#but I’ve found that I love their softer moments like when they begin dating or get married etc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

capypub · 1 year

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Without Warning - Mafia!Joel Miller Scene 3

AU Mafia!Joel Miller x Original Female Character

Rating: T (language, sexual themes)

Minors DNI. 18+ content!

Scene 1 Scene 2 Scene 4

Summary: Joel and his Baby Girl meet Bill and Frank. Then proceed to make out in the horse stables.

Something softer, not very Mafia!Joel heavy, but I have an idea in the works.

It was easy to convince her the gun was merely for protection, a precaution he stood by since returning from his time in the military. Having a concealed carry license in his wallet also helped ease some of her anxiety, especially after he explained that practically everyone and their mama carries in Texas. Everything he was saying made sense, so she had no reason to be wary of him. After that hiccup, his relationship with her continued to develop quickly, both absolutely taken by the other, complimenting each other’s energy to near perfection.

Joel’s presence at the Bison increased drastically over the next two months. Any night Indi was working, he was there, patiently waiting for the last call at his table, usually nursing two or three doubles throughout the night. Outside of work, he seemed to spare no expense, showing up to her apartment with fresh flowers every time they made plans, reserving private rooms for tastings at the finest Texas wineries, leaving her gifts when he couldn’t see her or had to be away for work.

Until one day, after dinner at one of the best rooftop steakhouses in Austin, Indi put her hand over his as he fisted the gearshift of his Hellcat, the engine purring smoothly around them.

“Joel…” she said softly, looking so hesitant and small in the passenger’s seat, the end of her little black dress riding up as she fidgeted nervously, “I’ve been having such a great time with you, these dates,” she chuckled with a slight shake of her head, almost disbelieving, “these dates are incredible…you’re incredible.”

He smiled warmly, bringing his free hand up to stroke her cheek, his chest filling with warmth as she leaned into his touch so easily. He leaned over, kissing her softly, the little content sigh she let out only making that warmth in his chest grow. When he pulled away, she was grinning, eyes already beginning to dilate from a single kiss.

“Just wanna keep seein’ that pretty smile, baby girl,” he said, his voice rich and deep like honey.

Another thing Joel found himself encouraging was that gorgeous blush on her cheeks. She hated it, having mentioned it in passing, but he loved seeing that slight tinge of pink. Slowly batting her lashes, she pecked his lips, leaning back before he could do anything else or make her blush harder from his sweet words.

“I was going to say,” she giggled, when he attempted to chase her mouth, “I want to see more of you, Joel, the real you. I’ve learned enough about you to know you wouldn’t just choose to spend a few hours at a winery or a five-star restaurant,” she explained, stroking his beard with her thumb.

“The real me?” he questioned with a slight frown, caught off guard, “I don’t think you’re ready for that, darlin’,” he added, sighing quietly.

The little smile and chuckle told him that she thought he was joking. In reality, every terrible thing he’s ever done crossed his mind in a flash. Biting his lower lip, he turned his head slightly to look out the front window.

“Please, Joel? I want to get to know the actual you, good and bad included,” she requested, that little pout instantly blowing through his defenses, leaving him feeling more vulnerable than he was comfortable with in the moment. Rather than fight it, he leaned into it, because it’s probably what she would have wanted, the more serious they became about each other.

“Okay, baby girl,” he agreed, pulling her in for a slow kiss.

That’s how they ended up on a ranch about an hour outside of Austin two days later. Joel parked the truck in front of a cozy-looking farmhouse, the circular driveway of dirt kicking up dust as he came to a stop behind an old and beaten down blue truck. He wouldn’t tell her much about where they were going, just that he wanted to take her to a friend’s house.

“So you used to live here?” she asked as he helped her out of his truck, having developed a habit of opening her door and taking her hand every time she had exited his vehicle.

“For a bit, yeah, when I got back from Iraq,” he answered, his hand seeking comfort along the curve of her lower back, “Bill and Frank took me in, kept me fed, and all I had to do was take care of the ranch.”

“Are they nice? Bill and Frank?” she questioned, looking up at him as they went up the worn wooden steps to the front door.

“Frank is,” Joel muttered, tapping on the glass before stepping back.

Before Indi could get another question in, the door swung open, revealing an older man with a graying beard and bright eyes. He was tall, lean and sported a sweater much too warm for this time of year, yet seemed perfectly content with an apron tied around his waist.

“Look who it is,” the man said, beaming with enthusiasm as he wrapped Joel in a tight hug.

Indi noticed how Joel only tensed slightly, probably from being caught off guard more than general discomfort. He patted the man on the back with a low chuckle. Joel kept still as the man put both hands on his shoulders, assessing him from head to foot.

“Good to see you, Frank,” Joel said once the other man gave a quick nod of approval, apparently satisfied with his findings.

“I know,” Frank said with a smirk, making Joel actually laugh, “And this one? She’s gorgeous, Joel!” he proclaimed, his attention now fully on Indi who had kept slightly behind Joel.

After he made a proper introduction, Frank led them into the house. It was definitely as cozy as the outside, filled with furniture and knick knacks of a lifetime, yet also filled with warmth and love.

“Ellie home?” Joel asked as they settled in the kitchen.

Frank scoffed, setting a tray of drinks in the middle of the table, “You know damn well that girl’s never home. She tell you she has a girlfriend now?”

Joel choked on his drink, coughing harshly as he leaned forward, Indi rubbing his back in small circles as he regained his composure. “What now?”

Heavy boots on the wooden floor stopped Frank from answering. A door somewhere in the house closed as the footsteps came closer.

“What’d I tell you about letting strays in?” a deep voice grumbled from the doorway.

Indi turned in her seat to find another man, shorter than Frank but with a roughness similar to Joel. His beard was fuller, blended into his neatly trimmed hair in a mix of chocolate and gray.

“There you are, come sit,” Frank said, ignoring the man’s comments, “Indi, this is my husband Bill, Bill, come meet Joel’s girlfriend.”

Joel visibly stiffend at the word girlfriend, his eyes darting to Indi to gauge her reaction. She seemed unfazed by the term, shaking Bill’s hand. As Frank continued to lead the conversation between the four of them, going on about Ellie's girlfriend, Joel kept glancing nervously at Indi. Bill remained as stoic as ever, providing input only when prompted by Frank like a dutiful husband. The rest of the time he stared at his drink or around the room. When Indi’s hand came to rest on Joel’s knee, that he hadn’t even realized he’d been bouncing anxiously, he looked at her.

She didn’t say anything, instead she smiled at him, squeezing his knee comfortingly before turning her attention back to Frank. Joel held her hand under the table, squeezing lightly and receiving one in return.

“How much gas mileage d’you get on that truck, Joel?” Bill asked, looking out the window, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.

Indi noticed Frank subtly roll his eyes.

“Better mileage than that piece o’ shit Chevy you got sittin’ out there,” Joel shot back, sounding serious but breaking out into a laugh when Bill chuckled.

They ended up staying for a late lunch at Bill and Frank’s. Frank, as always, was the perfect host. Bill grilled some steaks and shared a beer with Joel by the fire while Frank sat with Indi on the back porch. They each had a glass of wine, the conversation coming much easier now that they’d started drinking.

“You know, you’re the first girl he’s ever brought over,” Frank stated, eyeing Indi with a smirk over the rim of his glass.

“Yeah,” she said with a light laughter and a nervous smile, “Apparently I’m the first for a lot of things with him,” she added, bowing her head slightly.

“He seems happier since we last saw ‘m,” Frank continued, smiling warmly over at Joel and Bill who had their backs to them, “He needs some happiness, if I’m bein’ honest…we all do,” he sighed.

“Can I ask you something, Frank?” Indi spoke up after a brief silence.

“Anything, honey,” he nodded, radiating with charisma and light in the afternoon sun.

“Who’s Ellie?”

She could see the hesitation in his face, the way his eyes darted over to Joel before returning to her face. He gently touched her arm, giving it a soft pat as he sighed.

“We have a habit around here of helping out strays,” Frank said softly, “Joel brought her here one day, said she needed a place to stay and the rest is history. Little firecracker that one, good shot too, must’ve picked that up from Joel, I guess.”

Frank could see the confusion in her eyes. He knew he shouldn’t be telling her anything about Ellie, he knew it was Joel’s business to handle, but he could also tell this one was going to stick around for a while. He figured the more prepared she was, the better.

“Ellie was fourteen when she came here, she’s sixteen now, absolute hellraiser, but we love that girl,” Frank continued.

“Why would he bring her here? Wouldn’t it make sense for her to stay with him?” she asked, sipping from her wine glass, glancing over towards Joel as if he might hear them, which Frank knew he wouldn’t with his bad ear directed towards them.

“It wasn’t safe for her to stay with him, but…I think that’s something you two should discuss, I don’t need to be on the receiving end of his tantrums,” he said with a much warmer smile, nudging her playfully.

The conversations remained light after that. Bill was an amazing cook. Frank invited them to stay the night, saying the guest room was always available, but Joel shut that conversation down pretty quickly.

“Mind if I take ‘er to see the horse before we head out?” Joel asked, having drifted closer to Indi at some point during their meal, his arm a comforting weight around her shoulders as she leaned into him, finishing off her third glass of wine and it wasn’t even 5 o’clock yet.

“You can change the feed while you’re out there,” Bill grumbled around his toothpick, receiving a light smack in the arm from Frank.

“Alright, old man, you got yourself a deal,” Joel agreed with a grin, seeming the most relaxed since Indi had met him.

“Joel, don’t go gettin’ yourself dirty for no reason, Bill can get the horses,” Frank insisted as the couple stood from the table.

“I don’t mind, really. Thank y’all for today, too” Joel insisted, taking Indi’s hand and leading her down one of the dirt paths snaking across the grounds.

As they approached the stables, somewhat hidden from the house by a thicket of trees and bushes, Indi looked up at Joel with a wide smile. He wrapped his arm around her, tilting his head down to lightly kiss the side of her head.

“Ready to see some horses?” he asked, amused by her eagerness.

Once inside the stables, Indi absolutely lost her mind over the group of horses, all well-kept and gorgeous. He started by introducing her to each horse, already knowing their names.

“This one’s Whiskey, he, uh, he’s mine,” he explained, stroking the animal slowly.

“Like you bought him?” she asked, offering her hand for Whiskey to sniff, proceeding to stroke his muzzle.

“Bought ‘m, raised ‘m, makin’ sure he gets everything he needs,” he nodded, sounding a little far away as he stared at the side of Whiskey’s head.

Indi felt her chest flutter at the idea of Joel’s nurturing side so exposed in the moment. He seemed so relaxed inside the stables, easily refilling buckets of hay with ease as he explained more about how to care for the horses. Indi kept close, content to watch Joel work and admire his ass every time he bent over.

“This one’s really pretty,” she commented once they reached the last horse needing food.

“Shimmer,” Joel said, “this is Ellie’s horse,” he added, avoiding her gaze momentarily.

“I feel like I should ask who exactly is Ellie,” she said, noticing the hitch in his breathing and tension in his arms, “But I trust you’ll tell me when you’re ready, so I won’t,” she added, coming up behind him to wrap her arms around his torso, nuzzling the back of his shirt.

Joel sighed, a deep and heavy breath of relief. God, this girl was something else. He appreciated her not pushing him on things like this. Turning around, he brought both arms around her, pulling her against him and leaning down to kiss her. Her arms slipped around his neck, holding herself to him as she stood up on the tips of her toes to try and gain more leverage. With ease, Joel gripped the back of her thighs, his mouth never leaving hers, as he lifted her up, encouraged by the muffled squeak she let out as he settled her legs around his waist.

He caged her between his body and the wall next to Shimmer’s pen. She groaned as he licked into her mouth, rough hands holding her up, the scruff of his beard scratching pleasantly against her.

“You’re fucking amazing, baby girl, you know that?” he asked gruffly when he pulled back, eyes hazy with need as he looked up at her.

“Yeah?” she laughed, still trying to recover from the heat of his kiss.

“Absolutely,” he growled, capturing her mouth in another heated kiss, this time a little rougher and a little more urgent.

The deep groan from his throat when she squeezed her legs tighter around his waist and moved her hips just slightly was animalistic. She could feel how hard he was each time she shifted her hips, her body warm with desire as Joel squeezed and groped her ass. His mouth was just as rough on her neck, urgent nips and licks that had her squirming, hot breaths fanning her warm body as she moaned softly in his ear.

“J-Joel,” she said tremulously, grabbing at the collar of his shirt to anchor herself.

He kissed her again, a primal groan rumbling in his chest when she eagerly matched his pace, seeming just as worked up. The sound of the horses whinnying, eating, or moving about their pen was faint, almost nonexistent to him as he felt her thighs squeeze his sides again. Fuck, if she kept that up, he’d lose his mind.

“Joel,” she said, a little clearer this time, putting a hand on his chest to bring his focus back.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he cooed slowly, his chest rising and falling quickly, eyes focussed on her lips that were swollen and wet.

“I…I can’t keep going,” she admitted, looking nervous as she bit her lip.

“Why? What’s the matter?” he asked, trying to catch his breath as he gently set her down.

She mumbled something unintelligible to him, looking down and fidgeting with her bracelet.

“What’s that, darlin’?” he asked again, leaning down to try and understand her.

“The horses…” she said a little louder, still avoiding his eyes as she crossed her arms over her body, “...they’re staring.”

Turning around, Joel spotted Shimmer and one other with their heads sticking out. He wouldn’t exactly call it staring, it was just how they looked sometimes. The others had moved away from the doors, most likely to settle in for the evening. He couldn’t help the soft laugh as he turned back around.

“They’re not staring at us, darlin’,” he chuckled, trying to pull her close again.

“They’re watching us,” she insisted, an adorable pout on her lips.

“Want to go somewhere more private, baby girl?” he offered, openly adjusting his still hard cock through his jeans as best he could.

“Yeah,” she agreed as she bit her lip, her gaze drifting to his crotch momentarily before she wrapped her arms around his forearm as he guided them back to the main house, “But can we come back soon?” she asked while they were walking.

He couldn’t help but smile as he leaned down and kissed her temple, slipping his arm from her grasp to wrap around her. She curled one arm around his waist as they continued towards the truck.

“Anytime, baby, anytime,” he agreed, enjoying the raw sense of calm he felt walking through the ranch in the early evening hours, the sounds of nature surrounding them as he breathed in fresh air and held his girl close, absolutely content.

The moment came to a crashing halt when he remembered what Frank had said earlier. He’d called Indi his girlfriend. As if reading his mind, she glanced up at him with a hint of mischief in her smile, biting her lower lip as she batted her lashes at him.

“So how long have you been telling people I’m your girlfriend?” she asked, grinning slyly.

“Frank likes to assume things,” he tried to explain.

“So he assumed wrong, then?” she questioned, raising a brow at him, still smirking.

“N-no, baby girl, ‘course not, I just…I just mean he di-.”

“Joel,” she stopped him by putting a hand on his chest, coming to a stop on the trail, “I’m messing with you, it’s okay,” she soothed him.

He sighed heavily. “Don’t play like that, honey,” he huffed, “You know what we’ve got goin’ on ain’t just messin’ ‘round,” he insisted.

“I know, I’m just curious what we’re calling ‘what we’ve got goin’ on,’ you know?”

He took a deep breath, bringing both his arms around her waist, turning their bodies to face each other. She leaned into his touch, both hands on his chest as she looked up at him with pure adoration. His voice was husky when he spoke into her ear, suggestive and dangerous.

“You can call it whatever you want, baby girl, but just know you’re mine and I ain’t lettin’ you go.”

Scene 4

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shop-korea · 6 months

Video

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seita · 3 years

Text

girls like you | (m.)

pairing: hanamaki/f!reader

genre: smut, fluff

wordcount: 2.526

cw: dilf!makki, college!reader

tags: age gap, loss of virginity, virgin kink, pussy slapping with dick, multiple orgasms, mildly wet and messy, dirty talk, mating press, sensitivity kink, squirting, brief aftercare

+ note: this is my installment of @kaijime's dilf collab!

summary: you never expected to find yourself in bed with your moms ex boyfriend, or for him to have a thing for sweet little college girls like yourself.

“God, this is why I love pretty little college girls like you,” he groans, looking at you splayed across his bed. You were in just a simple pair of panties, arms tucked across your chest to cover your breasts.

You shudder beneath his gaze. His eyes are lidded, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. You never thought you’d be in a position like this -- especially with Takahiro Hanamaki of all people.

You knew him years ago, he had been dating your mom for a few months. You two actually got along really well before they suddenly broke up and you were forbade from seeing him again.

The last thing you expected was to run into him on the street in the city you moved to for college. And you certainly didn’t expect a casual dinner to turn into you pretty much naked on his bed.

You had never even had a boyfriend before, so to wind up in this position with a man twice your age was surreal. But the longer he stared at you with those sharp, heated eyes, the wetter your panties became.

His words run around in your head. Of course, you knew younger girls -- girls your age, always threw themselves at Hanamaki. You were pretty sure that was a reason your mom dumped him -- too much insecurity caused from it.

But to hear him pretty much confess that he liked to bed college girls made you squirm.

“Bet you’re dripping into those pretty panties, aren’t you?” he breathes, “Move your hands, let me see you.”

You whine and slowly force your arms to your sides, fighting the urge to cover yourself once more as his eyes landed on you. You felt so exposed and vulnerable.

“Hiro…” you whimper, making his heartbeat speed up for a split second at the sound of a sweet nickname falling from your lips.

