As you headed into the kitchen, he followed you before spotting the sandwich on the counter.

“What’s this?” Tomas asked, eyeing the sandwich curiously.

“Oh, it’s my food,” you replied nonchalantly, “I figured I’d eat first before we headed out to the markets. Would you like me to make you one?”

“Oh. I was planning on spoiling you this evening,” Tomas began, slightly disappointed, “What is that anyway?”

“It’s smoked salmon,” you replied, “Have you had it before?” You picked up the plate took the sandwich in the other hand and took a bite out of it.

After that, Tomas immediately took your wrist, brought the sandwich to his nose and sniffed it, brows furrowing curiously. He then took a bite out of it.

You watched as Tomas chewed the bite he had taken with an expression of processing the flavours of the different ingredients together; he swallowed, and went, “Hmmmh,…”

You laughed lightly as he took another bite of the sandwich, again with the same expression while chewing.

“I take it you’ve never had smoked salmon before?” you inquired.

“It’s…interesting,” Tomas began, “In an interesting way.”

“It’s either good or bad,” you said, smiling at him, “Which one is it?”

Smiling, he took another big bite and then replied, “Good, since you took a bite out of it first.” The way Tomas flirted was cute, and it made you warm and fuzzy every time. He took another bite.

You playfully swatted at his arm, “You cheeky imp! Are you gonna save some for me? I’m starving!”

“Oops, where are my manners? My bad!” He teased, chuckling, “Here!”

Tomas guided you sandwich back towards your mouth, and as you were about to take a bite, he leaned in and helped himself to another bite.

“Hey!” You cried out laughing, “Don’t eat all of it! Leave some for me!”

Tomas’ laughter was muffled as he struggled to chew then swallow. He evaded your attempts to swat at him.

“Ok, ok! I’ll be nice!” He replied through giggles, “Ow! Ow!”

“That’s what you get! There’s, like, three bites left!” You protested jokingly.

“Don’t blame a hungry boy!” Tomas reasoned jokingly, earning him another swat from you, “Ow!”

Since that day, the food stealing has been a regular occurrence. Whether you were enjoying the various small plates in the night markets, or having dinner dates, or home cooked meals that you prepared at your place, Tomas would take “small bites” here and there, and then be cheeky and be teasing about it.

You had a dango on one hand. You’d randomly feel a tap on the opposite shoulder, then you’d turn only to find out that there’s nobody. As you went to take a bite of your dango, you noticed that the first one was missing. You’d look at Tomas, stunned, and he would be laughing at your expression.

“Look at your face!” He’d exclaim victoriously, still laughing. You’d pout, and he’d give your lips a quick kiss.

Tomas took you on a dinner date and you ordered your own plate of gyoza. The two of you would be having a casual conversation; “Hey, do you see that sign up there? I can’t read it,” Tomas would point past your shoulder, eyes squinting.

You’d turn around to see what he was talking about only to see a window revealing a scenic city view. when you’d turn back to your food to find that you have two gyozas less.

Tomas would crack a smile, and say, “Made you look!”

The two of you would buy cones of tall soft served ice cream in different flavours. As you were both strolling past a line of stores that sold different treats and snacks, something would catch your eyes and you would turn your attention towards the item of interest, letting your guard down.

You heard stifled laughter from nearby, which made you look at a young couple. They were giggling at you and Tomas. You’d snapped your head towards your boyfriend to see his lips in a tight smile and bloated cheeks, stifling giggles. You then noticed that his lips were thinly covered in your matcha ice cream, only then you realized that he had left you with around half of your ice cream.

Tomas looked at you and shrugged innocently.

One afternoon, you were baking cookies to give to your colleagues, making sure that you made a few extra. Your boyfriend had arrived at your place unexpectedly as you were taking the cookies out of the oven. Once you finished, you hurriedly let Tomas in.

“Oooh! Something smells good!” he exclaimed, inhaling deeply.

“I’m making cookies for my colleagues,” you replied, “ I wasn’t expecting you!”

He leaned in to kiss you, “ I wanted to surprise you, Y/N.”

Once inside, you went to the kitchen to check on the cookies. As they were still too hot to bag, you went to prepare some food for Tomas.

“Do you want water, tea or juice?” You asked loudly, as he was in the living room.

“Water’s fine,” came the reply.

You poured water in a glass and plated an assortment of cookies before headed to the living room.

“Freshly made,” you beamed, handing him his food and drink.

“And made with love!” Tomas popped a cookie in his mouth happily, “Delicious!” He exclaimed appreciatively, eyes lighting up.

“I’m happy for the verdict,” you said with a smile before heading back to the kitchen.

While your cookies were still cooling down, you did a bit of clean up. After 15 minutes, the cookies have cooled down enough to bag. Tomas entered the kitchen with the empty dishes, which he took to the sink to wash, while eying the trays of cookies.

“Ooh! You really love me!” he exclaimed jokingly.

“These are not for you, mister!” you said, giving him a stern look and pointing a finger at him, “No stealing!”

Tomas sighed, “Alright, I’ll be a good boy.”

You shot him a warning look before you moved the cooled trays to the dining table and set up the gift bags to bag the cookies with. You began to bag one of each cookie, a total of five kinds, before folding the excess plastic in a nice way and fastening a bow around it. You were three bags in before Tomas joined you at the dinner table.

“Can I help?” he asked.

You looked at him silently for a couple of minutes, deciding on whether this was a good idea or not.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” he reassured.

“Ok, you can help me bag,” you slowly replied and nodded, “One of each cookie per bag in this order, please.” You gave him a bag for reference.

The two of you got to work in silence and completed the bags in no time. Looking at the bags with pride, you raised your hand to Tomas for a high five, “Team work!”

He reciprocated. “I think this calls for a celebration! Let’s go out for ramen,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the lips, “Go get your stuff, Y/N.”

You obliged. You didn’t mention this little detail to Tomas: there should be 50 bags and you were counting them as you tied the bows. You were thankful that all 50 bags were accounted for with the five cookies per bag.

The two of you left for your date and ended the night in high spirits.

Imagine your embarrassment when you were 2 bags short after you handed out the bags of cookies to your colleagues. You had to rush to buy two bags of treats during your break time to make up for the loss, apologizing profusely to the two colleagues. Luckily, you had understanding colleagues.

During a dinner at your place, you decided to be adventurous and make something new. Tomas was hugging you from behind, giving your neck soft pecks.

“Mmm, what are you making tonight?”

“A Portuguese kale soup called Caldo Verde,” you replied, turning to kiss him on the lips, before you threw in the coins of chorizo in a large pot to brown them. The sizzling noise was music to your ears and the aroma of the chorizo filled the apartment.

“You spoil me, my Princess,” Tomas murmured, kissing your neck, “How did this Sexy Slavic Prince get so lucky?”

“Sexy Slavic Prince,” you repeated mockingly, “More like Sneaky Slavic Racoon! Were you a hungry animal in your past life??”

“I might have been a frog living off flies, until a beautiful Princess kissed me, then we both died and were reborn to live out our happily ever after!”

“You sweet talker,” You nudged his side teasingly as you scooped the browned chorizo onto a plate. You noticed a hand that is not yours reach out towards the plate. You immediately swatted his hand, eliciting an, “Ow!!”

“Keep your hands away, mister!” You growled, keeping your eyes on the chorizo, “No stealing bites this time!”

“Would you rather I steal a bite of you?”

You yelped loudly as Tomas bit down on the place where your neck and shoulder met. He lightly pinched your side, causing you to scream and nearly drop the plate in your hand. The smoke ninja seized the opportunity to yank the plate out of your hand, quickly stepping away from you. To your utter annoyance, he popped a couple of slices in his mouth.

“Unhhh, SO good!”

“TOMAS!!” You yelled as he kept laughing, evading your swats and from trying to get your plate back.

Needless to say, your dinner started late and you were some degree of grumpy.

This went on for 8 months. While it started out innocent and fun, it was gradually getting to the point where you were you gradually got annoyed. There were occasions where you found small bowls of miso empty on dinner dates, a skewer of teriyaki chicken half-eaten, an oyster motoyaki missing only for the empty shell to turn up towards the end of dinner, a slice of freshly made pie that you made for dessert eaten before it’s time, a few sandwiches half eaten, many sneak bites on ice cream cones, missing sashimi here and there, and so on. It was starting to annoy you, especially when you had a long day at work and all you wanted to do was eat.

Despite his antics, you always looked forward to seeing Tomas. In order to not have resentment build over time, you decided that you would have a talk with him the next time you see him.

On this particular day, you weren’t in the best mood but you looked forward to another evening with your boyfriend. You also have been running the words to articulate what has been bothering you for three days, worried that you might say something that would offend him.

A few knocks on the door startled you out of your thoughts and you hurriedly put on your coat and grabbed your bag. You opened the door and you were greeted with a soft and lingering kiss.

“Hey, there, you,” Tomas greeted.

“Hey, there, yourself! Let’s go,” you replied softly, locking the door and taking his arm.

As you were both strolling past stalls, you spotted a sashimi stall that you were interested in but never gotten a chance to try from.

“Let’s try their stuff!” You exclaimed excitedly, pulling Tomas along with you to stand in queue. After you both eyes the menu, you both settled on two each of the torched fatty tuna and uni nigiri, and a small platter of salmon and ahi tuna sashimi. You paid for your order and both of you found a secluded place to eat your first of many small platters. Of all the items on your plate, you were looking forward to the fatty tuna.

You set up your food neatly on the table with the soy sauce containers.

“Itadakimasu!” You both expressed gratitude for your food before digging in.

While you took the fatty tuna nigiri, Tomas took a salmon sashimi.

“Wait! Let’s do this,” he said, dipping his piece in the soy sauce before moving it towards your mouth.

“Hang on, I am looking forward to trying this first,” you replied, dipping the nigiri in the soy sauce. As you brought it towards your mouth, he suddenly grabbed your wrist and brought the nigiri towards him. The nigiri disappeared disappeared in his mouth. His lips curled up as he chewed, and he wiggled his eyebrows a couple of times, motioning for you to eat the salmon sashimi between his chopsticks.

You stared at him, annoyed, throwing up a hand. Tomas shrugged, the salmon still held in front of you. Not wanting to make a stink, you reluctantly took the piece in your mouth, chewing and swallowing it in silence.

As if he hasn’t sensed that you were annoyed, Tomas took the second fatty tuna nigiri, dipped it into the soy sauce, and then moved it a mare inch in front of your lips. As you were about to take a bite, he pulled it away at the last minute and popped it in his mouth with a triumphant look.

Something snapped in you as you threw your hands up into the air, stood up and walked away, shaking your head.

You heard Tomas scramble to get up, calling your name.

You kept walking, breathing deeply to calm yourself down, as you felt that you might say something you’ll regret.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wait up!” Tomas called out, eventually catching up to you.

You whipped around to face him, holding up your hand, “Look, Tomas, this whole stealing my food thing has got to stop. It’s not cute any more.”

Tomas looked stunned and confused, “What do you mean? I thought you liked it.”

“I’ve been meaning to say something to you for a while now,” you began, eyes closed as you concentrated in staying composed, “While it was funny to begin with, it got more and more annoying!”

“Annoying?” Tomas repeated, sounding defensive, “What’s the big deal? It’s not like I eat all of your food! You never said anything before. Why now? You seemed to be amused when I do it.”

“I am telling you now,” you said, getting more and more annoyed, “It’s no longer cute. Sure, I should have said something earlier, and thinking back now, I have. A few times!”

“When did you tell me?” he asked, “I don’t remember!”

“When I make food for colleagues, I tell you! After that, I always end up being short cookies or pie or sandwiches! Do you know how embarrassing that was for me?! When I make pies for my boss, I tell you! Why do I always have a slice missing from those?? When I’m making dinner, you keep eating ingredients and it takes me an unnecessarily long time to make dinner, which puts me in a bad mood every time!”

Tomas blinked, staring at you in shock, not saying anything.

“You do this every. single. time. I want to enjoy my food in peace! Look, i’m sorry for being like this. I’m having a bad day, but I want you to quit eating my food!”

Tomas was now eying you all confused, “So this outburst has nothing to with me, then? You are seeing my playing around with you as offensive because you’re in a mood?”

You shut your eyes, as you couldn’t believe what he just said. How dense was this guy?

“Y/N…I’m..I didn’t mean it..”

You started tearing up. Not wanting to make a scene, you decided to call it a day. “Forget it,” you said in a defeated tone, feeling a couple of tears fall, “I’m going home.”

Before he could say anything, you bolted.

A few weeks later, you were finishing your shift at your office. You had had time to process the incident and had somewhat gotten over it. While what Tomas said still left a bad taste in your mouth, you wondered if you had communicated your point clearly or not, or whether your emotions had made you look and sound whiny. It also put a damper on your feelings as it your first argument together, and it did not feel good at all. Maybe you sounded too harsh, as you admit that you can be blunt and straightforward when annoyed.

You sighed as you packed up your things for the next day. You put your coat on, slung your bag over your shoulders, then headed for the elevators. As you exited the elevator, you headed towards the lobby and were surprised to see Tomas waiting for you. He was holding something in a plastic bag with both hands. He saw you and started walking towards you.

“Tomas?” you began, surprised, “What are you doing here?”

Tomas gulped, “Y/N, let’s talk.” He jerked his head slightly towards the entrance. Both of you exited the building and walked towards the benches in front of the building, where you both sat down.

You looked at him expectingly and Tomas looked you in the eyes with an apologetic expression, “Y/N, I’m so sorry for what I said last time. I had time to think, and responding to you the way I did was uncalled for.”

“Tomas,” you began, “Look, you…”

“I, honestly…I was caught off guard when you got upset with me, as it was the first time that happened. I got defensive and didn’t handle it well. I’m also sorry for all the times I inconvenienced and embarrassed you to your colleagues and bosses because of my antics. And, I’ve always appreciated you cooking for me every time you have me over, it pains me to learn that I am taking that happiness away from you bit by bit. While I honestly enjoyed joking around with you because that was my way of letting you know that I enjoyed letting loose and having fun with you, it obviously had the opposite effect. I should have been more attuned to times when you didn’t want me to do that. I won’t do this again, and I will do my best to listen to you more and be present when you’re having a bad day. I need you to call me out for any annoying behaviour that I may not be aware off. I hope you’ll accept my apology. Here!”

Tomas handed you the thing in the plastic bag. You accepted it and were curious to see what was inside. It was a clear plastic container with ten fatty tuna nigiri.

“It’s all yours, Y/N,” he said sheepishly.

You sighed and melted a little, “Aww, Tomas…Thank you…You’re not that bad. I’m sorry for getting emotional at you that night. I wasn’t in the best mood, so I may have come across as whiny.”

“No, you didn’t,” he reassured, “I was in the wrong. Can we start over? Clean slate?”

You smiled and nodded, “Clean slate.” You leaned in to kiss Tomas, which he returned. You felt him sigh in relief and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders.

“Wanna come over?” you murmured.

“I would love to,” he responded.

“Good, because I made some matcha cake, your favourite.”

“Mmm, I look forward to it.”

#mk1 tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada #mk smoke #smoke #mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 smoke #mk1 2023 #tomas vrbada x reader

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

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Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 31)

Tw: heavy rape, blood, choking and dead dove do not eat, pain, violence, non con, vomit

Part 32

You woke up to the gentle sounds of ambient chatter. It's not unpleasant, but it was unexpected to have around ten people in your room at this moment.

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, turning around to see Yves elegantly sipping on a cup of steaming hot tea while watching you.

You saw him set his cup onto the saucer.

"Good morning, (name)." He greeted you.

You greeted him back with a croaky voice.

"You should always take a sip of water once you wake up. Where is your flask, dear?"

Oh. You forgot.

Yves has laid out instructions for you to refill your flask everyday with drinking water. You haven't done that since he left and now it's empty. Truth be told, you have no idea where it is. Your room has become quite cluttered too.

He was expecting this, so he simply hummed in acknowledgement. Yves picked up a quaint, traditional english tea sandwich from a curate next to him. You assume it has smoked salmon in it.

"What are your plans today, my love?" Yves asked as he tore a small piece of his sandwich, he placed it into his mouth and covered his lips while chewing. The pristine plate beneath his hands caught all the crumbs.

You felt your heart skip a beat at the upgrade of your pet name. You tried to ignore the fluttery feeling because it shouldn't be that big of a deal.

