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searidings · 3 years

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The prompt: Nia’s tasked with building one of those buzzfeed style quizzes and the theme is “Which Superfriend Would You Marry?” She sends it on their group chat as a test run. Kara and Lena are having a movie night and they take the test together. Lena gets Dreamer as a result . Kara’s immediate, not censored reaction is to say that there must be something wrong with it because there’s no way Lena would get Nia. The (fun) thing is, Kara and Lena aren’t dating (until that night oc).

“Which Superfriend would you marry?”

Lena promptly chokes on her mouthful of red wine, coughing and spluttering as her cheeks flush a deep puce. “Excuse me?”

Which— right. She probably could have phrased that differently. Kara grimaces, reaching out to rub soothingly over Lena’s back as her best friend tries valiantly to expel the last of the alcohol from her lungs.

“It’s a quiz. Craft Your Perfect Taco to Find Out Which Superfriend You Would Marry,” she explains once Lena’s breathing has settled, nudging closer on the couch to hook her chin over Lena’s shoulder. “Nia made it after Andrea decided Catco was going to become the new Buzzfeed within the week or we were all going to lose our jobs. I guess she finally finished it?”

Kara tilts her phone between them, showing Lena the message. “She sent it in the group chat. Wants us all to try it to make sure there are no bugs.”

“Which group chat?” Lena asks, hitting pause on the movie and rooting through their nest of blankets and pillows for her own phone. “Superfiends? Brain Train 2: Intergalactic Boogaloo? Alex Danvers' Blue Eyeshadow Support Group? America’s Ass?”

“Superfiends, I think— wait. America’s Ass?” Kara’s eyes narrow. “What’s that?”

“Woops.” Lena presses her lips together, blinking big and angelic. “You might not be in that one.”

Kara’s frown deepens. She pouts up at her best friend as Lena pushes up from the couch to refill their glasses, bottom lip at maximum extension. “You guys have a group chat without me?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lena calls from the kitchen over the sound of pouring wine. “Tell me more about this quiz.”

Kara huffs. “You know I can’t be that easily distracted, right?”

Lena crosses back to the couch, depositing their drinks on the coffee table and flopping down beside her. She presses close, curling into Kara’s side in a cloud of expensive perfume. “Of course you can’t, darling,” Lena soothes, stroking a consoling hand over her forearm as she drops a large bag noisily into Kara’s lap. “Look, popcorn.”

Kara beams, ripping into the snack and devouring it with gusto. “Okay, so, the quiz,” she mumbles around a loud mouthful. “I guess we should take it separately? Nia wants as many guinea pigs as possible.”

Lena nods, settling in at Kara’s side as she unlocks her phone. She’s really close, and she smells really good, and her teal cashmere sweater is really soft against Kara’s skin so she makes the executive decision to hook her chin back over Lena’s shoulder. Just, like, for convenience.

“Hey!” Lena’s fingers dig lightly against her ribs, and Kara squirms. “No cheating.”

“How am I gonna cheat?” she huffs, but pulls her head back anyway, settling for hooking her pinkie through Lena’s belt loop instead. “This is a quiz designed to tell me who I should marry: my sister, my sister-in-law, my honorary father, my little brother, or his girlfriend. The results are gonna be pretty funky whichever way you slice ‘em.”

“Still,” Lena hums, wiggling her socked feet beneath Kara’s thigh. “Eyes to yourself, Ms Zor-El."

The loft falls silent as they tap away at their respective screens. She has to hand it to Nia; this quiz is no walk in the park. She spends a solid ninety seconds deliberating between pico de gallo and guac on her tacos, and is just making a mental note to tell Nia to add an all of the above option to every question when Lena sucks in a sharp breath, lets it out in a giggle.

“What?” Kara asks, craning her neck to get a look at the other woman’s screen. “Did you finish already? Who did you get?”

Lena’s still laughing, head tipped back, the elegant line of her throat exposed. Kara forces her eyes away from the arc of creamy skin, reaching over to pluck Lena’s phone from her limp fingers.

“Dreamer?” she all but shrieks, reading the name on the screen once, twice, three times. “You? And Dreamer? You and Dreamer? Dreamer?”

“Apparently so,” Lena laughs, head tipping back against the cushions. “Do you think Nia set herself as the only possible answer?”

“Apparently not, since I just got matched with Sentinel.” Kara shudders, the mere suggestion too icky to contemplate for long. She stares at Lena, who’s still chuckling.

“I can’t believe you got Dreamer,” Kara huffs, teeth grinding. “That’s ridiculous. I’m gonna tell Nia her quiz doesn’t work.”

Lena presses her lips together, holding back a smirk. Kara’s eyes get stuck there a moment; on the pretty pink sweep of plump flesh, the delicate bow, the deep plum tint left over from her wine.

“Why is it so ridiculous?” Lena chuckles, white teeth digging into the plush of her bottom lip. Kara’s eyes follow the indentation, the willing yield of her flesh to the pressure. She watches the way Lena’s mouth moves, entranced by the formation of words she’s barely registering.

When Lena’s mouth stops moving altogether, Kara manages to tear her eyes away only to find her best friend is staring at her pointedly, looking decidedly unimpressed.

Right. Lena had asked a question.

“It just— it’s wrong,” she manages at length, feeling a little like she’s having to manually fire her own synapses just to make her brain focus on anything besides the sight of Lena’s mouth. “The quiz is obviously faulty.”

“Why?” Lena repeats, a hint of indignation beginning to bleed into her tone. “I love Nia very much. There are certainly worse matches.”

“Yeah, but there’s also way better ones,” Kara insists. The collar of her shirt feels too tight all of a sudden, the room too hot and the air too stifling.

One perfectly manicured eyebrow quirks. “Such as?”

Kara opens her mouth. Closes it again. Opens it once more. “Well, I mean—”

Lena’s brow lifts another quarter inch. “Yes?”

“Lena, come on.” She doesn’t know why she’s so adamant on making this point. She just knows that Lena and Nia, it’s— it’s wrong. She just needs Lena to see that too. “You can’t honestly— Rao, if you were going to marry any of us it wouldn’t be Dreamer, it would be—”

Her jaw snaps shut with an audible click that echoes through the suddenly silent living room.

Kara’s heart is pounding. Her fists are clenched around the corners of an unsuspecting throw pillow, her breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. She becomes aware of this, mainly, because of how conspicuous her own noisy exhales are in comparison to Lena. Lena, who all of a sudden doesn’t appear to be breathing at all.

“Who?”

Lena’s voice is barely a whisper. In the unearthly quiet of the loft, it feels deafening.

Kara swallows, sandpaper rough. Doesn’t answer. Can’t.

Lena’s gaze is so heavy it feels like a physical touch. “Who, Kara?”

“I—” Her voice cracks. She clears her throat, takes a deep breath. “I don’t—”

Lena’s voice is a lit fuse, a thunderstorm on the horizon. “If not Nia, then who?”

The tension stretching the space between them pulls taught, wrought as overworked metal.

The goldfish clock on the wall counts the silent passage of time. Twenty seconds. Thirty.

She watches Lena. Lena watches her. Her lips aren’t smiling anymore. They’re pressed together, braced and tight.

Every molecule of air in Kara’s lungs shudders out at once. Her chest caves, shoulders slumping. The thread between them snaps, disappearing back into the ether. “I don’t know.”

Lena’s eyes widen a little, then narrow. The line of her jaw hardens infinitesimally. “Well, then. Maybe you shouldn’t be in such a hurry to pass judgment.”

Kara nods, cowed. Curls in on herself, hugging the pillow to her chest. Nia’s quiz doesn’t seem so fun anymore. In fact, their whole evening feels sour, curdling rotten in the pit of her stomach.

The movie restarts. Lena’s gaze is fixed on the screen but she isn’t watching, not really. Her eyes don’t follow the action, don’t move, don’t even blink.

Kara watches her, throat clogged with the contents of her slashed-wide heart, afraid to set it free lest its welcome be less than warm.

They don’t speak until the movie ends, some bland easy-listening tune rolling over the credits. It’s barely gotten to the first chorus when Lena shifts, rooting through the blankets for her discarded phone and reaching for her purse on the coffee table.

Kara sees the dismissal, the looming escape, in the tense lines of Lena’s shoulders. Hears it in the fraught silence between them before Lena even says a word. “Well, I should probably—”

Panic flares hot through her muscles and suddenly, vicious as a lightning strike, the dam behind Kara’s teeth cracks.

“Me,” she interrupts, desperate and half-wild.

Lena freezes, halfway off the couch, one foot planted on the floor while the other pushes awkwardly against the couch cushions. “What?”

“God, me.” She doesn’t want to say it again. She says it again anyway. “Not Nia. Me."

Lena’s mouth falls open, a soundless breath escaping her. Her toes twitch against the couch cushions. “What— what are you saying?”

Kara takes a deep breath. The dam has cracked, now. Little point trying to hold back the flood.

“I’m saying, if you’re gonna take a stupid quiz about which of the Superfriends you should marry then the right answer – the only answer – is me.” Kara bites hard at the inside of her cheek. The sting helps to centre her, calms her rapid breathing enough to get the words out. “I’m saying that if you were to marry anyone, anyone in the galaxy, then I’d want— I’d hoped it might be me.”

For a long moment, Lena doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Only stares at Kara, wide-eyed.

Then, slowly, achingly slowly, she sinks back onto the couch beside her. Across the desolate chasm between their bodies, their knees brush. Lena’s voice is very, very quiet. “I’d hoped it might be you, too.”

Kara’s breath hitches. Lena’s eyes are so green it almost hurts to look at them. “Yeah?”

Lena’s mouth, always captivating, quirks into the beginnings of a smile so radiant it could outshine the brightest sun. “Yeah.”

Kara swallows. Snakes her fingers out to where Lena’s rest on the cushion between them, twining tight. “Wow,” she breathes, breathless and still a little disbelieving. “Wow. So, are we— are we really doing this?”

Lena chuckles, squeezing their joined hands. “What, getting married?”

Kara flushes, a heady suffusion of white-hot joy coursing through her veins. “I mean, maybe we could start with dinner,” she chuckles, and Lena nods. Kara tilts her chin until they’re eye to eye. Lets the last blissful secret of her heart run free. “But, one day? Absolutely.”

Lena’s cheeks flush a delicate pink, eyelashes fluttering. “Deal.”

It’s natural, then, the way Lena folds into her. The way their bodies slot together on the couch like interlocking helices, Lena’s head on her shoulder, arms around her waist. Kara encircles her ribcage in turn, holding her tight, peppering the sweet planes of her face with the lightest dusting of kisses. She revels in the softness of Lena’s skin beneath her lips, the way her cheeks heat beneath the tender ministrations into a blush Kara can feel against her mouth.

“I cannot believe,” Lena hums, knuckles tracing the planes of Kara’s stomach through her shirt, “that after six years the thing that finally got us to this point was Nia Nal’s taco quiz.”

Kara snorts, nosing into Lena’s hairline to inhale the warm untempered essence of her. “God, I know,” she chuckles, pulling Lena a little tighter against her. “We’re ridiculous.”

Lena hums, burrowing against her chest, and Kara thinks she could stay here forever quite happily, actually. That she might never need anything else again.

A thought strikes her suddenly and she tenses hard enough that above her, Lena does too. She raises her head so their gazes can meet, green eyes wide and apprehensive. “What is it, darling?”

“Did you choose salsa rojo or salsa verde for your tacos?” Kara rushes out, wide-eyed. “Because now I'm worried I made the wrong call, what if—”

Lena only laughs, and halts all further taco talk with a kiss.

#LOVE this concept love nia causing trouble for supercorp left right and centre #plot twist: nia designed the quiz specifically so lena would get her as a match; thus prompting jealouscorp and smooching #and that's why she may be my favourite character #ty for the prompt! hope you enjoy #and are having a wonderful day #asks #anonymous #dings dot txt #supergirl #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #kara danvers #lena luthor

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shmobugsbrainrot · 3 years

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gravity falls character headcanons!!!!

dipper played baseball for a while, and was pretty good at batting. he can't catch for shit though cause he's scared of getting hit by the ball. that's why he used the shovel as a bat and hit that disco ball at the zombies (scary oke)

mabel is really good at wiring, since she has those sweaters that light up and play music and stuff. mcgucket would definitely give her instructions on stuff like that during future summers

wendy's actually a lesbian going through comphet. my reasoning for this is that she breaks up with guys pretty fast and often, and doesn't really seem all that excited to get into a relationship with them: "yeah, I guess so."

(also I'm a lesbian and kin her so it's basically canon /j)

dipper and mabel are both pretty chubby, mabel moreso than dipper. she has a bit more muscle mass whereas he doesn't have much muscle at all

as the younger twins grow up, it became clear that mabel is the taller one. she beats dipper by an inch and so he wears shoes with padding inside because he's petty

once pacifica started getting more freedom after weirdmageddon, she started getting into more grungy/alternative fashion. since her favorite color is hot pink, she started actually buying like crop tops in that color and pairing them with ripped jeans and combat boots and cool jackets and stuff. she's more expressive with her style

stanley and ford eventually came clean about everything to their ma, who gave them a long and hard lecture about being knuckleheads and to never do that again, before hugging them super tight and saying she missed them

filbrick is dead. as he should be

caryn pines is a badass and a GOOD MOTHER. she couldn't do anything about filbrick kicking stan out cause she just woke up and was caring for a BABY like she didn't know what was happening and I don't think filbrick would've let her bring stan back. if I see anyone hating on her I'm tearing up your lawn

wendy likes shitty romcoms cause she can make fun of them, and gravity falls by far has some of the worst she's ever seen. secretly she thinks they're sweet but it's hard to take them seriously when the filming is done so horribly

soos actually is trilingual, knowing english, spanish, and japanese. he taught himself japanese and since he's a huge fan of animes it helped to watch subbed shows until he got it, same way with spanish even though he already grew up with it

pacifica is a major germophobe cause of her upbringing. her parents essentially taught her to be afraid of not being clean, which is why she acts the way she does about the shack or touching mcgucket's hands during weirdmageddon

pacifica eventually works at greasy's diner, and actually enjoys it. even though it isn't the cleanest, she likes being able to earn her share and repairing her relationship with the townsfolk

they're all autistic. every character. all of em, and here are their stims

mabel: flapping her arms and legs, echoing what people say, pressure stim, rocking, chewing her hair

dipper: chewing, wringing his shirt, rocking, shaking out hands

stanley: patting himself, lip trills, clicking, some verbal stims where he sings, humming

stanford: tapping, pulling on his hair, twirling pens and dice between his fingers, swaying, hitting himself (only during meltdowns), pressure stim

wendy: pacing, swaying, tugging her hair, spinning her axe, humming

soos: patting himself, mouth popping, rocking on his feet, messing with his tools

pacifica: screeching, rocking, pressure stim, pulling her hair, hitting herself

fiddleford: slapping/patting himself, tapping his feet, dancing while standing, swaying, tilting his head back and forth

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teacupcollector · 3 years

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A Helping Hand - Chapter 1

Series Masterlist Summary - As a woman who is pregnant you are doing anything if it means survival. Even so you found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was it the other way around? Now you are in the community of Jackson and you can’t help but attract a certain pair of hazel eyes.