“I’ve dreamt about this for so long,” he whispers, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt over his head, “You have no idea…”

“H-How long?” you manage to ask, eyes raking across his body.

He’s not fit or anything like you remember seeing him in pictures when he was in highschool. He had long since abandoned volleyball and his body had begun to show his age. He wasn’t unattractive by any means, he was filled out in all the right places. His skin looked soft and his biceps bulged with every movement he made.

“Since I was with your mother,” he grumbles, finally working on his belt, pulling the leather out of the loops on his jeans.

“What?” you gasp, eyes wide, “I-Is that why you broke up?”

He pauses what he’s doing to look at you, shrugging after a second, “Not entirely…” he sighs when he sees that you’re not willing to let the conversation go, “You know how your mother is...she’s jealous of everyone. Even you.”

“Seems she had a reason to be jealous of me,” you mutter, biting your lip to fight back a smile.

It was no secret between the two of you how toxic your mother was. She was vain, always believing she had to be the prettiest, most important person in a room. It really put a strain on your relationship when she started to force those ideals onto you -- be the perfect daughter to the perfect mom. When you moved away, you pretty much stopped contact with her.

“Well, you are a threat,” he whispers, reaching down to grip your thighs. You squeal as he tugs you to the end of the bed, “Just look at you, darling, you’re just stunning...perfect body...pretty tits.”

“Hiro…” you whisper, squirming on the bed as you await his next move.

“Let’s get these off,” he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties, pulling them down your thighs.

Strings of slick connected your pussy to the fabric. He couldn’t help but moan at the sight. He brought your panties up to his face, thumbing the wet material, your juices stuck to his finger when he pulled away and he couldn’t help but bring the digit to his mouth.

“Fuck, taste so good,” he growls through his teeth, “And you always did wear the cutest little panties.”

“Huh?” you manage to gasp out through the haze of lust that had taken over you.

He chuckled darkly, letting your panties fall to the ground, “You never noticed how your panties went missing all the time? Couldn’t help steal them when I found them in the laundry basket.”

You giggle, hiding your face behind your hands, “Dirty old man.”

He barked out a laugh, finally dropping to his knees, gripping your thighs to pull them apart, letting him see your glistening folds, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren’t you? Getting off on fucking this old man.”

You bite your lip and peek out of your fingers at him. It feels so lewd to be like this, having your legs spread apart with a man twice your age between your legs. He had a kid just about your age, yet there you were -- letting him spread your sensitive little cunt open so he could stare at your pulsing hole and clit.

“Seriously…” he finally gasps out, “Young girls like you...fuck, you’re always so sensitive and get so fucking wet...I feel like an addict.”

“Hiro…” you whimper, reaching down to wrap your hand in his graying hair. It was softer than you thought it would be, “I-I’ve never done this before...you know?”

He curses under his breath, “Yeah, I know sweetheart...trust me...I know,” he presses a kiss to your ankle, “I’ll take real good care of you.”

You whimper as he suddenly leans in, swiping his tongue between your folds. Your entire body tightened as he flicked over your clit. He didn’t mind your hand tightening in his hair -- not when you were arching desperately, already grinding your hips down in search of more stimulation.

You were so sensitive and wet, gushing into his mouth. He eagerly lapped it up, bringing his hand up to quickly sink two fingers into your cunt. You gasped and your body tensed up for a moment, prompting him to pull away.

“Does that hurt, pretty baby?” he coos, keeping his fingers still for you as you whimper and nod, “Sorry, baby...didn’t think about how it might be too much for you.”

“‘S okay…” you mumble, body slowly relaxing, “Y-You can keep goin’.”

He grins, wrapping his lips around your clit once again. He keeps his finger’s movements to a minimum, not wanting to overwhelm you too quickly. You sigh and moan happily, thighs twitching at the pleasure he’s giving you.

“‘M gonna make you cum,” he whispers, circling his tongue around the hard little bud.

His fingers sped up, crooking up to hit that tender little spot inside you. You let out an adorable squeal, thighs suddenly clamping around his head. He growls in mild annoyance, using his other hand to pin you open for him to continue.

His cock is straining against his zipper, throbbing in response to your responsive body. Your cunt was tightening around his fingers and he moans against your clit, knowing you’re about to cum. Your thighs are trembling and you clutch desperately at his hair. He didn’t mind the pain, in fact it made his cock even harder.

As you finally came, you cried out his name and it was like music to his ears. Your entire body trembled and jerked underneath him, cunt squeezing his fingers as you creamed around them. He swore he could feel your clit throbbing against his tongue.

After a minute, you began pushing him away and he did so almost reluctantly. He pulled his fingers from your cunt with a lewd squelching. Holding the digits up, he spread them apart so you could see the way your cum clung to them in sticky strings.

You whimper at the lewd sight of it but he merely grins, popping them into his mouth with a muted moan.

“Virgins just taste so sweet,” he whispers, making your face flush hot.

With practiced ease, he grips your waist and pushes you back up the bed until your head is in the pillows. He straightens himself up and begins shedding himself of the final layer of clothes he wears.

You squirm on the bed at the sight of his cock. It’s pretty, long and pink with a flushed red tip. Precum drools down the side which he quickly catches with his hand, stroking himself languidly to the sight of you gawking at his cock.

“You still want this, pretty?” he breathes, licking his lips as he waits for your response.

You swallow thickly and sigh. You can’t believe you’re in this position. It feels so unlike you to do something like this; lose your virginity to your mothers ex-boyfriend, a man she had forbidden you to even talk to after their break up.

But as you look up at him, you feel your cunt clench pathetically around nothing and know that you need him -- want him more than anything.

“Please, Hiro,” you softly cry, reaching out for him.

He groans at your consent, climbing onto the bed. It dips under his weight as he positions himself between your legs. He wraps his fist around the base of his cock, shuddering under the feeling of his own touch. Slapping the thick head against your wet folds, he grins when your entire body twitches in response to the feeling.

Whining low in your throat, you grip the pillow beneath your head. Your eyes are lidded and your lips are parted as you pant under his intense gaze.

“Hiro…” you sigh softly, watching his lips twitch in response to you whining his name.

He feels drunk, head hazy as he strokes the tip between your folds, catching your clit and dipping into your hot little hole to watch you gush against him.

His ex-girlfriends sweet little daughter was beneath him, damn near creaming around the tip of his cock every time he pressed it against you. You were just about the age of his own kid and it felt so taboo, so wrong. But that only made it feel more exhilarating.

It wasn’t the first time he had sunk his fat cock into the tiny, tender little virgin cunt of a college girl. It certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“You sure you want it, pretty girl?” he groans, “Want me to pop this little cherry?”

You flush under his crude words and find yourself shyly nodding. A wide grin splits his face and before you can think twice, his hips are nudging forward, popping the head inside of you. Your thighs twitch closed at the sting but he’s quick to pin them down, rocking his hips to push more and more of his length inside you until his hips are flush against yours.

You’re panting by the time he finally stills, thighs trembling in his hold. He can feel your cunt spasming around him and he can’t help but fold your legs up against your chest, pinning you there as he slowly begins to fuck you properly.

His eyes are locked onto the way your cunt stretches around him, a thick ring of white at the base of his cock every time he pulls out. It’s mouthwatering and so cute just how responsive you are. You precious little cunt sucks his cock back desperately every time he pulls out.

“Hiro!” you squeal, little hands slapping down onto the bed, unsure exactly what to do with them.

He smiles, taking pity on you before he leans down, taking your wrists in his hands, prompting you into wrapping your arms around his neck. The change in position allows him to grind against your clit every time he sinks in. Your thighs squeeze his sides, body keeping them pinned open as he continues to fuck you.

Your fingers wrap themselves in his hair and you find yourself clinging desperately to him. He presses his lips against yours and smiles as you moan softly into his mouth. Your entire body was trembling in his arms and it made his cock throb almost painfully.

“So sweet,” he whispers, “Does it feel good, pretty? Tell me.”

“F-Feel’s so good!” you squeal, eyes rolling back in your head as you pant.

He could tell you were getting close with the way your entire body seemed to be alight with nerves, twitching and spasming beneath him. Your back arched and your tight little cunt squeezed around his cock, making him slow his pace to avoid hurting you.

The action caused an almost disappointed cry falling from your lips but he quickly shushed you, instead changing the angle of his thrusts to hit that sweet little spot inside of you.

“You’re close…” he whispers, looking down between your bodies to watch how soaked his cock had become in your juices, “C’mon, baby, lemme see you cum.”

“C-Can’t!” you gasp, “‘S too much!”

“No, you can do it, baby,” he encourages, “Just relax and let go for me, hm?”

A soft sob rips from your lips before you suddenly fall quiet. His eyes drift to your face and sees your lip is tucked between your teeth and your brows are drawn together. He reaches between your legs to find your clit, wet and hard beneath his fingers as he circles it.

Your mouth drops open and you release an almost timid little cry, hands reaching down to wrap around his wrist.

Your walls clamp down around him and he curses, feeling the indicative feeling of your gushing around him, squirting against his abdomen and soaking the both of you in your cum. You’re squealing and crying beneath him, tears falling from your eyes as he continues to fuck you through the high. He pins your trembling body down, keeping you from moving as he works himself to his own high.

His heavy balls slap wetly against you every time he sinks in. His cock is soaked in your cum and the sight makes him throb, finally sending him over the edge. He freezes, sinking himself balls deep inside of your still spasming cunt, making sure to shoot his cum against your cervix. You whimper at the feeling of his hot cum filling you up but quickly relax when the two of you fall still.

Once he pulls out and works on cleaning the two of you up, he can’t resist pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead. You look so cute and sweet cuddled up in his bed, struggling to stay awake after he’d fucked you so well.

Neither of you knows what to say as he lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms. Both of you know how wrong this entire thing is but part of him knows he’s become completely and utterly addicted to you.

The picture of his ex-wife and mother of his kid sits on his nightstand, collecting dust and you muse the outcome of if your mother found out you had fucked her ex-boyfriend as you fall asleep.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #hq x reader #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki smut #hanamaki takahiro x reader #takahiro hanamaki x reader #hanamaki takahiro smut #takahiro hanamaki smut #afton.writes

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meetmymouth · 4 years

Text

AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey and @burberryharold for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels!

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y’sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer, “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?” He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n

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dirtyoatmeall · 4 years

Text

Mad Dogs (Kyotani x Reader)

A/N: soft kyotani is on my mind, luv that angry boy. anywayz I'm working on a long Osamu fic to satiate my burning desire for the onigiri man, it'll be out eventually so enjoy this for now :)

Pairing: Kyotani Kentaro x gn!reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: None ! My run on sentences

Kyotani could count the times he was genuinely confused on one hand. The time he asked his sister if she was being such a bitch because she was on her period and she responded by threatening to push him down the stairs, the time in first-year when the teacher introduced moles during chemistry, and now, you.

Ever since the beginning of second-year, your actions have never failed to leave the spiker in a state of confusion. One day you sat next to him at lunch, smiling kindly before opening your bento, talking about your day while occasionally asking questions. He never answered them, and you just shrugged and continued on.

He didn’t speak to you for the first week, and when he did, he snapped at you, telling you to leave him alone. You just rolled your eyes and told him “Eat your lunch Kyotani-san, you’ll be less cranky afterwards.” (he did feel better, not that he’d ever tell you.) You’d even bring him food every once in a while, usually when he had a game (not that he ever played). Even when he told you that, you’d just shrug and smile softly, “You never know, so you better eat up, just in case.”

He even thought that Yahaba had possibly put you up to it, in some weird attempt to get him to be a better teammate, but when he brought it up to the setter he just looked at Kyotani oddly and asked, “(Y/N)? Is that the person with the earrings? I’ve never talked to them.” So you just apparently just decided one day to befriend him. (Wait, befriend? You’re not actually friends… are you?)

Another odd thing about you, your accessories. While Aoba Johsai is a private school, it is rather lax on its uniform policy. As long as you had some semblance of the uniform on, you were golden. It gave Kyotani the freedom to cut and dye his hair and wear eyeliner, and it gave you the freedom to wear your… earrings? He asked you about them one day, what they were.

You looked at him bemusedly, “Um, they’re earrings Kyo-san.” When he continued to look at you deadpan, you playfully rolled your eyes, “I was joking! I make them myself, see? Today I’m wearing my beetle ones, and I wore my frog ones yesterday! I just get plastic figures and…” He half-listened while you explained your process, but he found himself focusing on you and not your words. He took in the dopey smile on your face, the way your eyes brightened, and how your hands were more animated while talking about your interests. It was… cute. (Wait, cute? When did he think you were cute?) If you saw the slight blush on his face, you didn’t say anything, which he was thankful for.

After months of eating lunch together, and occasionally accompanying you to the train station, Kyotani found himself coming to the confounding conclusion, he liked you. And not in the ‘I tolerate you’ way. He liked you in the ‘almost got in a fight when someone made fun of your hobby’ way or the ‘I get this weird feeling in my chest when I’m not with you, but when I’m with you I get a weird feeling in my stomach’ way. He had no idea what to do, so he turned to one of the only other people he respected, putting his pride aside to ask for help.

“What did you just say?” His sister looked at him like he had just grown another head. He rolled his eyes, patience thinning. “I said, how do I ask someone out?” It took her a few moments to snap out of whatever daze she was in, a Grinch-like smile appearing (at least, that’s how It looked to him), and she leaned forward. “Aww, does Kenta have a crush? Why don’t you tell me about this mystery person and I’ll tell you the best way to ask ‘em out.” He grits his teeth as he begrudgingly obliged.

After a very painful conversation with his older sister that ended with a “Get them something they like, but not something obvious, something that would show you’ve not only listened, but retained what you know about them.” Kyotani grumbled at the memory, he can’t believe he had to go through all that just to be told something he already knows. He shook his head and got back to the task at hand. He looked at the shelf in front of him, pursing his lips as he contemplated on which one to buy. He thought back to what you’ve worn in the past and decided on one, grabbing two packs and going to the checkout.

It took him three days to do it. The first day he forgot them at home, the second day you had a club meeting, and yesterday he just couldn’t do it. He got in his own head and chickened out. But not today. Today as soon as you sat down next to him in the courtyard, in the shade of one of the many trees on campus, Kyotani thrust the packs toward you, refusing to make eye contact as his cheeks dusted pink. You eyed him warily, but took them nonetheless. When you opened them, you gasped softly.

“Kyo! You got these for me?” You took his silence for an answer and he was glad he glanced at your face at that moment. You had the dopiest smile on your face, eyes big and bright, filled with an emotion he knew all too well. His cheeks darkened and he moved his gaze to your earrings, giraffes. You clutched the packs of plastic figurines to your chest before placing them in your bag. He took the moment to take a deep breath, finally able to think with your eyes off of him. He nodded determinedly to himself and when you turned back around you were surprised to find him closer, gaze unwavering.

“(Y/N).” You raised an eyebrow, “That’s me.” He took another deep breath. (Why was this so hard?) “I like you.” Your cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink, to match his own, and your smile this time was softer, yet held more emotion behind it. You stared at him for a moment, and he tried, and failed, to not freak out. (Why weren’t you responding? Oh god did he make a mistake? He was going to kill his sister, why did he think she would have good advice she never dates any-) His spiralling thoughts were cut off by the feeling of soft lips on his cheek. It only lasted a moment, the spot you kissed burning as his gaze snapped to yours, finding your face much, much closer than before, noses almost touching.

You whispered his name, breath fanning across his face as he tried to keep his gaze level with yours, to not look at your lips. Though when your eyes flickered to his own his only thought was, fuck it. And so he closed the very short distance between you two, cupping your cheek gently as he kissed you. Your hand circled his wrist lightly as you reciprocated, tilting your head slightly, deepening the kiss. Your lips moved against each other a little messily at first, but quickly finding the right rhythm. You gripped his wrist a little tighter, moving to scoot closer, wanting to eliminate any and all space between you two when-

“MAD DOG-CHAN IS THAT YOU? OH MY GOD ARE YOU KISSING SOMEONE” You broke apart with a gasp, turning toward the noise to see four figures about fifteen feet away, when your eyes focused you could see they were the third-years from the volleyball team, Oikawa standing with his hands on his hips, wide grin ever-present. Kyotani growled, eyes focused on the third-years. You squeezed his wrist, turning your face to kiss his palm. He looked at you and you smiled. You took his hand from your face and intertwined it with your own before turning to the ones responsible for the interruption. You waved with a big smile and the third-years laughed and waved back before continuing on towards the school. You turned back to Kyotani, kissing him lightly again before pulling away, a playful smirk on your face. “Mad Dog-chan?” He groaned, hand not intertwined coming up to cover his face as you laughed.

BONUS---

Practice was just ending when you walked into the gym, having just finished your own club activities. You waved in greeting as you passed other players, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend as you pecked his lips, pulling away slightly with a smile. His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you closer, smiling softly. You pulled away fully after a few moments, allowing him to pack his bag. Oikawa came over while he was changing shoes, throwing an arm over your shoulder casually. “Ah (Y/N)-chan! I see you finally turned in your manager application! Don’t worry, it was mostly for formalities, not just anyone can calm down Mad Dog-chan like you- wait, what are those!” He gripped your shoulders as he manoeuvred you in front of him, looking intently just below your ear, you smiled mischievously. “Do you like them? I was inspired by your nickname for Kenta!” You cupped your earring gently as you showed Oikawa (and the other third-years who wandered over to see what earrings you had in today). They laughed as they took them in, dangling from your ears was a pair of blonde colored dogs, each with exaggerated eyebrows pulled down into a ‘v’ shape crudely drawn on, making the dogs look comically angry. “They’re mad dogs!”