But Yves knows the effect it has on you. He enjoyed watching you attempt to hide your bashfulness.

You told him that you don't know. You truly don't. It's too hot to go outside and you don't have a place you wanted to explore without Yves. It's boring to have a friendless life, you wished Evangeline didn't turn out to be a weirdo.

He took his time finishing his bite before answering. "That's a shame." Yves commented.

There were at least a hundred ideas Yves had swirling in his head and a thousand others more in his hard drive about how you could spend your day. All of those that he could have recommended, you would have loved doing it. But he stayed silent, hoping that you would rather be on the phone with him the entire time.

But that wasn't likely. You would get suspicious how he didn't need to sleep or eat. Just like how you're asking him if he slept in the airport.

"No, dear. I had my sleep before coming here. I was awake the whole time." He answered before taking another sip of his tea.

You yawned and flopped your head back onto your pillow, which made Yves smile.

But that glee of his was short lived when he noticed signs of you getting sick of his presence. The twitches, the miniscule movements and even the change in breathing. Yves had no choice but to cut off his interactions with you for now, or else his plan to 'reset' your Yves-quota will be all for naught.

"(Name). I have to go."

He was saddened that you didn't bother to even ask him why, you just said goodbye and waved awkwardly. But at least he didn't need to think of an excuse.

"Goodbye, dear. Feel free to call me whenever you want."

Yves blew you a kiss. "Take care."

He ended the call himself, you blinked when he expressed a crestfallen look on his face. So you missed it.

You released a breath of relief. Finally, some privacy.

You brought your arms behind your head. Pondering what you should do since the day is still extremely young. Definitely not going to class though.

You got out of bed and stretched. You need to freshen up.

Yves felt like that was the wrong move, there was this nagging feeling that he shouldn't have left you alone. And his gut feeling is never wrong.

Yves contemplated for a bit before picking his phone up again and texting a handful of numbers.

You got out of your room holding an empty bowl. Your brunch was delicious despite being four days old in the fridge, Yves preserved it well and it's definitely much healthier than takeaway or instant noodles.

However, there was a knock on the door. Usually that means one of them has forgotten their keys, or they came home severely hungover with heels in their hands. You sighed, set the bowl down onto the coffee table and head towards the door.

You twisted the door knob and pulled it open. Grumbling for your housemate to get in and complaining about their drinking habits.

"(Name), we need to talk."

You whipped your head up so fast that you almost pulled a muscle in your neck. Your eyes met a certain, teary baby blue ones.

That's right. Evangeline knew where you lived. You didn't expect that she would come and visit, though.

You told her no, you're busy. She's surprisingly fast, as she wedged her hand and foot between the door and it's frame before you could slam it against her face.

"(Name), please! I beg you, I-I lost all my friends, I don't want to lose you too!" Her desperation was almost tangible as she clawed through the gap. She ended up overpowering you and invading your living room.

You took numerous steps away from Evangeline, creating distance between you and the girl. At least all she did was stand there and watch you through her wet eyes, in her hands held a napkin which she uses to dry her tears.

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't know that I hurt you. I promise I won't do it again. I'll do better." Her apology sounded too general to you, it's as if she didn't even know what she did wrong in the first place.

You're extremely put off by her. She purposely made the trip all the way to your place, to beg like a dog for a friendship that lasted for a maximum of four days? You don't think you would do that even if you're in Evangeline's shoes, you would rather keep your dignity and be isolated from the world.

You told her you appreciate the apology, but you need her to get out of your house. She's creeping you out.

She crumbled to her knees and wept. "(Name), please. I would do anything for you to be my friend again."

You noticed that her phone was suddenly blowing up with calls. But she disregarded it just so she could plead for your forgiveness.

You told her you will talk to her tomorrow. Which you actually wouldn't. You would just bait her into leaving so you could feel safe in your home again.

"I have to talk to you now." She got up and marched towards you. Which made you walk backwards, but she kept going. "Please, (name). I need this. I need you."

Tears stopped falling from her pale eyelashes, but her eyes were glazed over. Her eyes contained nothing but something dark and sinister directed towards you.

You jumped a bit in your spot when your back hit something flat and hard. You looked behind you to see that it's the wall.

You put your hands in front of you to try and stop her, but to no avail. Evangeline trudged on with empty eyes.

She kept getting closer and closer, until her chest is pressing against your palm. Your eyes widened in horror as you watch them sink into her plump mounds. It was also the first time you realized that she wasn't wearing a bra.

"It's soft, isn't it, (name)?" Her voice was gentle and monotone. As if she wasn't in control of her own body. She closed the gap between her crotch and yours, grinding sensually against your groin. You gasped realizing that she wasn't wearing any underwear either, there is only a thin sheet of fabric from her sundress shielding her damp genitals against your home shorts.

The adrenaline being pumped through your veins charged up your contracting muscles, your fingers curled up into a fist and before your brain even greenlit the thought, you swung at her with all your might.

Much to your surprise and terror, she caught it effortlessly with a hand. A hand that you thought was only capable of picking seashells and tending to delicate flowers. What you didn't know, is that she had to deal with pesky vines, weeds, pests and sometimes even tree logs.

You tried hitting her with the other hand, but she also restrained it. Rendering you defenceless because she immobilized your legs with hers.

So you tried to scream, to expel all the air in your lungs and shatter windows with your voice. Before it could erupt from your throat, Evangeline thrusted her warm, freakishly long tongue into your mouth, making you gag and squirm in her hold. Like a wild animal, you thrashed and tried to bite it off, but maybe it was your first time being (forcefully) kissed like this, you found that your jaw strength is no match for her experience. You didn't know how was she forcing your mouth open for her to explore as freely as she wants, but it is straining the muscles on the side of your face.

She lets go of your wrists momentarily, but only to have a hand wrap around your neck. Squeezing it until you couldn't breathe, let alone shout for help despite evacuating her tongue away from your orifice. You instinctively had both hands trying to pry it away, so you could fill your lungs with the fresh air, this allowed her to open the door to your room; it was the closest to the entrance, after all.

She coerced you inside by the neck, her fingers serving as a sturdy collar and her arm as a unyielding leash to drag you by. Your face is turning red from the restriction of air and bloodflow to your head, you find it hard to even open your eyes with the way she's choking you, but all you could see is the bulging veins in her fair, sun-spotted arm.

Evangeline, almost robotically, locked the door behind her. You should have opened your curtains instead of camping in your room like a vampire, at least the neighbors could see what was happening. But the only light source in your room is the rays of sunshine escaping the fabric blinds through various moth-eaten holes. That was enough for the blonde to see.

She threw you onto your bed. Your neck felt extremely sore and you found it hard to swallow your spit. Any sound that you tried making came out as a pathetic whimper or strained croak. You winced at the pain; You didn't have time to flee or fight back, because when you opened your eyes she was already on top of you. Her legs straddled your hips as you struggled under her, trying to fight her off but she was too strong and fast for you to even think of landing a punch.

She dove down to bite the curve of your neck and shoulders, you let out a cracked yell, but it wasn't as loud enough to alert anyone. Your hands went to her head, trying to pry you off by yanking her by the hair. Such a shame, it was so silky, so fluffy. You would have loved playing with it if she was your friend. But this isn't the actions of a friend.

She seized the chance to subdue both of your hands, vigorously shoving them above your head. Her teeth left deep marks with pooling blood, staining the sheets beneath you, crimson. You're already dizzy from the suffocation earlier. Still, she's exacerbating it further by pressing her lips against yours, biting your lower lip until it also draws blood, prompting you to open your mouth in reflex.

You kept gagging as she violated your inlet, you even felt the burning sensation of bile rushing up your esophagus. She must have tasted it judging by how far she was stuffing her pink muscle into your throat, but she didn't care. Evangeline kept going until your brain panicked enough to surrender some of your control over your own limbs.

You heard loud banging on your window. "Evangeline! Evangeline, no!" You could hear Mr. Jones's heartbroken screams. She paid no mind to her father trying to reason with her, he wouldn't understand. Or, perhaps she was in a different plane of reality entirely, not registering anything around her. Because she did not react upon the initial strike of her father's fist on the glass pane.

She utilized your blanket to tie your wrists up, the cloth was tight enough to give you rashes, but Evangeline knew that was something trivial compared to her ultimate goal. She thinks you're guaranteed to forgive her as soon as she shows how good she can make you feel.

She let go of your swollen lips with a pop, and you gurgled with the accumulation of spit and stomach acids. In the end, you opted to cough it all out. Soiling her once beautiful, floral dress, your home clothes, and the mattress.

You screamed for help no matter how it felt like you were swallowing broken glass. Mr. Jones could be heard hysterically shrieking and sobbing for his daughter to listen to reason, the striking of his fists on your window increased in frequency and intensity.

She slid down, temporarily freeing your lower extremities. You tried to kick her the best you could, but Evangeline captured you by the ankles without batting an eye. It was almost like she could predict your moves! You twisted and jerked around, trying to shake her off. But she was unmoving in her quest to undress you.

You and she are covered in blood, drool, tears, and vomit. It does not phase her one bit as she eventually manages to pull your shorts off. Exposing, your genitalia to her. Nothing was left to cover your privates, you're completely at her mercy as you cried in humiliation and utter fear.

"Doesn't this feel good, (name)?" You wailed as she gave you no time to prepare. She plunged two of her fingers into your hole, vigorously pumping in and out in a rhythm. "Aren't I making you feel good?" She was eerily unemotional throughout all of this, you think she looks nothing like a human, there is no soul behind those breathtaking blue eyes of hers.

You tried to squeeze your thighs together to restrict access, but she made it almost impossible to. Your legs are hooked around her waist as she uses her other hand to dig her thumb into the back of your knee, it is excruciatingly painful and it renders you immobilized. She puts her body weight on your other leg, making it bend at an awkward angle and also subduing it.

"I'm taking what I'm owed." Those were her last, icy words before she plunged her head down to engulf your privates in her warm, slick cavern. Her tongue swirled around your folds and flesh, and her digits remained inside of you, writhing and stretching until you saw stars. She is making a mess out of you, letting your fluids pour out onto her hair and the bed.

The sounds of police sirens permeated throughout the neighborhood. But that was still wasn't enough to deter her from raping you.

She slurped you up, stimulating every nerve in the area where you're the most sensitive. Her grip was so harsh, that it was already leaving bruises on your thighs. Evangeline wanted to continue enjoying her time ferally sinking her canines into your inner thighs. Your viscera mixed with the cum she vehemently extracted out of you tasted particularly delicious to her, but she did have half a mind to know her time was running out. Especially when she heard the booming voices of police demanding her to come out with her hands in the air. They surrounded the property, she had nowhere to escape and she had to face the consequences regardless if she completed her mission or not.

You panted and sobbed, begging her to stop. You're in agony and covered in filth, but it's obviously futile. Your suffering is clearly arousing her further as she discarded her dirty dress, being completely naked above you.

"I know I'm your first. No one else can take your virginity away from you because it's mine." You howled when she lowered her drenched pussy onto your crotch, rubbing erotically with the smell and sound of sex in the air. She moaned as she leaned forward, smothering your face in her pillowy breasts, you tasted her sweat and the leftover juices from below that dripped onto her.

She bounced and kneaded her cunt onto your aching dignity. Her movements were so potent that the bedframe shook along with her thrusts and jerks. Her body mass alone pinned you onto the springy mattress, you were already stimulated beyond belief with the screaming outside, the violent ramming on the door and glass panes as the authorities tried to force their way in, Evangeline's brutalization, and the asphyxiation from her mammaries.

Why does this happen to you? How could you be so weak against her?

She ruts into you, noisily moaning and panting. Her hands are firmly planted on the sides of your head for support as she pleasures herself at your expense. Her damp fingers gripped onto your sheets, wrinkling them and creating extra sensations on your skin. She loves it, she loves it all. Your patheticness, her ownership of you, and the idea of you being her little fucktoy. Where your job is to stay still while she rapes you senseless, Evangeline liked the fight though, she would never turn down a good challenge.

In the end, she did get her reward. Her release and the fulfillment of her most depraved fantasies. She screamed in pleasure as she reached her own climax, spraying her fluids onto you and between your legs.

Even then, it merely took her a few seconds to compose herself before she went back to fucking you. She wanted more, more and more. This time, you weren't suffocated by her tits anymore, she lifted her upper torso just so that she could crush your windpipe with both hands. Her nails left cuts and marks that decorated the sheets even more.

"You're my reward. And I am going to use you as much as I can before they take you away." She snarled. Seemingly fighting with something within her, but you couldn't hear her insane ramblings. It was just chaos inside and out. Nothing is discernible anymore, except the sounds of your erratic heartbeat and the ringing in your ears.

In the end, a deafening crash startled you as the policemen were finally able to break down your door and the window at the same time. Fragments of wood and pointy shards flew across the room, cutting you and Evangeline in the process. But as if she's possessed by the devil, she kept going like a machine. Nothing was stopping her, not the yelling, not the pairs of hands trying to separate you from her;

And for a moment, not even the taser delivered debilitating voltages through her body, had any effect. They had to tase her multiple times only did she loosen her hold on you, her eyes were rolled back to her skull, and froth was formed in her mouth. She was convulsing and shivering as she fell out of the bed, freeing you from that entire ordeal and allowing you to take a dramatic gasp of air.

The fuzz in your eyes cleared up and all you could see was red. Red and red. You lifted your arms, seeing that the blood from your neck and lip managed to trickle down to your palm. The state between your legs wasn't any better either.

You didn't want to see a bloodied Evangeline half-struggle against the policemen anymore. So you turned your head to the broken window. You caught a glimpse of Mr. Jones absolutely devastated, crying into his hands which visibly had blood and glimmering glass fragments stuck onto them.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry (Name), I should have paid more attention to Evangeline, I'm Sorry!" He yelled out in between sobs and hyperventilation. He was on his knees, hitting his head on the grass as he shouted out repeatedly; "I'm sorry! Please forgive us, please forgive Evangeline! I'm sorry!"

That's where she gets it from. Her apologies to the point of ad nauseam.

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere concept #yandere #oc yves #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc evangeline #oc montgomery #tw rape #tw dead dove #tw noncon #tw gore #tw blood #tw graphic

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comatosebunny09 · 2 years

Text

Take It, Baby [ Snippet ]

Warnings: Suggestive Content, MDNI!

Sex with your husband was always incredible. Filled with soft whispers, gentle touches, modulated thrusts. He always kept your welfare in sight; always patient as he stroked you into slow delirium. And for the most part, you enjoyed your lovemaking. However, sometimes you wished that he would drop his veil of restraint to force you into the mattress like the brat you often envisioned yourself to be.

“I need to be tamed, Kyo,” you said over the savory taste of smoked salmon and Merlot earlier that evening. He affixed you with a stunned expression. Gulped down the remnants of his fish before reaching for your hand over the table. His eyes glimmered with lust; jaw set in a taut line as he squeezed your fingers.

Kyojuro stated lowly, “Please be mindful of your word choice, my love. I am not quite sure you understand what you are asking for.”

You encased his fingers in yours. Leaned forward across the cherrywood, enticing his lips into a kiss. Stole the taste of glazed teriyaki from his mouth, then sat back against the booth with a playful gleam to your eye. A smirk canted your praline-glossed lips. “I know what I’m asking for, babe. I know what I want.”

He growled, something dark and feral roiling in his chest. Eyes half-slit like Cheshire cat. He languidly blinked himself from your spell. “Alright then, my Sunflower,” he acquiesced, taking up his silverware again. “But you’d better prepare yourself.”

The weight of that statement set your chest aflutter; made your thighs quake with anticipation. You couldn’t even finish your dinner; you were so excited. And after a prompt visit to the sex shop following your wonderful outing, you were teeming with even more enthusiasm.

#kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku smut

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zombified-queer · 1 year

Note

managerboy — "Why do you love me?" "Why do you question my love?"

New love language just dropped. It's a seventh one. It's acts of violence, yeah.

It’s a slow night. Upstairs, the guest is still unaware of their own death. The Lobby Boy’s allowed to stand close to the Manager and watch with her. Nothing happens, which seems to bore the Manager.

“Why do you love me?” she asks, turning her face away from the screen.

“Why do you question my love?” the Lobby Boy asks in return.

The Manager doesn’t move. Her face, just a silhouette in the gray glow of her screens, is all angles. She doesn’t even breathe.