You are in a small pharmacy hoping to find some form of antibiotic as well as maybe some prenatal vitamins seeing as you are pregnant. While on the run you stepped on a nail that went right through the sole of your shoe and into the bottom of your foot. You had to cut off that shoe in order to get it to the nail and pull it out. You are at the check out area where you would have crawled through if it wasn't for the metal gate blocking your way. You look around the small store in an effort to find something to get it open with. You look to your right next to the counter to see a metal box with a fire extinguisher inside. You walk over standing sideways to it and lift your elbow. You inhale deeply before exhaling as your elbow comes in contact with the glass shattering it. You hiss as some of the glass gets imbedded in your elbow. You yank the fire extinguisher out the weight of it causing you to bend down uncomfortably. You heave it up on your dominant shoulder walking over to the lock again. You slam it down on the lock again and again until it breaks. You let out a cry of victory. You go to open it when you hear people so you dive behind the shelves.

"I heard banging from in here!" You here a feminine voice say as the ring from the top of the door sounds as they walk in. "It look's like someone got in here..." A males voice says as their footsteps approach the counter. You quietly take out your Swiss Army Knife clutching it with the blade facing down. As they begin to lift the gate you jump out "It's Mine!" you cry. You almost hit your target it being the girl when the man pushes you to the ground the both of them aiming their gun at you. You fall on your back and cry out. With the mixture of the weight you are carrying in the front as well as the cans that dig into you from your backpack, you feel sharp pains all over your body. Tears collect and fall from your eyes as you look up at them.

"Jesus Jesse! She's pregnant!" The woman that now you can see has an olive skin tone and black hair that is pulled in a bun. She puts her gun away and kneels beside you. "How was I suppose to know! She could have killed you!" The man known as Jesse says before joining her on the opposite side. "She is surviving for two it is to be expected..." The girl grumbles. "Ma'am? Ma'am can you hear me?" She asks and you nod and answer with a whine before saying. "P-Please all I need are some antibiotics and vitamins and I'll go!" The girl moves her arm toward you and you flinch. "Hey we aren't going to hurt you okay?" She turns to Jesse and says. "Help me sit her up." They each put an arm under your armpit and lift you into a sitting position. "What do you need the antibiotics for?" Jesse questions and the girl snaps at him. "Jesse! Now isn't the time!" But you decide to answer anyway by pointing to your foot and saying. "I stepped on a nail." Jesse looks at you before kneeling down near your feet to see bandages. "Can I take them off?" He asks and you nod. When he does he makes a face of disgust. Your foot injury is definitely infected with puss and blood slowly leaking out of it.

"We need to get her back home." The girl says. "Dina I don't know what if-" "What if nothing! She is pregnant and hurt what could she possibly do?" She says and Jesse grumbles before leaning down and picking you up bridal style. "I'm sorry! Just leave me be and I will leave I promise!" You say fearing the worst as they take out out of the pharmacy. "Put her on my horse." The girl Dina says. Jesse shakes his head. "No not after what she tried to do, speaking of which..." He set you down and you stumble on to one of the horses grabbing it's saddle . He rips open your backpack. " See I knew she had something else!" He says taking out your gun before handing it to Dina. "Hold on to it. You up and at 'em." He says helping you up on his horse before sitting in front of you. As the horse begins to trot out of the small town and into the surrounding forest you find yourself holding on to him until you finally make it to a big gate.

"Dina you go get Maria and Tommy. I'm taking her to the infirmary." He says before trotting in that direction. When he gets there he helps you down and takes you inside. "Hey Kathrine i need some help over here." He says setting you on a bed. The woman comes over "My goodness she looks awful." She says You find yourself in an almost curled position mainly protecting your stomach. "Ma'am?" She asks kneeling in front of you. "Where are you hurt?" You barely make eye contact keeping your head down. "He foot is infected but I think we should check her for bites before we waste our supplies." Jesse grumbles "I'm not bit!" You cry looking at him. "Jesse thank you for bringing her here but I think you should leave." She says and Jesse goes to argue but she closes the curtain that surrounds the bed. "Ma'am I know your scared but he is right. So could you please remove your clothes so I can check?" You look at her like you are a deer in headlights. "We want to help you..." She says calmly and you nod before slowly taking off your clothes.

There are a murmur of voices as you finish putting on your clothes and you hear a new voice. "Kathrine?" It is a female voice. "Come in." Kathrine says and a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes wearing a greenish jacket comes in through the curtain. As she walks in you look behind here and catch a glimpse of another man standing on the other side. This woman looks nice yet has a stern look on her face when she approaches you both. "Have you looked her over?" The woman asks and Kathrine nods. "She has no bites but she is pregnant and has an injury on her foot that is infected and will need to be treated." the woman nods. "I'd like to talk to her." Kathrine nods and exits the room. The blonde woman grabs a chair and sits in front of you. "What is your name?" She asks and you look down at your hands in your lap. "My name is (Y/N)." You say quietly. "I don't appreciate what you tried to do (Y/N)." She says keeping a firm look on her face. "But I can see why you did it." You look up at her. "I assume you have been through a lot?" She asks and you nod. "How far along are you?" She asks her head gesturing to your stomach. "I think I'm maybe four or five months along?" You say sounding unsure. "Do you have anyone who could be looking for you right now?" She asks and you shake your head. "No... They're all dead." You say solemnly. She nods. "How old are you?" She asks "I am thirty-one or thirty-two I think? My watch broke a while back so all the days seem to blend together." She looks you up and down. "I will be right back." She says and walks past the curtain and you can here people on the other side whispering.

The woman comes back into the room and sits back down. "We decided that we are going to let you stay..." The woman begins. "No I-" You get cut off by her. "You are going to stay in the infirmary until your foot is healed. That should give us enough time to find you a place to stay." She says coolly. "I understand that you are scared but we are a great community here. We want to help you." You nod slowly. "Thank you miss..?" "My name is Maria. I am the leader of this town." You nod "It is nice to meet you Maria. Tell the two people who I arrived with 'Thank you' for not blowing my head off." She nods and stands up. "I will be sure to get you some clothes soon. When we get you those you can have a shower okay?" She asks and you nod. "Yes Ma'am. Thank you."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller x y/n #soft joel #eventual angst #eventual fluff #fluff #angst #xreader #x pregnant reader #tommy miller #maria miller #ellie williams #dina #tlou joel #tlou ellie #tlou2

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talesofstyles · 4 years

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Good Morning Indeed

absolutely no plot whatsoever, just a bit of husband and dad harry in the midst of the family’s morning chaos 😂

Harry

“Go get the condom on.”

“I’ll pull out, I promise.”

“Your pull out game is weak.”

“Oi, them’s fightin’ words.”

“There’s a reason we’ve got six kids.” Says the missus with a roll of those pretty—but sometimes deadly (please don’t tell her I said this)—eyes. “‘Sides, I’ve just changed the sheets yesterday. You are not coming on the sodding sheets.”

“Fine,” I sigh and reach down to the bedside table. Why is the drawer filled with sodding Duplo and those tiny, pricey Sylvanian Family bunnies? I’m guessing kid number two, three and four have something to do with that. A few more seconds of rummaging before I finally found my treasure in the very back of the drawer. I lay on my back as I sheath myself up, and seeing as I’m already here… might as well, right? I smirk at her as I say, “hop on then.”

“Fat chance that,” she mutters. “Do I have to take off my top?”

“Nah,” I shake my head, it’s cold, and I’m a considerate husband. “A flash will do. Just give me a visual.”

She rolls up my shirt that she wears to sleep, a really old white rolling stones t-shirt that has two holes and a loose thread hanging on for dear life from the hem. She looks homeless. Gorgeous homeless though.

“Nice,” I flash her a boyish grin, like a teenage boy seeing his first pair of tits. “You’ve got great racks.”

“You’re just saying that…”

I know what she sees when she looks at herself in the mirror and I wish she could look at herself through my eyes.

“Hey, don’t you dare. My babies grew in that body, that’s everything.”

Her tender smile hits me right in the gut. “I love you.”

“Love me enough to ride me?” I say with a playful flick to one nipple.

“Nice try.”

“I love you,” I mutter near her mouth and give her a searing kiss. I run my tongue over her bottom lip, then I kiss her down her neck, her cleavage and her breasts. I slowly circle one nipple, and she giggles, knowing it’s a well-rehearsed move that is guaranteed to do what’s needed. See, her tits are kind of like start buttons. No matter the situation, a little attention to those bad boys switches things around real quick. Her head slams back against the pillow. And she moans, holding my head in place.

We’ve got ignition lads.

I nestle my body on top of hers, and there’s a bit of wayward angling and poking until I find my way inside of her. And then it’s on. Two bodies writhing on the bed. My hips rotate in long, slow circles.

“Bollocks!”

“What? The condom isn’t broken, is it?”

“No, it’s bin day. I forgot to take out the recycling bin.”

“S’fine, we’ve got time before the school run.”

The bin’s sorted, back to the shag…

I slide my hands under her, bringing us closer. Rocking us faster. My forehead hovers close to hers and I open my eyes so I can watch. What can I say? I’m greedy like that. I want to soak up every gasp, every flicker of pleasure across her face. Pleasure I’m giving her.

Her breathing changes. It turns panting and desperate, and I know she’s close. I move harder, grinding against her, inside her, with every forward push. Warms sparks tickle my spine and heat spreads down until every nerve in my body is shaking. I slam inside her, burying deep as her hips jerk upward. She spasms hard around me, gripping me tight.

I rock back my hips and pull almost all the way out, but then I freeze. Because a dreaded sound echoes across the room, grabbing our full attention. It’s coming from the baby monitor. It’s a rustling, the sound of cotton rubbing cotton. Like snipers in the jungle, we don’t move a muscle. We don’t say a word. We wait, until the rustling stops. And all is quiet again.

Too bad it’s not for long. Because two thrusts in, a light comes on in the landing. Followed by small footsteps heading down the stairs. Shit.

“Harry, just come already. They’ll all be up soon.”

“I’m close… don’t rush it, you’re scaring it away.”

She grinds her hips. Also another well-rehearsed move that she knows will get me off. But I freeze again, because there’s a second set of footsteps and the sound of a toilet flushing. Oh, and the babies next door are starting to whimper.

Great.

“I’M HUNGRY!” That’s James, darling little cockblocker number four who likes to be fed on time. He’s three.

“WE’LL BE OUT IN A SECOND!” My wife shouts over my shoulder. “Harry for the love of god-”

I pick up the rhythm. Small beads of sweat form on my brow. She grinds her hips again, and I try to focus. “Just like that, fuck, keep doing that.”

“Sshh, keep your voice down.”

“IS THERE ANY BREAD THAT ISN’T 50/50?” That’s Eleanor, child number two. She’s seven, and she’s one of those children who seem to possess a discernible palate that knows when we’ve changed brands of baked beans or attempt to bring sugar-free fruit squash through the doors.

“IT’S THE SAME,” I reply.

“NO, IT’S NOT. DO WE HAVE OTHER FOOD?”

“THERE ARE SHREDDIES.”

“DON’T LIKE ‘EM.”

“PORRIDGE.”

“I’M NOT A BEAR!”

Honestly, seven-year-olds gunning for a fight this early in the morning can go do one.

The babies are starting to gather volume next door so I try to focus again. It only takes a few more thrusts before ecstasy wrecks my body, making me shudder. I press my lips against her neck as I come back down to earth. But I don’t move yet. I know we should get going because things are already chaotic outside our door, but I just don’t have the will yet. I’m considering going back to sleep for a minute or two. She won’t mind, will she? Well, I’m wrong. Because she proceeds to perform the move that seems to amuse every sodding woman on earth. And causes every man to squeal like a bloody pig. Without warning, she uses her powerful muscle to squeeze my extremely sensitive cock.

Girls, grab a piece of paper and write this down. I’m speaking on behalf of every man to walk on earth here; we hate that. We don’t think it’s funny.

I jerk back, pull out, and roll off her. I try to look annoyed as she giggles, and obviously I fail, because that freshly fucked, flushed-face makes it impossible not to grin back.

“CAN I HAVE JAFFA CAKE?” That’s Victoria, child number three. She’s five, and she’s yelling as she thunders up the stairs.

“JAFFA CAKE ISN’T BREAKFAST,” my wife shouts back as she sits up and hands me a nappy sack. “Harry…”

I wrap up the condom with it and toss it to the bin. “You’ve just taken me life force, woman, give me a moment.”

“CUSTARD CREAM?”

“NO.” We shout in unison.

“HOBNOB THEN?”

“STAY AWAY FROM THE BISCUIT TIN!”

“You want to wrestle a biscuit-hunting kid out of a cupboard and 50/50 bread drama or fussy babies with full nappies?”

“Babies.” I hear a small child get whacked by a sibling downstairs and I feel like I may have got the better deal here.

Next door, the twins are not happy. They’re six months old now, and they’re both teething. Thing one glares at me as I walk into their nursery and thing two stares at me stroppily from the corner of her cot. Their cheeks are scarlet, and thing one proceeds to bark at me like a seal. I pick his warm, sleepy, cuddly body and cradle it close to mine as I lay him down on the changing table. I smell the dampness. It’s definitely wee. He’s soaked through, I think I didn’t tuck his willy in when I last changed him around three in the morning so it sprayed in some upward motion and drenched his clothes. See, this is why girls are better than boys. There’s no way they can pee upwards.

After I put a fresh nappy and a change of clothes, I put him down on the rug so he can wiggle around while I grab his sister and sort her out. After six kids, I’m definitely a pro with baby duty and can practically change their clothes one-handed. The whole thing takes only a few minutes.

I cuddle the babies on each side as I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. They immediately reach out to their mum who’s cracking some eggs as soon as they spot her, knowing she’s the only one who can cure their hunger this morning.