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justcourttee · 3 years

Note

Adrien asks mari out and she says i would of been so happy in the past but now its too little to late. She's engaged to Damian but they haven't announced it yet

Bittersweet

It had been a while since Adrien had found himself in Gotham City. Too many years to count on his hand. Yet when he received an invite from Marinette he didn’t hesitate to hop on the next flight to attend her gala.

He had no idea that she had created a partnership with Wayne Enterprises, in fact, he had no idea they were interested in the fashion world at all. Then again, why should he be surprised? When Marinette put her mind to something, nothing would get in her way.

Ever since he had taken over his father’s company, Adrien hadn’t had much time to keep up with his old school friends but it hadn’t stopped them from trying to keep him in the loop. From what he could gather, Alya and Nino would also be attending, Rose and Juleka too. It would be nice to see them all again, especially Marinette.

Stepping out from the warmth of his hotel room and into the cool streets, Adrien couldn’t help but let his mind drift to thoughts of her.

It took Marinette moving to the States for him to realize how much he was in love with her. It was something he never wanted to admit seeing how much he adored Ladybug, but as she disappeared from his grasps, he was left to face his true feelings.

Glancing at his phone, Adrien confirmed that he was mere minutes away from the address she had listed. The gala was still a few days away, but Marinette asked if he had wanted to meet up for a late-night coffee, a Gotham specialty. Even her scarf that she had gifted him ages ago couldn’t hide the red on his cheeks as he imagined the perfect date with the girl of his dreams.

He paused, reaching the door of Deja Brew, his heart beating a million miles a minute. Somewhere in this late-night shop was his best friend. How would she react to seeing him again? Would she be as excited as he was? Would she feel the same way as she did?

Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the door, his eyes glancing through the scattered exhausted customers until they landed on her. She still hadn’t noticed his presence, her nose buried into her sketchbook, her coffee still steaming beside her seemingly untouched.

She was early.

The thought almost drew a laugh as he approached the counter to place his order. Of course she would have finally picked up some time management skills by now. Marinette was 27 and slowly making a name for herself as the future of the fashion industry. That wasn’t something accomplished by constant tardiness.

He picked up his cup, placing a ten into the tip jar, the hostess’ raised eyebrows making him smile. He could already hear his father scolding him. After all, that wasn’t the way to becoming a billionaire. You only make money by holding onto it.

Honestly, Adrien didn’t understand why he had to be a billionaire. His father said it would raise the bar for their line, but it just wasn’t in Adrien’s heart to hoard all of the money unnecessarily. Maybe the Waynes offered Marinette the same advice. Maybe they had something they could relate to together.

“Excuse me ma’am, is this seat taken?”

His heart had finally slowed down but as her eyes slowly peeked up at him under her lashes, it immediately began somersaulting once more.

“Oh Gods, Adrien!” She was out of her seat before he even had the chance to set down his coffee, her arms flung around his neck. He hoped and prayed she couldn’t feel his chest threatening to explode. “You should have said something! I’ve gotten into the bad habit of zoning out in public places.”

Her smile was blinding as she unwound herself, slipping back into her seat, motioning for him to sit as well.

“How was the flight? Did you fly private or first class?”

Adrien gasped, his hand covering his chest as if she had shot him.

“I only flew business thank you very much.” Marinette’s look of mock disbelief earned a small chuckle.

“That must have been so hard for you. I really am sorry you went through so much trouble for my sake.”

“You know, I would go through so much more for you Marinette.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, so quick that if he hadn’t been staring so hard at her, he might have missed it. Did his statement make her uncomfortable? He had only meant it jokingly with the truth laced in, but he was sure his eyes gave him away. They always softened when it came to her.

Marinette cleared her voice, her true smile shining once more as if the falter never happened in the first place.

“You’ve missed so much, I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about from the beginning?” She nodded as she dove into her move to the States and how she began as an intern for the CEO, Tim Drake, years ago and slowly worked her way up to personal assistant.

She recounted how Tim found her sketchbook at work one day and showed it to his father. Together they agreed that she was their way into the fashion industry, an investment that could open the door to many more jobs for the Gotham citizens.

It took two years, but she finally had a full line that was presented at Bruce’s first fashion show.

“So many big names were there Adrien! I really thought I was gonna faint!”

His smile became softer and softer as she recounted meeting the rest of the Waynes and finally after six long years, she had made enough of a name for herself to be holding her own official Gala, the Wayne’s simply a sponsor.

“That’s amazing Marinette, you’re amazing.”

She beamed proudly, her smile pulling at his heart.

“I couldn’t have done it without them. They are genuine and kind people and they are pretty much family.” Something glistened in her eyes as she spoke of them. It could have been obvious to anyone, Marinette cared so deeply for these people.

It was Adrien’s turn to falter as an ugly thought passed.

She’s so comfortable here, she would never want to come back to Paris with me.

He was shocked with himself. This was no time for jealousy. His best friend, the love of his life, was excitedly telling him about a future she had built for herself and the only thing he could think was that it was an obstacle keeping her from him?

Adrien desperately wanted to smack his own forehead, but for Marinette’s sake he straightened out his smile instead.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve only been talking about myself! What’s new with you? How’s your dad’s business? Do you have anyone you’re seeing?”

His eyebrow raised at the last question. She asked the question he so desperately wanted to ask her. And she did it so casually, equating it to his work and social life. Did that mean she was also fishing for his response?

“Nothing much. Dad wants to move from a multi-million dollar business to a multi-billion dollar business so he’s been pretty aggressive about money lately. He didn’t even want me flying over here for the gala.”

Marinette snorted much to his amusement. She knew how his dad was and how petty he could be as well.

“And as for your last question,” he paused watching her face carefully. “No, I am not seeing anyone.”

He waited for the reaction, any reaction really. But none came. Instead, she simply nodded as if she expected as much. Maybe he had read into it too much. She really could’ve just been asking for the sake of catching up. Should he ask too? Was that what she was leading up to?

Adrien cleared his throat before taking a long draw from his cup. This was so nerve wracking. She looked so content, so grown. This was a Marinette who had grown leaps and bounds while he was still stuck in this high school romance that was quite possibly one-sided.

“Well, I hate to cut it short but it’s going to be a long day tomorrow and Damian will be here any moment to pick me up.”

She slid out of her seat so effortlessly, her sketch book snapping shut before it disappeared into a bag that he hadn’t even noticed. Her smile was just as warm as he remembered, but something was missing from the girl he loved.

“Your eyes.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Marinette’s smile faltered as she tentatively reached up to touch her eyelid, confusion etching it’s way into her face.

“Is there something near my eyes Adrien?”

“No, no, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just-” Adrien bit his lip, trying to string his thoughts together before he sounded even more like an idiot. “You used to stare at me with such soft look. I’m sorry I never noticed, but once I did, it was all I could see. Yet now-”

He trailed off as her lips drew into an o, her hand moving slowly from her eye to her lips, trying to hide her shock.

“-now, I can still feel the love in them, love directed at me, but it’s not the same love is it?”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't find the right words. He knew she was trying to explain that he was wrong, but couldn’t bring herself to lie. It was the only confirmation he needed.

He slid out of the booth, his hand grasping the scarf slipping from his neck.

“Marinette, I was so excited when you invited me out tonight. In fact, I thought of it as a date.” She tried to reach out, but Adrien took a step back, tears brimming in his eyes. “I don’t blame you at all, please don’t think I’m saying all this to make you feel guilty. I just had to get it off my chest.”

Adrien blinked hard, trying to spill the tears clouding his vision. This was harder to say than he thought. Her eyes were so distracting, the sympathy oozing toward him in waves.

“I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I know you’ve made your life here and I would never dream of taking that from you. Hell, if you asked me to, I would drop everything to be at your side in an instance. Is there any chance at all that after the gala ends, we could give this a shot? Just one real date. Not some deluded fantasy I created in my head, but something we both consent to.”

He flinched when her hand finally made contact with his upper arm.

“Adrien, I love you. I really do. But you were right when you said my eyes had changed. That soft look is meant for someone else now. He and I had tried to keep our relationship quiet, but tomorrow at the gala, I was going to announce my engagement to Damian.”

Adrien couldn’t help the small sob that left his mouth. He was painfully aware of the few scattered glances all directed toward him, but he couldn’t help it. He felt Marinette pulling his head down until it laid resting on her shoulder, her small arms wrapping around his figure. It was embarrassing how hard he cried, unable to hold back his sobs any longer.

“I’m so sorry Adrien, I had no idea your feelings had changed. You were always chasing after a dream when we were younger and when I left Paris, I had finally decided that there wasn’t a chance after all between us.”

He knew she meant her words as a comfort, a promise that at one point, she would have gladly accepted his offer. Why couldn’t he have seen it earlier? Why was he so blinded by a partner who never even revealed herself right to the end? He had someone who trusted and loved him with all of their being and he ignored their feelings for a what if.

Adrien slowly pulled himself from her grasp, his smile shaky. He took a moment to use the end of his scarf to dry his soaked face.

“I’m glad you told me that Marinette. I really am. And I hope you and Damian have a long and prosperous life together.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth forming the wait, but he was already out of the door, running. It was a cowards move, one he would mull over all night. But it was too painful to look into the eyes of one you love and only find pity reflecting in them.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“So you came?”

Adrien turned, his smile bittersweet as he embraced Alya, his fist connecting with Nino’s outstretched hand.

“How could I not support her? She’s worked so hard to make this a reality. My feelings can take a backburner for one night.”Their eyes all trailed to the center of the room where she stood, her arm threaded through with the man he assumed to be Damian Wayne. “Besides, you can tell. She loves that man beside her more than anything in this world.”

The glint of the ring on her finger caused an aching in his heart. Despite it all, he really did wish the Wayne boy no ill will. If he was who Marinette chose to spend the rest of her life with, then Adrien trusted her decision.

“I’ve never seen her smile so bright. And to think, I used to believe her smile was at its maximum blindlingness.” Nino’s chuckle earned a small chuckle from Adrien as well.

There was no denying it.

Marinette was where she belonged. The only thing left was for him to support her in any way that he could. And that was exactly what he planned to do.

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#daminette #maribat #miraculous ladybug

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x-reader-theater · 3 years

Note

Inspired by the @katytheinspiredworkaholic Noir AU mood board, Spencer dating Hotches or Alvezes younger brother in around 20's-40's era when it was still illegal. Hotch or Alvez (who ever you choose) would be some sort of important name in the city so obviously the reader would be too, being from a wealthy family. So it is especially hard for the reader and Spencer to sneak around kissing and stuff when everyone has their eyes on the reader. But one day the reader realises that fuck the others, he is wealthy and so known that no-one dared to mess with him anyway so reader and Spencer would publicly announce their relation ship.

(sorry if its too long of a request)

This got away from me a bit, I'm so sorry. I also made a moodboard because I was so inspired. This was soooooo much fun to write. I love me a good noir AU loll. Edited by @mystic-writes

Moodboard by Me

You laugh lightly as Spencer pushes you into the wall right outside of your bedroom, kissing down your neck and sucking right below your collarbone. You chose to have your top three buttons undone tonight, just for this very purpose. You wanted to entice, without making it known that it was your intention. You got a few ladies coming over to try and talk to you, much to your brother's delight, but you rebuffed every single one of them. They weren't who your heart was truly with.

You moan as you grind your hips against Spencer's and pant out, "We- uh- we should get inside. Before someone sees us."

"Let them," Spencer says, kissing your neck more. "Let them see us. I don't care."

You push Spencer away, holding him at arm's length, before saying, "I do. I care. Do you know what my brother would do if he found out who I shared my bed with?"

You look away from Spencer, who sighs. "Maybe I should go-"

"No, wait," you say, grabbing his wrist. "Please don't. Just, hold me tonight?"

Spencer smiles and kisses you.

–

"Hey! Little brother! Come to watch the show?" your older brother Luke asks you from his usual seat. He's the only one in the club, but that makes sense since the sun hasn't even set yet. You walk over and sit down next to him, and he leans over, whispering, "Isn't she a vision?"

he points to the obviously very beautiful woman on stage, with dark skin and black hair curled beautifully on her head. She's wearing a white rhinestoned dress with spaghetti straps and you think you see her pearly white heels underneath . She looks stunning.

"She's not my type," you say, leaning back and listening to her sing.

Luke hits your arm. "No one is! I swear, if Ma and Pa hadn't raised me to be such a gentleman, I would be kickin' the snot out of you to find out."

You snort when he says he's a gentleman, but cross your arms and ignore it. "I do have a type. You just don't know what it is," you snort, and look over at your brother, who's frowning at you. "You're not her type either." You nod to the woman on stage.

"What do you mean? I'm everybody's type!" Luke exclaims and the woman glares at you.

You snort. "She keeps looking over at Penelope at the bar, making sure she's watching. She's singing a love song, but the only person in the entire place that it's for is your bartender."

Luke's eyes go wide, and you smile and slap him on the shoulder, while the woman finishes her song. You give Penelope a wink as you exit.

–

That night, you walk into the club. No one's singing at the moment, but you met the woman, Tara, back behind the stage in one of the back rooms that had been converted into a dressing room for her. She's going to go on stage later, and you paid her something extra to make the first song a love song.

You were good for it after all.

You haven't been keeping up with the family as much as you used to, but you notice your brother doing deals every now and again, and you have to step in to save him from getting his ass beat.

You take a deep breath and walk into the crowded club, the low jazz coming from the band on stage. You walk over to the bar and order a gin from Emily, who smiles at you and takes it from your fingers before you can grab it. She points at one of the tables where you see Spencer, sitting with a woman, ignoring her flirting. You sigh and thank Emily, before going to the table with your drink, and sitting down on Spencer's other side.

"[Y/N]!" he exclaims, a grateful look in his eyes.

"Spencer! Good to see you," you say, clasping a hand onto his shoulder. You squeeze it and he smiles at you. "Who's your friend here?" You ask, gesturing to her, but you don't stop touching him.

"Uh, this is… uh…" he starts to say, but the woman frowns at him when he doesn't say it.

"I'm Lila. Lila Archer," she says. While you're in Chicago, most folks around here don't have any sort of accent. She however has a southern lilt to her words. She's blonde haired and blue eyed, and she looks incredibly uncomfortable in here, surrounded by both black and white folks. There was also the occasional Hispanic person in here, like your brother, but they are few and far between.

Your brother owns one of the only mixed race clubs in town, only because he was adopted into the family as a young boy. He has the money as a non-white to own and run a business. Helps that his "family" is a majority white as well.

Your grandfather was sent to Chicago from New York to make sure the city knew the Italians still ran the place. But, he likes to pick up a lot of strays.

Doctor Spencer Reid being one of them. No one quite knows what he's a doctor of, but he seems to be a doctor of everything. Medicine, the arts, mathematics, you name it, he probably knows it. It's one of the many reasons you fell in love with him.

"Miss Archer. I've never seen you in here before. Is this your first time visiting my brother's club?" You ask.

She nods stiffly. "That's right. My father wants to buy this place, but he can't seem to put in an offer big enough. Says he wants to rid the city of it's filth and reclaim it for the whites once again."

"Well, Miss Archer, as you can see, there are plenty of whites here tonight," you say, gesturing to the people seated at tables and getting drinks from the bar. "And I'm really hoping you don't share the same… convictions as he does, because otherwise, I might just have to get one of my people to throw you out of here."

You make eye contact with Morgan who's sitting at a nearby table and he nods at you, acknowledging what you want.

"I-" she begins to say, before she deflates. "I wanted to see what was so bad, all the voodoo and evil devil worshiping he says he's seen you folks doin'. But, y'all just seem like good honest people."

You smile at her and stand up. "I'm glad to hear it, Miss Archer. I think you'll find we're a lot more human than everyone makes us out to be." She smiles at you and you turn to Spencer, holding out your hand. "Now, my good doctor, would you do me the pleasure of joining me for a dance? Miss Lewis is about to start her singing, and I heard it's going to be *beautiful*."

Spencer grins and takes your hand. You drag him to the dance floor, where there's already a group of people dancing together, swinging them around their bodies, moving and shaking and laughing.

The music gradually changes, and while it does get slower and softer, it is by no means a slow dancing tune.

You start shaking your hips and kicking your legs and Spencer does the same. He spins you around, almost forcing you to go out and in, and it's perfect. The melody is beautifully sung by Tara, and you smile as your back is pulled to Spencer's chest. He loops his arms around you, and you look up at him, smiling.

He's looking at you with a quizzical look, as if saying, "You sure you want to do this?"

Instead of answering, you kiss him. He opens his mouth and you slide your tongue into his mouth, capturing his mouth in a wet and heated kiss. When you pull away, he has the happiest smile on his face.

You look over at your brother, who has the angriest look on his face, and you raise an eyebrow, silently saying, "Just try to stop me."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid #luke alvez #noir au #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #my writing #my work

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witch-and-a-half · 4 years

Text

arranged

okay so this was originally going to be a blurb for a request, but i got carried away and decided to post as a full fic. i’m a bit surprised because i was really nervous to write draco and angst, but i got into it and i think i’m pretty happy with the finished product

notes: draco x pureblood!reader, draco x oc, angst, fake dating, arranged marriage

words: 3.7k

- - -

“Hello love, did you hear?” Draco called to you as you walked across the courtyard. You kept your head down, knowing he’d gotten a letter from his parents, and it was likely similar to the one you received from your mother at breakfast. Your pace quickened so Draco wouldn’t be in earshot of the rest of your classmates when he reached you.