The Lobby Boy stammers, “Ma’am, I—I’m—“

“That’s the first time you’ve stood up to me,” she notes.

“Sorry.” The Lobby Boy picks at his upper lip, finding a mild relief for the fear in his blood. “I know I’m not—“

“Don’t.” Her voice cuts him off like a blade. “Don’t apologize for having a spine, for once.”

An apology forms on his lips before he swallows it down again. He peels another strip of skin off his lip and winces when it bleeds.

The Manager gets up from her place at the desk and unties the ascot around her neck. It’s a washed out salmon tonight and the Lobby Boy’s thought of it as hideous. Like raw muscle.

Pressing the fabric to his lip, the Manager clicks her tongue. “What am I going to do with you?”

The Lobby Boy leans into the press of fabric against his sore lip. He shrugs. Mostly because he knows she’ll tell him not to talk.

She almost has her fingers in his mouth. Touching his teeth and tongue. The Lobby Boy tenses. She’s even standing close to him. So close he can smell her: floral perfume, cigarette smoke, and just the faintest sickly sweet of rot.

He could hold her hand. He could push her hand away. He could do a hundred things at this distance. Every thought makes him ball his hands into fists, tighter and tighter.

“Hey,” she says, thumbnail digging into his left wrist. “Stop it.”

He nods, slowly, and relaxes. She pulls her ascot away from his lip and lets go of his wrist. Her hand grips his jaw, tilting his head back so she can study his lip.

“It’s stopped. Don’t pick at it again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She leans in, kissing his jaw. Her lipgloss is sticky on his skin and the Lobby Boy doesn’t necessarily like the feeling of it. But he might like it better if she was wearing lipstick. Something boldly red like blood.

Behind her, the guest begins to scream on the screens.

The Manager makes a noise of irritation. She holds to Lobby Boy’s jaw for a second longer than she should. And then she lets go.

The Lobby Boy’s holding her ascot, spotted with his blood.

#the hotel podcast #managerboy #the manager really said 'stop tearing yourself to pieces the hotel's gonna do that anyway' lol

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xhanisai · 2 years

Text

Wife

AO3 / FFN

Pairing - Ladynoir + Adrinette

Prompt - ‘Wife’

Summary -

"So? That's not going stop me from looking after you, My Lady. Besides, I would make an amazing wife for you if you'd just accept my proposal~" He waggled his brows under the mask, earning a jesting flick at his nose and an endearing eye roll that never ceased to make his heart pound with so much more fervour. "Oh yeah? And just how would you be an amazing wife for me?"

~(x)~

"You know, you don't have to keep doing this. At this rate, everyone's going to call you my wife." Ladybug grumbled lightly with embarrassment, her head still resting on her partner's lap whilst he tenderly combed his long, slender fingers through her loose, midnight hair. He took off the ribbons not too long ago just to help her relax and ease the stubborn tension that refused to let go of her head. Though, his partner was so much more headstrong, considering how she refused to let her guard down, even for a few minutes. Chat Noir simply grinned good-naturedly, spring greens glimmering under the moonlight, never faulting his movements as he finally came up with a counter back. "So? That's not going stop me from looking after you, My Lady. Besides, I would make an amazing wife for you if you'd just accept my proposal~" He waggled his brows under the mask, earning a jesting flick at his nose and an endearing eye roll that never ceased to make his heart pound with so much more fervour. "Oh yeah? And just how would you be an amazing wife for me?" His Lady snuggled closer to him with a cheeky smile, the side of her face pressing against his firm stomach while her hands rested cutely under her head as if he was a pillow. "Go on~ I'm waiting, mon Chaton," He couldn't help the way his thumb rubbed her soft jaw sweetly (lovingly), tucking some stray strands of hair behind her ear and relishing the way her sky blues twinkled and how entirely smitten he looked in the reflection of her eyes. "Well, first of all, I'll wake up very early every day, just to make you some delicious breakfast and coffee. Be it some crêpes and strawberries with some café au lait if you're craving sweets or some smashed avocado on toast, with smoked salmon, eggs and a cup of cappuccino, or even a varied spread of fruit and cheeses with freshly pressed orange juice." His smile widened from the way his Lady's pupils blew open, rosy, kissable lips parted in a gentle 'o' as one of her hands clutched the front of his belt tighter. It took him everything to not swoop down and capture those tempting lips with the grace of a butterfly wing. "That...that sounds lovely and all but...but I didn't know you can cook? Didn't you cry last week about burning water in a pot? And the week before that, didn't you cut your hand trying to grate some cheese over your pasta too?" Ladybug couldn't help the snort that left her mouth at his deadpanned expression, a prominent 'w' placed on her lips whilst a comical scowl was plastered on his. "I can learn to cook." He was slightly flushed at first, a tad bit irked by her pointing out his past failures in the kitchen. Then, determination and sheer want took over and he spilt his heart out before he could even think. "I will learn to cook all your favourites, no matter what. I will practise till it's purr-fait," He poked her nose and carried on. "And then, once I've woken you up with a good morning kiss, I'll either serve your breakfast in bed or lead your sleepy butt to our dining table~" "What if I have really bad morning breath? And what if I fall back asleep? Then what?" Ladybug blurted out quickly, blues shyly averted from his for a split second. That didn't stop him from spotting the rouge that developed under her mask, blending beautifully with her creamy skin and bringing out the colour of her mesmerising eyes. His heart virtually melted at the sight, basking in the intoxicating warmth. "We've fought Akumas in much worse and stinkier places. You even fished me out of the garbage truck the other day even though I stank like fermented durian! Morning breath is nothing, My Lady~" His dazzling emerald greens were glittering under his dishevelled fringe as if they were dancing with love. "As for making sure you wake up, well, I know I'd look so hot in a bright pink, frilly apron so you'd absolutely wake up just to see me in it!" His heart hammered mercilessly within his chest when his partner giggled (a sound that no windchime in the world could ever dream of capturing) and held onto him tighter with her hardworking arms. "And then, once you're ready to leave for work at your amazing, wonderful job, I'll kiss you goodbye and then maybe leave for my job. Or! We would leave together and depending on whose workplace is closer, drop each other off! Then, we'll kiss each other goodbye and then count the hours down until we're reunited at night," He gleefully soaked in the awe that was on his Lady's face, the urge to kiss her so painfully agonising, it hurt to breathe. "And then, we'll both cook dinner together, watch some silly T.V and then...and then sleep in each others' arms..." A comfortable and peaceful silence rested between them like a blanket, the cool breeze ran through their hair mildly and the street lights flickered with warm gold in the distance under the Parisian night sky. Chat Noir couldn't find any words in the french dictionary that properly explained just exactly how he felt right this moment other than content and ease. That he wished for this serenity to last for an eternity with his Lady by his side. . "Chat Noir...what if...what if we had kids?" Her soft, hesitant question had his feline ears perk up humorously, his lips pursed in surprise and his eyes so round and so green. The astonishment then thawed away into a tender, loving gaze as he eyed his Lady's flustered yet curious expression. 'Je t'aime, My Lady...je t'aime,' "Well, you'd have to marry me first to find out, Bug," With all his courage and all his confidence mustered up, he brushed back her dark fringe and placed a pleasant kiss on her forehead, just above the area where her mask ended and meeting her warm, bare skin. . "...Maybe," He almost swore his heart completely stopped to a standstill, his mouth still frozen on her heated skin until he snapped out of his stupor and faced his partner with bewilderment. "Maybe???" Ladybug lifted herself by the elbows, peering up at her partner with a bashful but very determined expression. Her complexion was still coloured with sakura and rouge but the bravery and resilience within her sky blues kept him rooted on the spot. "Mmhmm...obviously we can't get married now since I'm still fourteen and you're...?" "Fifteen- I mean, I'll be fifteen in a few months,"

He couldn't believe what was happening! "Yeah. We're still so young, still fighting a war with little to no choice, still trying to balance out our civilian lives..." She trailed off for a bit, looking away to gaze at the city with bittersweetness. However, when she faced him once again, the pain and exhaustion on her face were swept away and replaced with utter desire and raw need. "But...that life you described...that peaceful, wonderful life...I want it. I want it with you. I want it so badly and so desperately...and honestly, there's no one else I want in my future more than you. You're my partner...mine. And I do love the idea of you being my partner in every sense of the word..." Chat Noir was left awestruck, wrecked and indescribably delighted, observing the beautiful girl he's fallen for and would do anything for within all his power and might. . "...Aren't you going to say anything, Chat Noir? You're making me feel embarrassed..." Ladybug was ready to flee, unused to bearing out her heart with so much honesty and the urge to scream like a dying banshee was clawing its way out of her throat. As if he knew what she was thinking, he clasped his hands over hers, pressing them against his chest (which was still shuddering from the feel of his ricocheting heart and burning blood) and held on rigidly. . "Marry me." Was all that came out of his mouth. "Eh!? Chat Noir!? But-" "Not right now! I mean, in the...in the future!" His face was so wonderfully red, that it gave her suit a run for its money. Ladybug found it quite soothing to see him just as worked up and dishevelled as she was over the sudden proposal. "There's...there's nobody else out there that I can even imagine being with forever...other than you, Ladybug." His hands burned with the feel of her tiny ones encased in them, his heart skipping so many beats, he was so sure that he was becoming lightheaded. "I love you. I have always loved you! I love you so much! And I promise that I will cherish you forever and ever." The heroine continued to watch him with brilliant sky blues, sakura lips parted and the fire that tingled on her skin burning so brightly, she couldn't find any relief other than wrapping her arms around her partner and pressing her face against his chest. . "Yes...I'll marry you...because I love you too," ~(x)~ There was a hidden giddiness and slight mischief to Marinette this morning, Adrien noted. The way her baby blues would gleam and sparkle with joy, the way her skin practically glowed under the beams of the sun that peeked through the windows and the way that there was an extra skip to her step. (He even spotted her twirling like an endearing ballerina when she thought no one was looking!) Not to mention the way her pretty pink lips wore that perfect smile of hers, a wonderful breath of fresh air compared to her usual demeanour in the past when she was always so exhausted and low on energy. As if she held a burden on her shoulders that could make or break the entire world. . He always had his suspicions, even after the event where she wielded the miraculous of Multiplication which he was pretty damn sure was another one of her brilliant plans that only her mind could have concocted up to shake him off her tail. But now? After she waved him good morning and he spotted a very elegant and very familiar ring on her left hand? He was one-hundred-and-ten percent convinced. . "For someone who was dead set on not knowing each other's identities until a while later, you were a bit careless today," A very smug Adrien surprised Marinette in the locker rooms, tapping her head lightly with a book and chuckling. The love of his life jumped out of her skin for a split second and whirled around, only to gawk and freeze on the spot. With suspicion, she looked to the left and then to the right and finally realised that they were indeed alone in the room and that she definitely did not imagine what she had just heard. With pink cheeks and tiny fists pressed against her chest, she peered up at him with hope and whispered. "...Chaton?" The response he gave her was an unabashed, cheeky grin that was iconic to his alter ego's face (that was sure to have given away his secret identity if his remark earlier on didn't work) and then proceeded to show off his left hand that was adorned with a new ring. A ring that matched hers. A pair that her partner bought as promise rings for their dream futures. "The one and only, ma Princesse," He happily poked her nose but didn't get a chance to say anything else or tease her further or even step back when she promptly enveloped him in a huge hug, her strength so mighty that had he been an ordinary teenager, his bones would have definitely cracked. Thankfully, he was strong enough to remain intact, laughing so freely and returning the embrace with pleasure. Their height difference forced him to bend down a little so that his face could rest on the sweet crook of her neck whilst hers was squished in his chest. But he didn't care. He finally found her. "It's you! It's always been you! Stupid cat, why were you so good at hiding?! You literally sit right in front of me in class!" She pulled away from his (very, very nice) chest to glower at him when he laughed even louder but then the displeased look softened as soon as he cradled her cheeks with an affection that soothed all her troubles away. He's her Chaton. Hers. "Ah, I really want to marry you right now right this second," Adrien began, his emerald greens just so tender and so full of adoration, it took all her breath away. "But I want to kiss you even more," "Yes...please," . He didn't need any more prompting after that. . . . ~(x)~

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #my writing #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #romance #humour #basically chat noir gets ladybug to agree to his proposal by offering to make her breakfast every single morning #even if all he can do at the moment is burn water

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tr4pnests · 1 year

Text

runaway love

not sure what to say other than thank you to those that read chapter one! i hope it was a nice read. i hope my writing improves the more i post but for the time being please be patient with me... enjoy chapter two!

just so its clear there's two flashbacks in this chapter, i wasn't sure how to write it out so i'm saying it now lol

pairing: minami ryusuke x reader

oc x eiji kimura

word count: 1269

warnings: cursing.

unedited.

𝟏 𝟐

--------------------------------------------------------

𝟐.

ryusuke stares out of his small dreary apartment, the moonlight shines over his face and the breeze from the slightly agape window makes its way into the room.

he was feeling restless once again.

it’s been about three months since he last saw you. the last image of you he had was of your sleeping face, you looked as cute as ever laying there unaware of what would occur later on.

he recalls that night well.

he had come to your house as he usually did after ‘work’ smiling as he walked through the beaded door of your living room.

‘darlin?’

‘yes…my…love’ he heard you say slowly and broken from the kitchen that was attached to the living room and walked in further, seeing you chopping up some vegetables with a cigarette hanging from your lips. you wore a long black dress that hugged her body well that it was hardly modest looking on you and paired it with a small light pink apron, and some vintage brown mules. your hair was tied up away from your face.

he smiled as he placed his work (runaway) bag on the floor and walked around the breakfast bar towards you. your house wasn’t very big but it was nice enough for you and your roommate; nelle to share with occasional guests. the living room and kitchen were attached, equipped with a breakfast bar and two chairs, the house had a small hallway that went up stairs to the bathroom and two bedrooms, both rooms having a balcony facing different directions.

‘what are you making?’ he asked while wrapping his arms around you from behind, placing a kiss on your cheek partially to distract you from him stealing the cigarette that was in your mouth.

you giggled softly, putting the knife down onto the chopping board. ‘a salad to go with the salmon i just put in the oven for us.’

he hummed and exhaled the smoke from the cigarette, going around to sit on the stools opposite your cooking station. although ryusuke appeared normal and fine, he wasn’t. he was savouring these last moments with you and planning his goodbye in his head.

‘how was work my love?’ you asked while bending down to check on the salmon, poking at it with a fork.

ryusuke took a moment to think about how things were with the gang… things were not going smooth to say the least, two of his boys were caught during a heist, it caused the rest of the gang to become wary about what they’re doing, they were in a vulnerable position and could be targets for another gang attack. he sighed, taking another hit.

‘it’s been okay…the office has been rather quiet recently…not much action…’ he told you half a lie. you didn't really know the full his nature of work, he told you he worked in a firm when you first met to cover his tracks. any time you asked about his work he'd avoid talking too much about it.

‘i’m sure things will pick up again soon.’ you smiled genuinely as you stood up slowly again.

it hurt his heart to lie to you but he had no choice. it pained him even more knowing this was the last time he’d see you…

ryusuke sighs at the memory as he reaches out for the pack of cigarettes at his bedside table along with his lighter. you guys hadn’t done anything significant that night, it was like any of the other nights you shared enjoying each others company. at times he wishes he could’ve been more honest with you in your relationship, especially that night.

‘i miss you…’ he says quietly looking down the small photo he had of you inside the locket that hung around his neck. you were the one that had given him that necklace.

ryusuke's mind goes back slowly to another memory as he stared at your picture.

‘what’s that around your neck?’ ryusuke pointed at your chest, touching the locket lightly, brushing past your boob. you were both a little drunk and handsy, the two of you shared a bottle of red.

‘this? it’s just a necklace, i bought it a while ago at a flea market because it was cute.’ your heart jumped at his sudden touch but you shrug it off as you look down at your chest, grabbing a hold of your necklace, trying to play it cool.

‘can i have a closer look at it?’ ryusuke asked staring deeply at the necklace.

‘uh sure…’ you slowly take the necklace off and hand it to him. you were a little confused as to why he was so engrossed by it but you didn't mind showing him. your chest now felt expose so you placed your hand over it.

he hummed as he looked closer at it from all angles and dangled it in front of you. ‘this is a locket.’