“Uniforms!” She says to the big kids as she takes one baby into her arms. “We’ll do breakfast after. Please, please, please…”

Desperate pleas lead them to saunter out and up the stairs. I follow my wife into the living room and hand her the other baby as she plops down on the couch. She rolls up her shirt and the babies latch instantly. Tandem nursing is harder now that they’re a little older and aware of their surroundings. They’re trying to scratch each other’s faces as they nurse. “Oi, what’s this? You each get a tit, stop fighting.”

They seem to somehow listen to me and have stopped trying to poke each other’s eyeballs. We’ll see how long that lasts. “Finish the eggs?”

I nod. “I’m on it.”

I brew some coffee, finish the scrambled eggs, and pop the slices after slices of bread in the toaster. Breakfast is done just in time as my wife walks back into the kitchen with two full and happy babies. She puts them in their high chairs and I scoop a bit of eggs on each of their trays for them to nibble on.

George appears back in the kitchen clad in his uniform with his also dressed brother trailing behind. We always lay his clothes the night before on his bed and he gets dressed all by himself in the morning. And he’s getting better at it, seeing he only missed a button on his shirt.

“Hi mate,” I say as I fix his button and he flashes a toothy grin at me. I plop him down on the chair, he’s graduated from the high chair now but still uses a booster seat.

“No toast!”

“What do you want then?”

“Chee-yos?”

I nod before I grab a handful of cheerios and set them on his plate next to his eggs. Then I take a few steps back across the table. “Hey, James, set it up.”

He flashes me another toothy grin before he opens his mouth wide and keeps it open. I hold a single Cheerio between my fingers while I bend my knees and bounce my hand as if I were dribbling a basketball. “Three seconds left on the clock, down by one. Styles got the ball. He fakes left, he drives in, he shoots…”

I toss the Cheerios in a high arc. It lands right into his mouth.

“He scores! The crowd goes wild!”

James holds both hands over his head. “Core!”

“Viv stole the biscuit tin, you know? She ate three jammie dodgers upstairs.” Eleanor says as she walks in with book bags and school shoes.

George, seeing his sister walks in, proceeds to open his mouth wide and flashes her the half-chewed eggs on his tongue. It’s his current thing and it annoys his sisters to death. The young’uns think differently though as they double over in laughter.

“Eeewww!” She shrieks. “You’re so gross!”

“VICTORIA, PUT THAT BISCUIT TIN DOWN AND GET YOUR BUTT IN THE KITCHEN! AND GO GET THEM HAIR TIE THINGIES…”

“I didn’t have any biscuits!” She yells and runs down the stairs.

This kid is the quintessential daddy’s girl. She climbs up onto my lap right away, handing me the brush and a hair tie.

“See, poppet, I would’ve believed you if you didn’t leave evidence all over your face,” I arch one of my eyebrows as I sweep a speck of raspberry jam on the corner of her mouth.

“You always do a ponytail,” she huffs.

“Either that or I give you a bowl cut with kitchen scissors. I reckon that fruit bowl will do. Your choice.”

“Can I have some more eggs?” George asks with his mouth full of his last bite.

“God, that’s like your third serving,” Eleanor grumbles.

“Nag.”

At that insult, Eleanor flings a piece of toast like a ninja. Before George can retaliate, my wife gives them both the look.

“Viv, will you at least have some eggs?”

“No.”

“Fine,” my wife sighs. “I’m gonna get changed then.”

I glance at the clock and, well, shit, I should get dressed too. “Can you lot watch the babies and try not to kill each other for the next five minutes?”

“Five quid each?” Eleanor tries to negotiate. “Babysitting isn’t supposed to be free, you know? That sounds like child labour to me.”

Bollocks.

“Two quid each,” I give her my dad look that says the offer is final and indisputable.

“Deal.”

#harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #dad harry imagines #dad harry styles #dad!harry #husband!harry #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles ff #harry styles one shot #the styles gang

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seijorhi · 4 years

Text

No Strings Attached

A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕

Bokuto Koutarou x female reader

TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)

Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy.

Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-

You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face.

Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.

You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”

And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.

So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.

Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.

You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-

If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek.

—

If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest.

But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.

It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach.

The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.

And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.

“D’ya like it?”

The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind’s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone.

Not that he’s ever that patient.

“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–

“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?”

It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in.

“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down.

Dinner, and everything else for that matter.

A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.”

And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine.

—

“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.

“He… asked me to meet him.”

Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”

“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.

One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat.

“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.

A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”

She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”

“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”

She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.

Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.

Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful.

It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.

Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.

But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.

Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)

—

There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.

First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.

You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.

The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-

But that didn’t make him your boyfriend.

You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt.

—

Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes.

Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week.

“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”

The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”

You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”

You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days.

“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.

You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”

The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”

This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”

“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”

Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”

“All mine, hm?”

You smile, “All yours, promise.”

He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”

As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later.

When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.

Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.

“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.

The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”

An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything.

“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.

Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone.

He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”

Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.

He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.

Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.

You don’t want them to know.

Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.

But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.

Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”

Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers.

—

For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.

You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.

Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out.

It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.

He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.

—

You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely.

A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.

In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you.

And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning.

“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.”

God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement.

He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do.

Not your sugar daddy.

But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”

He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.

Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”

And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually.

Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask.

Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch…

… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek.

Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”

Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.

—

The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence.

“Move in with me.”

You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.

But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.

The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.

He’s joking, right?

“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”

It feels right??

“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”

“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.”

Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs.

“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”

Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.

Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”

Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-

“I love you.”

—

39 missed calls. 72 unread messages.

Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open.

Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”

But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her.

“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.

He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.

There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?”

Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”

You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.

You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.

That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.

Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.

And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely…

How had you not seen this coming?

“No,” you admit.

The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”

And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true.

I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore.

You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.

—

A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account.

For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.

It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.

I need to see you. Please.

You transfer the money right back into his account.

—

Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job.

Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.

Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff.

It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.

You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.

On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one.

You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave.

One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile.

“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”

To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.

Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-

“Hey, baby.”

Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.

Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you.

“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?”

He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.”

He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’.

But that was then.

You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.

That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.

The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-

-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake.

Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.

It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.

Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.

Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper.

“Bokuto…”

As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.

Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere bokuto koutarou #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere bokuto koutarou x reader #tw manipulation #tw toxic behavior #tw kidnapping

2K notes · View notes

stay-midnight · 3 years

Text

Royals. II

Hwang Hyunjin x Male Reader

W.C: 5.5K Words (😃)

Triggers: Explicit Smut, Mentions of Marriage, Mentions of Rejections/Stood up.

Things to be noted: Royalty AU, There’s some fluff at the aftercare, some angst too, Slight Seungmin x reader, Slight Jeonglix without context and Binsung with Han being a total flirt.

Kinks/Warnings: Top Hwang Hyunjin, Bottom Reader, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Edging, Degradation, Puppy Petname, There’s some drool-, Consensual, Safewords, Blowjobs (Reader receiving), Marks and Bruises, Slight Possessiveness, Aftercare (This is not a kink, it’s needed) Lubricated Sex, Unprotected Sex / No condoms (This is not promoting unprotected sex, use condoms irl !!), Palming, Slight Master Kink, Hyunjin has a big dick, Mouth Fingering, It’s so messy, Doggy Style and Hickeys (Lots of em)

a/n: Wowow, this is my longest fic yet and it’s a part 2 I— Anyways, I’m sorry for making you guys wait for so long for this~ HSHSHSHS, hopefully it’s good ! If I miss any warnings or triggers please inform me sksksk.

Hyunjin clenched his fist as he stared at the two princes laughing at the distance.

Why? He asks himself at why is he pressed about them, talking. Hyunjin wanted to rip the brown haired man away from you.

His jaw tightened in frustration in this feeling of his — was it jealousy? But he barely knew the guy in the first place, but noticing him at the corner of his eyes in the crowd at his speech makes his heart race.

He doesn’t believe in love in first sight — Heck, Hyunjin barely believes love exist. All those princesses were completely head over heels for him since he was young but never gave them attention as he knew that money or his looks is all they care about. It doesn’t sit right with him.

. . .

Hyunjin did nothing for the past thirty minutes but just stare at the face of the man who he seems attracted too.

He was also a bit salty at the fact that a prince was now giving head pats to you, he didn’t like that one bit. He accidentally let out a growl which did not stay unnoticed by his siblings.

“Jin?” A male voice snapped him out of his darkly clouded mind.

He snapped head towards the speaker, alarmed at the sudden call of his nickname, it was his older brother, the brother suddenly placed his arm on his shoulder, “You okay? You seemed distracted..—”

A laugh emerged from a woman near him,, her eyes twinkling with curiosity — Curious to why his brother, Hyunjin seemed a bit out of his head for a long time earlier.

“Yeji?” the eldest brother asked, turning his head slowly to her.

“What’s funny?” he continued, looking at her with a raised eyebrow, his lips frowning slightly.

“Nothing. Just wondering what’s gotten into Hyunjin...~ He was staring into the distance for a long time.” Yeji spoke, eyeing Hyunjin curiously — a hint of smirk playing at her lips.

Hyunjin froze.

“Uh, I was just watching what’s happening.” Hyunjin smiled as casual as he could, before grabbing the water from the near table to hydrate himself.

Yeji looked at him in question, not buying his response. “Whatever, birthday boy is being his boring self.” she shrugged off before standing up and going somewhere.

The eldest brother was very confused about what’s happening so he just sat back down and yawned.

“Hey! I’m older than you!” Hyunjin shouted before mumbling curses at her sister’s impudence before a bell suddenly rang.

. . .

The host stepped back upon the stage and bowed, “The ball will now begin, masks will be distributed in a little while, as requested by the prince — This will be a masquerade ball. Every one, enjoy your time at the palace !”

The male host smiled in content before leaving to the backstage.

You and Seungmin have been conversing for a while, unaware of the eyes that has been raking you from across the ball room.

. .

A lot of formally dressed occupants came out, holding stacks of differently designed half masks.

One of them suddenly approached you and handed you one. A white half mask, with gold lines and swirls remarkably designed by the maker.

The occupants handing out these masks have their own mask on also.

The giver of your mask had a smirk embedded on his lips before bowing.

You looked at Seungmin weirdly after that certain interaction with the masked guy, “Maybe just a creep?” he asks you in wonder.

You jabbed your elbow at him, “Don’t be silly, this is a castle. There is absolutely no way that someone without decency is here.”

“Hm, you never know Y/N.” he says in a serious tone making you stare at him in confusion before nodding.

. . .

Seungmin got his own mask — a dark blue colored one with sapphire crystals decorating the sides. He smiles at you before reaching for your hand, “Do you want to be my partner, Y/N?” he mumbles while you just nodded abruptly.

“Why me though? There’s many princesses out there?” you questioned suddenly, squeezing his hand pathetically.

“I have a more preference for men than women.” he stops and looks at you for any bad reactions before he continued;

“You seem fine and you’ve got good looks.” Seungmin complimented before taking you to the middle of the ball room where most people with partners are already gathered.

Slow and enchanting music started playing, the sensual melody was enough to calm your nerves and remove all thoughts of questioning Seungmin.

A hand was placed in your waist and in your shoulder, alerting you.... But, when you blink out of your own head, Seungmin was staring right at you with smile.

You placed your hands on his shoulder and waist as well, swaying through the music naturally.

While dancing you caught a glimpse through the crowd of a familiar red-head. He had a red half mask on with ruby crystals creating a spinning design on the eyes. A smirk formed his lips as he looked back at you, nodding twice. It was Jeongin dancing with a blonde haired man, his hair neatly sitting in a mullet. Felix.

You didn’t know if you wanted to curse him for leaving you or thank him for a new friend. You haven’t seen nor talked to Felix yet but maybe you will after this ceremony.

. . .

After dancing with Seungmin for a long while; a trumpet sounded which made you sigh as you look at Seungmin, knowing what it means.

Switch in partners.

“Good luck, Y/N~” he said with his signature cute smile that you’ve seen throughout the day.

You let out another sigh before gasping as someone took hold of your right wrist.

“Would you like to partner up with me?” A voice asked in a sexy voice, loosening the grip on your arm.

Swinging your head to the source of the attractive voice, you find yourself staring at a tall man with black hair — it was fairly long. He was wearing a black half mask adorned with dark flowers at the corners. He seems familiar, curiosity now took over your judgement as you nod courtly.

“May I ask for your name?” you looked at him, tilting your head to the side.

He looked up, thinking before looking back at you again with a smile, “Call me Hyun.” he breathed before taking your hand in his.

He then wrapped his other arm around your waist pulling you close to him. Chest to chest. You didn’t really mind because it was just a dance after all. Right?

You place your free hand on his shoulder, swaying to the music.

You stare up into his enticing eyes as if your were entranced by it. Slowly trailing your eyes to his big lips. Now you were extremely curious of what’s behind his mask. “From which kingdom are you?” You ask, mumbling your words.

His eyes peered down to your eyes in thought again, “I’ll answer all of your questions, when I get this mask off.” he whispers in your ear huskily causing you to shiver at his voice.

He didn’t come off to you suspicious or anything but his demeanor boasts arousal which wasn’t helping at the fact that you were slightly into his voice.

Okay maybe not slightly?—

. . .

Dancing across the ballroom and somehow not hitting any other partners was comforting since your own partner held you comfortably.

That is when you caught a familiar purple hair through the dancing figures, it was Changbin, dancing with....

Is that Han? You thought in shock as Changbin was practically being lead on by his partner. The partner suddenly lifted him up, princess style. Carrying him as if he was a feather.

Your partner noticed the constant staring just above his shoulder, “What is it?” he murmured to you, wanting to know what’s caught your attention. “Um, friends.”

He spun you around to get a good glimpse, suddenly a grin was evident on his face after you looked up at him staring into the distance — the direction you were looking at earlier.

No words spoken in between, he lifted you up, princess style — knocking the breath out of you, “Wha—”

You almost let out a shriek from being carried, “Put me down— oh my god, If you drop me, I fucking swear Hyun.” you hiss at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

“I won’t. Trust me.” he said as he carried you throughout the dance, you clutching him as if your life depended on it. Trust is not you have with a stranger, what the hell

. . .

Music stopped playing as the people stopped moving.

You sighed in pure relief, almost worried for your back to be broken. The man, named Hyun finally put you down and allowed you to take a breather.

“You still up for that offer of meeting me later to answer questions?” he asked smiling, to which you nodded in agreement. “Meet me at the gardens in 2 hours” He whispered to your ear, hot breath leaving his beautiful and sexy li—

“The royal gardens of the Hwangs?” You asked flushed from his teasing. The outside of this huge ballroom should be off-limits. “That isn’t allowed though right?” you took a small step back to reduce close proximity.

“I got permission from the Hwangs.”