“You’re going to ignore me?” He sneered from only a few feet behind you. In a moment, he had fallen into step beside you, but his voice was still loud when he repeated, “You’re going to ignore your future husband?”

The murmurs of nearby classmates were blocked out by the feeling of blood rushing to your face as you stopped and made deadly eye contact with Draco. Before you could hurl an insult at him, he turned to you with his signature smirk and coldly said, “So you have heard. Mother and Father have picked you out for me.” His upper lip curled as he spoke.

As much as you wanted to smack that smirk off his face, you refrained and instead took a slow step closer to him. Your voice was a low whisper, so only he could hear, “If you think I can’t make your life a living hell, think again. I don’t want this, and, seeing the way you look at that Muggle-born girl in Charms, I’d guess you don’t want this either. We might as well not make this any more excruciating than it already is.”

You took note of the angry breaths puffing his chest out and fanning hot breath across your cheeks. Before he could respond though, you spun on your heel and marched off. Once you were a few yards away, you called over your shoulder, “Such a shame. I’d hoped my parents would have better taste.” His jaw was clenched with rage and you didn’t even try to stifle a sickly sweet laugh.

~ ~ ~

A few months had passed and, surprisingly, Draco had been relatively kind during the few times you’d interacted since the courtyard fiasco. You’d mostly avoided each other, which was why you were so surprised when he pulled you into an empty classroom after dinner one evening. As much as you hated to admit it, the feeling of his long fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist gave you butterflies.

But once you were inside, you jerked your arm and he released his grip. “What on-” you hissed.

“I need a favor.” Draco’s face was softer than you’d ever seen it. It was so uncharacteristic that it almost made you queasy. Most of you wanted to say something spiteful, but you were too curious as to what could possibly make his eyes fill with desperation. You cocked an eyebrow, keeping a stern look in your eyes.

“You know Arielle?” He murmured, “Well we’ve been seeing each other in secret and I’m worried my parents are catching on so… I need you to pretend we’re dating.”

You pursed your lips as he continued, “We both know this was going to happen eventually so-”

But you cut him off, “What’s in it for me?”

That’s when Draco’s face returned to normal: narrowed eyes, an icy sneer, and a tight jaw. His eyes flicked down briefly before locking on yours. His voice was cold and dry as ever, “I’ll owe you.”

“You’ll owe me?” You spat, emphasizing the word “owe.”

Draco folded his arms across his chest, “Yeah. I’ll owe you.”

You paused for a moment. Maybe having something to hold over Draco’s head wouldn’t be so bad, especially since you were doomed to spend the rest of your life with him.

“Fine,” You said firmly, “but you owe me.”

~ ~ ~

In all honesty, pretending to be Draco’s girlfriend was easier than you had anticipated. Nobody at school expected Draco to be a super affectionate or attentive boyfriend, so you mostly had to hold his hand between classes and sit on his lap occasionally in the Common Room. And every once in awhile, you’d have to spend an evening hiding out in the Astronomy Tower so Draco could see Arielle without people wondering why he’d left you alone on a Friday or Saturday evening, but you didn’t mind spending those nights alone under the stars. The only really difficult part was when he called you pet names; something about hearing the words “darling” and “my love” roll off his tongue made your heart skip. You refused to acknowledge that reaction though.

Sometimes, late at night, you would remember that you may have to spend the rest of your life pretending to love Draco Malfoy, and that made your stomach churn.

It wasn’t until one Friday after classes when you started to really worry about your feelings for Draco. You were in the library looking for a book to use for a paper when someone cleared their throat beside you. Turning, you were face to face with Henry Gilbert—a tall, dark-haired, handsome boy in the year above you. “Hi, Henry… can I help you?” Your eyebrows drew together slightly in confusion as you spoke.

Smiling softly, he responded “Whatcha reading?” Henry turned the book in your hands so he could see the title, and you felt his warm fingers ghost over your hand as he did so. You felt your face flush a bit and you looked from the book to him. You were so flustered that you didn’t notice Draco at the end of the stacks watching the interaction with a hard expression.

“Um, it’s just for a paper…” The look in Henry’s eyes was making your heart pound. Again, he moved his hand to the book resting on your forearm. He placed his hand atop the hand that was wrapped around the book.

“Hey, I was wondering-” He started, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach as you realized what he was about to ask.

But before he could finish, you saw his wide eyes catch on something behind you. You were about to look over your shoulder to see what had caught his attention when you felt a hand grasp your upper arm and pull you back. Suddenly, Draco was between Henry and yourself with his arm lifted slightly in front of you in an almost protective manner.

Appalled, you hissed, “Draco,” But you froze when he shot you the iciest look you’d ever seen.

“Would your girlfriend be pleased to find out you’ve been in the library flirting with other boy’s girlfriends?” Draco’s tone was stinging.

Henry’s eyes narrowed at Draco before softening and looking back at you. His lips curved into a mischievous grin as he spoke, “Oh, love, wouldn’t you like to have a bit of fun before you have to spend the rest of your life with this git?”

“I-” You began, but Draco’s arm—the one that had been protectively hovering a few inches in front of you—moved so his forearm was solidly on your lower ribcage.

“Don’t you dare speak to her,” His voice was low and deep, nearly a growl, and you realized his other hand was holding his wand by his side.

Henry raised his arms in defeat and raised his brows at you before leaving the library without another word. Draco didn’t make eye contact with you as he pushed passed you to go back to the table he was working at before. As you registered what had just happened, your hand shot out to grab Draco’s arm and stop him. “Hey,” You sputtered, but Draco just grunted and shook off your hand.

As you left the library, your head was swimming. Why had Draco been so protective? Was it because you were his fake girlfriend? Or did it have to do with your betrothal? Or was there another reason for his reaction? Your heart faltered as you considered that last idea.

But you decidedly ignored any potential feelings for Draco; there was no reason to indulge the idea of anything serious happening between the two of you. Your parents had made sure of that when they’d arranged your marriage with the Malfoys.

Things continued like normal after that day: hand-holding and the occasional peck on the cheek. You didn’t think about those worries again until Valentine’s Day. Draco made little effort to celebrate the holiday, which would have made you nervous if you cared about the believability of your relationship. It wasn’t until that evening, as you sat beside him in the Common Room reading a book, that he presented you with a Valentine’s Day gift. “You don’t have to open it now, but I figured I ought to get you something.” His voice was a murmur, and he sounded so insincere that it hurt your feelings a bit, even coming from a fake boyfriend. You nodded silently, toying with the ribbon on the box he’d given you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before turning back to the conversation he was having with his friends.

Later that night, alone in your dorm, you unwrapped the box. It contained a small box and a pink envelope. Your name was scrawled neatly on the envelope—too neatly to be written by Draco. Curiously, you pulled out the piece of parchment to find a handwritten letter.

Dear [y/n],

I know we haven’t really spoken before, but I wanted to thank you for what you’re doing for Draco and I. I’m sure he hasn’t expressed how much it means to him—and for me as well—but we are both truly grateful. He’s told me he appreciates your help in this, and I feel like I should pass that sentiment along.

With your help, I’ve found the love of my life. He is so sweet to me and we’ve been able to have the most splendid past few months because of all you’ve done to help us. I cannot begin to imagine the sacrifices you’ve made to help us achieve that, but I am so appreciative of it. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. I honestly owe you so much. I’m not sure what the future holds for the three of us, but I will always consider you a friend and you can always rely on me.

My gift to him was a bottle of my perfume and a ring with our names inscribed on the inside. You should take credit for both of these if it comes up. Enclosed in this package is a token of our gratitude (I picked them out). You should probably tell people Draco got them for you, but I want to make sure you know that it’s also a girl-to-girl “thank you” gift.

Yours,

Arielle

You swallowed thickly as you read the letter over again. She had drawn a delicate heart next to her name at the bottom of the letter and your hand traced over it. This was the first time you’d really had to think about Arielle and Draco’s relationship. The way she described him was unlike anything you’d ever heard anyone say about Draco before, and you wondered how different he must be around her.

It made your stomach ache to think about. You knew in your heart that you secretly hoped to one day see the beautiful version of Draco that Arielle saw every day. You gingerly opened the box that had accompanied the letter. There were two gorgeous dangly earrings inside, and you could picture Arielle and Draco in a shop together buying them. You could see her pointing at them in a glass case, and Draco paying for them solemnly as Arielle beamed beside him. And you wondered, painfully, what he had bought her for Valentine’s Day. The growing pit in your stomach twisted when you saw the messy scrawl on the other side of the parchment.

Thank you.

- D.M.

~ ~ ~

You and Draco had married soon after the war. Your parents had subtly mentioned that they would understand if you chose not to marry Draco; they were worried mostly about your family’s reputation if they became entwined with the Malfoys, who had fallen from grace on both sides of the war. But you considered three things: the threat of Narcissa and Lucius’s wrath if you backed out of the engagement, the fear that you couldn’t find love with any of your old classmates because you had associated yourself with the Malfoys for too long, and the persistent, foolish hope that maybe Draco would someday love you properly.

Draco worked at the Ministry and you spent your days listless in the home you shared. Draco had insisted on buying a grand estate, and it was larger than the two of you ever really needed. At first, you had considered working, but, with the Malfoy’s wealth, you didn’t need to. Instead, you focused on taking care of the home, picking up hobbies, and finding miscellaneous activities to fill your time. Life was dull, but you felt lucky to be safe and cared for after the chaos of the war.

Most evenings, you’d make dinner and eat with Draco at the kitchen island or in the large dining room. Your relationship was friendlier now. The war had hurt Draco worse than you, so you had become a sort of caretaking companion. He still saw Arielle on occasion too. At first, they had tried to keep up their relationship, but, when she realized he still planned to marry you, things had waned. You didn’t ask Draco about her very much, and he rarely mentioned her. All you knew was that he would visit with her at least a few times a month, and she still sent you gifts or cards on holidays.

Draco and you slept in separate rooms. He was close—just across the hall—but neither of you felt compelled to share a bedroom. Some evenings, he would slip into bed beside you in the middle of the night and be gone before you woke in the morning. You knew it was because of nightmares, but you never discussed it. Those nights were becoming less frequent as time passed though. Admittedly, you liked sharing a bed with him, but you could never tell him that. Your persistent feelings for him gnawed at your heart more frequently than you’d have liked, and some things would especially make your heart ache—like sharing a bed or when he’d spend the night at Arielle’s and you’d be alone in the big empty house.

One evening, when Draco was meant to be at Arielle’s, he came home abruptly. You were redecorating the sitting room—one of your favorite boredom busters—when you heard the door slam and his quick footsteps up the stairs, followed by a rustling sound. As you finished hanging a new painting, you heard something upstairs clatter. You went to the base of the stairs and were about to call up to Draco when you realized that the rustling sound was actually the sound of soft sobs.

You tiptoed up the dark staircase to Draco’s room and rapped gently on the door before coming in slowly. He was crouched on the foot of his bed, facing away from you, with his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking, but the sobs were quieter now that you were in the room. A few feet in front of him was a shattered perfume bottle and a ring that had been thrown on top of it. You nervously sat down beside him, just close enough that your shoulders touched. Now that you were closer, the smell of the perfume was overwhelming.

When Draco raised his head from his hands, his eyes were puffy and his cheeks were stained with tears, but his expression was solemn. “She doesn’t want to see me anymore.” His voice was strained, “I think she’s found someone else.”

You’d seen this coming. Arielle loved Draco, but he was married to you, and she deserved to find an available man. Draco used to come home from their visits in high spirits, but that wasn’t the case with their past few visits.

Unable to find comforting words, you rubbed your hand up and down his back instead. A few moments passed and Draco’s breaths became steadier before you finally spoke, “Can I clean this up?”

He gulped and nodded, “Please get rid of it.” Using your wand, you dumped the shards of glass in the trash can by the door and evaporated the liquid. You picked up the ring, catching a glimpse of Arielle’s name on the inside, and moved to put it in the trash with the glass. “Wait,” Draco choked, “Can I see it?”

You placed the ring in the palm of his hand and a tear slipped from his eye as he pointed his wand at it. Arielle’s name slowly faded, so only Draco’s remained. He held the ring between his thumb and index finger, inspecting it for a moment before handing it to you.

“You’re all I have now.” He said softly.

Your jaw clenched at his words. The war and marriage had effectively destroyed your social life, and you’d never been close with your family, so Draco had been all you had for the past year or so. His words only reminded you of that.

Draco stood suddenly and grabbed something from inside his dresser. He turned back to you and handed you the ring, which was now on a thin silver chain. “Will you wear this? I promise you I’ll be around more and we can be like a proper husband and wife… like we should’ve been all along.” His voice was pained and pleading, so you obliged.

You rose to your feet and took his hand, “Let’s get you in bed. It’s late.”

Draco nodded as you handed him one of his pajama sets. While he changed, you went downstairs to make him a cup of chamomile tea. You hesitated at the top of the stairs before going into your room to grab your favorite lavender candle, praying it would help replace the lingering smell of Arielle’s perfume. There was a small envelope on your pillow and your name was written on it in a familiar scrawl. You gingerly unfolded the tear-stained parchment.

[y/n],

I wanted to thank you one last time. As always, you can count on me if you ever need anything.

Please take care of him.

Much love,

Arielle

You nodded to yourself before tucking the letter into your nightstand drawer and heading back to Draco’s room, mug and candle in hand.

When you entered his room, Draco was sitting at the end of his bed, staring at nothing. You sat beside him and handed him the mug, “Here, love.” His eyes remained fixed on the empty space ahead of him, but he smiled grimly as he sipped the tea. You lit the candle and sat it on his dresser where the perfume bottle had been. Then you knelt on the floor in front of him so his eyes finally met yours. You put a hand on his knee as you spoke, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The emptiness in his eyes made your heartache worse than ever before. He blinked slowly before whispering, “Stay with me tonight?”

You took his hand and drew back the sheets on his bed. He crawled in stiffly and you laid beside him. Just like when he had nightmares, you turned your back to him so you were spooning with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. He sniffled sharply in your ear, and your gut shattered.

You loved him. You had never realized how much or when it had gotten this bad, but it was suddenly unmistakeable. That’s why you’d married him and that’s why you made him dinner every night and that’s why you were so pained by his heartbreak this evening. You cared about him so deeply and genuinely that it made you physically ill. And, as you felt the cold metal ring on your chest, you realized that Draco would never love you as you loved him. His heart would always belong to Arielle in some way or another. You’d seen the gifts they got each other and knew the dates they went on and the way he looked after he’d spent time with her. Arielle was truly meant for Draco, and you would never be that for him because your relationship was predestined by your parents. The realization made your chest feel empty. You’d been hollowed out by the pain of loving a man who would always be near but never truly yours.

Tears were beginning to pool in your eyes when you felt Draco’s chest heave suddenly. Any thought of crying was abandoned as you turned your attention back to the boy beside you. Rotating in his arms, you saw that he wasn’t crying, but dryly sobbing. His face was wracked with worry as you brushed it softly with your fingertips.

“I have to tell you something,” he choked, “I can’t keep it from you much longer,”

You nodded, desperately trying to predict what he was going to say.

His voice was shaky now, “Turn back around, please.”

Turning back so you faced away from him stung a bit, but your heart was beating too fast to deal with that hurt.

Draco took a few deep breaths into the crook of your neck before he spoke. “I got a letter from my parents this morning…”

Your breath hitched as you realized what he was going to say, but you waited silently for him to finish.

“They- They asked about…” His voice cracked and his arm on your waist tightened, “They asked about an heir.”

The only response you could muster was a slow nod. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you came to terms with this next step of your sham of a relationship. Tears began to flow gently from your eyes at the thought. What else were you supposed to do? You would have to start a family with the man you love, all while knowing he didn’t love you the same way. The voices in your head didn’t stop until you realized Draco had fallen asleep. The feeling of his slow breaths on your skin and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest slowly lulled your aching heart to sleep.

[ A/N: okay so i get a lot of asks and comments about a part 2 for this fic and im honestly so touched!! i posted my thoughts about a part 2 a while back and i’ll link it here <3 ] - oct 4, 2020

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

Random date night with Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo

Hello, anon! Ask and you shall receive! This prompt is very interesting and I will try to keep it in character as much as possible. To sum this up, Hisoka would take you to an ice cream shop, a carnival, or apple orchard while Illumi would rather go to an art or historical museum. Chrollo would persuade you to attend a book reading/author signing or go hiking. Depending on who you are and what your ideal date is, I’m sure you’d find them all fun. Going to a carnival or apple orchard is my go-to since I’ve barely been because they’re all in the suburbs. These headcanons are explained much more than the others. That is why Chrollo and Illumi seem to be short, but they’re not. Also, I can’t wait for Halloween because these headcanons are going to be amazing. I am extremely sorry if there are grammar errors! Taking classes on Zoom is frustrating and now my brain has to relearn everything that I lost in 3 months! Before we get started, I have a few announcements.

This post is more laid back than my other headcanons because I tried to keep it as canon as possible.

I want to thank you all for 65 followers! It means a lot! I’m happy to see that a lot of you enjoy my writing and like it enough to follow me! I have a challenge for you! When I reach 100 followers, I will host some type of writing event here...but I need ideas. I’ve seen some pages do specials where you can send an ask and pretend like you're talking to a character and I respond with what they’d say. SEND ME IDEAS! I WILL CREDIT YOU!