‘what? no it’s not, it’s just a pend-‘

‘no look-‘ ryusuke held the pendant on it's side, tearing it open revealing it as a locket. ‘it’s a locket darlin.’

you gasped, falling into laughter and into ryusuke’s lap as you had no idea. ‘do you want it? since you figured that out.’

‘what? you want me to have this?’ he looked down at you in slight disbelief.

‘yeah, why not, you can add a little picture of me and wear me everywhere.’ you winked and joked, feeling a little flirty due to the alcohol which caused him to grin widely.

‘okay let me take a picture of you now then’ ryusuke pulled out his antique polaroid camera, facing it down in your direction. ‘…ready…’

‘wait no! my hair. let me sit u- can we do this tomorrow? i wasn’t prepared for th- ' you panic at his sudden action.

‘aaaaaaandddd smileeeee’

you quickly forced a smile as you knew there was no getting through to your drunk boyfriend when he put a camera in front of you. the camera flashed brightly and an image began to print.

ryusuke smiled grabbing the photo and laying it to the side.

‘i know that photo is sh-‘

‘be quiet and let it appear, i know it’s the most beautiful picture i’ve ever taken.’ he didn't feel like listening to your negative comments, he truly saw you as an angel so it bothered him at times when you'd make such comments but understood it was just occasional insecurities coming through.

you rolled your eyes getting up from his lap to lean on his side instead, waiting with him. once the photo appears you just stared at it, unsure of whether you liked the picture or not and turned to ryusuke, surprised at how happy he looked.

‘ray-‘

‘this is the best locket photo in the world darlin’ thank you.’ ryusuke planted a kiss on your cheek, making you to blush, you look away from him and he chuckled at your reaction, finding it cute how bashful you could be at times.

he stood up to look for some scissors, cutting around the image carefully and placed it into the locket, clasping it around his neck.

‘you’re now with me whenever i go.’ he smiled softly, walking back towards you and planted another kiss but this time on your lips ever so sweetly, leaning so slightly as you were still sat on the couch.

you returned the kiss and smiled up at him.

'you truly are with me forever y/n' he falled back on his bed again remembering another memory, putting his cigarette out lazily with his arm stretched out to his ashtray.

#beck mongolian chop squad #minami ryusuke #ryusuke x reader #ryusuke minami x reader #beck anime #beck manga #anime #anime writing blog #ryusuke beck #tr4pnests speaks #black writers #black writblr

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meetmymouth · 3 years

Note

Miss Groupie on a DATE ON A DATE omg please check in on that situation because we all know Harry loves being petty and jealous

groupie fic masterlist

warnings: language, oral (m)

word count: 1.3k

She looks at her watch, then at the doors leading up to the toilets. Has he ran away, she thinks to herself, then laughs at how pathetic that sounds. Like it was a film. Then, there he is, jogging towards her with a beaming smile, his crooked teeth making her smile.

“Sorry,” he says, sitting down. “There was a line. A… queue, if you will.”

“You’re funny.”

He chuckles, “I’d like to think so. So, what are we thinking? I heard the smoked salmon is really good.”

“Sure… ah,” she thinks about her later plans. “Or, I’ll just have the sweet and sour chicken.”

“You sure?”

“Yup.”

He nods, then nods at the waiter. The food arrives, and it’s really good. James is funny, and makes her laugh at the smallest thing. Though, she notices, it might be because she’s heard all the silly jokes already from someone else. Someone who would be waiting for her at a luxurious hotel room.

Harry.

When James cuts into his salmon, she can’t help but watch his hands work the cutlery. What’s weird about is that she can’t help but think about Harry’s big, veiny hands and how soft and strong they are. It makes her weak, both in the knees and somewhere deep inside that she can’t quite figure out.

“What is it that you do again,” James cuts through her thoughts and asks, smiling down at her.

She pauses, a piece of chicken still in the hair. “Oh. Um– I’m sort of unemployed at the moment. Well, not really,” she looks down at her food. “I do translation stuff. Work from home and stuff.”

He nods. “Right. Does that earn you money, though?”

“Yes, it does,” she quips, brows furrowed.

“Right.”

“And you,” she nods at him. “You work in logistics, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

It seems weird, the atmosphere, and he doesn’t add anything else after that. They sit and eat quietly.

Then, it gets weirder.

James coughs into his napkin. “You’re not seeing anyone else at the moment, are you?” He asks. She raises her eyebrows.

“What?”

“Since you said okay to the date? Should I assume that? That… you’re single and not seeing anyone else?”

“I… we’re not actually together. I don’t get why you’re asking me that.”

“It was a simple question. I gather you’re seeing someone then.”

She swallows, letting go of her chopsticks. “I am not. Not in that way, at least.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Wow?” She raises her eyebrows. “What’s that–“

Before she can continue, her phone goes off with a text.

They’re quiet after that, her texting back and forth occasionally as they eat. It’s rude, she knows it is, to be on your phone, though she can’t seem to let it go.

James thinks it, too.

“That your boyfriend, then?” He says, grinning at her in a wolf-like manner. She doesn’t like it one bit.

How can she even begin to tell this man that no, it’s not actually her boyfriend. It’s the manager of the person I fuck, she thinks. Pathetic.

“No,” she can only mumble. “Just a friend.”

“Does she know you’re on a date?”

“He. And yes, he knows,” she murmurs, reaching for her glass of water. She downs it in one go, wishing it was something stronger.

“Lovely.”

“Yeah.”

Well, that took a turn.

Just as she opens her mouth to ask something else, to make conversation, her phone goes off again, signalling yet another text from Jeff.

James and her share a look, and she knows their time has come to an end.

James smiles. “I’ll get the bill,” he says, nodding at a waiter passing by. “Thanks for coming tonight, I had a great time,” he says, though she knows he doesn’t mean it.

They leave, James giving her a kiss on the cheek, and she finds herself wandering the streets of Tampa. She gets hotdog, then buys herself a can of Redbull from a convenience store near the arena Harry's performing at, though she decides not to go in.

She finds a club, parties hard until three, and leaves alone.

Just as she's booking an Uber to the hotel, another text comes through.

Jeff: Are you back?

Miss Fabian: Back where?

Jeff: Hotel.

Miss Fabian: On my way.

Jeff: Hurry the fuck up.

Miss Fabian: ????? Excuse me, Jeffrey?

She takes another look at the text just as she's getting into the car. Harry. She knows it's him, because he's actually the biggest coward out there who keeps trying to communicate through his manager. She doesn't respond. Instead, watches the street lights get smaller and smaller as they drive.

She arrives at the hotel at nearly four, and is actually thankful Jeff comes down to get her so she doesn't have to wait at the lobby while they call everyone from Harry's team to ask if she's telling the truth about who she is and why she's here for.

Jeff nods at her, and they walk to the lift. "He's angry," he says, pushing the button for Harry's floor.

"Why?"

"I don't know, but he is."

"It's not like he's my babysitter."

He sighs, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "You two are making things so much harder for me. I'm not getting involved."

When they arrive at their floor, Jeff walks straight to where his room is as she walks towards Harry's. She has the key, so she gets in without any trouble, cringing at the smell of alcohol and weed.

He's in bed.

Naked. Hand on his cock, stroking himself slowly as he watches her take her coat and bag off.

"You look like a lunatic," she says, fingers already working the buttons on her shirt. "Did you get baked and wanked all night?"

Harry snorts, though his hand never stops moving. "I don't smoke while on tour. It was Alex."

"Hm."

"So, how was your date?"

Bingo.

She laughs, taking the last item of clothing off as she walks closer to bed, and gets on her hands and knees.

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

Harry bites his bottom lip as his thumb works the pink tip ever so slowly. "Late, but still."

"Don't make me angry."

"Yeah? We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

She doesn't say anything to that.

Instead, she swats his hand away and gets between his leg, then leans forward.

He's hard and leaking already, so she opens her mouth and takes him into her mouth, smiling with her eyes shut as he groans and tries to buck his hip. She licks underneath his cock, moaning around him when she feels the vein there, and swirls her tongue around the angry tip. The salty taste of him feels familiar to her taste buds, so she licks like she always does, takes him deeper and deeper until his hard cock touches the back of her throat.

Harry grunts, hands coming to rest on her hair. "Fuck," he murmurs, pulling the strands. "Such a cock slut, aren't you?"

When he cums, she takes all of it and swallows, moaning at the taste of him while Harry watches his cum drip down her chin with hazy eyes. With bitten lips, Harry shakes his head and chuckles, hand coming to rest on her neck as she tries to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Good girl."

"Your best groupie, right?" She tries, smiling down at him as he gets up and grabs the towel from the chair. He hands it to her.

"You're at least in my top three," he says, flicking her on the cheek.

"Oi. Bastard."

"Such a lovely mouth you've got there."

"Only the best for my sugar daddy."

"Yikes. Don't call me that," Harry says, getting his robe on as she wipes her face and chest.

"So," she says, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Will you take me to Disneyland and hold my hand on the rides tomorrow?"

Harry tuts, opening another bottle of water. "Miss Fabian," he says, watching her struggle to wear his dirty t-shirt from earlier. "Fuck off."

–

photo credit

#groupie!reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles love on tour #harry styles fluff #harry styles concept #concepts #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #1d ff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #hslot #greeneyesandtea #ask

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mianavs · 3 years

Text

the assault

In Lima with You part 4

a/n: this marks the beginning of the end for this story. like previous parts in this story and it’s predecessor, there’s some messed up stuff going on in this part.

tw: non-con, dark content, nsfw, violence

wc: 1.7k+

In Lima with You

You had been scrubbing for a good thirty minutes, yet the bright red from the tomato sauce you’d spilled on your living room carpet was still there.

Glaring at you

Mocking you

Wiping off the beads of sweat that trickled down your brow with the back of your hand, you ran the scrubby through the bucket of soapy water that was now a milky salmon color. After wringing the scrubby of the excess liquid, you went back to scrubbing that spot while ignoring the growing ache in your fingers and the knot in your neck.

It’d been a careless mistake, spilling your spaghetti while your mind had been elsewhere—a common occurrence since the night your fragile world fell apart when Dabi walked out on you.

Almost as careless as the mistake of letting your captor into your heart where he left a mark that spread until it encompassed the entire thing.

A mistake you were now paying the price for, on your hands and knees trying to scrub the mark stain away only to realize it had spread in spite of your efforts.

You fell back on your haunches and threw the scrubby into the bucket. It had been five days since you’d last seen Dabi, and you were starting to lose it.

Every time you heard footsteps outside of your front door, you would rush over and swing it open only to face nothing or a bewildered stranger. The room that had once suffocated you with warmth was now frigid and made it difficult for you to fall asleep in. Your mornings started with you waking from a nightmare that almost always involved Dabi’s death. While at the beginning of his absence you could still go about your day cooking, cleaning, or engaging in a hobby, you eventually spiraled into a depression that made it hard for you to even get out of bed.

Not only was Dabi the death-sentenced protagonist of your nightmares but he was also on your mind all day. His face during your last argument was one that had been burned into your memory. You could still see the blank look that flashed in his cerulean eyes, the twitch of his mutilated mouth, and then the shock that seeped from every pore in his body as he staggered away from your enraged form.

You’d been the one wronged that day, yet Dabi was the one that fled, leaving you with an all-consuming guilt. It didn’t make sense but then again neither did the overwhelming pain festering away in your heart the more time passed without seeing him, touching him, loving him.

Love. It was a ridiculous notion when you thought about it.

Dabi had been the monster that kidnapped you. He’d broken you down physically and mentally to mold you into the obedient darling you now were, but even with the plethora of scars all over your body, you couldn’t help but feel empty without him. Even with the door unlocked and nothing chaining you down to your shared condo, you would leave only to roam around the city for a couple of minutes before a panic seized your entire body; It was that suffocating panic that forced you back home to the comfort of your bed that still smelled of Dabi’s musk and smoke.

You loved Dabi.

You needed Dabi.

So as you dumped the soapy water down the kitchen sink and washed out the bucket, you mulled over your options in tracking Dabi down to tell him how you felt. Then just as you were putting the bucket away, the muffled sound of footsteps captured your attention and you dashed to the front door on impulse.

Where a scarred face with a wicked grin should have greeted you, there was only a red winged man with astonished eyes.

“Y/N,” Keigo breathed. “You’re really here.”

You looked behind him, searching for the man you actually wanted to see. When it was clear he wasn’t there, you turned to your former friend.

“Where else would I be?” You asked before stepping aside to let him in.

“I assumed you’d be with the League,” He answered amusedly, walking in while you shut the door behind him. “But I guess this was a no ex-heroes type of mission.”

“Where’s Dabi?” The question burst from your lips before you could think it through.

Keigo’s smile faltered at your desperate inquiry, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Last I heard they were two cities away wreaking havoc in true League fashion.”

You raised an eyebrow at his mocking tone. “Sounds like you don’t approve of the mission.”

Keigo laughed at that and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. “How about we drop the act, Y/N. It’s just you and me. Dabi isn’t here to punish you.”

His eyes traveled to a fading scar on your forearm before returning to your face. “We both know that what they’re doing is wrong.”

A bitter laugh tore from your throat as you approached him. “So the HPSC selling me for some intel is right? Them drugging me and sending me off to an orphanage is right? How about them trying to sabotage my career? Does all of that seem right to you, Keigo?!”

You were now in front of him, and he had the decency to appear sheepish after your rant. He averted his gaze and said nothing while you let out an exasperated sigh and ran your fingers through your hair.

“Don’t give me that right or wrong crap.” You retorted when your anger simmered. “Hero society deemed me a villain before giving me a chance to prove myself. I won’t stand in the League’s way if they want to bring it down.”

Keigo’s hand shot out and wrapped around your elbow, fingers pressing into one of your scars. You tried shaking him off but Keigo didn’t relent.

“What about the thousands of innocent civilian lives that will be ruined because of them? Will you also stand aside when they’re screaming for their lives?”

His golden eyes bore into yours and memories of a certain mission hit you like a ton of bricks. You remembered the room full of children that you’d saved with Keigo, and for the first time in weeks, you hesitated in defending Dabi and the League’s actions.

“We’re targeting the heroes and the HPSC, not civilians.” You reasoned, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

“We’re?” Keigo sneered, backing you against a wall. “Are you serious?”

At his aggressiveness, the alarms in your head went off but indignation muffled them. You jutted out your chin defiantly. “Yeah, I am. As long as Dabi remains in the League, I will too because... I-I love him and tha—”

Keigo smashed his lips against yours and took hold of your hands before pinning them above your head. Unlike the first kiss he stole from you, this one was harsh and meant to punish. He claimed your mouth with his invading tongue while you wrestled against his bruising grip. It wasn’t until you realized he wouldn’t let up that you bit down on his tongue until he hissed in pain and released you with a curse.

With the metallic taste of Keigo’s blood in your mouth, you tried recovering your breath only to hear a harsh thump that was immediately followed by pulsating pain on the side of your head. You doubled over from the sheer force of Keigo’s blow that left you debilitated and vulnerable.

And that was exactly what Keigo wanted.

In your stupor, you were picked up like a ragdoll and thrown onto your bed, landing face down on a pillow. The sudden motion only worsened what you assumed was a concussion. As a sharp ringing assaulted your ears, all you could do was grip the sheets beneath you in a weak attempt to stop the room from turning.

So when rough hands pulled off your shorts and ripped off your flimsy lace panties, you were too busy burrowing your spinning head in a pillow and swallowing bile to put up a fight. The severity of the situation finally registered with you when you felt the bed dip and rough hands lift your waist until you were on your knees.

By the time your body reacted, it was too late. Keigo pressed you into the mattress with your hands pinned behind your back as he settled between your legs and spread them open with his body.

His cockhead prodded at your entrance a couple of times before he forced it into your dry cunt in one harsh thrust. Horrified and unprepared, you screamed into the pillow that still smelled of Dabi while Keigo violently took you from behind like an animal.

Pain was all you knew throughout Keigo’s assault. It pulsated in your head until it felt like your skull was being split in half. It coursed through your arms that were pushed together and pressed into your back. It ripped through your cunt as Keigo’s cock rammed into you without mercy.

Concussed, restrained, and without your quirk and voice, all you could do was lie there and wait for your body to produce the slick you oh-so desperately needed to ease the ache in your cunt.

Without changing the pace of his hips, Keigo leaned over you and grunted into your ear.