You were a bit skeptical, “Well... If you say so...” you agreed nonetheless, not wanting to offend the other.

He nodded happily before walking away, waving his backhand at you.

You spot Felix at the corner and rushed over to him, wanting to talk to one of your best friends.

. . .

Atleast 2 hours had already passed and your energy was pretty much drained from conversing and watching Han flirt with Changbin or trying out Felix’s recommended shark meat. Jeongin was there too, pretty much being his evil self and saying stuff like: “Oooh, is it the Kim prince or that mystery guy, huh. Pick a lover, Y/N.”

Seungmin also kinda joined the friend group to with you introducing him to them, Jeongin had a mischievous smile during introduction and if you were to bury him 10 feet to the ground, you wouldn't mind. Ugh.

You realized that it was time to meet the masked man, so you excused your self from your friend group and sneakily rushed towards a door out of the room, remembering the structure of this place and where the garden is.

. . .

After some twist and turns in first floor hallway, you come face to face with a glass door, the sun that was setting was reflecting through it. You could see the tall and trimmed bushes outside as you step out. White roses were neatly sticking on the walls as the vines were all over it.

You hum as you walked around, “He didn’t exactly say where to meet him..” You scratched your head, trying to catch a shadow or a person. You eventually had to explore it a bit, sighing in annoyance as you saw a maze, “Hyun!” you shouted with all you could muster, knowing that most should be inside the party.

Birds fly out from tree at the heard noise...

Long minutes had already passed and not a single soul has been seen by your eyes.

You hung your head low and scanned the huge garden as a sigh escaped your lips, “Yeah... This is the worst.” you sulked slightly.

It’s worse to be stood up than rejected.. Atleast the person has the humility to show up when rejecting someone.

A shiver went through your spine as a cold gust of wind flew by, clutching your own arms. Disappointment was shown in your frown as you wanted to stay for a few minutes longer in hope.

. . .

You sighed, running your fingers over your scalp. As you were about to go inside, small footsteps were heard from the distance causing you to freeze in your steps and slowly turned your head to the miniscule noises.

A tall figure was walking towards you as you squinted your eyes to identify their face.

No way.. Is that...?

Fuck, it was the birthday boy — Prince Hwang Hyunjin, as if already admiring his face from earlier wasn’t enough, you had to see his pretty face again.

You were about to run inside when the Hwang shouted, “If you move, I will call the guards on you, Prince Y/N.”

Fuck.

Frozen dead in your tracks at his threat, you watched as he lurked closer, a hint of smirk dancing on those gorgeous lips.

“Prince Hyunjin, apologies but I thought someone was to meet me here..” you tried to reason out, hoping to not embarrass yourself any further by lying or trying to run.

You half-bowed to him, knowing that even though you were also a prince — He bears the name of Hwang, one of this continents, four largest kingdom.

As much as you wanted to keep your pride, it was disrespectful for a lower royal to not bow to a higher one.

He reached you and grasped your shoulder before pulling you up straight, he pulled you in by the waist causing a unintelligible sound to come out of your throat.

Familiar.

You looked at him, shocked, your mouth agape from the sudden distance change and his warmth. He held your waist tighter, pulling you impossibly closer.

Chest to chest.

Seeing your eyes he laughed, “So, what questions are you gonna ask?” he said, one of his eyebrow raised up in question.

Hyun.

. . . .

“So, Prince Y/N. Care for hanging out with a Hwang?” He confidently asked with a smirk engraved on his lips, before he slowly reached and traced his thumb on your bottom lip. Relishing on the expressions you create.

Just a simple touch on your lips felt like a firestorm was raging inside, warmth spread across your body as heartstrings were pulled at his words.

. . .

“Sure...?” you whispered out unsure after a long silence as another gust of wind hit your back causing you to slightly shiver.

You still couldn't believe that he danced with you earlier, posing with a fake name. Though he said that it was because he didn't want to scare you off.

He was dangerous in a way, fooling with people on the higher end of the royal hierarchy is one dangerous feat.

But for some reason, you craved for his touch at this very moment, you didn’t know if it was because you maybe longed for him in that opening ceremony or that you barely have someone touch you intimately.

Hyunjin started feeling you up more while also undressing you with his eyes.

It started with light pecks to your jaw, transitioning into bodily touches like waist grabbing and slight groping. You were writhing because his touches — struggling to speak as every peck, every touch keeps your mind adrift away. You didn't even notice the bulge on your bottom garments starting to get noticeable.

“I—” you tried to catch your breath at his advances, “I d-dont think we should do this here, we might get caught..” you trailed off, tapping on his shoulder as a pleasured sigh left your mouth.

“Hm? So you want to do this? Here I thought, you were going to reject me.” He mumbles as he kissed your neck lightly.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, ah~ You are going to finish what you started..” You whispered out, moaning in the middle of the sentence when he suddenly palm your bulge with a bit of pressure.

He trailed his lips to your ears, “You’re a needy slut, huh? Don’t worry, I intend to finish what I started...~ And by the end of it? You’d want more of this.” He bit your earlobe while kneading your butt with his right hand.

You bit your lip, wanting to keep embarrassing noises from coming up your throat.

“We haven't even known each other that much, yet here you are. Presenting yourself to me like a whore.” he degraded with a smirk after pulling himself away from your ear.

You weren’t one to fuck around but Prince Hwang is one of a kind — extremely sexy and intoxicating.

You want more of him.

“Cat’s got your tongue, little pup?”

“Fuck, I don’t care — J-Just not here... Might get caught.” You hiss pathetically as he squeezed harder on your bulge, grinding into his hand.

“Hmm.. Okay.” he said, looking in to your eyes with his own bearing hints of burning lust. He took your hand, leading you back inside.

. . .

“Wouldn’t be people be worried, that you were gone from the party? And it’s your celebratio—” you breathed out as he pinned you to the wall suddenly, suprising you as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t care about that right now.. What I care about is you on my bed, all spread out and ready to be used by me, hmm?” he mumbles lowly, kissing you on the lips — with you yelping at the sudden warmth and softness on your lips.

You wrapped an arm around his neck while you pulled on his long hair with your free hand. He groaned against your mouth. “Room, Hyunjin— p-please..” you mumble against his lips, pulling away after a second.

After Hyunjin pulled away he opened a door at a short moment’s notice before grabbed you and pullled you in. You didn’t even manage to look at the room's structure or designs as he already started to remove articles of clothing from you one by one.

“You know, how hard it was — seeing you from the crowds earlier talking to another royal, one that flirted with you at best? Maybe I should remind him who you would belong to now huh?” he looked at your naked form, licking his lips before slowly pushed you towards and down the bed.

You moaned at his words, even though you know full well that Seungmin didn't flirt with you one bit but just talking about interest. His hint of possessiveness turned you on highly.

He slowly removed his royal wear, exposing his own milky skin, smiling at the way you examined his body with your mouth slightly watering at the mere sight of it, he was without a doubt one of the most — if not the sexiest man you’ve laid your eyes upon.

His eyes turned to one of the drawer of his nightstand, he reached over and took out a small vial. “What is that?” you ask, eyeing the vial suspiciously.

“It’s rose oil, to reduce the pain.” he answered, leaning down to press a small bite against your rib, laughing lowly when he heard your breath hitch.

He placed the vial, on the sheet — next to you.

“You know, I had doubted you with your fight with your own knight. Never thought that I would find you willing to spread your legs open for me.” He says, not holding back on his cockiness.

Which guiltily made your cock twitch to which he responded — by taking a hold of your throbbing length.

“My pup liked that huh?” He said a grin forming on his lips — teasing, riling you up more.

“Pathetic.” he said in a chilling tone — massaging your left pec with his free hand. He brushed a finger tip on your nipple, before he leaned down and bit a circle mark on your now puffy bud.

You bit your lip, holding off any sounds to not boost his already huge ego. Squirming underneath him, shallowly thrusting into his hand that was grasping your cock.

His own dick was hard too, you could feel it poking your thighs in the slightest, its tip barely brushing against your skin.

Hyunjin didn’t like the lack of sounds one bit, he used his now free hand to place it at your lip, you looked at him confused.

When your mouth suddenly opened, breathing against his fingers — he took the opportunity to insert his slender fingers in your mouth.

“Hold in your sounds again, and I’ll make you choke on my dick. Got that?” he threatened, eerily glaring at you — his eyes were burning holes into your own.

You nodded submissively, to which he then turned his head into your leaking and throbbing cock. He leaned down — taking your cock in his mouth, sucking earnestly and running his tongue on the veins at the side.

You thrusted up into his mouth — a mix of whining and whimpering against his fingers that he was shoving down your throat.

His teeth brushed a tiny bit against your sensitive head causing you to cry out, sounding muffled by his fingers.

“C-Close..” You gurgled against his digits, he removed his mouth instantly from your length, a trail of spit connecting his mouth from your slit, smirking at you.

You let out a whine and tried to close your legs but Hyunjin was faster, he immediately placed his knees between your legs, keeping it open and spread.

“Tsk, Sluts don’t get to cum.” he growled, “Especially pathetic ones like you.”

He slowly pulled out his fingers from your mouth, coated in your own spit coating around it. He wiped his fingers on your sheets.

He look down at you as if you were prey to him — a small cat in a lion’s den, his eyes were heavily clouded with lust. He was itching, excited to claim you and your body, especially since you were willingly serving to him yourself in a silver platter.

He flipped you on all fours so that he could have easier access to your entrance, He smiled seeing you in such a vulnerable state, “You want this?” he mumbles leaning down to mouth at your shoulder, you whimper pushing back against him as you felt his dripping and hard cock press against the side of your ass.

You nodded twice as an answer to his question, he gripped your hair tightly, pulling on it. “Answer me, pup.” he growled deeply.

“Y-Yes.... fuck me, my—” You cut yourself off with a moan as Hyunjin touched the head of your overstimulated cock roughly. “Your what, pup?”

Dizzy from pleasure, you said the first thing that popped into your mind, “M-Master?” you moaned shortly after as he squeezed your hardening length.

“Mm, I’m your master, and you’re my slutty puppy. Aren’t you?” he said in a teasing voice, removing his hand from your cock before he prodded at your rim with a dry thumb. Applying pressure but not enough to breach the soft skin.

You let out a whimper, pushing against his fingers multiple times like a bitch in heat.

It was pathetic really, at how much willing you just want to be fucked by him already, you wrapped your own hand around your leaking length to remove some pressure — only to be met by the harsh grip of Hyunjin’s palm, “Touch yourself and I’d make sure you won’t cum tonight for a second time.”

You whined at his words and slowly remove your hand as your pre-cum started to drip down and dirty the sheets.

He finally took the vial of rose oil that he sat aside, opening it with a pop sound — he poured a generous amount of it on his fingers before prodding your entrance with two fingers. “Say ‘Red’ if it gets too much, pup, okay?” he said, showing off a softer side of him.

You looked at him wide eyes at smiled lightly before nodding.

You let out a thrilled moan as two fingers, quickly made work to stretch you out, you saw his cock and it looked like it won't be an easy fit unless you get properly stretched.

. .

Two fingers slowly turned to four after awhile, increasing the sound you were making and decreasing Hyunjin’s patience. He just wanted to fuck you at this point on, but for safety of you — not yet.

Hyunjin was purposefully avoiding your prostate, he didn't want you to cum yet from his fingers especially since you were dripping a lot.

Hyunjin kept pumping his fingers inside of you, while also ravishing different parts of you, getting into work of marking every part he could find — from your shoulders down to your pretty thighs. Almost every mark is either a dark purple hue or bright red bite.

“I’m ready, fuck... Hwang just fuck me already.” you said impatiently at how long he dragged on the teasing. Hyunjin laughed at how vocal you now were, quite the contrast to the babbling mess you were earlier.

“Don’t be impatient.” he said, glaring at you and taking a firm grip on your ass, squeezing it tightly. You scoff at him, reaching back and sneakily taking ahold of his cock — it leaking slight pre-cum on it’s tip.

“Like you aren’t impatient.” you retorted back even with his fingers basically deep inside you.

He growled deeply and pulled his fingers out — you letting out a clear moan at the rough movement of his digits. Your hole clenched around nothing, it slightly gaping from being stretched around four of his fingers.

“Pups should learn their place.” he said coldly, getting the vial and pouring all of the remaining contents on his hand before slowly jerking himself off to slick up his dick.

You heard some shuffling before suddenly the air was knocked out of you, “Fuck. Fuck.” you chanted as Hyunjin moments ago fucked into you, his hands flew into your hips as he already started a harsh pace turning your mind hazy.

“You like this already, huh?” He mumbles, gripping your hips tighter, as he deeply thrusts into you. He was still avoiding your sensitive spot all this time.

“Such a good cocksleeve for me.” he hums with a smirk as he finally hit your prostate — known by you letting out the loudest moan yet.

Ah ah ah coming from your lips and his hips loudly slapping against your ass was the only thing you heard in the room, you were getting the best fuck of your life right here.

You could feel every vein — every ridge on his cock against your walls as he thrusts into you mercilessly, fucking the words out of you. It felt amazing and exciting at the same time.

Your body has given up trying to hoist itself up, so you collapse on the bed in a slumping position. He was still harshly gripping your hips, using your hole for his pleasure. You were whining against the sheets and messing it up with your drool. You were close as he hit your prostate a third time causing you to moan loudly.

“No more words to answer back, Y/N? Or are you already fucked that dumb?” he says, speeding up his pace, wanting to chase his release.

He was splitting you in half and you just nod slowly as your fists were squeezing the bedsheet, He let out a breathy laugh at that and continued his thrusts, relishing at your tired moans and pretty whines.

You pushed back against his thrusts, increasing the friction by alot.

He hit your prostate one last time and came undone untouched and without his permission. You moan loudly, barely getting muffled as you dig your head further into the pillow nearby. Your cock was getting milked for all it’s worth as he reached out to jerk you, wanting to make sure to get every last drop.

His thrusts were getting sloppier by the second, before moments later — he finally came with a groan, spilling himself into you and coating your walls with his white cum.

You whimpered as you felt him pull out, feeling some of the white substance drip into your thighs, “I-Inside, want you..” you mumble with him barely hearing it.

“Shh, I’ll clean you up first pup.” Hyunjin said, leaving and going into his bathroom to find a damp cloth.

While he left for the bathroom, you laid there on your chest — sighing.

What happened to the 'no fucking around' rule that you seem to follow, you promised yourself that ‘Y’ was the first and last. You rolled over to your side, wincing at how the cum drizzled out of your swollen hole. He had a lot of cum suprisingly.

. .