I will be stepping back a little more than before. I’ll still be logged in and re-blogging but as far as writing posts like this...it may only be once or twice a week. You see, I’m in college and I’m struggling financially and I have to work on scholarships. If you all send me an ask, be patient.

Voltron posts will only be created based on asks. I will not be writing posts about VLD if no one requests them. I do not receive any feedback from it anymore and no one seems to like them.

Now, let’s get into the post.

Let's start with Illumi first.

Headcanon 1: Illumi has a secret admiration for different types of art but he specifically enjoys pop art and surrealism. He has commented on how surrealism makes his brain twist and his feelings swirl as he tries to figure out the piece and what inspires it.

He prefers not to participate in tours as he likes to digest the art at his own pace.

Headcanon 2: In his spare time, he paints on a canvas. His art style consists of both surrealism and abstract art. For a person with a dark personality, his compositions always contain bright colors and abstract techniques that leave you wondering about his TRUE personality. He is truly a good man with a bright personality but after being abused for so long, those behaviors/personalities have been shoved so far down his throat that they may not come back up.

He has a bad habit of asking you what you thought about every single piece of art you passed. The conversations were great but this is a date after all. The playful conversation slowly turns into a lecture about art. Although you loved your bf’s dictionary-like brain it also drained your energy.

One of his favorite artists is Vincent Van Gough. Although he favors surrealism, Van Gogh’s art style was mind-blowing to him. So amazed that he buys several Van Gogh t-shirts from the gift shop.

His favorite piece created by Van Gough is “Starry Night”.

He notices that you are becoming bored and decides that it is time for MORE excitement, one that you are certain to enjoy.

“Where are we going,” you ask, pretending to be interested.

“Down to the basement. We are going to have a bite to eat.”

Since Illumi rarely smiled, when he did smile it drove you wild. The anticipation of what his next move was going to be is what drove that wildness. Being a bounty hunter was thrilling already but dating a smart, badass assassin was totally out of your league but it worked out.

Headcanon 3: Illumi’s idea of being romantic is dramatically different from yours. He believes just spending time with you on the couch was enough. He is correct; but if you have the time and funds, your time together should be a little spontaneous. You insisted on dates outside of the house because his family will not stay out of your business.

“Illumi, I am too hungry for more trivia.”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry. So am I. That is why I’ve decided to take you to a wine and cheese party.”

Huh? Wine and Cheese at 3PM? That’s ok. When was there a time limit on when you can drink alcohol?

Illumi has indirectly attended parties as such when he was 15 years old. He never drank, but he watched as his mother’s friends (surprisingly) talked about business and their children. This time, you weren’t going to talk about business for once. Instead, you two were going to actually talk about what couples discuss.

Headcanon 4: When introduced to alcohol for the first time, Illumi immediately stated how he hated brown liquor. That includes Hennessy, Jack Daniels, etc. It makes him sick to his stomach. He prefers to drink Smirnoff mixed with fruity drinks like strawberry or pineapple.

He loves it when you make these drinks for him on a summer day.

Hence the title wine and cheese, you both go to a stand-up table, place your brochures down, and actually have a wonderful conversation not involving work or hunting.

Illumi smiled a few times, more than usual. Whenever he appears to be softer even around you, that is because he has mellowed out and doesn't have the overbearing weight of his family on his shoulders. You set him free.

Hisoka

According to a one-shot that another manga artist created, they expressed that Hisoka was found on the side of the road, was taken in by someone that worked at a local circus, and learned Nen in a matter of days. Hisoka’s clown look and having the skills of a magician proves that this has to be canon in some way.

Headcanon 1: Given this potential backstory, going to a carnival is his go-to every summer. He wants to take you to a circus but saves that for you as an engagement gift.

Everyone with a heart knows that whether or not you’re in a relationship or not the carnival is fun as hell! Expensive fried food, elephant ears, funnel cake, ICEE’s, rides, and stuffed animals are to die for!

Being at a carnival relaxes him so his bloodlust isn’t activated unless someone bumps into him and causes a scene.

Headcanon 2: PDA is something that Hisoka does well; he doesn’t overdo it but does it enough where people get the impression that you are a couple and aren’t “best friends”.

While completing a mission depending on how rough it may be, he insists that you tag along to see how he handles the situation. You’ve already seen his ruthlessness from Hunter’s exam but he insists.

His sense of pride gets the best of him sometimes. Sometimes his head is so big that it reminds you of a large birthday balloon.

Headcanon 3: ANYWAY, given his nature, he is very adventurous, dangerous, and courageous. If he wants to go on the Demon Drop, he’ll do it and you DO not have a choice in the matter. He’ll tease or guilt trip you into doing something that you would not like to do.

“Well, you wouldn’t want me to cling on to someone else, would you?”

“No. Of course not,” you reply.

“Let’s go then, scaredy-cat.”

As a hunter, you’ve seen worse. Why are you so afraid to go on a ride?

Headcanon 4: At apple orchards, cornfield mazes are one of his favorites. You cannot for the life of you figure out how to get out but he can. He grabs a scarecrow and scares you from behind. That annoys you but is nothing compared to later on that night.

Oh. My. God. It’s haunted house time!

“Hisoka, I’m not going in!”

“Why not? I’ll protect you.”

“Because they’re monsters and I already have to deal with one.”

It took him a second to catch on that you were talking about him.

“That’s going to bite you in the butt, kitten.”

Headcanon 5: Like Killua, Hisoka has a sweet tooth. Don’t allow his buff appearance to fool you!

He LOVES caramel apples, elephant ears, funnel cake, freshly squeezed lemonade, fudge, and cotton candy. How can this man manage to stay in shape? The world may never know.

Headcanon 6: He isn’t one to play by other people’s rules but he sets his own rules with your relationship that you both must obey. One of those rules says that neither of you can be on your phones while together.

Headcanon 7: Hisoka insists that you both wear either matching pants or matching shirts to avoid unnecessary flirtation.

He isn’t jealous but on “us time”, he doesn’t want to lose a single second.

Headcanon 8: Hisoka only jumps in when necessary. Given that you’ve passed the hunter’s exam and work as a bodyguard, he knows you can handle your business. If the person can’t take a hint, then he steps in. They almost back up immediately considering Hisoka is towering over them.

When the moon shines, you both go to the car and off to sleep in your comfy king-sized bed.

Chrollo

We all know that Chrollo loves to read! What does he specifically like to read? What Genre? Does he like to read alone or with other people?

Although Chrollo is a thief and must be hidden in the shadows, the authorities have called off the search for him for at least 3 years. Slowly but surely, he begins to find himself in the outside world again.

Chrollo once discussed a book with the Phantom Troupe when they were being transported to another place for a mission. He read “Tears of a Tiger” by Sharon M. Draper.

The reading sessions are opened with an affirmation and a reason to be thankful to be alive. He says he is thankful for the troupe, glances at you, and smiles. No one catches on to that sly face except for Phinks.

Headcanon 1: Chrollo is very silent and shy to an extent. He only associates with people he knows and trusts. You are the social butterfly at this moment.

Chrollo tags along behind you like a shy child, holding your hand while you stick out your free hand to greet everyone.

Today, the book club was going to read “Divergent”.

Headcanon 2: Although he loves to read, he hates it when others read out loud. Most people are drably read and it annoys him. After a while, he takes over. Chrollo was tense the first 30 minutes of the meeting because two cops were there but neither of them noticed it was him.

Headcanon 3: Chrollo often acts the part of the character that he is reading in the book. His tone, attitude, and emphasis on certain words keep the group engaged. He is complimented on his acting!

“Good Job, honey,” you whisper.

He responds by tightly squeezing your hand.

His tone was so impressive that the host insisted that he read for the entire night. He was ok with that because in between reads he was often distracted by a lovely pair of jeans and shoes you had on. You were into writing, so hearing others read and act out the characters helped.

Headcanon 4: In some settings, Chrollo is very braggadocious. He insisted that the group read one of your stories so you could be provided with feedback.

“We’d be delighted to view your story, y/n!”

“It will be fun!”

The book club wasn’t a stereotypical club that only consisted of soccer moms but instead consisted of men and women who were involved with a business, law enforcement, health, etc. This was an open space for everyone to relax and forget about their demanding jobs.

After the meeting, the group went to dinner at a nearby pizzeria. You all enjoyed large pizzas, beer, salads, and dessert. How could your stomach (or anyone’s stomach) hold that much?

Chrollo laughed so much that it made you question if he was your actual boyfriend or not. He even engaged in conversations with the two off-duty cops! For once, you helped Chrollo experience the greater things in life; true love, friendship, and happiness.

“Thank you,” he whispered and slyly placed a kiss on your hand. “For everything.”

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tsumusamu · 4 years

Text

nice receive [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: fluff and (once again, a sad attempt at) humor

word count: 3.8k

summary: eight months into your relationship, atsumu takes you to meet his family. things don't go as planned, but of course, everything ends up alright in the end anyway. alternatively, miya atsumu adores you and his family thinks it's easy to see why.

warnings: uhhh implied sexual content at the end but it is like barely there ok

commission for @ muppetz (it wont let me tag for some reason ugh) thank you so much for commissioning me!

a/n: this ended up being way longer than the word count requested but that’s no one’s fault but my own because i dont know when to shut the FUCK up anyways i hope this one shot is enjoyable lol

content under the cut!

You literally never thought that you would ever end up in this situation.

"C'mon babe, why the long face? Ya nervous or somethin'?"

"No." You purse your lips, huffily averting your gaze from your boyfriend's smirking face.

"Ya don't needa be like that." Atsumu drapes an arm across your shoulder, pecking your forehead as a sort of reassurance. "No one could ever hate this cute face, after all." He accentuates his words by squishing your cheeks, drawing out a yelp of protest from you.

"If you keep talking like this, you're gonna jinx it, you know." Your words come out softer and more hesitant than intended, and you startled even yourself at how utterly anxious you sound.

"Yer gonna be fine. Trust me, I wouldn’t take just any random girl to meet my folks, and they’re well aware of that." Atsumu ruffles your hair.

"I just... I hope they're not..." You pause for a moment, trying to find the right word. "...Disappointed?" You grimace when your boyfriend suddenly throws his head back in such voracious laughter, that you swear you saw a few hysterical tears.

"Are ya jokin'?" he all but wheezes. "Yer the libero for the national volleyball team, for God's sake. If anythin', I'd be the disappointment here."

"'Tsumu — " you start, but he interrupts you by pulling you in for a comforting hug.

"Don't worry yer pretty head anymore, got it?" he murmurs into your ear. "Yer wonderful, and I couldn't be luckier to have ya. My parents are gonna love ya. Honest."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you reach around his back to hug him back. "I hope so."

A year ago, if someone had told you that you would end up having Miya Atsumu introduce you to his family as his girlfriend, you would've laughed until your ass fell off and your stomach ached like no tomorrow.

You had been absolutely overjoyed when you were chosen for the women's national volleyball team, and you were so eager to start playing with your new teammates that you had decided to attend the national team's training camp without hesitation despite your recent knee injury at the time. However, you completely overlooked the fact that you would be working with the men's team as well, which would've been completely fine... if not for Miya Atsumu.

When you first met Atsumu, he was the cocky, annoying little shit of a setter for the Japanese men's national volleyball team, someone who you were stuck training with for the next two weeks.

You still remember the first words he ever spoke to you.

"The hell are ya doin' there, lil libero? If yer not gonna be able to save the easiest ones, then ya might as well sub out."

You also remember the first thought you had about him.

'Prick.'

And the first words you spoke to him.

"Can't you look at this — " You had gestured angrily to the knee brace supporting you. "And take a fucking hint, or what?"

He had sent some unapologetic, biting words right back at you and that marked the beginning of the time you have had the utmost pleasure of knowing Miya Atsumu. The two of you had bickered rather relentlessly (not too unlike literal children, despite the both of you being well into your twenties) throughout the rest of the camp, and by the end, for some unknown reason through some unknown method, he ended up with your number.

He started texting you constantly, and as much as you tried to convince your foolish self that he was just a nuisance, you found yourself responding to his messages like an idiot anyway. Throughout the next few months, you learned that Atsumu was far more than just his overly confident demeanor; he's genuinely kind-hearted, down-to-earth, and actually kinda hilarious. And eventually — neither of you quite knew how — the two of you were staring across a table at each other in a fancy restaurant as if daring the other to blink and lose an unspoken game, on a first date that neither of you thought would go as well as it did.

A little over eight months into your happy and committed relationship, Atsumu suggested that the two of you go to his hometown in Hyogo for a weekend to visit his family. You had immediately agreed with his idea, excited to meet his parents and twin brother in person, but now that he's leading you out of your shared hotel room to go do just that, your stomach's knotting uncomfortably.

Atsumu's been nothing but supportive and comforting ever since you started showing that you're nervous to meet his family. He was always happy to provide a never-ending flow of cheesy words and warm hugs, but you're genuinely afraid of embarrassing yourself. You want to impress his family and not have them see you as undeserving of their son, who you truly care for from the bottom of your heart. Atsumu is your first long-term boyfriend, and you would jump off your roof if you managed to mess anything up during the visit to his folks.

The taxi ride to Atsumu's childhood home doesn't do much to soothe your nerves either, with you fiddling with your fingers the entire way through while Atsumu makes small talk with the driver. As the cab pulls up to the address that your boyfriend had provided earlier, you instinctively clench your fists so hard that you think you might bleed.

A look of alarm crosses Atsumu's face as he notices that you're still just as anxious as you were when you left the hotel earlier. He thought that the ride to his parents' house would give you some time to cool down, but that had clearly not been the case. His eyebrows furrow in concern as he reaches over to grab one of your hands in his, giving you a comforting squeeze.

"Just breathe, darlin'." He runs his thumb over the shallow nail marks embedded in your skin. "If it means anything to ya, my mom's a huge fan of yers. For real. I didn't tell ya this before, but she's especially excited to meet ya. Keeps yappin' to me askin' how I pulled ya." You flush.

"R-Really?" you stammer, wide-eyed.

"Really. Who wouldn't be a fan yers?" Atsumu grins, pecking your nose. "See, ya got nothin' to be worried about. Just chill out and be yerself, 'kay?" You nod, some of the tension releasing from your shoulders as Atsumu leads you out of the cab, hand still clutching yours.

You're feeling a little better now, though your thoughts are still running through your head at the pace of a mile a minute as you watch Atsumu pay the taxi driver and thank him for the ride. Atsumu's mother is my fan? Your ears start to heat up. I hope I can somehow live up to her expectations of me…

“Ma! We’re here!” Atsumu shouts at the top of lungs approximately one second after simultaneously ringing the doorbell and obnoxiously pounding on the door.

“Comin’, comin’, ya brat!” A feminine, yet strong voice hollers in return. You freeze on the spot, your mind going blank once again. It’s happening. It’s finally happening.

The door aggressively swings open, revealing a middle-aged woman wearing a pink apron and carrying a wooden spatula in her hand. Her dark hair is pulled into a bun away from her face and her eyes, the same chocolate brown as Atsumu’s, are gleaming with annoyance. She briefly glares at Atsumu for his rowdy entrance before her gaze catches onto you, and her entire face lights up with excitement.

“(L/N) (Y/N)! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“M-Mrs. Miya,” you stammer out, trying your best to smile but you’re sure it looked more like a wince. “It’s good to m-meet you t-too.”

"Aw, hey now. What happened to my feisty girl? It's not like ya to be so lame.” Atsumu lays his forearm on your head, effectively using you as an armrest. You jerk away, scowling.

“Shut the hell up, asshat,” you snap without thinking. About half a second later, regret slams into your body like a truck. Oh, shit. I just called my boyfriend an asshat in front of his mother. You were about to run off into the streets in utter embarrassment if not for Mrs. Miya letting out a hearty laugh way too similar to her son’s and linking arms with you.

“No need to look so scared, dear. I don’t bite. And it’s good to see that yer willin’ to put this brat in his place.”

“Ma!” Atsumu whines, pouting petulantly.

“Yer really losin’ out with him though, y’know,” Mrs. Miya whispers to you as she leads you into the house by your arm. “I’ve got another son; Atsumu’s twin. Osamu’s quite well-behaved. If yer just likin’ the looks, he would be the better option.” You can tell she’s joking by the merry twinkle in her eyes, but instead of humoring her you end up shaking your head with a quiet chuckle.

“I think Atsumu’s perfectly good for me.” The two of you pause to watch Atsumu practically sprint into the kitchen, and a few moments later there’s an agitated yell as proof that he was on his way to annoy his brother. You smile. “He makes me really happy, Mrs. Miya. You raised him well.”

“Aren’t ya just the sweetest thing?” Mrs. Miya coos at you, pinching your left cheek. “And so pretty too. I swear ya could probably clobber my brat at volleyball as well. You and yer teammate… ah, Miss Amanai? The two of you always caught my eye while I watched yer matches. Make sure ya let her know.”

You blush a little and thank her, making a mental note to tell Kanoka that. She’d probably find it extremely amusing, especially since she was the one who had given Atsumu your number in the first place (which, as you had found out months later, was because he had practically groveled at her feet multiple times. Dumbass.)

“Come meet my husband, (Y/N).” Mrs. Miya leads you into the living room, where an older, balding man with rimmed glasses is quietly flipping through a book. He gives a start upon hearing your entrance, clearing his throat and sitting up straight.