“Don’t you get it, Y/N? I’m doing this because I love you and right now you’re sick. That so-called love you feel for that bastard is a disease. You have Stockholm Syndrome and I’m gonna cure you with each load I shoot up your womb.”

He let out a chuckle and licked the shell of your earlobe, causing bile to surge up your throat. Unable to swallow it down any longer, you used all the strength you could muster to jerk your head over the bed’s edge.

As you regurgitated that day’s lunch, Keigo’s thrusts ceased and he released you with a disgusted grunt.

“Rude bitch,” he growled, pulling you by your hair and pressing his torso against your body. “I tell you I love you and that’s how you react?”

Keigo shoved your face into the mattress and you writhed beneath his weight and grip as your lungs were depleted of oxygen. When your limbs went limp against the bed and black specks stained your vision, the last thing you heard was Keigo’s honeyed words delivering your sentence for falling for your captor.

“Guess I’ll have to take you away from him for you to be cured.”

#hawks x reader #dabi x reader #hawks smut #mha smut #yandere hawks #yandere mha #dabi x reader x hawks #dabi fanfic #mha fanfic #tw noncon #tw dark content #tw violence #navs.mha #navs.ilwy

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parkersroses · 3 years

Text

sunflowers. | harry styles.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader (dad!harry, husband!harry)

summary: harry is very much in love with his little family.

word count: 2724 words

warning(s): a sprinkle of sexual mentions and a whole lot of fluff

disclaimer: gif is not mine.

author’s note: hey there. been a while. i missed writing here and the reason i haven’t been doing that is because i was focused on finishing school. of course now, i still am busy with school, having to start my degree. but i miss writing so i thought i’d make this little piece here. it’s my first harry styles fic! quite exciting and nerve-wrecking for me. but as always, leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed this, also constructive comments do help me to improve my writing and i do want to be better at it. and reblog (!) it really helps writers out in creating content for you so pls do so if you like it. all the love x

She pushes her cart down the aisle as she browses through the shelves of delicious snacks. She already has picked out a bunch of biscuits and juice boxes when her phone rings, making her jump a bit. She takes out her phone and smiles as the screen showcases the contact name ‘lovie’ with a picture of her husband. She accepts the call as she continues to stroll down the aisle.

“Hi, lovie!” she answers happily. “Hello, darling. Hope everything’s alright there,” Harry answers back. She giggles as she stops by the fruits and vegetables section. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that since you’re the one that’s looking after the house?” She questions about Harry’s intention of calling her. He chuckles through the phone. “Pfft, don’t be silly, love. I got everything under control here,” He says. She imagines how he is probably pouting a bit on the other side of the phone as she playfully rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, hun. Now, what do you need?” She asks, figuring that Harry has some last minute additions to the grocery. Harry hums and thinks as Y/N picks out some fresh salads. “Could maybe buy more bread for us?” He asks, which confuses Y/N as she thought she has already bought bread for them.

“Harry, didn’t I already buy those, like, two those days ago?” She questions as she starts picking out some fruits. She picks out two packets of strawberries and grapes each and one honeydew melon. She feels as though Harry is hesitating to answer back through the phone. “Yeah, but.. I got hungry so I finished most of them,” He says as though he is embarrassed by admitting this to his wife. Y/N only giggles at this information.

“You and your bread. Any kind that you fancy this time?” She asks as she makes her way to the wet area of the supermarket. “Just the usual ones. Oh, and the whole wheat bread if there’s any,” He requests. Y/N hears the sound of cutleries clanking in the background, though she brushes it off, thinking it is just Harry cleaning the kitchen. “Alright. I’ll see you guys at home, yeah? I’m nearly done here,”

“Of course, darling. Bubs and I will be waiting,” he says, and Y/N smiles at the thought of her little family at home. The couple say their goodbyes and hang up. Y/N makes a note to herself to get some bread after picking out some salmon before checking herself out of the supermarket.

After over a year of marriage, the both of them decided to start a family of their own. It excited her to think about Harry with their own child, knowing very well how good he is with children in general. They were both overjoyed by the news that they will be expecting a baby girl, more so of Harry than herself. He was ecstatic to be a father throughout the pregnancy journey. Even on the occasional dates they would go on, he would always make sure they picked some of the most private areas, paparazzi and fans-free. It was an important time for them and they wanted to keep things on the low most times.

Now, their baby girl Rosie is six months old and is just the purest ball of sunshine and happiness. Harry and Y/N swore that their hearts grew ten times bigger upon first laying their eyes on her baby. Of course after she was born, it was tiring enough for them to handle a baby as they were new to being parents. Though, they managed to get the hang of it after some sleepless nights and cleaning up baby vomit.

All of that which leads up to this moment where Y/N is buying some groceries for the family. Harry suggested they should take little Rosie out for a picnic. Although it was rather difficult to go outside without them getting papped and stalked, they luckily had a backyard that was big enough to have their little picnic together. It was all fenced up with a couple of flowers planted. It was ideally the perfect place to relax and have some family gatherings.

Y/N quickly gets home in time for dinner, not before buying some Chinese food for her and Harry. She unlocks the door and quickly rushes by the living room and into the kitchen to put the heavy bags of groceries down. Harry, who had been folding the laundry and entertaining his daughter, notices his wife and calls out to her. “Hi, honey!” Baby Rosie, who has been laying on a plush little blanket, perks her head up and excitedly babbles after her father’s voice. “Hey, lovie! Give me a minute to put these away!” Y/N yells back at him.

Harry hums and puts away the last of the clean laundry in a basket before laying on his side next to Rosie. He lets his baby grab a hold of his large hand. He watches as Rosie puts his tiny little hand on the center of his palms, smiling widely as she looks at him and babbles about in baby language. It’s not long until Y/N comes in with a bag of Chinese food and some baby food. “C’mon, let’s eat, my loves,” She gently says as she sets the food down on the coffee table. Rosie holds out her arms to her mother; much to her delight, Y/N carries her up and sets her down on her lap.

Y/N multitasks eating her dinner and feeding Rosie throughout dinner time. The faint sounds of a Fleetwood Mac album playing on the vinyl player filling the background. “So, what’s on the menu for tomorrow’s picnic?” He says as takes a bite off his spring roll. Y/N shrugs and wipes the excess baby food off Rosie’s mouth. “Don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll make those smoked salmon sandwiches that you like.”

Harry playfully moans in delight. “You mean, those sandwiches you make are award-winning, darling,” he says, which makes Y/N giggles at her silly husband. “Well, I hope they are, Mr. Styles. Would be shameful if the salmon I bought just went to waste.” Little Rosie eventually finishes her food and decides to play around with her mother’s hair. She stares and strokes on Y/N’s hair, gently tucking it at times. The couple smiles widely at the sight of their daughter. “You doing alright, bubs?” Rosie merely stares at her parents with her big green eyes, not understanding their question. It still amazes Y/N how much of Harry’s features Rosie inherited. “Surely you weren’t a handful with your daddy this evening, were you?” Y/N playfully questions.

Harry chuckles and takes Rosie out of Y/N’s arms. “No, she wasn’t. However, she wasn’t helpful in helping daddy with the laundry, were you princess?” He says as he lifts his baby girl above both of the couple’s heads, eliciting the sweetest laugh from Rosie. He does this a few more times until he stops since he didn’t want her to get dizzy and throw up.

It was a very domestic moment for them. Just the three of them, having dinner, smiles and laughter all around. It is moments like this where Harry prefers the simplicity of life, in the comfort of his little family. “Think it’s time for someone to go to dreamland, don’t ya think?” Y/N says as she caresses Rosie’s soft cheeks with her finger, Rosie obviously showing her tiredness with her droopy eyes. Harry nods in agreement, already packing up to empty food boxes to throw away.

“You wanna go up first, love? Nurse Rosie a bit. I’ll clean this up quickly.” Y/N insists on helping out Harry after he’s taken care of the house while she went to buy groceries. Though, Harry insists back on helping to clean, saying it’s no big deal. Without much of an argument, Y/N lifts up Rosie from his arms and heads up, not before giving Harry a loving kiss of appreciation.

After nursing her, Rosie quickly falls asleep in her mother’s arms, lulling to the faint sounds of her heartbeat as she rests her little head on her chest. Harry soon joins in the room and he stops to admire the sight he has become all too familiar with. Just the sight of the woman he loves, carrying and rocking their baby daughter to sleep, a feeling of warmth and peace fills his entire heart. Sometimes, he can’t believe how lucky he was to have ended up in this position and he always thanks the universe for blessing him a family that he loves with his entire soul.

Rosie gets tucked in her cot, a soft purple blanket covering her. Harry and Y/N go back into their room soon after. Harry lays on his bed with his eyes closed, humming a random tune while Y/N picks out her nightwear, which turns out to only be one of Harry’s T-shirts and underwear. “Can you believe she’s six months old now?” Harry asks out of the blue. Y/N turns around and stands between his legs. He sits up and gently pulls Y/N in by the waist. She runs her hands through his curls, he sighs in delight of the feeling. “Time flies, huh?”

“Soon she’s gonna start walkin’, runnin’, she’ll become quite the troublemaker,” he jokes and pouts at Y/N. She chuckles at his silliness. “It’s nothing we can’t handle, right?” She smiles at him lovingly as she strokes his cheeks. Harry smiles back and puts his head on her stomach, giving it a light kiss through the dress she’s wearing.

“Thank you. I feel like I haven’t said that enough,” he mumbles against her stomach. She looks down at him with a confused expression. “You carried her for a whole nine months and went through so much to deliver her to us. So, thank you. And I love you, darling. I’m so lucky.”

Y/N feels her breath hitched at his confession and she smiles at him. She leans down and kisses him hard. Sometimes, she thinks that she is the lucky one. She managed to find someone who loves and support her unconditionally, even through the late night snacks she had while pregnant with little Rosie. Harry doesn’t hesitate to kiss back and pulls her closer to him. She feels his tongue swipe across her bottom lip, asking for entrance. And who is she to deny making out with her incredibly talented and beautiful husband as she opens her mouth, making the kiss more passionate. Harry hears a soft moan from her and swears he feels shivers running up his spine.

They break away after feeling the oxygen running out of their lungs and lay their foreheads against each other’s, breathing heavily. “I love you, too,” she breathes out. They both smile widely at each other, feeling like teenagers in love. She pecks his lips one last time before pulling away from him. She starts undressing as she makes her way to the ensuite bathroom, Harry watching her every move as his mouth gapes open slightly.

God, my wife is so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He continues to admire Y/N as she undresses until she’s fully nude. He gulps as he feels the blood rushing towards his lower region.

Harry’s cut out from his thoughts as a piece of fabric flungs to his face. He grabs it from his face and he chokes on his saliva upon seeing Y/N laced lavender-coloured underwear. He looks up to his wife leaning against the bathroom door, every inch of her on display for him and him only.

“Mind joining me for a shower, baby?” she smirks as she quickly heads in the shower.

When he hears the shower turn on, Harry jumps up from the bed and quickly takes off his clothes, tripping on his sweatpants on his way to join his wife in the shower.

━

Rosie giggles loudly and she reaches out for the blue butterfly in front of her. Y/N smiles at this soft moment and holds up her digital camera to take a picture. The sky was a nice shade of blue and clouds looked like cotton candy hanging above. The flowers in the garden were blooming and Harry managed to pick out two sunflowers for his sunflowers. It seemed like the perfect day.

Harry comes out with a bowl of freshly washed strawberries and grapes. He sits down next Y/N on the blanket they laid out, giving a soft kiss on her forehead, before looking over at his daughter. “What’s that, bub?” he asks Rosie in a seemingly excited voice. Rosie squeals and babbles to her father as she points out to the blue butterfly fluttering in front of her.

“That’s right, bubs! That's a butterfly!” Harry picks her up and puts her on his lap. Y/N is already munching away on the strawberries. Harry opens his mouth to her, implying that he wants to be fed with the red fruits, Y/N rolls her eyes at his silliness but complies as she puts it in his mouth, plucking out the stem. As she does this, little Rosie looks at the exchange and opens her mouth wide, copying Harry. The couple merely laughed at the little girl’s behaviour.

“You want a strawberry, Rosie?” Y/N smiles as picks one out, she bites lightly on the tip of it so Rosie could have the smallest bite of the fruit. Rosie whines and reaches out for the tiny piece. “Calm down, you bugger. Might wanna say ‘please’ to mommy first, yea?” Harry says to her gently as he rubs her back.

Of course, Rosie wouldn’t know how to say any words at all yet, so she babbles in her baby language and whines to be fed. “Think that might be ‘please’, love,” he says jokingly to his Y/N.

“Well, who am I to say no to the cutest girl ever?” She jokes back and puts the tiny piece of strawberry in Rosie’s mouth, her mouth slightly stained from the juices. Harry wipes it off with a napkin and leans back on his arms, admiring the beautiful day outside. He takes in the clean summer air as he listens to his daughter babbling about to her mother, Y/N merely nods back as if she understands and talks in the most gentle voice to her.

Harry sees Rosie picking up the large sunflower he picked out, her little fingers brushing against the yellow petals. He takes a look at Y/N and as he sees her smile, he thinks back about how lucky he is to have them two. There is not a day where Harry was never in awe of the love and passion Y/N gives to the family and he thinks of how he couldn’t possibly love his Rosie more every day.

He breaks off the other sunflower from its stem and tucks it behind Y/N’s ear. She looks up and blushes at the gesture. “You okay, H?” she asks.

Harry nods and smiles at her. “I just really love you,” he says as he cups Y/N’s cheek, stroking it gently.

Y/N feels the heat rising up to her cheeks. There is not a day where she’ll ever stop being in love with the man in front of her. She holds the hand that’s resting on her cheek and kisses it softly. “I really love you too,”

She leans forward and gives him a kiss or two. They both smile widely at each other, radiating the same amount of love, if not more, that they have for each other. Rosie squeals and claps her chubby hands together as she watches the sweet exchange between her parents. They both laugh at her cuteness. “And we love you too, my little love!” Y/N exclaims to her as she cups her cheeks and plants many kisses all over her face, making Rosie squeal in delight. Harry laughs and smiles at the sight.

Life certainly feels good to him. Surrounded by the loves of his life, there’s no place or moment Harry would exchange this beautiful day with them.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #parkersroses writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #dad!harry styles #husband!harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot

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fayeimara · 3 years

Text

Sakusa Kiyoomi || Small Moments

SUMMARY. You're looking forward to the first date you and Sakusa have had in a little while thanks to both of your busy schedules when Kiyo seems reluctant to go.

PAIRING. Sakusa Kiyoomi x you

GENRE. Pure Fluff

WARNINGS. Potentially suggestive

Sunlight filters through the sheer curtains of your bedroom's bay windows, casting a glow over your eyelids just before you completely rouse from your sleep. Eyes still closed, as your awareness slowly slips in, your hand curls back in towards you, seeking the warmth emanating from the arm wrapped tight around your waist.

The unmistakable heat of your boyfriend becomes more prevalent, urging you to wiggle backwards ever so slightly and close the remaining gap between your bodies. Sliding your hand from its landed spot on Kiyoomi's toned forearm down to his hand to twine your finger with his, your eyes finally open to the rays and land on the rainbow pattern splayed on the white silk of your pillow.

Today you and Sakusa will be spending a long awaited day together, out on a classic date that you have both been denied in recent weeks thanks, in part, to each of your demanding schedules. Just as a lazy but delighted smile stretches your lips, you feel him stir behind you only to giggle as he leans his head to nuzzle into your neck with a light groan.

His hand shifts against you when you turn to face him, sliding just to help his arm keep its position around you as you move, and then you're looking into shadowed eyes that study you in return. He doesn't say anything for a minute, long enough to make you feel uncharacteristically shy and duck your head down into his chest, burrowing into what has long become your favourite place to hide in these small moments.

But it seems that's the spark which finally compels Kiyo to move his arm from his coveted spot around you, but only for a moment, as his fingers find your cheek and feather down to follow the curve of your jaw before tilting your head back up to face him. You don't provide any resistance, already reaching up with your face and hands, the latter seeking purchase in his soft locks as he places the lightest kiss against your wanting lips.

Both of you pulling away, Kiyoomi with a small smile and you with a flirty smirk, you bid each other good morning. Another one of those small moments you cherish, to be able to enjoy the constant familiarity of your boyfriend waking up next to you but this time during a rare, slow morning where you both can indulge in its indolence.