On a short moment’s notice, Hyunjin finally arrived to find you laying to your side, your eyes signaling that you were deep in thought.

“You okay? Did I go too hard?” He walked near you to which your eyes drifted to his face slowly to which you gave him a small smile.

“No.. I had fun time, thank you for taking good care of me, Prince Hyunjin.” you answered him, keeping the small smile before you turned to him.

He nods, “Just call me Hyunjin, no need for formality.” he moves closer to you, sitting down next to your back. He trailed the towel in his hand near your hole — removing the cum around your ring of muscles gently.

“One problem though...” you whispered, looking up at him with tired eyss before eyeing the bruises and marks on your body made by the dominant prince.

He grins sexily, “Keep it as a reminder to you ans to people who’d dare sleep with you.” He said, touching the marks softy after wiping your hole that was seeping with his cum.

You groaned in annoyance, “I’m serious, Hwang.” you shot back to him with an impatient glare. You click your tongue as no answer came out of his mouth.

He grabbed a small vial of ointment from his drawers to make sure your skin wouldn’t have any problems from his bruises and to make sure it would heal. He hummed while he applied it on the marks.

You sigh and allowed to treat you before he opened his lips to speak, “I’ll go over to your kingdom tomorrow.” he mumbles, wiping his hand on the sheet as he grabbed an underwear from his drawer.

You watched him put it on, looking away from him a bit shy, to which thank god that he didn't notice.

You looked up at him questioningly, “Hm? Why?” you tilted your head like a puppy to which he moved closer to pet you.

“I want your hand in marriage.” he said straightforwardly with a smile plastered in his face. He grabbed your chin making you look up at him, he leaned down and kissed you before you squeak embarrassingly.

You look at him dumbfounded and shocked beyond belief — your mouth hanging open with eyes wide, “Hwang, what? You’re going a bit too fast—”

He grabbed your hand suddenly and kissed the top of it before looking up at you, “Nothing’s too fast when I already like you and I want you.”

You groaned, knowing he won't let this go. Your parents should reject since they know that you’re not ready for marriage yet. Right? Hopefully, you prayed silently that your parents for once reject something so outrageous.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow, I’m too tire—”

“HYUNJIN! IT’S TIME FOR YOUR END SPEECH, OH MY GOD, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LEFT YOUR OWN PARTY.” Someone with a female voice yelled while banging on the other side of the door. You froze at the sudden noise.

“Tch, my sister doesn’t know the meaning of staying calm half of the time.” he mumbles, brushing his hand across his long hair.

“I’ll come down in a few!” Hyunjin said loud enough for the lady give a last hit to the poor door before leaving.

He looked at you before grabbing his clothes from the party and slowly dressed himself up, “I’ll see you, Y/N.” he said after getting fully dressed, he looked back and winked at you before smiling a bright one.

You sigh as you get up from his bed and limped to collect your clothes around the room, sighing once more as you dressed yourself up. “Marriage... hm.” you were having troubling thoughts about this, sudden marriage proposal — especially with someone you just met like 3 hours ago.

“Time to go fetch the dumbass and leave, I wanna sleep.” You said annoyed, referring to that stupid knight of yours that went missing when the event started.

You look at the closet mirror and fixed your hair also trying to cover the visible marks but to no avail still failed to do so. You were gonna sneak out of here, and hopefully Hwang just forgets what he said earlier.

Extended Scene

“Lino, I swear why do you look like a weirdo right now.” you said, looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You were referring to how he looked like dumbstruck with love.

He hisses at you, “Shut up, why do you have hickeys then huh?” Minho answered you with another question as he looked over to you and rolled his eyes.

You huff, “I’m telling my parents that you were disrespecting me early in the party.”

He smirks and looks over to you with one of his eyebrows raised, “Then I guess you wouldn't mind what fun you did in the party, I mean with the limping and stuff.” he threatens back, chuckling.

“You little shi—”

#kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #skz smut #dom stray kids #sub male reader #mlm fic #lgbtq #stray kids x reader #skz #smut #han jisung #dom hwang hyunjin #kpop smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x male reader #hyunjin x male reader

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cellsshapedlikestars · 2 years

Note

Modern AU where Sansa is the new stylist/branding person/experienced celebrity helping clueless rising musician/actor Jon with his image and how to navigate celebrity?

So guess who had a ton of free time at work today and spent it writing instead? Me.

Read it on ao3 here:

Ephemera, chapter 23

“This is our stylist, Sansa,” Sam introduces, and Sansa stares at the group in front of her in dismay.

It might be, she thinks, the most hopeless bunch Tyrion has ever sent to her. Usually by the time a band makes it to her, they've already gone through some prep. Most of them already have a look, a style, and she just needs to tweak it and perfect it.

These guys look like Tyrion pulled them out of one of their mom's basements and shoved some instruments into their hands. Actually, that might not be that far off, except they're all probably a bit too old to still be living in their mom's basement.

Surprise hits don't happen like this much anymore. The artists that blow up this fast almost always have some sort of industry background or connection. They're usually not some indie band that went from playing local shows in Castle Black to national attention in the span of a month. All because some scout had heard them and used one of their tracks as the theme song to some HBO series that turned into a surprise hit, itself. Sansa hasn't watched it, but she's heard it's very dark and gritty.

“I know, I know,” one of them says, the one with the big ears, “you're dazzled by our beauty. Why do we even need a stylist, you're thinking. We're clearly Vogue ready.”

“You're not completely hopeless,” she lies, fighting back a smile.

Well, maybe it's not a total lie - especially with the lead guitarist. A bit of a trim, a decent skincare regiment, some slightly less worn clothes, and he really could be on the cover of Vogue. And the rest of them aren't terrible either. Just... terribly dressed and styled, and none of them seem to give their appearance any thought at all.

“Hear that, Snow?” the big one snickers and pushes at the guitarist's shoulder. “We all know who's gonna be our meal ticket.”

“Fuck off,” the guitarist, Snow, grumbles.

Clearly uncomfortable with the callout, he seems to hunch in on himself. From the video Sam showed her of them playing, he's confident when he's on stage - he's confident in his playing, just not his looks. Something they'll have to work on. Luckily for her, the others don't seem to hold any sort of grudge, even though they clearly recognize that the music industry will turn Snow into the leading man.

(Jon, she remembers his first name being. She has yet to match the other names on the list to faces except for manager Sam, but she remembers them all. Pyp, Grenn, Edd, Jon.)

She honestly thinks that might be half the reason they blew up this fast, besides the show. She remembers a photo of the band going viral on Twitter – or, more specifically, a photo of Jon scowling as the picture was taken. He'd been Twitter's hot guy obsession of the month. It had been taken by some fan of the TV series who lived in Castle Black and went to one of the Night Watch's shows and then ambushed them after to get a picture. Then she'd posted it on Twitter, where it got passed around first by show fans, then by people who were attracted to gritty aesthetics of the band (and it's handsome guitarist).

From playing dive bars at the edge of the world to making a music video in less than a month. No wonder they're still so ready to joke around about it all, the reality of it probably hasn't sunk in yet. She hopes they don't lose that.

“Alright,” she sighs. “Let's get to work.”

…

“Got any advice for a bunch of newbies?” the one that she now knows is Pyp asks.

Sansa keeps quiet for a while as she works on Jon, taking his measurements. She knows she should tell them some nonsense platitude or general go get 'em! advice.

Instead, she says, “none of this might matter. I could slap enough makeup and designer clothes on you all to turn you into One Direction 2.0, and it still might not be enough. The public is fickle. The industry is fickle. You've got a hit, but you might not have another, and it won't be because you aren't good, or because you don't deserve it. I think the best way to stay sane in this industry is to remember who you are. Not to sound like Mufasa or anything.”

“Fuckin' hell,” Grenn laughs, and Sansa huffs in annoyance when Jon jerks back slightly as she tries to take his inseam measurement. “Might be the most honest thing we've heard yet.”

“Stay still,” she scolds Jon, looking up at him from the floor, where she's knelt down in front of him. He seems to be resolutely looking away from her, but she tries not to take offense to that. He's not very talkative in general, she's found.

Then she turns to Grenn and says, “well, it doesn't matter to me whether you guys make it or not. I get paid either way.” That seems to amuse them.

She finally gets the rest of Jon's measurements, and she resists the urge to tell him to relax. She's never had someone stand so stiffly during the process. At least he wasn't like a lot of the others she works on – musicians, actors. A lot of them like to make comments about her being on her knees, or suggest she reach just a bit higher while taking their inseam. It always takes all her willpower not to accidentally stab them with a pin.

“What do you think of Tyrion?” Jon asks when she stands back up, jotting numbers down in her notepad.

She frowns, debating what to say. He isn't here, but it wouldn't be great for business if anything she said got back to him. She gets most of her business from him. He likes her (partly because he likes to flirt with her, partly because he feels like his family owes her, but mostly – she hopes – because she's good at this.)

“He's smart,” she tells them. “Really smart. He can see stuff coming a mile away. He thinks of every angle.”

“But,” Jon prompts, like he can see right through her. Like he knows she's being diplomatic.

“But he's still an agent,” she shrugs. “Be careful. Read everything yourselves. Remember your own interests.”

“You sound like you know what you're talking about,” he murmurs, ignoring his bandmates who have found her stash of sample clothes and seem to be having a blast looking through them.

She looks Jon in the eye. Maybe it's the steady grey of them, or his rough accent that reminds her of home. Maybe because she didn't get enough sleep last night and her latte this morning hasn't quite made up for it. Either way, she tells him.

“I was a model, once. Got caught up in some bad deals. Signed contracts with people I shouldn't have. Managed to get out with a bit of dignity and a few industry contacts so I could do this job.” She shrugs, turning from him to start stashing things back in her kit. “I signed when I was sixteen, and by twenty I was nothing. I've spent the last five years building this business, trying to piece my life back together.”

She doesn't know why she's telling him this. She never tells anyone this.

But for some reason, the idea of him – of this band – getting pulled in and torn up and spit back out by the industry... She doesn't want that for them. She likes them. They're nice.

“I'll see you in two weeks for the fittings,” she tells the group as they pack up to leave. And then, as if her mouth has a mind of it's own, she adds, “if you need anything, you can give me a call,” and then she grabs a pen and writes her personal number on a stray Starbucks napkin and hands it to Jon.

He stares at it, dumbfounded, and she realizes how weird that was. She has a business number for a reason.

“Us Northerners have to stick together, right?” she tries to make her voice light and casual. “The south isn't always kind to us.”

“Uh,” he says, eyes flicking between the napkin and her. “Yeah. Thanks.”

As they leave, she can hear the other band members start to gleefully give Jon a hard time, because she absolutely just gave him her number and it was absolutely not out of any sort of Northern camaraderie and they all know it.

She lets out a pathetic whine and slumps down in her chair and puts her face in her hands and debates finding another stylist for them before the fittings. Shae might be free.

(She decides against this, though, when later that night she gets a text from an unknown number that reads, this is Jon Snow. Thought you should have my number, too. Just in case.)

#jonsa #jonsa fic #prompt fic

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redorich · 3 years

Note

for the hermit canyon, i humbly request:

Etho messing with Karl and maybe like, Lazarbeam or Fundy, by pretending he’s moth man.

Quackity stalks through the woods, blissfully unaware of its other inhabitants-- not that he would care, if he knew. No, tonight, under the full moon (because it's romantic) he makes his move.

The Hermit, as Quackity is completely sure of, is a beautiful young woman with long flowing hair as white as snow. Because she is a creature of untold power and beauty, fairy tale logic obviously applies. Therefore, if Quackity can steal her clothes, she will have no choice but to marry him and they will live happily ever after as big booty bitches in love.

Nodding to himself, Quackity feels assured in his logic. He's wearing his favorite assless chaps, his best pair of knockoff Yeezys, and no shirt. He is ready for what is to come.

---

Karl lurks deep in the forest, illuminated only by the moon. He leans against a tree, taking care not to disturb his outfit-- he is camouflaged as a bush. Dangling strips of green and brown fabric cover his body, and his limbs are completely hidden in the costume so long as he stands still. It's a daunting task, standing still in the dark, dangerous woods at night. Nevertheless, Karl knows that this is what he must do.

"Triclops Mothman, my beloved," he whispers into the night. He will find Mothman, and he will marry Mothman. There is no alternative.

---

Far away from both Karl and Quackity, though still in the same spruce forest, Sapnap angrily prowls. Well, he'd describe it as a prowl. Truthfully, it's more of a pouty stomp. He knows that this forest has had multiple "Hermit sightings", and Sapnap wants-- no, needs what he's after.

"Hermit!" he screams into the night. "Come out and fight me, you little bitch! Man on man!"

To emphasize his point, he bangs a pot and a pan against each other several times. Sapnap is getting his revenge for that little ravager prank, one way or another.

---

Deep within the canyon walls, the Hermit complex looks like an overturned anthill with all its activity. It's Halloween night come early.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Etho insists.

Grian whines, "But Etho, I made it just for you! It matches Stress's outfit."

Stress, upon hearing her name, looks up from her book and waves. Cleo is currently fiddling with the thick mane of synthetic white hair Stress is wearing, styling the wig into a princess-y type braid.

"I'll say it again," Cleo says, looking very intently into Etho's eyes, "I could take your place."

"No," Etho sighs. "If what Puffy said about these guys is true, you'd probably bite someone's face off by the end of the night."

"You're no fun," Cleo huffs, but acquiesces.

"At least put on the wig," Grian demands.

Grian and Etho have a staring contest for a solid ninety seconds before Etho snaps his fingers in front of Grian's face, causing him to flinch and blink. "You cheater--!"

"I'll wear the wig," Etho interrupts Grian. Instantaneously, Grian loses his outraged moue.

Cleo sighs. "They're the same wig, right? Do I have to braid Etho's hair, too?"

"I think I'll be fine with my new flowing, luscious locks," Etho says with a humorous crinkle to his eyes.

They all laugh as Etho dramatically flips his fake hair, whipping himself in the face with it in the process. He also receives a thumbs up from Joe, who is in the process of searching for his contact lenses because "Herobrine doesn't wear glasses", according to Bdubs.

Night falls, and the Hermits are prepared. They hope their victims aren't.

---

Quackity catches a glimpse of silver-white after so long searching in the woods. With a little gasp, he eagerly pursues it. His beautiful maiden, ethereal and distant like the moon, darts between trees and leaps across creeks like she is flying, like her feet barely touch the ground.

He follows her to a clearing, but when he bursts through the brush into the open space, she is nowhere to be found.

“Mi rey!” he wails, “Fantasma hermosa! Come to papi!”