“Ah, hello!” Mr. Miya greets you. “I’ve heard a lot about you! From both Atsumu and the missus.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miya.” You nod once in a respectful manner.

“It’s about time that he settled down with a nice girl. Make sure ya keep him in line though, got it, missy?”

“Of course I w — “ you start, but Mrs. Miya is already dragging you towards the kitchen. You smile apologetically at Mr. Miya, and he just laughs and waves.

“Osamu’s makin’ dinner right now. He is such a hardworkin’ and dedicated boy. Both of them are, really,” she rambles. “But Osamu sure can cook a mean meal. He and his twin always used to fight over who’s the better cook. But I betcha Atsumu hasn’t touched the stove since he left for university years ago.”

You debate telling her that Atsumu had made quite a decent meal for the two of you just last week to celebrate your eight-month anniversary (which you hadn’t even known he remembered), but before you can formulate the right words in your head you’re suddenly shoved in the path of an unfamiliar man. Well, not really unfamiliar. He has the same face as the boyfriend who you see every day, after all.

Miya Osamu is (as expected) the literal carbon copy of Atsumu; same strong eyebrows, same hooded eyes, same angular jawline. The only thing that easily sets them apart is his black, ruffled mess of hair in stark contrast with your boyfriend’s bleached blonde.

Mrs. Miya pulls Atsumu away from the two of you, demanding that he help her with some mundane task, leaving you and Osamu by yourselves in the kitchen.

An easy smile graces his lips as he sticks out his hand. “Hey, I’m Osamu. Honored to finally meet the famous (L/N) (Y/N).” You smile back, gripping his hand firmly and shaking.

“And I’m honored to meet the famous ‘Samu.” At your words, Osamu bursts out laughing.

“Man, I don’t really let a lot of people call me that, y’know? But if yer gonna be part of the family, you could be an exception.”

“F-Family?” You pause, your sudden confidence dissipating as fast as it had come.

“Naw, no pressure. Just sayin’.” Osamu casually continues with his task of shaping onigiri. “I can tell he really likes ya.” You raise your eyebrows in curiosity without entirely meaning to. “I mean, we’re twins, it’s like a sixth sense. And also he never shuts up about ya when we text or call.”

“I hope you’re hearing all good things?” you quip jokingly.

“Oh, for sure. If I didn’t know who you were I’d think that he’s talkin’ about the reincarnation of a goddess with the way he talks.”

“Seriously?” You snort, and Osamu just laughs.

“So I’d like to ask ya the favor of continuin’ to take care of him. Guy’s just a huge ass baby. I can obviously see that yer good for him, though. He wouldn’t have stayed for so long if he wasn’t serious.”

The two of you briefly glance at Atsumu helping his mother set the table. They’re currently debating over whether Atsumu should go back to his natural hair color and “Stop makin’ yer hair look like fuckin’ straw!”

“He is a huge ass baby,” you start seriously, causing Osamu to smirk. “But he’s an honest and good person, so I’m not too bothered. I’ll take care of him, promise.”

“Thanks.” Osamu sighs, glancing rather fondly in his brother’s direction. “He’s an asshole, but at least he’s a redeemable asshole. I’m glad he’s finally got someone around to take care of him. Makes us all feel a little more relieved since he’s away from home.”

You suddenly feel warm inside.

Atsumu had been right; you truly didn’t have anything to be afraid of. The Miyas have been nothing but kind and welcoming so far, and they even seem to already have a positive opinion of you.

“Can ya help me carry these to the table?” Osamu holds out a plate of freshly-made onigiri.

“Ah, sure!” you accept hurriedly, taking the plate from him with careful hands. You take slow, calculated steps towards the dining room; the last thing you want is to accidentally drop any of the food.

Atsumu and his parents are already waiting in the dining room, and they all look up at you expectantly as you approach them with the onigiri plate in hand.

“Why, thank you, dear!” Mrs. Miya chirps. “Helpin’ Osamu out! How sweet of ya — “

She’s cut off as disaster strikes.

You trip on your last step to the table, causing a single onigiri to tumble off the plate and towards the floor. Your mouth drops open wide as you practically slam the plate down on the table and in practical slow-motion, watch the onigiri plummet down, down, down —

Then you dive.

You dive towards the floor, in the same manner as you do when you’re digging for a volleyball.

And you catch the rice ball in one hand, laying flat on your stomach. You have a moment of mental celebration; yes, you caught the onigiri! Then you realize that you look like a fucking idiot as you lay face down with one hand extended and clutching a rice ball like it’s your lifeline.

There’s a few seconds of agonizing silence.

You want the earth to swallow you whole.

There’s no way that you could ever show your face in front of Atsumu’s family or even Atsumu himself now; God you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life, and over an onigiri too —

“Nice receive!” Atsumu suddenly bellows, clapping his hands boisterously. “(L/N) does it again!”

His brother, who’s standing a few feet behind you with a platter of chicken skewers, pumps his free fist into the air and joins in with a “Hell yeah!”

Mr. Miya starts laughing the same loud Miya laugh that you’ve heard way too many times today, and his sons soon follow suit. Shame is still flooding your body, but now you’re realizing just how ridiculous the whole situation is and you resist the urge to smile at your own stupidity. As soon as Mrs. Miya recovers from her initial surprise, she comes to help you up, and you can tell that she’s doing her best not to laugh as well.

“Are ya okay, dear?” she briefly inspects you for any sign of injury.

“All good here, Mrs. Miya.” You smile, genuinely and comfortably, as Atsumu comes behind you to wrap his arms around you and peck your cheek, still chuckling with a small note of pride. “All good.”

“See?” Atsumu’s smug as hell as the two of you enter the hotel elevator on your way up to your room. Osamu had dropped you off so there would be no need for another cab. “I told ya that they’d fuckin’ love ya.”

“Why’re you rubbing in something like this?” You scoff, dodging when he tries to pull you into a crushing hug.

“Because I was right.” He smirks. You roll your eyes to heaven.

“Well, you can’t blame me for being nervous! I still can’t believe that none of them got upset at me for diving for a rice ball at the dinner table.” You groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Nah, why the hell would they? It was cool. Yer cool, Miss National Team Libero.” He laughs, reaching for you again and this time you let him bring you close to him. “Besides, like I said before, who could ever resist yer pretty lil face?”

“You’re a hopeless asshole.” You sigh, and Atsumu of course just chuckles, his laughter vibrating against your ear as you press yourself into his chest.

“I’m yer hopeless asshole.” He pecks the top of your head. “C’mon, babe. It’s our floor.”

You hadn’t realized how tired you are until the two of you enter your hotel room and you see the large, inviting bed. You practically jump onto it, burying your face into a pillow. “Goodnight…” you mumble sleepily.

“Ya gotta go shower and brush yer teeth first, idiot.” A pillow smacks you in the side of the head, and you leap up with a cry of surprise. “Damn, don’t be so loud, sweetheart. It’s late, y’know. Don’t wanna get a noise complaint like last night.” You turn bright red at the reminder.

“Shut u-up,” you retort. “I told you that we shouldn’t have tried to do it on the balcony.”

“It was fun, though, y’know! An experience. And ya sounded like you were enjoyin’ it, anyway.” He chucks another pillow at you, and you yelp as it nails you in the face. “Now get yer cute ass over here, we’re gonna shower.”

“You can’t make me.” You stubbornly lay back down and close your eyes, and you had peace for all but ten seconds before Atsumu’s plucking you off the bed and settling you into his arms bridal-style. Your eyes shoot open in shock and you flail desperately. “Put me down!”

“No can do. I’m not sleepin’ next to yer stinky self tonight, darlin’.” Atsumu laughs as you scowl.

“The floor’s always open for you,” you snap.

“Aw, yer no fun.” He steals a kiss from you in the blink of an eye; the only evidence of there being contact at all is a tingling feeling on your lips. You feel your heart melt just a little more.

“Fine. After we shower, we go straight to bed. Got it?”

“ And brush our teeth. Yer mornin’ breath is bad enough.” He lets out quite an unpleasant squawk when you smack him lightly in the shoulder. “Alright, sorry, sorry.”

“Is this just your excuse to see me naked?” you tease him as he sets you down on the bathroom counter before immediately removing his shirt to reveal his muscled torso. He grins wolfishly at you and shrugs.

“And if it is?” Atsumu’s eyes are zeroed in on the small hickey he had left right below your collarbone last night, which is now visible thanks to the way your shirt had rumpled after he had practically manhandled you into the bathroom.

“Well, I won’t complain.” You follow his gaze down to your neck, before glancing back up to meet his eyes and raise an eyebrow at him. “If you’re going to make it worth my time.”

About an hour later, the two of you are lying in bed together, effectively tuckered out and finally ready to sleep. Atsumu’s strong arms are wrapped tightly around you like a protective cocoon as you snuggle your face against his chest. The slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat rocks you towards dreamland, and all the worries from the past day are slipping away.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” you mumble against his chest. He grunts tiredly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

There’s a small silence.

“...Thanks,” you finally say after a beat.

“Huh? For what?” he quips.

“For being patient with me today, even though I was so nervous. And for taking me to meet your family.” You crane your head to look up at him, contentment adorning your features. “I had a good time. I hope they don’t hate the idea of me coming around again sometime.”

Atsumu smiles that familiar smile, the smile filled with affection that others rarely get to see. His eyes are almost half-mooned with joy, his lips are curved up in genuine adoration, and his cheeks are flushed with color. You saw this smile for the first time when he set an incredibly low ball at training camp, earning the awe of everyone in the room, including yourself. Never did you think that you would ever have this expression of pure love aimed at you, nor did you think it would fill you with so much happiness every time you had the blessing of seeing it. He says nothing for a while, suddenly resorting to trailing kisses all over your face. You let him, closing your eyes peacefully as he showers you with his love, ending with one final peck to your nose.

“I'm sure they'd like to have you around again.”

And if Atsumu continues playing his cards right, he thinks there might be a possibility that in the next five or so years, you could truly become part of the family with a glittering ring on your finger.

Only time will tell if that possibility will ever come to fruition, but as you tilt your head up to give him one last kiss on the lips and whisper those three words to him, he knows for sure that he wants to continue building towards that future with you.

“I love you too.” He lets his eyes fall shut as well, before resting his chin atop your head and savoring the warmth of your body against his.

Only time will tell.

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paradox-liveheadcanons · 3 years

Note

ah, thanks for letting me know!!! then, if it’s ok can i have nayuta and shiki relationship headcanons…. ?? (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃♡︎

Nayuta x Shiki Relationship Headcanons

[Set After Voice Drama "Live" Part 4]

Confession -

Shiki would feel ashamed for liking Nayuta. He’s his best friend… there’s no way he could ever confess to someone so close to him.

He keeps his love to himself, the feeling of guilt for even liking Nayuta eats at him. Sometimes just being beside Nayuta hurts. He can’t just selfishly tell Nayuta that he likes him, he can’t back Nayuta into an uncomfortable situation. It’s not right for him to tell Nayuta this after what had happened on the rooftop.

His suffering is obvious to everyone. He’s been declining Nayuta’s invites, sometimes locking himself in the back of the bar whenever Nayuta randomly visits. It’s come to a point where Yohei and Saimon try to gently prod at whatever Shiki’s been hiding.

Nayuta sighs as his heart aches. Shiki declined his invite to go out again.

He wears his monotone stare whenever Kanata asks him if he’s alright. Nayuta nods silently, leaving the room whenever Kanata pokes and prods him about it.

To everyone else, Nayuta looks normal. His unchanging glare, cool face tells everyone he’s alright. But his eyes, which are a little softer, glazier than usual, tell Kanata otherwise.

It was a cool, otherwise rainy day. Shiki doesn’t have anywhere to go other than the rooftop of that building because Ryu’s starting to bug him about his feelings; so much so to the point that he actually yelled at Ryu to stop (he made a note to apologise later…)

Nayuta heads to the rooftop because Kanata’s been asking if he’s all right again. He needed to leave before he breaks down and tells his brother everything. He didn’t want to make his brother worried over him again.

When Nayuta arrived at the rooftop, he saw a familiar figure sitting on a bench, facing the sun that was setting.

- “Shiki?” Nayuta yelled out to the figure.

Shiki gasped and tried to find a new exit as Nayuta came closer.

They’ve never fought and never thought they would ever fight.

As Nayuta confronts Shiki about everything, tears start rolling down Shiki’s face, the rain following right after.

- “I’ve always liked you, Nayuta. Always, always.”

Shiki confesses first as Nayuta stares at him, disbelief all over his own face.

Shiki continues to cry; Nayuta can only embrace him in silence.

Against the cold rain, it’s warm. They’re both warm, together.

Beginning -

Of course Shiki doesn’t come out of his room for DAYS after coming back from the rooftop.

As the rain starts clearing up, Nayuta puts a hand under Shiki’s chin, making the younger boy look up.

- “I was worried, thinking that you hated me since you kept saying you were busy when I wanted to hang out with you.” Nayuta would pout as Shiki sniffled, “But… even so… right now… I’m happy.”

- “Huh?”

- “Well… I like you too.”

The three words repeated in Shiki’s head. I like you, I like you, I like you… it was like a dream.

His trance broke as a cold hand placed itself on his head, making him jump.

- “MASTER, SHIKI’S HOT AGAIN !!!” Ryu yelled.

He could hear the faint sound of Yohei hitting Ryu’s head, telling him to be quiet because Shiki’s sick.

Ah yes, both Nayuta and Shiki got sick after the confession in the rain.

Despite the initial flustered moments they have with one another, hanging out with one another really feels the same. Except Nayuta’s been holding Shiki’s hand more often and casually kissing his cheeks whenever he feels like it.

More physical affection that Shiki's not used to but doesn't feel too foreign since it's from Nayuta.

When Kanata found out, he almost dropped the mug he was holding. He would have absolutely beat the SHIT out of whoever had the AUDACITY to date Nayuta. But it’s Shiki so he’s cool with it (kind of).

Yohei and Saimon let out a huge sigh when they realised the reason for Shiki's jittery behaviour. Ryu just laughed at everyone. He always knew Shiki liked Nayuta before Shiki even knew it himself. When Shiki asked how he knew, Ryu just told him, “After you’ve lived for a 100000000000 (he says one zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero) years, you can see whether onions or red onions have people living in it or not!”.

Getting to Know More About Each Other -

It’s impossible for these two to know more about each other because they’re already so close.

What Nayuta does though, is invite Shiki over to his home more often. There, they look at Nayuta’s (and sometimes Kanata’s) vast CD collection.

Sometimes while listening, Nayuta would talk about how he felt when he was gone. Shiki would listen in earnest as they recounted all the times they were at the rooftop together, until one day Nayuta wasn’t.

Nayuta would console Shiki if he ever thought he was at fault for what had happened on the rooftop.

Before they were inseparable, now they're insufferably in love.

Saying ‘I love you’ -

They’re not very vocal and honest with their emotions (like on god Shiki really hid his crush on Nayuta for A WHILE)

It takes a while for them to say, ‘I love you’, but Nayuta would be the first.

They’re both on the rooftop. Many things have happened yet Shiki, occasionally, can’t forget what happened to Nayuta.

It’s been a while but Shiki suddenly gets a trap reaction, Nayuta rushing by his side to help him sit down and breathe.

“I’m here… I’m always here beside you, Shiki. I’ll never go away.”

That was their definition of, ‘I love you’. Words that was uttered between one another and with no one else.

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

Now I ain't gonna lie.

Writing this made me ship them.

A bit.

I hope you liked it Anon~ - 🐝

#ParaLive #Paradox Live #Paradox Live Headcanons #Nayuta x Shiki #Shiki Ando #Nayuta Yatonokami #TCW #The Cat's Whiskers #COZMEZ

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radiantmists · 3 years

Link

Title: and you give yourself away

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing: Jon/Martin

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 4414

Jon is not an idiot. Contrary to what some of the people who love him might believe, he’s not even entirely oblivious to social cues, though he’ll admit they elude him perhaps more often than is standard.

All of this to say that in the week following their escape from the Lonely, as Martin graduates from shy smiling glances and tentative clutching of clammy hands to full-bellied laughter and warm, steady embraces, Jon is fully capable of figuring out where things are going. And, yes, the idea makes him uneasy when he faces it head on, but if there's something more he can do to feed the way Martin is unfolding, blossoming into the man he'd been before— except more sure of himself, somehow, steadier—

Well, there isn't much Jon wouldn't attempt for that, given the option. This is something small, something he's not even actually opposed to, just... less than completely sure of.

So when they’re sitting on the couch together, giggling over some charming thing the grocer had said to Martin, and Jon looks up to find Martin’s blue-green-grey eyes mere inches from his own, a breath caught in each of their throats, he's prepared for what Martin is going to say before the first sound emerges.

“Jon,” he whispers, “can I k—”

“Yes,” he blurts before Martin can finish.

Too loud and too abrupt; they both rear back with the force of it, and for a moment Jon feels like an utter idiot before he notices Martin giggling softly.

“Not eager at all, are you?” he teases, and now Jon hesitates.

The thing is—he’s not oblivious, which means he’s been thinking about it. He’d known how Martin felt since just after he woke up and listened to that awful tape with Elias; perhaps he’d figured it out even before that, somewhere between the fifth cup of perfectly-brewed, perfectly-timed tea in as many days and the third scrambled phone call from an ocean away, picked up on the second ring despite the forgotten time-zones.