The moment passes seemingly as quickly as it swept in as restlessness soaks into your skin, compelling movement as you once again begin to contemplate your planned activities for your date with Kiyo today. You're looking forward to spending the day with him in the sun, having planned a spot for a picnic lunch before taking a stroll through the sprawling park. You also have reservations for the night at a special, upscale restaurant that will meet both his standards and yours, with a stunning view of the city laid out beneath you.

You pull away from Sakusa with another chaste kiss, even as he gently tries to persuade you to stay a little longer, and pad into the washroom to brush your teeth and wash up for the day. Eyeing Sakusa's features in the mirror as he follows you in, you don't address his hesitant but prickly demeanor, smiling at him brightly instead as you finish up before heading out through the room and halls and into your kitchen.

A pot of French press is prepared without thought, the motions an ingrained habit by now, as you pull out ingredients from the fridge to prepare the smoked salmon eggs benedict for your brunch. Setting up the mise en place, Kiyo is soon beside you to help with the hollandaise and eggs, nudging you out of the way with his hip until you give in and retreat from the stove.

Perching on the bar stools lined up with the kitchen island, you pour out the coffee into two mugs, doctoring each to your respective tastes before pushing his across the counter towards him with the tips of your fingers at its base.

You've barely exchanged more than whispered words of good morning but you're so attuned to him, you know there's something waiting at the tip of his tongue, a reluctance that's tangible to you due to years of picking up on his tells.

Sakusa stares into the pale yellow swirl of the sauce he's stirring as he debates how to bring up the thought on his mind. You've been looking forward to this day for weeks, he has as well, it's just that now it's finally arrived... he'd like nothing better than to follow the pace that seemed fated from the very start of your day together.

His schedule has been grueling and he wants nothing more to curl up with you at home and enjoy a lazy day indoors, not head out into the crush of the weekend crowd in uncontrolled environments where he'll likely be on constant guard. Here, everything is safe and comfortable, clean and devoid of all distractions but the woman he loves.

Low on energy and conflicted at the thought of being selfish by voicing his own desires, he decides to keep quiet and follow the activities you have planned for the two of you today. If nothing else, the breathtaking smile of joy that lights your face will be worth the compromise.

Turning away to the island to place the poached eggs on the English muffins, he can't help but glance your way to study your expression. He doesn't expect to meet your eyes, finding you watching him with a small, wry smile as you stand and lean forward to add the smoked salmon atop the eggs, so he freezes momentarily before turning back to exchange the items in his hand for the pot of hollandaise.

"Omi." Your voice breaks the easy, thoughtful silence permeating the kitchen as he spoons the sauce over the salmon and sprinkles a dusting of chives to finish the brunch you'd started. You only call him by that nickname when you're neutral, likely coaxing for information that you're sure he's withholding.

After another beat, his deep voice finally filters at its usual calm, steady volume, "Yes, sweetheart?"

He still doesn't meet your eyes and you resort to your most cajoling tone, softly and sweetly asking, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Brunch is ready?" His eyes lift to yours then, with a teasing glint and a slight smirk to match curving his lips.

"Hm."

He takes your plate and his to the breakfast table in its spacious nook, surrounded by windows on three sides that allow the warm sunlight to caress your skin as you follow to your seat with the coffees and cutlery.

The first bite melts in your mouth with perfect heat, the mix of flavours prompting you to close your eyes and hum in appreciation. When you open them again, you catch Kiyo with his fork paused on its ascent to his mouth, staring at you with widened eyes before blinking as if to unfreeze.

You let out an amused laugh when his own hum follows shortly after. It's a nice moment but-

"Kiyo-"

"I don't know where you picked this up as a favourite, but I'm so glad you did." Cutting in, he compliments your choice of meal between bites.

You can't help it when another smirk slides over your lips, "Well, I am a loyalist. I hold on tight when I find something I love.

You and Kiyo connect eyes yet again and share a sweet smile at your words in yet another small moment that exists just for the two of you.

The third time's the charm, clearly, because his deflections work and you drop the subject for the rest of your brunch. Considering the scarcity of the time you were able to steal away together these past weeks, your morning meal is soon filled with funny anecdotes that slipped between the cracks and thoughtful insights regarding the events of your friends and family that you both continue to be looped in on.

It's not until early afternoon, as you've slipped into a breezy summer outfit - complete with a flowing thigh-length dress, floppy hat, and strappy sandals, you find Sakusa slowly packing your purse with his small trove of sanitary supplies.

You lean against the door frame to study him as he moves so fluidly, elegant even in the sweats and shirt he still hasn't changed out of since his morning shower. Your plans for your date flicker through your thoughts for a moment, pulling at you with an intense mix of longing and excitement.

It's not as powerful as your new desire though, as you want more than anything to continue seeing Kiyoomi's smiles today. That's what you had in mind when you planned your date, to have him find joy and contentment with you in the quiet, private corners of your world.

Sakusa looks up behind him when he hears the bathroom door shut. He didn't realize you'd stepped out and wonders if you'd forgotten something. Finished with packing your purse with both his and your supplies, he moves to the closet to prepare his clothes for the outing when the door opens again and you exit with a smile on your face. But instead of the expected outfit for your date, you're wearing your most comfortable lounge clothes.

"What's wrong, love?" He moves towards you without hesitation, concern deepening his tone.

You raise an eyebrow and ask him with a soft smile still curving your lips, "You tell me, Kiyo."

Stopping with his hand cupping your cheek as he looks down to meet your warm, inviting gaze, he breathes out a low, "How did you know?"

"Oh, baby... I've told you never to hold back your true feelings." You softly admonish.

What if you hadn't picked up on enough of the right cues? What if you enjoyed a date that only made Kiyo miserable because he sacrificed his urge to honour the plans you'd made together for the day even though what he wanted had changed?

Sakusa feels a mix of guilt and relief like a hit to the gut as he realizes he only just confirmed your suspicions. What could he have done differently so you wouldn't have realized his change of heart? So you wouldn't have to be the one making the sacrifice instead?

"Kiyo.." Your voice calls him out of his thoughts and he catches the loving smile that hasn't left your face once since you exited from the bathroom.

"Baby.. You know what I'm thinking?" Your eyes sparkle with a new excitement, no- with a mischievous, playful intent.

"What?"

"I'm thinking we have a certain season to binge watch and some new video games to try. I'm thinking of how good the takeout was from the sushi restaurant that delivered to us last month. And I'm thinking today would be a perfect day to cuddle on the couch like we have nowhere to be and time is infinite in our little bubble."

Sakusa still hesitates, even though there's no doubting your genuine tone he still can't help but ask, "Are you sure, love?" "I'm absolutely certain."

Using the hand still resting gently on your cheek, he tilts your head as he leans down to drop a soft kiss to your lips. The two of you don't pull away until you're both breathless and unable to stop your mutual smiles from spilling onto your lips. This was it. This smile of his that you so badly wanted to draw out.

That's how you both end up spending the rest of the afternoon painting exactly the picture you envisioned. You bring another round of coffees to the couch as he selects the show you mentioned and, pulling one of the plush throws over your legs, you snuggle into his side to watch.

Over the course of the next couple hours, you two easily push and pull like magnets every time you readjust your positions, from the upright one where you're tucked into him to you both stretching out for you to lie down on him, his chest pillowing your head as his arm returns to its favourite place. When hunger begins to intrude in the late afternoon, you put together plates of both his and your favourite snacks, sitting back up to consume them as the sun begins to peek in through the windows on the opposite side of your house.

When you take a break from the TV, sitting at the table with your respective beverages of choice, you play one of your favourite board games with music from your shared playlist filtering in the background. The lights in the house are slowly turned on as you both move about, from the kitchen, to the living room, to the dining table in between, over the course of your unhurried hours.

By evening, you've started a puzzle together but leave it on the table unfinished when Sakusa still hasn't returned from the kitchen, going in search of him instead. When you find him washing the dishes that have begin to neatly stack on one side of the divided sink, you have him drop everything and clean his hands before tugging him away.

"No chores, Kiyo!"

"They're dirty."

"It's a lazy day." You give him a pout that he can't refuse and he's the one to give in here.

Instead, he whips the towel on the counter and, as the song just changes into a slow one you would have usually skipped, he grabs your hand to pull you into him. You don't resist at all, reaching around him to return the hug you think he's giving, but his other hand comes to rest on your waist and it's soon joined by the first. You're the one to find yourself frozen this time, hands having risen to rest on his chest by pure coincidence even before you fully realized Sakusa Kiyoomi is slow dancing with you in the kitchen.

"Wha-" You stop the question ready to drop from your lips when you meet his eyes. The answer is as obvious as the mirth mixed with something softer in his replying gaze.

He would only ever do this for you. Step out of his comfort zones in ways that would have been completely inconceivable before he met you. Before he spent the years he has with you. Before you made him realize making these small choices for the ones you love, to be able to share these small moments that he could never have previously dreamed, aren't actually a sacrifice after all.

It's likely not a long time the two of you spend dancing between the kitchen, dining room, and living room, but at least three songs have passed before he gently tilts you back onto the couch just as the doorbell rings to indicate the arrival of your dinner.

Leaving you to clear the space on the coffee table, Kiyo arranges the food into various plates that are then loaded onto a tray to be brought into the living room. So begins round two of your TV binge, picking up mid-season to finish the latter half of the show while you enjoy feeding each other. Another feat that would be impossible for him with anyone else but a true joy to be able to share with you.

You clean up after the two of you finish, leaving him to pick the next game. When you return to the couch and see he's picked your favourite, you can't help but challenge him with a smirk.

"Oh, baby, you know I'm going to ruin you. Are you sure you want to play this?"

His dark eyes meet yours and even though his expression is almost unreadable, his eyes express the same teasing light that soaks his tone, "Sweetheart... you've already ruined me."

You don't know whether to laugh or not because as much as he intends to tease there's definitely truth there, but also a benediction that conveys what he truly means.

So you respond instead by adding your truth to his, "We've ruined each other, haven't we?"

"Only in the best ways, love."

Holding his warm gaze for another small moment, you bite your lip to hold back the wide delighted smile that threatens to spill out before he reaches for your wrist to finally tug you down to him. You end up sprawled on his lap but fix your position when he hands you the second controller.

Soon after the game starts, neither of you can say who poked whom first or nudged the other's elbow, or even who was the first to boldly tickle the other in order to gain advantage in the game. You're laughing as he pulls you onto his lap, arms coming around you to restrain your own movements as you call out to the unfairness of his tactic.

Throwing your weight back on him to push him deeper into the soft cushions of the couch, you strain to reach his neck with sloppy kisses and little love bites, your only counter to his cheating measures. Neither you nor Sakusa end up winning the game when your endeavour succeeds in pulling his attention from the screen to your sparkling eyes and that perfect smile he so desired to see.

This time, when you kiss, it's before either of you have even thought of or committed to the action, so naturally do your lips simply meet between you.

The remainder of the night is marked by these simple, lazy exchanges of your love. The TV eventually falling to rest and allowing the music still crooning in the background to create its hazy ambience yet again.

The last thing you remember as you lie entwined with Kiyo on your living room couch, exploring each other with kisses and caresses, intimate gazes and whispered words, is the final small moment of the day. A small kiss just behind your ear preceding the three little words that he faithfully declares every day since the first time they fell from his lips.

"I love you."

A/N: Sorry for kind of tricking you @yourstarvic! I know you requested either date or lazy day and I thought.. what if I wrote you and Sakusa on a date and then enjoying a lazy Sunday following? Then, I thought... what if you didn't get the date you expected but the lazy day was all the more special for it? Slightly inspired by mine and my bf's lazy days that we've never let each other regret therefore not completely original but they say write what you know lol so I hope you like it! And because you have a special place in my heart as my very first scenario request ever, I have a little surprise for you here :) <3

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reidecorating · 3 years

Text

Venus & the Sun

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

A/N: I felt compelled to write this because the thought of Spence hating mornings keeps me up - which then causes me to also hate mornings because I’m tired, it truly is a tragic cycle. also! here’s my masterlist!

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Dragging a grumpy & sleepy Spencer out to a picnic on the water where the view was far more than he bargained for

Warnings: Early mornings A tiny bit suggestive, but predominantly just fluff galore <3

Whether Venus is named the Morning or Evening Star depends on what side of the sun it indwells. When the planet glistens and gleams from the eastern sky, it’s a telltale sign it’ll rise before the sun - namely becoming the Morning Star. If Spencer had it his way, he would not be awake before midday on a Saturday morning. If Spencer had it his way, he would continue to snore for some while longer, dreaming - visions of a maladaptive cottage in the Swiss Alps, a handful of mountain goats sprinkled about tufts of unmown alpine grass - certainly not giving a second thought towards planetary placements of a cosmos he never wished to be part of. But Spencer did not have it his way this morning.

She always called Spencer her sun, but he believed that if this were to be true, she was his Venus; arising from the left side of his bed, sparkling and lighting up the world, most mornings, before he had even opened his eyes. The way in which she looked at him made him believe that the ancient Romans had been right about a deity of Venus, a goddess of love and beauty, his proof being the woman by his side. After wheedling him out of the comfort of rumpled sheets, with saccharine kisses and promises of more, at six o’clock, on the dot, she swept him away in a direction he recognised as towards the pier. It was the last place he would go in his free time, but because he was with her, he didn’t mind. As they journeyed on foot towards the sea, missing the growl of the car radiator, it became noticeable how winter lingered in the air, chasing joggers and haunting places where the daylight was yet to reach, as if it had unfinished business even Spring couldn’t prevent it from completing.

Spencer felt no remorse towards anyone he hurt in the mornings. The time he spent existing, before half a litre of caffeine was sent down to his kidneys for filtration, angered him. She knew it, too. Always giving him space as he grumbled, with furrowed brows, at anything that moves, often resorting to giggling quietly and observing his shenanigans from a distance - usually involving a wrestle with a hot jug. As they walked, his fingers found the spaces between hers, grasping firmly to prevent the crisp air from streaming through to their bones. She chuckled at the tender action contrasting his expression. “What?” He scowled humorously. “Oh, nothing,” she suppressed a smile. The scowl turned confused. “You’re just very adorable, even when you despise me,” she teased. “I don’t despise you, I actually love you very much,” the sentence rolled off his tongue like a statistic, “I despise being awake.” At that, a grin broke across her face. “In fact, I think that being awake at this hour should be criminalised, I’ll pass the bill myself,”

“Good luck getting a representative to sponsor that bill, Doctor President,”

“I work for the government. I have connections,”

“And they say this democracy isn’t corrupt,” she grimaced, only partly joking. She saw his laughter in a huff of foggy breath at her comment. “Anyway, when was the last time you had a proper breakfast?” She asked. Spencer thought about it for a moment. Yesterday, if espresso and inhaling air particles counts, he thought. “That… is a… trick question, pretty lady.” The corners of his mouth twitched from behind where his coat collar stood upturned, sufficing in the absence of a scarf, knowing that any answer he provided wouldn’t impress her. Without response, she just held his hand impossibly tighter, walking the tiniest bit quicker.

An unwieldily wicker basket dangled from his fingers, knuckles blue from the early air while they continued on their stroll along the promenade. “You can dismantle the patriarchy another day, Y/N. Please let me carry this for you,” Spencer had asked, insisting she carried the picnic blanket instead. Prevailing winds raced to hide within the drapes of his trench-coat, hiking it outwards behind him in the dramatic way it might if he were on a runway. Over the phone line, she would tell him, “Careful, you may be tempted to leave the BAU if you get scouted by Prada,” whenever she knew he was sat in a budget-meeting hotel room in Los Angeles or New York, wrestling with chopsticks and a container of cold noodles and undoubtedly working a case after hours. Never did he believe her, always taking her flattery with a grain of salt. “Absolutely not. For Givenchy though, I definitely might consider it.” She recalled his response. He acutely remembered the way she’d laughed on the other line, yearning to be the reason she did, forever. Admiring her lover, she struggled to comprehend how everyone in the world didn’t see the same things she saw. He had a beautiful soul. That’s what shone through every crack in his skin.