Etho, hiding in a tree about five feet away, has no clue what any of those words mean. He affects a terrible falsetto and throws his voice. “Hello, Quackity.”

Quackity jumps, looking around wildly for his beautiful girlboss queen. “Hermit?! You know my name?”

“Of course, Quackity,” Etho says, hefting a large rock in his hand. “Come closer, I have a cask of Amontillado we can share.”

Quackity turns toward Etho's voice just fast enough to catch a glimpse of the Hermit's mask, his (fake) long white hair, his decidedly not female appearance. Quackity looks the Hermit up and down. Etho has never felt more Perceived.

"What's a place like you doing in a guy like this?" Quackity says, flirtatiousness dripping from his voice.

Etho eyes the man's assless chaps with distaste from his crouched perch in a tree. Quick as lightning, he chucks the heavy rock in his hand at Quackity's head, knocking him out instantly.

Etho jumps down from his tree with a huffed sigh. "Well," he says, grabbing Quackity by the ankle and dragging him, "time to get to work."

---

"Pspspsps," Karl whispers, "heeeere Mothman..."

The sound of a twig snapping to his right makes Karl freeze, then turn ever so slowly. There's no one there. Karl holds his breath for what feels like an eternity, but is eventually forced to admit that the noise was probably just an animal. Surely, a creature of Mothman's size would make more noise when he walks, given the weight of his strong legs.

"Mothman," Karl says. "I wrote you a poem!"

Joe, who was up until this point hiding behind trees and ominously snapping twigs, feels a twinge of morbid curiosity. As a poet, he absolutely has to know what Karl considers an adequate love poem for Mothman.

With red cheeks, Karl professes his love:

"Your feelers make me feel so sweet

Your hindwings set my heart aflame

Fern-like antennae make me melt

And Mothman, you're to blame."

Despite himself, Joe is a little bit impressed. It almost makes him feel bad about what he's about to do-- almost.

A soft eerie glow seeps into the forest, catching Karl's eye. He investigates, creeping forward until he turns around a tree and sees glowing white eyes. He screams, but there is no sound, and the forest has disappeared. Only those eyes remain, and they too flicker out of existence.

There is a dim corridor ahead of him, narrow and lit by redstone torches. At the end, there is an iron door. He runs to the exit, but as soon as his hand touches the door it disappears and he is engulfed by swirling purple-- like a Nether portal, but so much more terrifying.

The purple is gone and he can just barely make out the menacing image of a man with glowing white eyes T-posing in the blackness. Karl opens his eyes and wakes up on the forest floor, prone and sore.

"Right," he mutters breathlessly to himself, "Mothman is not interested."

---

"--YOU BITCH ASS PUNK, I'M GONNA RIP YOUR LEGS OFF AND STICK 'EM ON YOUR HEAD!" Sapnap screams, banging the only pot he owns against a non-stick frying pan he stole from George.

"Well, that's not very nice, innit?" says a feminine voice. Sapnap looks left, right, behind him, up in the trees... then down.

Big brown eyes peer up at him through white bangs. A displeased pout set into a moon-pale face attached to an equally moon-pale woman chastises him without words.

"...You're the Hermit?" Sapnap says disbelievingly. He has his doubts that someone as small and pretty as this woman could wrangle a ravager onto his front lawn.

"You wanted a fight," she huffs. "And for the record, you totally had it coming, with Pamela's Revenge-- remember, the rava--"

"Yes, I know the ravager was named Pamela's Revenge! There were like eight hundred million death messages in chat about it, you jackass!" Sapnap snaps, trying to cover up his unease. It's not that he's hesitant to hit her because she's a girl; he would deck the shit out of Niki or Puffy with absolutely no provocation whatsoever. It's just that... she looks soft. Like a non-combatant. It would be too easy, too cruel--

Stress punches Sapnap in the jaw with a wicked right hook. "Stealing is wrong," she says.

While Sapnap is dazed and quite possibly mildly concussed, Stress follows up with a brutal kick to the shin. Sapnap makes a genuine effort to fight back, and he’s no slouch, but he’s been taken so thoroughly off guard that the best he can do with his head spinning as it is is to swing with a wild haymaker and hope it hits.

His fist makes contact with something soft and squishy. He hears a grunt, but Stress shoves him over onto the ground and dumps a bucket of glitter over his head. It burns his eyes, but more importantly it burns his pride. He doesn’t remember at what point he dropped his pot and pan (he must have at some point, because he punched the Hermit with an empty fist), but he’s angry enough to open his watery eyes through the magenta glitter and snatch George’s frying pan up off the forest floor, hurling it at the Hermit with devastating accuracy. She yelps, blocking with her forearm at the last moment.

“Knew I shoulda let Etho...” Sapnap hears the Hermit mutter. What’s an Etho?

Stress irritably bonks Sapnap on the head with the pan he threw at her. He goes limp like a ragdoll, and Stress sets about maneuvering his body into a sitting position leaned against a tree so she can do his makeup while he sleeps.

“Hope I don’t poke his eye out!” she says. “Ah well, he’s got two anyway. Now, should I go for a cute, summery look, or a dark evening look?”

---

In Atrium 1 of the Hermit Canyon complex, Puffy laughs loud and clear, clutching her paper cup tightly so she doesn’t spill her fruit punch. "No,” she chokes out, “he didn’t.”

Cub, holding a similar paper cup, waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Yep. That’s Etho for you. You know, one time he got Doc to run around with a snowman head on, eating spider eyes?”

“Oh man,” Puffy sighs, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. “I’m so glad I snitched on Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap. I can’t wait to see their reactions!”

Cub grins evilly. “Stress got pictures before she left.”

Puffy gasps, stars in her eyes. “I’ll bake you a whole cake if you get me a copy.”

“I’ll bake Cub a whole cake if he gives them to me instead,” Grian interjects from across the room. “I don’t need them, I just want to take them from you.”

“Nooooo!” Puffy wails melodramatically. “Grian, please spare me!”

“Five diamond blocks,” Grian makes his demand.

Puffy continues to fake-sob, pretending not to notice Scar sneaking up on Grian until Scar drops an anvil on Grian’s head, like a Looney Tunes episode but slightly to the left. While Grian is distracted, Cub slips the pictures to Puffy, who puts them in her inventory without looking.

Etho walks into the Atrium, now dressed as his normal self, including his natural hair, which looks like an angry wet cat perched atop his head, just the way he likes it. Everyone cheers.

“So, how’d it go with Quackity?” Puffy asks with a smirk.

“Well...” Etho says.

---

Quackity wakes up with the sun in his eyes. In front of him is the public Nether portal, and standing right in front of it is a wide-eyed Sam, staring directly at him. Quackity looks down.

He’s naked, covered in half-dried honey, and tied to a pole like the world’s sexiest flag. And he’s got the world’s worst hangover-- it feels like he’s been hit in the head with a large rock.

“Not again,” he groans.

“...This happens often?” Sam asks.

“If I had a nickel for every time something like this has happened,” Quackity says, wiggling his way out of the ropes tying him to the pole, “I’d have enough money to go buy myself a pair of pants.”

Sam averts his eyes to the sky, abruptly aware of exactly why Quackity would feel the need to buy a pair of pants.

“Damn it,” Quackity says. “Those were my favorite pair of assless chaps.”

“Were they now,” Sam says numbly. The sky is quite blue today, it’s rather beautiful.

Quackity huffs in aggravation, finally having freed himself from his binds. “Yeah, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to, you know?”

“Not really, no,” Sam says slowly. “I wouldn’t know much about-- assless chaps.”

The naked man shrugs. Haltingly, Sam unclasps his cape, pulling it off his shoulders and offering it to Quackity.

“Nah,” Quackity says, “I’ll just streak.”

“Please don’t,” Sam says with pain in his eyes.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #quackity #karl jacobs #sapnap #grian #ethoslab #stressmonster #zombiecleo #captain puffy #joe hills #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #awesamdude #me.cpp #me.txt

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princehrry-writings · 3 years

Text

Angel with a Shotgun

here we go. this popped into my head after i watched a tiktok about angel shots. if you go on a date and don't feel safe for any reason, please please please find a safe way to remove yourself!! asking for an angel shot is a great way to do that!!

WARNING: tw mentions of implied SA, stalking, harassment, police, EMT's, hospitals, alcohol, being drugged, swearing,

please don't read this if any of this stuff makes you uncomfortable. i don't get graphic with anything but still, put yourself first and be safe!! i love you <3

wordcount: 1907

Harry Styles x Reader

masterlist

It started off as a normal night. Y/n had met this guy in class and he’d asked her out for drinks. She didn’t get any bad vibes from him, none of her friends had heard anything bad about him, so she deemed him a suitable guy to go have a fun night with.

She’d met him at a bar just off campus and was having a really great night! The pair were dancing and talking and laughing, genuinely enjoying herself for the first time in a long time on a first date.

In Y/n’s experience, usually guys were creeps and girls never decided she was what they were looking for, so she had a hard time in the dating world. This guy, Jack his name is, seemed ok. Keyword being seemed.

She should have known. When he asked to meet her at a bar all the way across town, she should have put it together that he wasn’t what she was looking for. He didn’t put up too big of a fight when she insisted they meet at the bar closer to campus, that way she would know people there and be in a familiar place if she needed to get away from him quickly.

When he started making comments that were off putting to her, things she doesn’t really want to repeat in fear of actually vomiting all over the table, she starts looking for a way out. He keeps trying to play footsie with her under the table and is getting visibly frustrated at her lack of participation, so she tells him she’s going to get them another round of drinks after finishing the one that was already on the table and quickly exits the booth before he can protest.

Harry had been watching from across the room at the bar, seeing this couple who looked like they were on a first date. He watched as they laughed and talked, getting to know each other. But as the night went on, it seemed the woman was getting more and more uncomfortable.

He had told his coworkers to keep an eye out for the two in case anything was to go down, and when he sees her get up and make her way over to his bar, he has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“What can I get for you, love?” He asks her, leaning over the counter to hear her better. She sniffles a little, and takes a deep breath. Leans in before timidly asking.

“Can I get an angel shot?”

Harry’s senses are quickly kicked into gear and he nods, gesturing to his coworker that he’s gonna get this taken care of before meeting her on the other side of the bar. What neither of them had realized was that 1. Jack was walking up to them and 2. he had slipped something into her drink apparently because suddenly she could barely hold her own body weight. Harry caught her before she hit the ground and Jack rushed over, playing the part of concerned boyfriend but the bartender saw right through it.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to back up.” He tells the man, authority very present in his voice. Jack doesn’t take well to this, eyebrows furrowing and voice lowering in defense.

“S’cuse me mate, but I’m gonna take my girl home. She’s had a few too many, f’you know what I mean.” He chuckles and goes to scoop her up. Harry stops him, putting a hand on the guy's chest, stepping between the girl and this guy.

“You'll do no such thing. This girl has obviously been roofied and it’s you she was running away from. The only thing you’ll be doing tonight is talking to the police, who are making their way in right now to do with you what they will.” Harry says, watching the color drain from this bloke's face. He turned around, ready to make a full run for it but was stopped by not only the police but also a crowd of other guys who heard what was going down and were ready to step in if assistance was needed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong here! She was trying to take advantage of me!” He cries as he’s put in handcuffs and taken away.

“Yeah, it’s obvious the one who’s passed out cold because she was drugged was trying to take advantage of you.” Harry yells after him before turning around and scooping the girl into his arms. Due to the commotion and the presence of not only police but also paramedics, the premises was cleared and the bar was shut down for the night. Harry held the passed out girl close to his body, having had his coworker fetch his jacket from the break room to keep her warm now that the club wasn’t filled with body heat, and waited for the paramedics to come in for her.

When they come in and place her on the gurney, she starts to stir. Little whines and groans escape from her and the EMT’s check her vitals, deeming her stable and letting Harry know she’s going to be ok. He decided to follow to the hospital just so she has a familiar face when she wakes up and has someone to explain her situation that isn’t a scary doctor.

. *

It’s a few hours of unrestful sleep at her bedside and his co-worker showing up with a change of clothes for him when she finally starts to come to.

Groaning and reaching up to hold her head but realizing her arms are too heavy to move, she rasps out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Harry explains, wanting to reach out and hold her hand but not wanting to startle her, “You’re ok but the doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation.”

“You’re the bartender I asked for the angel shot aren’t you?” She questions after a pregnant pause. He hums a confirmation and she looks over his face a few times, before tears well in her eyes.

“What happened?” A few tears fall from her eyes. She can’t remember much after leaving the table, just the sight of green eyes and curly brown hair nodding at her when she asked for the shot. The rest is pretty much a blur, just random flashes of scenes she can’t quite make out in her head.

“You came over and asked me for the shot and then a few minutes later you passed out. The bloke you were with slipped something in your drink. And unless something happened at the table that I didn’t see, then nothing else happened. Do you remember anything happening at the table?” He explains, hoping her answer is no.

He’d learned her name from the EMT’s who checked your ID once you were loaded into the ambulance but he didn’t know the name of the man she was with. He realizes she doesn’t know his name either.

“No, was just being a sleazy dick. I don’t know how he could have slipped me something, I didn’t get up before I went to you. Must’ve turned my head for a bit too long. God, I should’ve known this was gonna happen!” She groans but he shakes his head.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, darling! He’s a sleazeball, a no good lowlife. S’not your fault.”

“What’s your name?” She voices, peering into his pretty green eyes.

“M’Harry,” he smiles, timidly reaching for her hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the soft skin.

“Thank you for staying with me Harry! For helping me…” Y/n says quietly. He shakes his head with a small smile.

“No need to thank me, pet. Would do it over and over again.”

Her smile, while tired and defeated, was enough to show him her gratitude. She feels a weight lift off her chest, hearing that nothing bad happened after she got to him.

She knows it’s probably just nightingale syndrome, but Y/n thinks Harry is terribly adorable. With his messy brown curls and tired green eyes that make it look like he hasn’t slept in ages. She thinks she could see herself going out with him, which is an odd thought considering what happened last night. You’d think that would be enough to turn her off to men for good, but there's just something about him. But now isn’t the time to bring any of that up.

“I’ll call a nurse, tell em’ you’re awake.” He voiced, making his way to the door after gently placing her hand back on the bed.

. * .

“Ms. I’m just calling to let you know the restraining order has gone through. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Y/n felt a weight lift off her chest. After months of being harassed and stalked, she would finally be left alone. Harry leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, stroking the loose hair out of her face.