But there had been so much going on, at first, that Jon had never had the chance to really think about it. And then after he’d woken, when he’d really had the chance to consider what he and Martin were to each other, it had always been in a sort of abstract sense—I need him to be okay, I need to trust him and I do trust him, and in the most maudlin moments of hopeful fantasy, I want him to still want me.

Only now, when they’d found that against all odds they were okay, and they did trust each other, and even begun to signal that they wanted each other, had Jon begun to consider what exactly ‘wanting’ might look like for Martin.

“I—wait,” he begins, the word tasting bitter. He knows Martin won’t be unkind about this, but that isn’t necessarily the same as understanding. Jon still has to say it. “You can kiss me, but only if you won’t be offended if I don’t like it.”

Martin sits up shock-straight, eyes going wide as he looks at Jon. “I’m not going to do it if you’re not going to like it! If you didn’t want to, why didn’t you just say no?”

Jon sighs, irritated. That hadn’t come out right.

“I didn’t say no because I do want you to kiss me,” he says, trying to be patient. “I mean, if you want to—”

“Of course I want to, Jon, but that doesn’t mean you have to say yes!” Martin replies, frustrated, gesturing sharply with his hands. Jon blinks, leaning back slightly, and Martin sighs, arms coming down and his tone going softer, smaller. “It’s not—this isn’t something you need to give me, Jon. I know you love me. It’s okay to have boundaries.”

Jon hadn’t had to come out to Martin, because the archival gossip chain had done it for him. But he supposes there was enough ambiguity in the terms that it’s worth having the conversation anyway.

“Asexual people can and do kiss, you know,” he says. “Some even have and enjoy sex, although I have to be clear that that will not be happening.”

“I—I know that,” Martin says, going red and avoiding Jon’s eyes. “And I know you can kiss, I wouldn’t have asked otherwise, but—you said you wouldn’t like it.”

Jon wrinkles his nose with a sigh. A whole week of turning this over, of deciding how he wanted to address this possibility and even rehearsing what he needed to say, and he’s still made a mess of it.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t like it,” he says slowly. “I asked you to be prepared for the possibility that I might not, because I don’t actually know. I want to try, but only if you’re okay with this maybe being the only one you get.”

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Jon,” Martin says slowly. “Have you not—would that have been your first kiss?”

Jon has to bite his tongue on the first, defensively scathing reply, and nods instead.

“But—”

Martin stops, hesitant, and Jon waves permission for him to continue with a sigh. Maybe the next question is going to be indelicate or ignorant, but better to address it than to leave him wondering.

“I mean, I know you’ve been in relationships before,” Martin explains carefully. “I—I’m not as surprised that you haven’t done it, there’s nothing wrong with that, I’m just confused because it seems like if it was something you wanted, you could have?”

Turning that one over in his mind, Jon nods slowly.

“I suppose you’re right,” he allows. “I guess it isn’t something I want in the traditional sense. I don’t look at someone—even someone I love—and want to kiss them, any more than I look at them and want to have sex. But sex at least makes sense,” he grouses. “As… off-putting as I find the idea on a personal level, it’s necessary in an evolutionary sense and obviously it involves biological processes that are designed to be enjoyable. I get why people do it, and those reasons don’t appeal to me.”

At this point, Martin is brick red, but he nods in acknowledgement. “And… kissing is different?”

“Yes!” Jon’s maybe a little excited to get to talk about this. Sue him, he’s been thinking about it enough. “It’s not as awful as sex seems, but it also serves no functional purpose, and yet the whole world is utterly convinced that it’s absolutely wonderful, and I don’t understand it. Another person’s mouth does not seem like an appealing thing to have in your mouth. But then again, objectively neither do pen caps, and you’ve seen me with those.”

Martin snickers. “Apparently they’re irresistible.”

“Yes, well,” Jon says, flapping a hand. He’d made the joke, but somehow he still feels a prickle of embarrassment, so he moves on quickly. “The point is, there’s nothing inherently appealing or especially off-putting about it, in theory. But I’ve never had an especially good reason to try, and none of the people I’ve dated really liked it, so I’ve never bothered. That doesn’t mean I’m not… curious.”

His first two partners had also been ace; Georgie wasn’t, but simply ‘wasn’t a fan’ of kissing, though she’d never been able to explain why, any more than Jon could articulate why the idea of anyone touching him sexually made his stomach flip even though he saw nothing inherently wrong with the act. It didn’t matter why, really; as Martin had said, boundaries are important. But it meant he’d stayed curious.

There was a little more to it, of course. His first boyfriend had asked Jon if he wanted to try kissing once, casually, since he’d never done it before. Jon had declined. Perhaps he hadn’t been quite as secure in his sexuality then, perhaps he did actually feel more of a need to at least try for Martin, who genuinely wanted this. Jon likes to think, though, that his desire to try simply speaks to how comfortable this whole relationship has felt, how safe. There was no reason that kissing had to be any different from that pastry recipe they’d done together the other day, the one they’d thrown out after three bites each with little more than a regretful shrug.

“I… that makes sense,” Martin says finally, and Jon sits up.

“You still want to, then?” he asks.

Martin blinks, an uncertain smile spreading on his face. “You are excited.”

“I’ve been thinking about it!” Jon says defensively, and Martin gives a shocked laugh-gasp. “I mean—I thought you might want to, which meant I had to decide whether I wanted to try, and so now I just… I’ve just ruined the mood, I suppose,” he finishes, deflating.

Martin’s smile doesn’t grow, but it stops twitching and tucks in at the corners like it’s decided that it’s there to stay. “I wouldn’t say that. Unless you’d rather not, of course.”

“No, I’m fine,” Jon replies. “Let’s try it.”

He studies Martin’s face, leaning forward slightly. Jon has considered the mechanics of this before, of course, and he’s seen it in movies, but there’s a difference between knowing how to do something theoretically and having experience, so he’s hoping Martin will take the lead, as it were…

With a frustrated noise, Martin pulls back.

“What?” Jon asks, blinking. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I—I guess I’m just nervous now!” Martin replies, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I brushed my teeth this morning, but that was hours ago, what if my mouth tastes weird?”

Jon frowns. “Is that usually a problem?”

“Not—really? Not unless you’ve just woken up, or eaten something really strong…”

Would Martin’s mouth even taste that different from his? They’d eaten the same things today, after all, and used the same toothpaste. The memory of the bathroom with their toothbrushes sitting in the same cup, of sitting across from each other over a lunch they’d made with crisp sunlight streaming through the window, makes Jon grin a little even as Martin barrels on.

“Or—I thought, something chaste at least to start, but lots of people like deeper kisses way better, and really I’m not exactly talented, or even all that experienced! What if I put you off kissing forever, but you actually just don’t like kissing me?”

He looks down at his hands as soon as he’s finished; Jon reaches out slowly to take one in his own, contemplating this.

“If I don’t like kissing you,” he says finally, carefully, “then that’s all I need to know, isn’t it?”

Martin makes a cut-off sound that Jon can’t identify, and when he chances a glance at Martin’s face, his eyes are wide.

“I’m never going to want to kiss someone else,” Jon points out. “Best case scenario, you show me a fun new activity we can do together. If we… bump teeth or something, some good reason it’s an abnormally bad kiss, we can try again. And worst case—well, you don’t get to kiss anyone, I suppose, but—”

“It’s not like it’s something I need,” Martin interrupts, but he’s squeezing Jon’s hand. “Yeah, okay, I see your point.”

“There’s no pressure to be perfect from my end,” Jon agrees, but now he can feel himself hesitating. “But—there’s a good chance that I won’t like it, and it won’t be your fault, but if you’d rather not try at all, I won’t be upset.”

“Jon, I can promise you you’re not pressuring me into this,” Martin smiles.

Jon bites his lip. “I don’t want to do it if it’s going to upset you, or make you feel like you’re… inadequate.”

Martin sighs.

“Jon, I feel inadequate all the time,” he says frankly. “As long as you don’t—I don’t know, dump me over it? Make fun of me?—it’s not going to make a noticeable difference.”

“I think that’s worse,” Jon replies, and Martin winces. Jon wonders how much he’s already contributed to Martin’s feelings of inadequacy and decides it’s definitely worse.

“Well— I can promise I won’t be upset with you if you don’t like it,” Martin says finally. “But I think at this point we’re in utter agreement that we don’t have to, so maybe we can just—table this discussion?”

Jon sighs and shifts to rest his head against Martin’s shoulder instead. “Yeah, okay.”

Martin’s soft laughter rumbles in his chest and through Jon’s cheek into his skull. “Wow, you sound more disappointed than I am.”

“I was a bit excited to try,” Jon admits, running his thumb over the back of Martin’s hand in his own. “I’ve been curious about this for decades, Martin.”

“…yeah, that tracks.”

His tone is fond, but Jon still shifts uncomfortably, trying to make himself smaller.

“That’s me,” he says quietly. “Can’t leave any question unasked.”

Martin sighs. “Jon, you know that’s not what I meant.”

Jon does know. He does, except--

“You don’t mean it until it’s what makes me do something idiotic,” he blurts, sitting up. “It’s all just me, Martin, and—”

“Okay, being curious doesn’t require you to be ridiculously self-sacrificing!” Martin argues, letting go of Jon’s hands to gesture in frustration.

“Well, fine,” Jon bites back, crossing his arms. “I’m curious and an idiot. Happy?”

“No!” Martin snaps. “There’s a difference between being stupid, which you aren’t, and being so convinced that your own safety doesn’t matter that you’ll knowingly throw yourself into danger, or, or let someone maim you for a story!”

Jon opens his mouth. Closes it. Martin is studying him, the tension slowly leeching out of his posture and leaving him just looking tired.

“I… I needed to know those things,” Jon says weakly.

“Most of them, yeah,” Martin agrees. “But—Jon, when you need something, when you’re curious, why is you getting hurt the first option? When did that happen?”

When had it happened?

Long before he’d entered the Lonely, the possibility of his death not even registering if it gave him a chance to retrieve Martin. Surely before Jared, when he’d traded an extra rib for a statement with hardly a moment’s hesitation. One rib for the statement, one for Daisy, as though they were remotely equal, and the obscenity of it had occurred to Jon only later. He’d been glad, in a sick way, that it hadn’t worked.

He hadn’t known exactly what would happen, with Melanie, but he hadn’t exactly been surprised to look up from the bullet to see her swinging at him with murder in her eyes. It had been worth it, though, even if she’d hated him afterward.

Jon had expected to die in the Unknowing, deep down. He’d accepted that the circus would kill him at some point during that interminable month with Nikola, though he hadn’t realized it until he’d been accepting Michael’s offer of a cleaner death—a trade in itself, he supposed, his life for an end when he’d had nothing else to bargain with. He’d spent the next few months increasingly exhausted, until putting himself on Trevor and Julia’s shitlist in exchange for some real answers from Gerry had hardly even been difficult.

Did Martin even know about any of those? He hasn’t seen Jon’s rib, hasn’t asked about the new scar on Jon’s shoulder or, in the whirlwind surrounding their departure, what exactly two hunters were doing at the Institute. He must have listened to some of the tapes, in those months that Jon can’t quite remember, but had the one recording Michael’s statement ever made its way to the Institute, or has Jon just automatically included it in the perfectly-accessible archive in his head?

Martin might be thinking about the Unknowing, or perhaps about Jon’s hand, which he’d patiently helped re-wrap on the day Jon had returned to the Institute, when the wound had practically ripped itself open with the strain of holding a shovel and digging.

Maybe he’s thinking about less concrete hurts, the way Jon had thrown himself into the idea of being useful if he couldn’t be human. About how Jon couldn’t give his life anymore, how he’d traded his human death to Oliver in exchange for waking up.

Or maybe it had been earlier, in a moment Martin will remember: that first, frantic rush of Prentiss’ attack, when Jon had grabbed for the tape recorder on the desk through a sea of writhing white flesh without even considering whether there might be a second.

Whatever Martin is thinking about, he must see on Jon’s face that he doesn’t have an answer, that the list is so long and so old that he can’t even begin.

“That isn’t okay, Jon,” he says softly.

“You did it,” Jon finds himself replying, defensive. “With Peter, you knew he was dangerous—”

Martin sighs, cutting him off even though the sound is almost silent. “Yes, I did, Jon, after you’d been in a coma for three months, and Tim and Sasha were dead, and the Institute had been attacked again, and my mother had just died. Do you really think that was a healthy decision?”

No. No, it had been terrifying, listening to the tape they’d found in the Panopticon and hearing Martin’s recorded voice call it a good way to get killed. Even with him bustling around packing in the other room, perfectly safe, Jon had felt the terror rise up cold and choking in his throat.

“You’re not a tool, Jon, and you’re worth more than a statement or a convenient solution to a problem,” Martin says. “It terrifies me that you don’t seem to get that.”

“It—I can see why it would,” Jon allows, throat tight. “But what I am now, whatever it is that Peter thinks Magnus ‘got’ out of their bet—”

“That isn’t your fault, Jon—”

“I hurt people to live, Martin,” Jon replies, exhausted. “Don’t I owe those people—and the people I’ve gotten killed—whatever good I can do, even if it might not be… comfortable?”

Martin leans back, his eyes closed. He looks hurt, and Jon feels abruptly and deeply ashamed of himself. After everything he’s gone through, with everything he’s still struggling with, Martin shouldn’t have to deal with Jon’s baggage as well.

He’s searching for the words to make this go away, to assure Martin that he’ll think about it and that he’s not planning to throw himself into danger any time soon, that he’s happy to stay up here and leave it all behind for as long as it’s safe or until Martin wants to go, when Martin speaks.

“What do I owe you, then?”

Jon blinks. “What?”

“For making you come after me,” Martin explains. “My plan didn’t accomplish much except for giving Magnus something he wanted, after all.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Jon argues. “I—it was my choice to go in, I—”

“It was Tim’s choice to go into the Unknowing,” Martin replies. “And Daisy’s for that matter. They didn’t do it for you, or even really because of you.”

Tim wouldn’t have chosen to go in if Jon hadn’t utterly ruined his life; neither he nor Sasha would have died if Jon hadn’t asked them to be his assistants in the first place. And even in the Unknowing itself, if Jon had just been able to see through it back then the way Elias—Jonah—had predicted he should, the way he’d almost easily found his way out of the Lonely, they could all have gotten out just fine.

Martin glares at him, apparently reading the justifications on his face. “They chose, Jon, with their eyes wide open. Don’t tell me otherwise, because I won’t believe you.”

“Even ignoring that,” Jon says, though the words are bitter, “it’s not—we’re not alike. You hadn’t hurt anyone—”

“I’ve been thinking about that one, actually,” Martin says, and his tone has gained the distant, thoughtful tinge he’d always had in his lonely office on the topmost floor of the Institute. Jon reaches for his hand, worried, and Martin doesn’t move away, but doesn’t close his own fingers, either. “I was enough of an avatar to convince Peter, wasn’t I? He must have been able to feel the Lonely on me, even if some of it was lies. That power had to come from somewhere. From someone, someone afraid.”

“He had control over the whole Institute,” Jon points out. “Maybe the low-level loneliness just sort of… carried over?”

But Martin shakes his head. “Maybe a little,” he says, “but I don’t think so.”

“Why?” Jon demands, frustrated. “There was no one who came in and made a bloody statement about you ruining their lives. Who did you hurt?”

“You, I think,” Martin answers, looking down at their hands. “Most of the Institute, they were afraid of the policy changes that Peter was making, or that he’d fire them or their friends—well, disappear them, but they mostly didn’t know that. And at first I think you were worried about what he’d do to me, too, but…”

“You kept making me leave,” Jon realizes, the words coming out almost before he understands them. “I started to worry that you’d chosen the Lonely, started to be afraid of more than just Peter realizing you were conning him, that you’d decide you really were better off without me.”

Martin stares at him, hands still limp in Jon’s. “That was… God, I’m right, aren’t I? You just Knew it.”

Jon had.

“It—it doesn’t matter,” he insists, squeezing at Martin’s hands almost desperately. “You didn’t even know you were doing it, it—”

“I knew I was signing myself over to an evil fear god, which is more than you did, going in,” Martin objects. “I knew Peter was evil, I knew you weren’t doing well—”

“It wasn’t your job to manage my emotional state, Martin—”

“Well, I’d have liked not to make it worse!” he snaps back. “God, talk about poor self-worth, you saved me after I practically left you to die over Peter Lukas’ theories—”

“About the literal apocalypse,” Jon points out. “It isn’t like I’ll be doing better if the Extinction really does emerge.”

Martin snorts dismissively. “His solution was to take over the world instead and kill the whole Institute in the process, that wouldn’t have been better either. And I might not have known that, but I did figure his plan was to use me for a ritual, and I still played along.”

“Because he’d have thrown you into the Lonely as soon as he realized you’d turned on him,” Jon replies.

“Which he did anyway. I’d have had to stop listening to him at some point.”

“Well, we did find out about the Panopticon, and Magnus,” Jon argues. “And you didn’t know if there was something even bigger he was leading up to, something we could use. You were doing the best you could, Martin, it’s only hindsight that makes the other options seem so much more obvious.”

Martin is blinking at him, gaze steady. Jon looks back. Thinks over his last few words. Makes a frustrated noise.

“It’s really not—”

“You’re genuinely so smart,” Martin interrupts, in a tone of wonder, “and yet so unbelievably stubborn. Yes, Jon, it is the same! You made some mistakes, most of them totally understandable in context, and none of them, even the really awful ones, mean you have to—to keep giving away bits of yourself!”