Brine toothed sea mist had corroded bolts on the wharf over time, the slight stench of rusted metal taking their nostrils time to adjust to. She began laying down the thick flannel sheet over the dewy wood, careful as to not fall over the edge. “Now, I know you prefer sunsets, but trust me, after today you will change your mind,” she chirped, patting down the blanket. Spencer thought he preferred being alone, she changed his mind on that also, and so, he trusted her words unapologetically. “I’m sure of it,” he beamed at her, placing the basket down with a soft thud before cracking his, now, nearly transparent knuckles. “You look like you’re freezing!” She half whispered and half yelled, rushing to take his hands, cupping his much larger ones in hers and puffing out warm breaths of air in order to thaw his joints. After all, the jacket around her shoulders was one that belonged to him, it was the least she could do. Shaking his head at her actions, completely enamoured by the way she fiddled with his fingers to provide some friction, he turned to glance at the hills in the distance, the night falling and stars dissolving into day, like granules of sugar in hot tea. He looked back at her, catching her eyes, already gazing up at him. “I sense you’re about to tell me something I don’t know about sunrises,” she tilted her head. “Close,” he nodded, grin wider than the horizon before them, “I was going to tell you about Venus.” Pointing at the remaining speck of glitter in the sky, he wrapped an arm around her. “The ancient Greeks and Egyptians actually believed that Venus was two separate celestial bodies. A morning star, which the Greeks called Phosphoros, ‘the bringer of light’, and an evening star, Hesperos, ‘the star of the evening’. It wasn’t until a few hundred years later, that they realised that Venus was actually a single planet.” She nodded along, absorbing the new information before cupping his jaw in her palms to feel his lips between her own. “What was that for?” Spencer giggled after pulling away, not opposed to the action. “Just proving to the goddess of beauty and love that I do, very much, love a beautiful person.” The dawn breaking illuminated the rose flush on Spencer’s cheeks. “Fun fact, it’s actually the hottest planet in our solar system. Kind of…” he swallowed looking down at his shoes for a brief moment, “kind of reminds me of you,” he smirked, still an amateur to the skill they call flirting. Shaking her head at him, flustered, she sat down on the sheet motioning for him to take a seat beside her, before unpacking the basket.

A small fishing boat coursed through the water, its hull parting the ocean from Atlantic to symmetrical fountain streams, which were immediately pinned back into place, the way a cobalt fabric cut by the scissors of a seamstress would fall to her worktable. Sitting cross legged above the water, Spencer, from a large flask, poured two much needed cups of coffee, the bright pink ’S’ decorating his one making him raise a brow. She handed him a spread bagel, topped with fluorescent streaks of smoked salmon and cracks of pepper, on a small wooden chopping board, heart fluttering at how his jaw dropped slightly in excitement. “It’s Philly Cream Cheese, by the way, I know you love dairy but I made sure this didn’t have any in it anyway.” A soft smile settled on his lips. “Thank you,” he expressed his gratitude, “for all of this,” he clarified, as he finished chopping up various stone fruit into a woven basket. “Don’t mention it. I just wanted to spend more hours of the day with you,”

“That’s very sweet, but I see exactly what you’re doing. I hope you don’t expect that this’ll get me up at this hour every weekend,”

“Mhm,” a smug look made its way onto her face, “You already know I have other ways of getting you up early on Saturdays,”

“Oh? Okay, was that a-“ he had on an incredulous look, “I’m going to hold you to that,” he chewed down on his lip. She raised her eyebrows at his words.

“Cheers,” she held up her cup for a toast. “Cheers,” Spencer repeated, the soft clink of metal sounding over the crows of gulls overhead. They huddled into each other, watching the vibrance of sunlight meld together like dyes on an artists’s unwashed watercolour palette. Needless to say, she was not at all disappointed when the star of the morning finally disappeared, because a sky full of them could be found in the eyes of the man she called hers, and as he turned to face her, before his hand settled in her hair and apricot flavoured tongue reached her lips, she saw it, for a moment.

#maybe this is all i want #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg fanfiction #mgg fic #mgg #mine: writing

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

Text

My Silver Screen, My Misery, My Love, My Defeat

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something with Billie Dean for so long but didn’t know where to start. This lady intimidates me. I don’t know what this fic is worth, and I’m so nervous about posting it - I know it’s not particularly nice, but it’s the most personal fic I ever wrote so please be kind.

Title is from “Pacific Coast Highway In The Movies” by AWOLNATION. This song haunts me. x

Word count: ~ 3 000

“Dear me when will my life begin?” you sighed dramatically as you gathered your things.

“Bitch, I never want to see you again,” your boss growled, pointing an angry finger at you.

“Goodbye, asshole!” you called over your shoulder as you walked out of the room.

You had never cared about that job. You didn’t seem to be able to care about anything at all. You were so bored.

Real life lacked passion and colours. You were constantly hungry for a sense of wonderment. No emotion was worth feeling if it wasn’t extreme. You wanted to know how it felt to love so deeply you would faint in the dining room like the heroines of old, drive your car off a cliff, smash the heads of your lover’s suitors. When had the world and love become so boring?

You had come to believe you would never be able to fall in love with anyone. Fiction had ruined your life. You wanted beauty, you wanted glamour, you wanted passion and murder, tears shed under the stars, diamonds on the bed. You wanted a lover who would come down the stairs in a white silk gown with lace as the music and the lighting made love to her. Cherry pink lips and wavy hair, glitter in her eyes. How could anyone settle for less?

You walked into the bright sunlight and let the flow of pedestrians sweep you away.

You scanned the press room and sighed. Bored, you were so bored. Luckily the couches were comfortable, and the tea was good.

You worked for the local newspaper – nothing serious, nothing you were passionate about, but you had been struggling to make ends meet. You and another journalist were covering an annual festival celebrating “everything mystical and magical!” Bollocks, as far as you were concerned. But you loved festivals, you always had. There was something almost surreal about them, how time seemed to slow down, and space to narrow. A bubble would form, a dome, a world only a few were let in. Real life would stop for a while, and you loved that, because real life was boring.

The press secretary – Leo? Theo? who cared; he was uninteresting and badly dressed – waved at you from across the room. “She’s here,” he mouthed, meaning the medium you were to interview. You gave him a thumbs-up and sighed as soon as he turned his back to you. Notebook, pen, Dictaphone. Cup of tea - empty. Another sigh. You signaled to the old lady behind the counter at the far end of the room for another cup. She pretended not to see you.

“Asshole,” you muttered between gritted teeth. Someone on the couch next to yours – Steve? Pete? he had introduced himself the day before, he worked for a national TV channel, you couldn’t remember which one – laughed loudly at something someone else had said.

Your attention was suddenly drawn to the door. The press secretary was ushering a group of people in: a young man wearing jeans, a girl clutching files to her chest, a woman who walked in as if she owned the place, high-heels clicking, smile flashing.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Pete (Steve?) point at her. “Man, that’s Billie Dean Howard,” he said in a breath.

“Who?” asked his companion.

“Oi, Miss Howard!” someone called – a photographer, jumping to his feet with his camera in his hands.

She glanced at him, offered him a polite smile; tilted her head on one side as she took a pose.

You gazed at her.

“Make sure the lighting is good,” she told the photographer.

The young man in jeans was buzzing around her, almost shoving a notebook into her face, muttering something about a timetable and how they were running out of time. She leaned away from him, holding out a perfectly manicured hand – pale pink acrylics, thin silver rings – to bat the notebook away. You saw her mouth twist in an annoyed kind of way, and then the press secretary nodded at you, and she turned, and her eyes met yours.

Her brow pushed up as a smug smile crept up her lips – plump, glittery beige lipstick. “Are you here for me, babydoll?” she called.

And just like that you were done for. For the stars were singing, and your heart was finally. Admiring. Entranced. Alive.

Oh thank all the freaking Gods, she had finally come.

You turned on the Dictaphone and grabbed your pen. Your hands were sweating.

“Ur,” you said. Billie Dean crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knee, smiling.

You had prepared for this interview, vaguely, but she had stolen all the words from you. Kidnap me, was what you wished to tell her. Ravish me. Take me away with you from this grey world and fill my mind and heart with wonderment. Make me your co-star.

“So, what do you think of the city so far?” was what came out of your mouth. You could have died of embarrassment.

Fortunately for you, Billie Dean loved to talk about herself, so you didn’t have to rack your brain for interesting questions.

You told her you had waited for her your whole life. You told her you meant it. She looked genuinely surprised, but then she smiled, a smile that seemed to suggest she had already forgiven you for that mistake. You realized that, probably, your passionate childishness was very funny to her, as were all those who had succumbed to it before you.

“The scariest spirit I’ve ever met?” She leant back on the couch, eyes staring up at the ceiling, lips curling into a smile. “I don’t get scared easily,” she quipped, and her smile turned into a smirk.

“Are you planning on staying here long?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Depends if I can find a cozy bed to sleep in and a pretty girl to smooch.”

Damn her, damn her – you were about to lean in and kiss that smug smile off her lips when the press secretary – damn him, damn him – appeared out of nowhere as in an uninspired script, squeaking “Time’s up!” as if time mattered, as if time hadn’t stopped the minute you had met Billie Dean’s eyes.

The young man in jeans pressed a cup of coffee into Billie’s hands. “Cathy’s waiting for you in the VIP room,” he said nervously. He glanced at you over the rim of his glasses. “You’re done here?”

“I – “You cleared your throat. Billie Dean was standing up, rearranging her hair, ready to leave, ready to forget already –

“You’ll have us read that article before you publish it, alright?” the young man was saying.

“Oh whatever happened to the freedom of the press,” Billie retorted. Her eyes flicked to you. “Don’t mind him.”

“I have a very cozy bed,” you heard yourself say.

For a second or two, you could have heard a pin drop.

Billie held your face between her hands as if you were made of porcelain, the first time she kissed you. You gazed into her eyes as if you were dreaming. “Who are you?” you whispered.

She laughed indulgently. “Don’t forget to breathe, darling.”

A breath in. She smelt of cigarette smoke and sage and something else, something like… you didn’t know. There was no word for it. She smelt like Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars.

Billie Dean raised a toast to you and to the sun and said she couldn’t possibly live without either of you. You scoffed, rolled your eyes at her as if that wasn’t the kindest thing anyone had ever said to you. She noticed your reddening cheeks, and let out a chuckle.

“What? It’s a sunburn,” you lied, fighting a smile.

The midday summer sun was beating down on the Mediterranean, a soft breeze blowing and carrying the scent of the sea. You were spending the week in Monaco, a gift from Billie for your first anniversary. You closed your eyes, breathed in happily. The waiter brought your order, a bistro salad with warm goat cheese on toast for you, a slice of salmon and French fries for Billie. She flashed a smile at him, and his eyes sparkled.

“He’s in love,” you teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“With me?” Billie assumed an innocent expression. “Why, I could not possibly believe that.”

You scoffed again. She smiled, pinched a thick slice of lemon between her thumb and index.

“We should come here every summer,” she said in a singsong, drizzling lemon juice over the salmon. “I love it here.”

“Ghost-free?”

She laughed. “I wish. But you look so beautiful with that sunburn.”Her eyes glanced up at you mischievously; you cleared your throat. She smirked, put the slice of lemon on the side of her plate, dried her fingers with her napkin.

“You and I, lost in a foreign country,” she said.

“Luckily for you, I took French lessons in college.”

“Oh is that so?” Under the table, Billie rubbed her bare foot up and down your leg. “And how do you say ‘kiss me’ in French?”

You leaned towards her, beaming. Your gaze flicked to her lips. “Embrasse-moi.”

“Atta girl.”

She took your breath away, every day. You bent over the table, meeting her lips halfway, smiling into the kiss.

“I love you,” she whispered. Her eyes smiled. “Forever.”

You pressed the pad of your thumb against her brow. “Um, you can’t know that.”

“Know that I love you?”

“Know that it’ll last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

She pouted, shifted slightly on the bed. Your thumb slid on her skin. The light streaming through the windows splashed the walls of the hotel room yellow.

“Don’t be so mean at 8 in the morning,” she whined.

You rolled your eyes at her, planted a kiss on her lips. Her skin was hot and clammy. You nuzzled your nose in her neck, blew some air to tickle her. She raised one hand to fan herself – coral acrylics, no rings.

“Call room service,” she said, stretching lazily. “I want some ice cream.”

You snorted.“Ice cream for breakfast?”

“It’s too hot.”

You reached out for the telephone and sat up, making sure your bare breasts were exposed. “Lemon?” you asked Billie. She nodded, gaze on your chest. You made a face. “I don’t understand how you can stand the taste of lemon, it’s so sour – oh, hello. Yes, could we get some lemon ice cream, please? Ice cream, yes. Room 108. And you know what, a bottle of champagne as well. Yes.” You grinned at Billie, who, face half buried in her pillow, was laughing happily. “Thank you. Muchas gracias. Yes. Bye!”

“Miss Howard, please.”

“Oh babe, call me Billie.”

“A little further to the left, please Billie.”

“Who’s that with you, miss Billie?”

“Be a doll and fetch me my shawl, will you darling?”

The girl – Lucy? Lily? – nodded in awe and hurried off.

“A little further to the left, Billie.”

Someone turned on a projector. You squinted, gave Billie’s hand a squeeze.

“Miss Billie, who’s that charming young woman with you? Is she your date? Miss Billie, who’s –“

Camera flashes, everywhere. You felt Billie’s lips, feather-light, brush your ear. “Relax,” she whispered. “You look beautiful.”

All around you, you could make out dark shapes, nondescript, unimportant. Spectators of the show. Come to see her, come to see you.

“Miss Billie who’s that charming –“

“Paws off!” Billie laughed. She pulled you closer, hip bumping yours. “She’s all mine, gentlemen.”

You beamed at her, brighter than the projector. Camera flashes, everywhere. To capture the moment when Billie nipped your ear lobe and you threw back your head to laugh, one hand on her arm, in love, so in love.

“So what are we doing this weekend?”

You glanced up at her. “Aren’t you busy this weekend?”

Billie flashed you a smile as she sat down on the couch beside you. She laid one hand on your bare thigh, nails gently grazing. “Production’s delayed. I’m all yours.”

With a wince you removed her hand from your thigh. “I’m sweating,” you whined.

Her smile faltered, just a bit. “Aren’t you happy?”she asked. And then she relaxed and shook her head. “Oh, I’m stupid. You made other plans.”

“I’ve nothing to do at all.” You stretched and winced again. “I don’t know. I’m so bored.”

It happened again. And again.

You caught yourself looking at other faces in the crowd. No one held a candle to Billie Dean, you knew that. But still. You scanned the crowd.

You pretended not to notice when Billie held out a hand for you to hold.

The glamour was fading. The twinkle of the stars was being swallowed up by the morning light.

You had once visited a house. The wallpaper was peeling off, leaving ugly streaks of dirty grey or brown. The landlady’s nail polish was chipped.

Billie’s eyes were wide and rimmed red. You had never seen her look so sad.

“Wait,” she pleaded, her fingers – pale pink acrylics, vintage ring with a red stone – closing around your wrist to hold you back. “Surely we can talk – “She tried to smile, but it looked too broken, too scared.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Billie,” you said, avoiding her gaze. You hesitated. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Her face fell. “But surely – “

“Are you here for me, babydoll?”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip and a tear rolled down her cheek, but you didn’t wipe it as you usually would. For this was how things always went. People left each other. Staying alive meant getting bored of the people you once loved. The credits roll. The movie ends.

You planted one last kiss on her lips as a sob pushed out of your throat. “Gosh but I loved you so much,” you cried. “I hadn’t been alive before you came. You taught me how to love and now I’ve died again and I’m lost without you. I’m forever lost without my love for you.”

You kept one of her scarves. It still smelt of cigarette smoke and sage and that something else – Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars.

Colours faded to grey. You sank back into routine. Monotonous. Soporific. Boring. So very boring.

A year ago you would have expected the world to stop turning the minute you walked out of Billie Dean’s life. It didn’t. Days followed days, a succession of yesterdays and todays and tomorrows. Life went on, mocking you.

The smell of salmon filled the kitchen as you dropped the thick slices onto the burning pan. You smiled as Julie – a one-night stand that somehow had become more – made an appreciative noise. She was sprawled on the sofa, watching TV lazily, muttering “Boring” every time she changed the channel.

“Boring,” – another channel, “Boring,” – another channel, “Bo – oh hello there! Y/N, look, I spot a milf!”