“S’ finally over, lovie. It’s all over!.” He whispered in her ear, pulling her closer to him, rubbing up and down her thighs. She felt tears spring to her eyes, tears of relief, tears of joy, but also tears of sadness because the last few months had been some of the hardest of her life. She was ready to move on and be done with this nightmare.

When Jack had found out Y/n and Harry got together after that night, it’s like it activated something inside him. Like he thought she was just playing hard to get and he had to literally stalk her to get her attention. He seemed to think she was playing a game. Somewhere in his twisted little mind he had the audacity to think she actually wanted him.

He’d sit right next to her every single class period and would get up and move next to her when she tried to get away with him. He’d show up at her house, sitting across the street just watching her front door, he’d call her phone and text her, he’d wait outside her other classes and follow her around campus. She complained to her university, told them what was going on and they didn’t really do anything. She went to campus security and they brushed it off because “She wasn’t in any danger. He just wants to get to know you.”

So she finally was forced to file a restraining order. Her case was still open, from when he got arrested that night at the bar. They're charging him with second degree assault and criminal harassment because apparently she’s not the only girl he’s done this to. Many other women had spoken up since news of that night had spread around campus. Yet still, the university did nothing.

Harry stood by you every step of the way, picking up the shattered pieces on hard days. He wanted to beat the shit out of this guy and he would if it wouldn’t interfere with the case. He knew you needed him and he didn’t want to chance anything.

There was a pregnant silence between the two lovers. Just letting the silence wash over them, letting themselves breath freely without this weight suffocating them, they basked in it.

It wasn’t completely over, because there was still a trial, but he wouldn’t be coming around without getting arrested again.

That was enough for Y/n to breathe easy.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #x reader #harry x reader #bartender!harry #bartender!harry styles x reader #bartneder!harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #bartender!harry styles #tw sa #one direction #fan fiction #one shot #angel shot

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onebatch2batch · 3 years

Photo

late to the party post-canon kastle adjacent, matt x elektra [ao3] my brain refuses to let me write for my current wips so i’m just going to continue posting little oneshots waiting for inspo to hit. enjoy!

Frank hasn’t really spent a lot of time in the vest lately. In fact, in the shuffle of getting his things moved into Karen’s apartment, he had to search for a disturbing fifteen minutes to find the damn thing. Which–yeah, okay, the trade off is definitely worth it. But still. There’s shit goin’ down in Hell’s Kitchen and he’s late to the party.

He puts his eye back to the scope of his rifle and searches the windows of the quiet building across the street. From Lieberman’s intel it should be crawling with guys and just a second ago he could have sworn there was movement–

Ah, there you are.

Frank watches as a body goes flying past the window too fast to be natural. David relayed that this place is the head of a resurgence of the Yakuza, gathering strength and numbers every day as they up the ante on the streets after dark, but it looks like someone is already handing their ass to them. Another body flops past the window. He came here to nip the group in the bud but it looks like he can sit back and wait for any stragglers to come waltzing out. If there are any, anyway.

He unscrews the lid of his thermos and keeps his eye to the scope.

Whoever is in there isn’t fuckin’ around. He knows it’s not Red by the blood that occasionally splashes up on the glass panes. Alter Boy likes to pretend the blunt force trauma he causes doesn’t cave in skulls; not really his style to go around slashing with a blade. There’s a brief, distant scream that cuts off a second later. Everything goes quiet, but no one exits. He frowns and waits.

His phone buzzes. After a moment of watching for any more movement and seeing none, he pulls out the phone and squints down at the screen in the dusky evening light.

Come home. I miss you.

Frank’s mouth twitches slightly. With another glance at the building, he types out a reply. Soon. Miss you too.

“Oh, that’s sweet,” a voice says in his ear.

He’s not sure if his reflexes have slowed during the last few months of inactivity or the woman behind him is just that fast, but either way she dances away from his fist with a soft, amused laugh. He yanks out the pistol from his hip and follows her with the barrel, scowling. She barely makes a sound on the roof of the building as moves and he can’t get a good look at her until she comes to rest a few paces away. Her long dark hair is bathed in the orange glow of streetlights, pulled up in a high ponytail. Dark eyes watch him above a cloth crimson that covers the bottom half of her face. She’s all bare arms and leather–what’s with these vigilante assholes and all the leather, anyway?--and has twin sais held loosely in her grasp. They’re dripping with blood.

“You the one lightin’ ‘em up in there?” he asks after a moment of tense silence, shoving his phone back in his pocket with one hand.

Her eyes crinkle in what he assumes is a smile. “Maybe. Am I detecting an admirer?”

“Think whatever you want, lady. Just tryin’ to decide if I should pull this trigger or not.”

Is it just him or does she look thrilled by the idea? She tilts her head and takes a step closer, watching him. Her stance is deceptively relaxed, but he can see the undercurrent of frenetic energy that crackles underneath. Her voice is sultry and challenging when she speaks again. “I would love to see you try.”

He wonders if she knows who she’s talking to. Frank repositions his grip on the pistol in thought. If this woman–and Christ, a single woman by herself taking out a whole warehouse of shitstains without a scratch, that’s impressive–is up against the Yakuza it means one of two things: she’s from some rival group edging out the competition, or she’s actually good in some skewed sense of the word. By the way she’s covered in blood, he’s leaning towards the former.

His finger fidgets towards the trigger and in the next moment, it goes clattering across the rooftop. He jerks his head back towards the woman but she’s standing in the same spot, unmoving, eye twinkling in mirth.

“Frank!” an all-too-familiar and all-too-annoying voice calls.

“Oh, Jesus,” he mutters.

Matt Murdock drops down, making an elongated triangle between the three of them. He’s in that godawful red suit, nunchuck in hand. The other is laying a few feet away with Frank’s gun.

Two pajama wearing assholes in one night, what a treat.

Frank shakes out the dull ache in his hand from the impact, scowling at the other man. This is not how he wanted the evening to go. “What the hell are you doin’ here, Red?”

“Oh you know each other?” the woman asks, thrilled, in a way that probably fools most gullible idiots into what she wants them to think. All breathy and pandering. It sets alarm bells off in his head. “How wonderful!”

Murdock stalks towards the woman and grabs her arm with a gentleness that throws Frank off. He ducks his head and says something quietly with that lecturing, emphatic energy Frank is all too familiar with, something that makes the woman laugh. She leans forward and pecks at his cheek and then twirls away, towards the weapons on the ground. The nunchuck she tosses to Murdock before walking over and holding out Frank’s gun. Murdock turns but doesn’t follow, head swiveling in an uncanny, watching-but-not-watching sort of way as she gets further from him.

“So,” she says brightly once Frank has his weapon back in hand and is frowning at her warily. “Time for some introductions, yes?”

Frank’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Considering his company, he lets it go.

“Yeah, no. Whatever you two’ve got goin’ on, count me out.” He holsters his gun and turns to pick up his rifle and go-bag. The sooner he gets out of here, the sooner he can be at home with Karen and the sooner he can pretend he’s not watching Murdock stare (or stare equivalent) after some bloodthirsty ninja woman like a kicked puppy. Because what the fuck.

“Oh, but Francis,” the woman pouts, and of course sh’s known who he is this entire time. “How will I find out who the ‘K’ you’re sending lovely little texts to is? Honestly, it’s going to drive me mad. Is it a–...Karoline? Perhaps a Kathryn?”

Frank stiffens, turning to look at her with narrowed eyes. She stares back at him pleasantly, but there’s something in her gaze that makes him think he’s stepping into a trap when he says, “That ain’t any of your business.” Like he’s admitting something he shouldn’t be.

And he’s right. Because Murdock makes a strangled noise of realization in his peripherals. “No. No, Frank.”

Frank does not enjoy being backed into corners and this corner is getting smaller with every passing second. He shoulders his rifle and wonders if he can get out of this situation without having to shoot at anyone. Karen would not be happy with him unloading on Murdock…again. Even if he and his goth girlfriend did start it.

“Oh, dear. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“Elektra, knock it off.” Murdock sounds a mixture of exasperated and horrified that almost makes Frank smile. Almost.

Elektra. Weird woman, weirder name. Makes sense. “Yeah alright, we got a Frank, Murdock and Elektra. Introductions are over. Now I’m outta here.”

Frank has known who is behind that red mask ever since his blind lawyer waltzed up and politely asked, Can I call you Frank? during his trial and Murdock doesn’t seem all that surprised about it.

Elektra yanks down the cover on her face and beams at him. She’s pretty good looking–too good looking for Murdock, anyway. Although to be fair, Karen’s way too good looking for Frank, so they’re in good company. “Oh good, you know know each other. That makes this so much easier. Listen, Francis–”

“Frank.”

“--Francis. I have a favor to ask of you.”

Frank raises an eyebrow, curious despite himself. Plus, the temptation to play along and make Murdock’s head spin a little longer is too good to pass up. “Yeah, and what’s that?”

“I’m looking for the Yakuza. You know, the real Yakuza. Not these–” her hand waves towards the warehouse behind him, “--untrained groupies.”

He frowns. “They went underground.”

“Ah, no.” She smiles, cattish. “I’ve been underground. They weren’t there–were they, Matty?”

Murdock is looking like he’s thinking about jumping off the building. He twists his lips into a frown and says nothing. Elektra shrugs and looks back at Frank. “So, you see. Matthew doesn’t want me looking for them, but it’s imperative I do. You seem to have some experience tracking down people who don’t want to be found. Will you help?”

“You lookin’ to join ’em, or get rid of ‘em?” he asks dryly.

“I’m more of a lone wolf, myself.” She pauses and sends Murdock a plainly affectionate look. “Well, usually.”

Je-sus. Frank grimaces and adjusts the rifle on his shoulder. “Seems like you’re pretty capable on your own.”

Her smirk widens. “Thank you. However, I’ll have to drag Matthew along kicking and screaming if you say no, and what if he gets hurt? I’m sure K wouldn’t love that, hm?”

God damn it, she’s right. As much as he dislikes Murdock, Karen still loves him and values their friendship for reasons he doesn’t understand. If he goes and gets himself killed trying to protect this clearly unstable woman and Frank didn’t help? Karen would never forgive him. He grits his teeth and raises his eyes in exasperation.

“I’ll look into it, alright?”

“Hang on–Elektra, come on. You can’t be serious,” Matt says, frustrated. “This is insane. And–Frank, wait a second–you’re…you…Karen?”

“Sounds like you got a lot more to worry about than me,” Frank huffs, turning and heading for the entrance to the building. There’s another frantic buzz of his phone against his leg, which means Karen is panicking about his sudden lack of response. He hates worrying her like that, and she takes precedence over whatever circus is going on behind him. Time to get going. “Considering your girlfriend just laid out an entire warehouse of guys by herself, I’m thinkin’ you got bigger problems.”

“We’ll be in touch, Francis! Perhaps a double date is in our future,” Elektra calls when he yanks the door open with a groan of rusted metal. He can hear police sirens in the distance, getting closer, but she doesn’t seem concerned. “Wouldn’t that be fun, Matthew?”

“Yeah, not on your life, lady,” Frank tosses over his shoulder just as Matt says “Absolutely not” with much of the same horrified disdain.

He can hear her delighted, amused laughter as the door slams shut behind him.

#kastle #my writing #matt x elektra #what is their ship name??#kastle ff

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sinisterlysiv · 2 years

Text

Criminal

Summary: I saw a prompt for drawing a character in a specific dress and decided instead to write Dick Grayson seeing the reader in the dress for a date. Selina Kyle is your bestie and saved your ass when you couldn’t find anything to wear.

Content warnings: None, its just a wee bit of fluff and cuteness.

====================

It was just a last resort. You couldn’t find anything to wear that you liked for the bloody gala and you had been panicking in the bathroom to your best friend.

You had called her up on the brink of tears in a complete meltdown about how nothing looked right. How you didn’t have anything formal enough or pretty enough or that you liked enough.

Thank whatever gods were out there for Selina Kyle. She had burst into your apartment not even five minutes later while still on the phone to you. Her arms were laden with bundles of materials in all manners of colours and lengths that she tossed onto your bed before hanging up and dragging you out of the bathroom to talk you down from one hell of a panic attack.

“These should fit you, hey! Calm down” she had taken your face in her hands and made you stop pacing “Sugar, you are going to look gorgeous. He won’t know what hit him, I swear it. You know I would never do you dirty, baby”.

She had helped you pick out the most daring, risque piece she had brought with her. A beautiful, simple and elegant black piece that she had instantly told you was “the one” when you tried it on. Your hair had been styled, she even helped you with your makeup and pick out accessories that compliment your features as well as the dress and she had helped you into a pair of glittering heels.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” you’d asked for the fifty billionth time while looking in the mirror apprehensively and fiddled with the laces of the dress.

“Sugar, are you doubting me?” Selina stood behind you in the mirror, brow raised as if daring you to doubt her. She was fiddling with a lock of your hair while making sure everything sat just right, tapping your shoulders to get you to stand up straight “You look so gorgeous. You’re going to be turning so many heads and everyone will be so jealous of him”. You didn’t miss the mischievous gleam in her eyes as she rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Come on, we’re already cutting it close. Your cab should be here any second!” she hurriedly handed you the dainty purse you were bringing with you. “Keys? Knife? Pepper spray? Taser?” a list was rattled off while you both hurried around the apartment.

“I think I have everything…I owe you one, Selina. You’re a lifesaver, I swear” you gushed as you swept Selina into a tight hug.

“Oh you bet, you owe me so many times over now” the chide was playful but you couldn’t help blush just a tiny bit. She had never done you wrong though, that was the only thing making you agree with this dress “Ok Sugar, you’re good to go! Knock ‘em dead…And remember, chin up! And don’t slouch”.

—----------------------------------------------

Standing at the doors, you couldn’t help but fiddle with your dress a bit more. It was more than just daring. You could feel the stares from all of the people passing you and your nerves spiked again. You could turn back now…but no, no you couldn’t, Selina would make you pay for that ten times over if you fled now. You were here. Walking through the doors into the busy ballroom, you couldn’t flee. You had to just knuckle down and shrug off the nerves. So you did your best to square your shoulders as you strode in, casting a quick glance through the crowd for your date.

Took you a moment to spot him but he was stood next to Bruce Wayne, holding a glass of champagne and engaged in polite conversation with someone you didn’t recognise. You stumbled slightly over the hem of your dress when you saw him stood there in all of his glory. He looked damn fine in that suit and you felt your nerves jump slightly. That pesky “What if” voice was back.

It was just as he had raised his glass to his lips when he spotted you winding your way through the crowds of people. You saw him go slack jawed as he took you in and he would’ve slopped his drink down the front of his expensive suit had it not been for Bruce elbowing him discreetly.