Martin voice has risen, gotten harsher as he goes, and he’s squeezing Jon’s hands tight enough that he can’t get them free to cross his arms, so all Jon’s frustration goes into his tone.

“Fine,” he snaps. “Fine! Neither of us will blame ourselves for things we couldn’t control, and we’ll both value ourselves more and build healthier self-images and all of that, and everything will be fine. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Jon glares. Martin scowls back, jaw set, still holding Jon’s hands tightly.

“Just like that,” Jon says.

“Absolutely.”

One more second of stubborn frustration passes. Then, helplessly, Jon snorts. Martin’s face twists, confused-irritated-wry, and then he’s snickering too, until they’re both laughing desperately, each leaning forward until Jon’s head is practically tucked under Martin’s chin.

“It’s not going to be that easy, you know,” Jon murmurs when they’ve calmed down, looking up to meet Martin’s eyes properly.

It’s an understatement; it’ll be hard enough just to keep things as good as they are. Martin still starts to drift off if he’s left alone for long enough, and no deal they make with each other is going to change the way Jon’s monstrous appetite is already starting to clamor for a statement.

“Well, at least we’re agreed,” Martin replies, but there’s a dry note in his voice that Jon knows means he understands. “We can remind each other.”

“I suppose.”

Their faces, once again, are very close together, and Jon abruptly realizes that he can feel Martin’s soft, tingling breaths on his cheeks. He pulls back, wrinkling his nose.

“What?”

“Nothing, just—breathing on me,” Jon explains. He’d mentioned his discomfort with that on their first night here, when he’d made sure there was a pillow between him and Martin on the bed.

Martin hums acknowledgement, then cocks his head in thought. Jon feels a curl of unease; this argument has been draining enough already.

“You know,” Martin says, “when you kiss someone, you can definitely feel them breathing on your face.”

“Oh,” Jon replies, utterly thrown. That was what had started this whole conversation. “Well. I probably wouldn’t have liked it much, then.”

“Good. And we figured it out without you actually having to do the uncomfortable thing,” Martin says. Jon sighs, then squints at him.

“And without you feeling like you’ve messed it up,” he replies pointedly, and Martin opens his mouth, then stops and chuckles.

“See? We’re going to be great at this.”

It’s not even remotely true. Jon still wants to know what kissing is like, though not with any real urgency, just as before; he’s still alarmed by Martin apparently feeling inadequate ‘all the time,’ and he doubts this has made a dent in it. Still, it might at least not make it worse.

Jon groans, leaning forward to rest his head on Martin’s chest and bringing his arms up to snake around his torso. “We can just hug instead.”

“Yeah,” Martin replies, folding him in tighter. “Yeah, okay.”

#tma #tma fanfiction #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #jon archivist #ive just started posting stuff #if people like it they like it #if they dont they dont #at least they get to see it #my writing

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 4 years

Text

(Clone Wars) Captain Rex x Reader: To Follow Where the Heart Leads

(Author’s Note: Oh my goodness, this fic right now... In short, we’ve had custody drama with my niece, so now I need some domestic Rex and baby fics. I am in need of some Clone Wars love).

Taglist: @neekid

It was a dark night. Rain pelted your form over the cloak that you had pulled tightly around yourself. A warm hand found yours, its gentle squeeze reminding you that all would be well soon. From beneath his hood, Rex looked at you with reassuring resolve. As the two of you turned down the alley, a tall figure came into view. It stood, cloaked, at the other end beneath a flickering light.

“That’s her,” you said, taking a deep breath. The meeting in that cold, rainy place had been arranged at a prior date, but part of you still worried that it may be a trap of some sort. Rex walked beside you, one hand resting so carefully on your lower back prepared to pull you out of harm’s way if need be while the other gripped his blaster that remained in its holster on his hip. As you neared the figure and saw what she held, your suspicions began to disintegrate.

You nearly melted when the bundle was transferred to your arms. You leaned over him to shield his delicate face from the rain. It looked so round and smooth, not yet burdened with lines marking life’s hardships as your husband’s was. He slept so peacefully in your arms that you couldn’t resist planting a small kiss on his cheek.

Since the Republic had been replaced by an Empire, the Kaminoans were informed that there was no further need for the trooper project. Not only were they irritated about the lack of credits going their way, there were still “units” that had not completed their training. Some weren’t even in the beginning stages yet. They were born for a purpose that was no longer in existence, and there had been a fuss about what would become of them.

You and Rex had heard this through the grapevine and talked it over, reaching a decision without any debate. Both of your hearts broke at the situation the little ones were in, and neither of you could turn a blind eye.

So there you were with a sleeping baby in your arms.

“He’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“He’s the last of them,” the Kaminoan, Lana-se, informed. “I have been successful in re-homing others with different families.” You hadn’t spent much time with Kaminoans on their home planet, but this female seemed different from those you had met. Her eyes were slightly softer than theirs had been, and she looked at the little one in your arms with a spark of warmth. It was your understanding that they didn’t usually bond with troopers and only saw them as a commodity, but she didn’t leave that impression. After all, why had she gone through the trouble to re-home the remaining young ones after the war?

You spared a glance at the gentle brown eyes that watched you and the baby. “He looks like his dad.”

Rex sucked in a sharp breath- a voiceless chuckle- at your comment. “Brother, technically. All the same, I appreciate the gesture.”

“You may be brothers by blood, but you’re his dad,” you pointed out. “He’s going to look up to and want to be just like you.” Rex didn’t respond at first, only reached one arm around you and raised the other hand to gently pull the baby’s blanket over their form a little more. “Is there something wrong?” you asked, heart sinking. “Was this not what you wanted?”

His eyes met yours instantly. “Of course this is what I want. I love you, and...I love that your heart led you to this. Mine did too. It’s just,” he paused, looking back to the baby while his hand rubbed circles on your back gently. “I grew up without a father. I grew up without a mother, even.”

You gazed back at him tenderly as Rex bared his heart to you in a way he hadn’t before. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

“I just hope I do a good job,” he continued.

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his chin. “You will. You’re a good man, Rex. That’s why I love you. You may have not had a father as a reference, but that’s what makes this so great. You didn’t grow up with a dad, but because of you, this little guy will.”

Both of you turned your attention back to the baby which had since opened his eyes and was taking in your faces for the first time. You smiled at him, greeting him with a chipper “hello” and Rex with a “hey there, little guy.”

He proceeded to yawn, and you sighed at how adorable it was.

“I think I chose the right couple,” Lana-se stated, clasping her hands together. “This little one is in good hands.”

“Thank you,” you told her. “He’ll be well-cared-for.”

“And loved,” you and Rex added at the same time, sharing an affectionate look shortly after.

“We should get going before he catches a cold,” you said. Then you looked up at Lana-se sincerely. “Thank you for everything.”

She gave a nod to reciprocate the notion. “I wish you and your family well.”

Rex ushered you out of the alley, and you glanced over your shoulder further down the duracrete to see that Lana-se was nowhere to be seen. She had disappeared into the night as quickly as she had arrived, with only raindrops gathering to form a puddle under the flickering light. On your way back to the ship, you kept looking at the bundle that you cradled so carefully. He was tiny and fragile at the moment, but you knew that he would be a strong one. He carried the same strength that Rex and so many other good men you’d known during the war did.

You boarded the ship, setting the baby down in the prepared crib in the corner before removing your own cloak. As planned, Rex grabbed a bottle and started following the instructions to make a batch of formula. As soon as you were comfortable, you lifted the baby into your arms again and rocked him gently.

Rex hurried over with the bottle, almost tripping over a bench on the way. You chuckled. “Here, why don’t you feed him? I’ve been holding him all this time and you didn’t get a chance yet.”

Though he looked eager to do so, he still checked to be sure you were okay with him being the first to feed the little one. He took the baby in his arms and proceeded to offer up the bottle. It took a few tries for the baby to finally latch on and take a swig. Before long, he was enjoying his first meal with the two of you, and you and Rex looked at each other with eyes shining. “Have we settled on a name yet?” he asked.

“Well, why don’t we run through the ones we came up with so far?” you suggested, taking a seat beside him in the kitchen booth.

“Sounds good,” Rex said. “You go first.”

part 2

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 4 years

Note

Hey love, was wondering if we could get some more mean girl x soft boy with Peter with promts 10 and 37??

Yes!! My favorite, of course, I made reader a Stark too cause spoiled rich mean girl with soft little Peter kills me. Hope you like it!

Requests are still open guys, you can use the prompts or just request whatever you want to, I write for Peter and Tom, love you guys xx

Full of Surprises

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Summary: Peter wants you to take him to a party, which ends up being nothing like he expected

Prompts

Masterlist

Prompt #10 - “I don’t think you’re down for the parties I go to pretty boy.”

Prompt #37 - “You wanna sneak out?”

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

It would be hard to summarize (y/n) Stark in any sort of brief, meaningful fashion, she was too complicated for just a few sentences. If Peter had to call her just a few things he’d say she was complex and charismatic. She could be a little bratty, she liked getting her way, but most people still liked her, they still wanted to be around her. She was glamorous, with her designer clothes and nice cars and the paparazzi, she held the whole Stark legacy in a custom made, diamond encrusted pink birkin. Peter didn’t get the appeal of the money or the popular girl front she had at school, he thought the real her was a lot more interesting.

In getting to know her he had found she was actually a lot softer than most people thought, she just took a bit to warm up to people. He couldn’t blame her really, he’d seen firsthand the way kids at school tried to get close to her just for the exclusive invite or a Twitter follow, so he understood her hesitation. What he didn’t understand was why she wanted to be popular and famous, why she liked it all so much. It was puzzling to him, but he found both sides of her equally endearing. Even dorky little Peter couldn’t resist the pull of her glamorous life, he couldn’t deny that part of him wanted to be closer to that side of her too. He wanted to be the boy on her arm at all the parties she went to, but he had to get out of his comfort zone to do that…

“Yo Parker, you riding with me?” (y/n) turned around to face him as their final class drew to a close.

He nodded, “Yeah, if that’s cool with you.”

“I was hoping you would, I need your help,” she winked, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stood.

He followed after her, his brows knit in confusion, “What do you need my help with?”

“There’s a party this Friday, dad said I can’t go,” she rolled her eyes, “So annoying, anyways, I was going to ask you to cover for me. I’ll tell him I’m at your place studying or something and you just tell him I’m with you if he asks. I know you're a perfect little angel, but I’ll owe you so big and I promise you won’t get in trouble with him. Plus I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“You don’t need to buy me anything, you know that,” he blushed, biting down on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his next move, “There is, uh, something you could do for me though…”

“Oh really?”

He nodded, “I want to go with you.”

She paused right in front of the limo and raised a brow at him, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

She laughed as she climbed into the car, apparently finding the suggestion to be the funniest thing she’d heard all week, “Peter it’s a party with people and dancing and alcohol, I don’t think it’s your scene.”

“Then I’ll sneak out.”

His cheeks flushed and he frowned, “I’ve been to parties, I want to go, you always have fun don’t you?”

“You’ve been to high school parties,” she rolled her eyes, “There is no way May would let you go to this kind of party.”

“You wanna sneak out?”

“I sneak out all the time,” he reminded, “I’m probably better at it than you.”

“Point taken,” she smiled brightly at him, “Okay, why do you want to go out to parties all of a sudden?”

He shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, “I might as well give it a try, maybe I’ll like it.”

She hummed, contemplating what to do for a moment, “Okay, I’ll take you, but no dorky t-shirts.”

“What’s wrong with my shirts?” he glanced down at himself with a frown.

“Well I think they’re cute, but they aren’t really party material. In fact I don’t know if anything you have is…”

He blushed at the compliment, “I can just wear a plain shirt then.”

“I’ll pick something out for you,” she smiled, “My arm candy has to match me.”

“Okay, but I’m not wearing the Spiderman suit.”

“You’ll wear what I tell you too babe,” she patted his cheek, smiling while his blush spread up to his ears, “Pick you up at 8?”

“Y-Yeah, sounds good.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

As promised, (y/n) arrived at Peter’s house at 8 sharp, holding a garment bag and dressed in a knee length tan trench coat.

“That’s what you're wearing?” Peter cocked his head in confusion, looking her up and down before quickly adding, “N-Not that you look bad or anything! I-It's just not what I normally see you wear to parties and stuff…”

His mouth went dry and he could only nod as he took it all in, “Y-Yeah, you look great.”

“I’ve got an outfit on under it, I just didn’t know if May would be home,” she pushed the garment bag into his hands with a smile.

“She’s working late tonight, I told her we’re going to the movies,” he shut the door behind her, his whole face blooming red as she tossed the trench coat off.

“Great, I look hot don’t I?” she giggled, spinning so he could admire her full outfit, a baby blue cropped cami and a matching skirt that fell just above her knee. The skirt had a slit leading up her right thigh and the whole thing was covered in a slightly darker blue Louis Vuitton monogram.

“I know,” she smiled proudly before gesturing to the bag in his hands, “Well come on, promise you’ll look hot too.”

He swallowed and opened up the bag to reveal a blazer with the same color and print as her outfit, “You don’t expect me to wear just this right?”

She burst into a fit of laughter and shook her head, “No, I was thinking just some jeans and a white shirt underneath, but hey, if you’re really feeling yourself I won’t stop you.”

“No, no, tshirt and jeans sounds great,” he pulled the blazer from the bag, “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t keep me waiting,” she sang as he disappeared into his bedroom.

Peter was only gone for a second, returning almost immediately dressed per her instruction, “Happy?”

She nodded, “You look great, blue’s your color,” she stood, grabbing the edge of his jacket, “And red, and yellow.”

“You just listed all the primary colors,” he laughed.

“And I was right,” she moved up to his collar, flattening it out for him, “You for sure look best in yellow, but I know blue is your favorite, so I figured we’d wear blue.”

“Thanks,” he didn’t know how else to respond, “So what are we going to do there?”

“Oh come on Peter, you know what happens at a party,” she laughed, her hands moving up to his hair, tussling it slightly, “Didn’t you tell me you went to parties?”

He blushed, “Well one party, and it didn’t go great… I mean it can’t be anything that crazy right? Just like spin the bottle or beer pong or something?”

“Oh sweety,” she clicked her tongue before stepping away from him and slipping back into her coat, “If that’s when you’re hoping for then I don’t think you’re down for the parties I go to, pretty boy.”

He went wide eyed, “W-What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” she smirked, “Ready to go?”

He nodded, his stomach beginning to fill with nerves, “I guess, I’m a little worried now though.”

“You should be,” she winked, “Not even Spiderman can save you from the night we’re gonna have.”

Her words had put Peter a bit on edge, and had him wracking his brain for every party he’d ever seen on tv. Once they got in the car he tried to drill her on the matter, but she only continued to tease him, never giving him a straight answer on anything, going as far as to tell him they were going to be summoning a demon at midnight. Something he had rolled his eyes at until they pulled around to the back of what Peter had to assume was some kind of club.

“(y/n) are you sure this is the right place?”

She nodded, “Yeah, it just looks sketchy from the back,” she flicked the car off and smiled at him, “Come on, you’re gonna love it here.”

He knit his brow in confusion as he followed her, “You sure about that?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, just come on,” she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the door.

He was hesitant as he followed her up to the large metal door, worried momentarily she might have been serious about the demon thing until she opened the door.

“Holy shit,” he swore as he glanced around the giant arcade.

She clenched her hands in front of her nervously, “What do you think?”

There was no party, not even close, in fact the only other people in the building were employees.

“I’m confused.”

She sighed, “I thought it was weird when you said you wanted to go to that party, I mean it’s not really your scene,” she glanced away from him, her normal confidence seeming to fade in an instant, “I don’t know, I kind of got to thinking maybe you just wanted to go because we were going together, and I thought that maybe you’d want to do something a little more personal so I rented out this old arcade,” she bit her lip, “I don’t know, maybe that was stupid, the party is real though, we can go to that instead if you want…”

Peter stared at her for a minute, trying to connect the dots, “L-Like a date?”

She nodded, “Maybe, I don’t know, it kind of seemed like that was the vibe.”

“No, no, no,” he grabbed her arms, stopping her from walking away, “I want to go on a date with you so bad.”

“So you rented a whole arcade?” he gaped.

“Oh come on Peter, you already know I’m excessive,” she groaned, “God, this was so stupid, let’s just go to the damn party.”

Her cheeks flushed, “You do?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m just a little shocked, you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“I didn’t really know what to do,” she fiddled with a piece of her hair, still unable to meet his eyes, “I mean you know I’m pretty sure of myself most of the time, but you make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” he went wide eyed while she nodded.

“I’ve never really liked a guy before, at least no this much,” she explained, “And I mean we can go to the party if you want still, but if you want this to be a first date I just thought something a little more special would be nice…”

A smile spread across his face, “There is nothing I’d like more than for this to be our first date.”

She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck, “We haven’t even started the first one.”

“Thank god, it would have been totally humiliating if you said no,” an airy laugh escaped her lips.

“There wasn’t a chance of that happening,” he assured, “I can’t really afford to rent out an arcade, but I’ll plan our second date okay?”

“No but you went through all this trouble, I figured you’d want another.”

She rolled her eyes, “You know Peter if this relationship is gonna work I think my ego is big enough for the both of us.”

He laughed and pressed his head to hers, “We’ll see how you feel after I kick your ass at every game in here.”

“There is not a chance in hell you’re winning even one game tonight,” she leaned in just a tad, “But I’ll tell you what, if you do I’ll give you a kiss.”

He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her nose before pulling away, “You’re on.”

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