You looked up as the anchorman’s face twisted into a fawning smile. “I’ve got Muriel here on the phone, from Portland, Oregon. Muriel sounds pretty worried. She wants to know if ghosts stay forever as ghosts or if they ever get to find peace.”

The camera cut to his guest – coral acrylics, no rings. The salmon’s grease sizzled on the pan.

“Nice pair of legs,” Julie was saying. “Come on, cameraman, don’t be shy, show us more!”

You shushed her.

“… some of them have been dead for a very long time, I’m afraid,” Billie Dean answered with an affected nod of her head.

Your eyes were wide.

“And what about love?” the anchorman asked.

Billie quirked an eyebrow. “Love?”

“Do you think it’s eternal?”

“I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow!” your friend Henry moaned drunkenly. He tapped his foot on the pavement like a pouting child. “Couldn’t we buy a house on one of those hills and live here? I wanna live here. I don’t wanna live anywhere else.”

“I know,” you giggled, pulling on his arm. The night was full of lights. You hadn’t expected less from Los Angeles. You hadn’t quite been able to find the angels in the sky, though. You kept an eye out for them.

“The world isn’t fair because we’re poor.”Henry walked up to the nearest streetlight and hugged it. “I’m staying here. I’m not leaving.”

You giggled again, stretching your arms as if you were about to break into dance. The air was warm. For the past few days your heart hadn’t been quite so sad.

A car honked nearby, making you jump, and just as you were about to curse a woman shot out of the hotel on your left in a flurry of yellow and blue and nearly smashed into you – “Shit, look where you’re go – “ – brown eyes, gaze terrified, shoes in her hands, cheeks pink and – “Billie?”

She slammed back into your life like the female protagonist of a Hitchcock movie, running from danger in the moonlight with her hair disheveled and her dress billowing in the wind.

“Billie?”

You caught hold of her wrist and tried to meet her gaze. “Are you alright? What – what happened to you? Did somebody hurt you? Are you alright?” You poured questions onto her as if you couldn’t stop. Her eyes focused on you, and she ran a hand through her hair, and let out a nervous laugh.

And just like that you were done for. For the stars were singing, and your heart was once again. Admiring. Entranced. Alive.

“Never again,” Billie groaned into your mouth. She was holding your head firmly between her hands, devouring you, shivering, panting. “Don’t you dare leave me ever again.”

“I love you,” you moaned. You pushed her down on the bed, eyes flashing hungry and predatory as you took in the sight of her, all flushed and ready for you. “Forever.”

And as you dived in you could almost forget the taste of that one lie.

“What about love?” the anchorman asked. “Do you think it’s eternal?”

Billie’s smile faltered. “I’m not sure,” she answered slowly.

“Aw, poor chick got her heart broken,” Julie mocked.

“Lemon?” you asked her.

“Uh?”

“Should I put some lemon juice on the salmon?”

“I hope so,” Billie’s voice said. “I’m not sure – but I hope so.”

#ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #fics

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weirdfanaus · 3 years

Text

The Notebook

Pairing: Matthew Fairchild x fem!reader Headcanon

Words: 1554

Rating: General Audiences

Masterlist

Warnings: none

Matthew has a notebook he keeps carrying around and keeps looking in, noting things in it or drawing when he thinks no one is looking.

One day you silently try to sneak by him, you see that on a page, doodles surrounding them, are verses.

You, unfortunately, don't get to read anything more than the words her eyes sparkled before he closes it suddenly.

Matthew catches you looking and turns his face to you

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

You shake your head.

He looks at you long and then he puts the leather-bound notebook inside his jacket and continues to look at you.

You don't get to see more of what is written in that book until one night when he forgets his jacket at your place.

The weather has just got warmer, summer is fastly coming by.

All the Merry Thieves and their friends come for a late brunch by your place.

You spend most of the day in the garden, playing cards, drinking and eating fruits and tarts.

The night comes faster than you have all expected and all the guests leave when the clock streaks close to eleven.

Matthew leaves with James, the cuffs of his jacket rolled, runes covering his pale skin.

He is a bit too drunk, as usual.

Later that night you clean up the living space and when you lift his red jacket, the notebook falls open on the carpet.

The same poem, now with more drawings of a woman with a big hat, flowers, mostly tulips in blue ink.

Most words are stricken off, with replacements on top or under them.

You cannot understand much of what it is written, the writing too messy for you to understand.

Leafing through the pages, you end up on various Oscar Wilde quotes:

You can never be overdressed or overeducated.

With freedom, books, flowers and the moon, who could not be happy.

Quotes that you think match Matthew perfectly.

More doodles of faces, eyes, splotches of green, red, black paint cover the pages.

You read some poems, but don’t seem to fully understand them.

You close the book and put it back in its place.

The next day, you meet again, give him the coat, he smiles at you and kisses your cheek in thanks.

More weeks pass by when he asks you to come to meet him in the Kensington Gardens, ready to spend a long day in the sun.

You pack a blanket, a hat, a basket of fruits, tarts and sandwiches.

You meet him by the Serpentine, under an old linden tree.

He has a blanket of his own, a small basket is by his feet.

His light pants and white shirt are cuffed, his vest thrown over the basket and he was barefoot.

He reads from a book that looks familiar to you.

You put your basket on the corner of his blanket, take your sandals off and place your hat on the wooden holder.

He raises his eyes from the words and smiles at you when you sit down.

“Hello.” His tone was playful, light.

You smile, replying the same way.

He puts his book away and moves to kiss your cheek, which makes you softly blush.

He has been into kisses recently, you don’t understand why, but you enjoy it.

He sees your big basket and nods his head in its way saying:

“What do you have there?”

“A lot of food. Amelie could not let me go without having a full meal with me. She wants me to get bigger than I am already.”

“You look amazing, mon coeur.” he replies immediately.

You move the basket in his direction.

“I see that you have your own meal prepared.”

“Well, I wanted to be the one to offer food today. But unfortunately, society has other thoughts, am I right?” a boyish smile fills his face and you fight the urge to kiss his face.

“Unfortunately.”

You watch how he brings his own basket next to yours and starts putting out food from both.

Luckily, you don’t have the exact same food.

You and your cook have picked to get things that are softer, usually eaten by you, while Matthew pulled out a box of smoked salmon and slices of bread.

He arranged the food on plates, you try to help him multiple times, but he refuses, saying that he has it handled.

You eat a little bit of everything you have decided to bring, talk about the people walking by, the mundane couples, the children screaming, sometimes even jumping in the water, probably from a dare or because they have thrown their ball in the lake.

You talk about books and you find out that he is rereading one that James has given him, A Tale of Two Cities.

“James keeps mentioning that his father is obsessed with this every time he sees me with it. And Mr Herondale praises my pick just as many times,” he states while looking at the cover.

“Love, love, love.” he sings, throws the book on his vest and turns to you.

He looks long at you, opens his mouth to say something, but suddenly stops as he has just realised something.

You watch him take the notebook out and scribble in it.

“What are you doing?” you ask lightly.

His pen moves so fast on the paper that it makes you dizzy, so you choose to look at how his hair falls on his face.

“Taking notes…” he pauses. Lifts his head, looks at the water sparkling under the sun, pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “For my book.”

“You write?”

“Sometimes.” his eyes were again on the page.

“That’s amazing, Matthew. Are you writing something grand as Lucie?” you know that his book is filled with short verses.

“No… Not really, I mostly write verses.” his eyes meet yours, they are shining.

“Sometimes I do that too, though,” he confesses. “I can show you something, but you won’t understand anything, right now.”

“Why not?”

“You can’t see yourself through my eyes, Y/N.”

You feel like you have just stopped breathing.

His eyes are big, the same colours as the leaves of the linden tree over your heads, his hair is curled and messy, bright as the sun.

You stood there, mouth slightly opened and you see how Matthew goes from courageous to shy and ashamed of what he has confessed.

You realize that it is because of your slow reaction, so you calm yourself and cup his face, the skin soft and you try to assure him that you don’t hate him for what he has just said.

“How do you see me?” you softly ask, voice low.

He looks at you caught off guard.

He didn’t expect those words from you, but he doesn’t move his eyes from yours.

“I see how courageous you are, how you try to help everyone, how warm you are. You picked me as your friend and that speaks loudly to me.”

You want to ask more, but you don’t want to interrupt him.

“I see your beauty. You love and give. You have no idea how much, just having you listen to me rant helps me in ways you cannot even imagine. I want to tell you everything. I want you to know everything about me…” he stops.

You know that he wants to say more.

“I want you. I want to court you, Y/N,” he tells you instead.

You haven’t expected him to tell you that, but it was something you have wanted to hear for a while too.

“I want to share a life with you. I want to wake up by your side. I want to kiss you whenever I want, without people commenting on it. I want to see you smile for the rest of my life, Y/N.”

You are speechless once again.

His eyes, you lose yourself in his eyes every time.

“I want that too, Matthew,” you whisper, not to scare him off.

The smile that breaks on his face is the biggest and most genuine you have ever seen from him.

You have never seen him that way, he seemed light, he looked so beautiful.

He kisses your cheeks, joy pulsing through both your bodies, but you cup his face again and stop him.

And you kiss him deeply.

You feel him smiling and you smile too.

He moves his hands around your middle, he draws you in, your bodies now glued.

He gives you his family’s ring after he kisses you a couple dozen times.

You keep it on your thumb because of how big it is.

The two of you lay the rest of the day under that tree. Matthew continues to read, now aloud at your request, from Will Herondale’s favourite book.

When the sun starts disappearing, you gather your things and take a stroll through the park, your hand on his arm.

You share the same carriage and he takes you home, right at your doorstep.

He kisses your cheek, in goodbye, but you move to kiss his lips.

He smiles while walking down the porch and you watch him climb in the carriage, waves his hand and he disappears.

But that night is not the last you see his great smile.

tag list: @malfoysmatrioshka @elleclairez @alebooknerd @fair-but-wilde-child

#matthew fairchild #matthew fairchild x reader #matthew x reader #matthew fairchild fanfic #matthew fairchild fanficton #the last hours #the last hours fanfiction #the last hours x reader #cassandra clare '#chain of iron #chain of gold #matthew faitchild x y/n #weirdfanaus

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walkingdaryls · 3 years

Text

silent toast

pairing: loki x female!reader

requested: nope :)

ugh i am not proud of this at all but whatever

summary: in which you attend a family friend’s party with loki, and realize just how much tranquility he brings you

You’d attended these kinds of parties your entire life. They were thrown every couple of weekends - at either your family’s house or your family friend’s - as a way to enjoy life together, and forget about everything else.

And with you recently becoming an Avenger a couple years ago, your family friends were dying to have you attend their usual gatherings whenever you’d visit your hometown. Sometimes, if the Avengers had some time off, you’d bring them along. Your family and family friends would swarm the poor superheros, making sure they didn’t have a dull time. And they never did.

Especially Tony.

You were now the talk of every single gathering, every single time you attended.

On this particular weekend, Tony had given you a couple days off, so you decided to take one of the private jets with Loki, your magnificent boyfriend, to visit your parents again.

Loki had already met your family numerous times, and had even attended one or two of those parties with your family’s friends. It was quite a large step for him to take, but he did it just for you, and you were so grateful for him. At first, everyone was a bit on edge meeting Loki, but upon seeing the adoration for him in your eyes (and in his for you), everyone warmed up to the god pretty quickly.

And so here you were, wearing your favorite short sundress, sipping on some wine as you chattered with your dad and his friends. This time, the party was at your dad’s best friend’s house. They had just moved in, so it obviously called for a housewarming party.

The ambience was nice. The lights were dim, the aroma of well-cooked food filled the house, and upbeat music sounded throughout the space. And voices chattered everywhere, fully into their own conversations with one another.

For the past couple hours you’d been here, you’d been swarmed with the usual Avengers questions.

“Did you bring your suit with you?”

“Is Tony Stark here?”

“Can you show us your powers again?”

“Did you expect to end up with Loki?”

“How does it feel to be one of Earth’s mightiest heroes?”

“Do you know how proud your parents are of you?”

No one had ill intentions with those, of course, but you always ended up feeling stuffy and overwhelmed at these gatherings. Too much attention on yourself never felt good. You have no idea how Tony could do it.

You sighed, “Excuse me, I’m gonna go grab some more of that salmon.” The men let you go, and you eagerly walked towards the now-empty table of appetizers.

As you absentmindedly served yourself some smoked salmon on the small plate, your eyes searched for the one person you could never feel overwhelmed by.

Loki.

Oh, my sweet, sweet Loki. My love.

There he was, standing across the room, talking quite animatedly with your mother and a couple other women she was friends with. His crisp black suit stood out compared to all the other men’s.

Your mother and her friends were leaning into Loki, listening with facisnation to what he was saying. Loki was talking quite excitedly with his hands, and you knew what that meant.

He was telling a story about his past.

Loki was always a very still, reserved person. But when he would tell a story about his past, his hands would suddenly be all over the place, and you loved it.

You smiled softly at the sight of Loki being welcomed into the family, and suddenly felt the urge to cry happy tears. But you managed to hold back the tears for now.

You just simply watched, and fawned.

You truly were the luckiest person alive, weren’t you?

If you could, you would just stop time right there and then, and soak up every detail of it. The dim lighting, the delicious aroma of home-cooked meals, laughter, Loki’s voice...

Smiling once more to yourself, you turned back around and busied yourself with the food on your plate. It felt quite relieving to be quiet for a couple minutes, even if you did love your family and friends. You quickly grabbed your glass of wine and bobbed your head softly to the music as you walked away from the large living room, and into an empty hallway absentmindedly.

You simply wandered around as the voices and music’s volume lowered slightly the farther away you got. Taking a sip of wine, you eyed some of the family photographs lined up on the walls.

“Are you alright, darling?” Loki’s voice sounded.

You jumped just slightly, snapping your head to the end of the hallway where your godly boyfriend stood.

You nodded, smiling softly as he made his way towards you, “Yep. Just taking a couple minutes for myself. I get drained from too much talking, you know?”

A gentle hand reached up to the back of your head and gently slid down, grasping onto your hair softly. Loki’s hand continued moving down and settled on your lower back.

“I do know.”

You glanced up at him, making eye contact. He had a very relaxed look in his eyes which only made you lean into him closer. He smelled like honey almost.

“Thank you for coming today. They love you,” Your voice was a whisper.

Loki’s other hand came up and caressed the bottom of your jaw ever so softly.

He whispered back, “You know I would do anything for you.”

And you did know. It’s true. Your heart filled with overwhelming love, you grabbed Loki’s hand that settled on your cheek, and moved it towards your mouth where you gave it a warm kiss. Loki inhaled sharply, yet subtly. Oh, the things he wanted to do to you.

Loki added with a slight smirk, “I have to say, though, I am having quite an enjoyable time.”

“Well, they love to listen to your stories. As do I,” you chuckled.

Loki didn’t say anything else as he pulled you in gently and pressed his lips to yours without a second thought. You nearly dropped the glass of wine in your hand, but managed to steady yourself as you melted into the kiss.

No matter how many times you’d felt Loki’s lips and skin on yours, you never managed to get sick of it. Your heart was still beating a million times a minute, just like the first time he’d kissed you years ago. Your breaths smelled like wine still.

Breaking apart from the kiss, out of breath, you kept your eyes closed and your forehead touching Loki’s as you brushed your fingers through his raven hair. You sighed, and breathed him in completely.

“Y/N! Loki!” Sounded a couple of voices from the living room. The host and guests were probably looking for the two of you to tell some other story about life as an Avenger.

You giggled, breaking away from Loki, but sliding your hand into his.

“I think we should go back,” you said softly. Loki let out a grunt from the depths of his throat.

He smirked as you began pulling him towards the living room.

“Too bad...two more minutes alone and I would’ve pulled you into the empty bathroom with me.”

Your faced heated as you squeezed Loki’s hand in warning, earning a deep chuckle from him.

Soon enough, you and Loki immersed yourselves once again in the party. Slow dancing together, more food, sipping on wine with your parents and their friends...

At one point, late in the night, after one too many glasses of wine, you watched Loki carefully from across the room again. And as if he felt your intense gaze on him, Loki’s eyes suddenly shifted to yours instead of the conversation he was busying himself with.

Lifting your wine glass happily, you held it out to Loki with a genuine smile on your face and a soft look in your eyes. A silent toast, but Loki knew what it meant.

I love you.

#imagine #avengers imagine #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson x reader #loki x reader

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