Your nerves vanished then when you saw Dick Grayson fumbling another glass of champagne from a passing tray as he made his way to you. You square your shoulders, lift your chin and let an easy grin slide into place as he reaches for you.

“How do I look?” you blurted out as his arm loops around your waist, biting your bottom lip nervously while looking up at him through your lashes.

“Positively criminal”.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #my writing

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years

Text

KISMETS.

Harry Styles x fem!reader.

Slow burn, platonic love and jealousy clićhes.

Fluff! Fluff! Fluff!

Frenemies and dad!harry.

Author's Note: The concept's kinda weird but if you've watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Phoebe Buffay carrying child for someone. You've got it my pal!

MASTERLIST LETS TALK! PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

"Can ya stop breathing like, THAT!?" She whisper yells twisting to give him a sharp glare full of spleen elbow poking at his side abs, "Like what!?" He half squeaks peering down at her with doe eyes palms flat at sides to convey his surprise.

"Like a train engine whistling -- it's annoying." She mutters rolling her eyes and turning back to listen to instructor.

"Now, I can't even breath without ye' comin' fo' me throat?" He grits with a kink of brows and when she confirms with a no --- He gasps dramatically. It's gonna be a long journey of Hell for them. Harry hates her hormones. Little bitches.

Y/N is carrying a baby for Harry and his girlfriend --- but something went downhill.

Twinkling droplets of crystal rain pelts against the bricked road subsiding harsh noises of surrounding but a nettled groan caught everyone's attention ‐‐‐ stares turning in direction. Have you ever wanted to just disappear under a warm invisible cloak and enjoy the drollery aspects of life without worrying? Because this is what Y/N wants at the moment as she stands under the bus stop shelter with few people beside her and the british showers starts pouring mocking at her for not carrying an umbrella with her.

Everyone leaves when the bus didn't arrive — who remains behind's Y/N huffing and pouting wishing for rain to stop. When it didn't she muttered a 'fuck it' before risking catching a cold and stepping under the pitter patter with her books atop her head for less damage.

Trying to punch in the passcode of society's gate with shivery fingers perhaps it opens before that startling her wet-y self. Similar car drives near her and a head pops in from inside with his big goofy smile and crinkles by his charming eyes, "Ni!" She exclaims pushing away the drippy hair sticking to her lips with her pinky.

"Pet you're gonna catch a cold. Want me to drop ya?" Niall kinda yells over the rain's loudness. She sighs fog whirling infront of her. Shoves her hand in her trench coat's pocket to seek for heat instead it's all icky and drenching.

"No it's just a tiny walk away. I'll manage — call me will tell ya how my class went." She waves him looking at him from her shoulder while rushing away towards the most elegant house in the block. Niall gives her a thumbs up from before getting out of sight and she tries to hop over the puddles of water to make it to doorsteps.

The water she brings from outside pooling at the dark timber floor - it trails behind her past the pink door as she rushes jumpy-ly where the most hot's in the house and apparently it's more than she expected, "ouch. ouch my eyes!!" She screams covering them at the sight of Harry butt naked pinning his girlfriend against the wall near fire place. Her face turning into a tomato at the horrendous raid but she seems pissed and well . . displeased that Y/N ruined a mind boggling orgasm for her.

Before, they could disattach from eachother to unravel their humiliation Y/N jogged up to attic into the guest room slamming her forehead against the door to knock away the embarrassment. She always barges in Harry's house without announcing but sometimes she forgets he isn't alone everytime his girlfriend comes to live by every two weeks (it's his fault too that he never locks the main door as anytime anyone's coming at his place). Changes into clothes she forgets at her visits, tries to dry her hair with a towel that no-more smells like Harry but expensive fabric softeners and has a pep talk for a minute to show herself down infront of them.

Instinctive voices coming from the Kitchen and she pads towards it. They act like nothing happened. Like Harry wasn't dick deep into Chessie moments ago. Harry ushers her to barstool and hands her a cuppa tea moving on with a kiss to her head. It still gives her butterflies even though how many sense awakening scoldings she gave to herself at 3 ams.

"'M sorry." She squeaks with a wavering smile wrapping her palms around the mug. Harry cackles softly brushing the underbelly of his nose as Chessie cordinated the cutlery drawer, "'s okay moppet. we finished our business when ye' left." Y/N almost choked on her hot beverage gulping it down when Chessie shocked gasp throwing little socksies that were laying ontop of the counter at Harry. Are those of toddler? Adam's out of town so there's no way it could be his daughter's socks. Maybe Chessies's one of friend's?

"Should've called me t' pick y'up. Niall was loafin' around too —- wear it you're turnin' blue, pet." He comes back with a swarmy chunky knitted sweater Anne gifted him at his birthday handing it to Y/N and sitting opposite of her pulling Chessie with her wrist into his lap clearing his throat to bring Y/N's attention back from eyeing the socks on the floor. Her eyes flicker between them chest tightening at the love and glow that radiates from Harry when he looks at her.

No. She's not jealous. Mightyyyy bit yeah –- cause she could never be this lucky to have someone as Harry. He's the most caring towards her since ten years been her compass to the home she wanted, her anchor saving her from sinking and the sixth sense of a blind to her. In fact she thinks he's her soulmate and not every soulmates needs to be romantically involved some could watch them growing beautiful in love. Y/N's doing it. Admiring the maturity of his life with the person that truly makes him enough---or she thinks so.

"How was ye'r meditation class?" Harry asks (she took a semester off as she was unable to haul the burden'; Harry convinced her how her health should be her first priority) breaking a cookie in two giving half of it to Chessie who thanks him with a kiss in return, "Was good been feelin' great!" She chirps pulling the sleeves of the sweater that's drenched in cinnamon vanilla-y smell with lingers of what comes of as Chessie's scent. She assumes they cuddled shit loads.

To subside the gnaw in her brain down she finally asks the question pointing at the sock that nobody gave a heed to pick up, they stop chewing looking at eachother to come up with something. Chessie's face distressed knowing Harry wouldn't hide it from Y/N. He tells her everything and sometimes it could be too personal to share.

"Erm. . I bought 'em — 'cos. . " Harry stammers and Y/N smacks her hand atop her mouth avoiding from giving a shocked reaction, "Oh my goodness ye' guys are pregnant!?" It was enough to make Chessie flinch and hike down Harry's lap.

"No! 'S not what ye'r thinkin'." He shakes his head making Y/N confused. "Then you bought it fo' your fingers? Cause that's the only body part it could fit." She teases him to break through the insight tension around and he chuckles shaking his head grabbing Chessie's hand rubbing her knuckles how he used to when Y/N's anxious and over the edge.

"We want to have a family." His words low as he looks at Chessie but she shrugs in return as 'in it is what it is'. Y/N stomach twisted at that. The thought that one day He's gonna have a family of his own and the little bubble that Y/N would be privy to made her throat dry. Because she has no-one despite Harry and he deserves the whole world not just baby keeping Y/N everytime.

"So . .? What's the problem?" She raises her brows looking between them noticing Harry's fingers fiddle with the flower tea mats, "There are complications from Chessie's side." Chessie sighs in disappointment and Y/N ponders over the idea, clocks working and spindling wildly in her mind.

"I could do that for you guys — since I took a semester off --–" She puts the offer nervously and both of their jaws went slack Harry with an adoring grin while Chessie in hitting shock. "--Erm we could go through a traditional surrogacy."

"Are you sure?" Chessie asks squeezing her shoulder and Y/N nodded taking both of their hands, "Anything for ye' guys!" Harry's eyes glossing over and he leaves his spot sprawling his arms calling for her, "Gimme a hug pet. Life saver ye're - we're gonna take care of ye." They group hug tightly and excitedly.

Sometimes actions could speak much more than words because the lies that words hold could ruin the great bondages.

. . .

They went through the medical procedure two days after Her, Harry and Chessie being guided by their acquired doc. She was nervous and sweaty but Harry's presence beside her soothed out any negativity that was building inside her brain. By womb the babies would be Harry's and Y/N but legally Chessie's and Harry. She's just wishing that everything goes alright cause that happiness of them is million worthy to her.

People might call her stupid and brainless for going through sickness, crankiness, back pains and the pain during labour just to give those babies to someone else (she's too afraid to call them her's cause she knows her emotional attachments could be very destructive) but she loves Harry and love makes you do those thingies.

At the moment she's on the toilet seat eyes bolted shut counting threes with the pregnancy test in her wavering fingers. "Please it better work." A squeal of surprise leaves her lungs when her eyes fell over the two positive lines quickly dragging her panties over she tumbled outside where everyone's waiting for her.

"You guys are pregnant!!" Sounds dumb right? She announces loudly. Harry's and Chessie's heads perked up while everyone cheered beers spilling from the rims. She flashed grins to each one of them splitting her gaze away from Harry giving Chessie a celebratory kiss.

"Thank you. Oh my god, love! Can't belive it." Harry held her from shoulders giving her a toothy smile and it puts her off that Chessie didn't say anything just a nod along Harry. "Me too." She breathes out as he leads her to sofa sitting her cautiously. "We'll visit the doctor tommorrow." He reassures popping his head from Sarah's neck as she hugged him tight.

"We're gonna have a little Y/N and Harry running and pooping it's nappies soon." Everyone went silent. A grimace on Y/N and Chessie's face. Niall doesn't know when to shut up does he? Y/N's gonna strangle him alive. Harry laughed out aloud not caring about the thick tension in room, "I'll rip ye'r hair if you'll turn me baby into a golf freak Niall." His baby.

Niall raises his hands in defence, "No guarantees Harold."

. . .

They had a check-up and Y/N indeed's pregnant. Harry's over the moon. Kissing her forehead. Thanking her for millionth time – to the point she told him to let her watch telly in peace and shut up. Chessie bringing her organic vegan dishes that Y/N isn't a fan of but eats nevertheless under Harry's stern gaze. "'S not about them only I want ye' to be healthy too, pet. Can't be selfish now can I?" He'd insist.

When she'd be sick he'd be at her side giving her back rubs while Chessie stood at the doorframe of washroom. Y/N thinks since she's pregnant her womanly instincts has gotten more sharp as she sensed something's off between the pair.

He'd be at her flat early morning waking her up to have a morning walk with him not giving in her grunts and whines. Who'd want to leave their crispy warm bed to just be out in the cold? A fool like Harry only. Making her brekkie afterwards as a reward giggling and massaging her shoulders when she'd gobble down food like a greedy squirrel, "Easy there love. 'S all yours."

Chessie's back at LA. They had a small argument because Harry wants her to be participating in all of this as much as he's. But, her priorities are not set for this. They never were.

Y/N was at Harry's place nibbling onto chocolate cupcakes Anne sent specifically for her with a note ("my grandchild shouldn't be privy to their Nana's bakin' skills all my love to Y/N." along a winky smiley) when she spilled cold milk all over her nooked tee-shirt. Harry gave her his clothes to change into and baby wipes but she warded him with a scoff that water exists. She has become more feisty with each passing day.

Was discarding the tee when her gaze fell over the sveltest of bump in the mirror taking her breath away. It makes her realize it's all real. She never touches her belly in fear if she'd she will never stop. Now, when the pads of her fingers skim alongs the skin it strips shivers down her spine. She always wanted this. Not in this scenario though. Shaking her head of the thoughts she slips Harry's hoodie over it climbing down the stairs and it causes Harry to snap his head in alert. He stops chopping the carrots spinning to see Y/N standing feet away from him.

"My baby bump's showing." Her voice almost a whisper and it widens Harry's pupils as his hands fell in air midway between them hesitant to reach her, "Can I see?" She bobs her head shyly cheeks blazing red while revealing the bump for Harry to see. It's not like he hasn't seen her before. He has. But, this's more intimate than all of that. It made him fall on his knees. He's a sensitive person in general. Pure from heart but during this period it seems like he's pregnant not Y/N which's quite amusing too.

"She's beautiful." His gaze full of adoration. "She?" Y/N furrows her brow with a smile. He bobbed his head with a grin, "Think so our baby's gonna be she." Now that's the problem cause Y/N doesn't know which ours he's talking about.

"My pregnancy instincts says it's he." He scoffs, "Bet!?" She rolls her eyes forwarding her fist to do the hand shake they do while betting, "If you loose your pink macbook gonna be mine." They solid the deal with their traditional shake.

"Can I touch it?" Harry's asks politely. When she gives him permission he spreads his warm palms flat against her tummy tongue tied with the affection boozing in his veins for the baby that's not out in the world yet. Y/N eyes flutters and her fingers twitches by her sides from carding them into his hair. This's wrong she scolds herself. Her hormones all over the place.

"You wanna send a picture to Chessie?" At this his lips thinned and he gave her a curt nod standing up to fetch his phone, "Sure. But she might be busy..." on the verge of spitting his words in vile.

. . .

Y/N was reading a crime mystery book. Stroking the side of her baby bump carelessly. Cosy in her blanket hoodie telly murmuring in the distance. "Your dad's taste in books is shit, innit?" She peers down with a smile. It's the first time she's talking to them. "We'll read loads of good books together so that when you'll grow up – I could know what to gift you on Christmas." She tries to grab more popcorns from the bowl but it's empty. "Wanna be best aunt out there!!"

"Will you miss me? As much as I'll when we'll be separated?" Tears well up at her waterline. She huffs through her nose running her hand down her belly several times. It's coming; the breakdown she was toiling for days. "I know it sucks I cant be your mommy." Her cravings kicking in and all she want's a strawberry oreo icecream.

"Oh no. Seriously? I'm sad and ye' lil bean want an ice? Let's call your daddy and see what he got." She rings him and he picks up on the third one. Voice groggy from the sleep. She wants to feel bad but she isn't when all her taste buds could think of is strawberry flavour.

"'M cravin' strawberry ice-cream bad. . . Is it possible for ya to bring one?" He's already throwing duvets off his body reaching for his phone and wallet, "No worries pet I'll be there in tick."

"What the fuck Harry? It's three in the mornin'." Chessie groaned from beside him throwing pillow at her face. "We already stored her fridge with alot of food — " She squints about to change the side.

"She's carrying a baby for us Chess. Ye should know better since ya didn't wanted to." She sits up like bullet folding her arms against her chest.

"Thank you for throwing it at my face, H." He doesn't even spare her a glance walking outside and Chessie wants to scream at the top of her lungs. Why did she even agreed to this?

. . .

When he bought her ice-cream she throws herself in his arms kissing his cheek and he giggled in return feeling good when her bump pressed against him. They ate ice-cream with a bantering mess discussing names of the babies, the one that Chessie and Harry decided, him telling her about the little onesies they bought hearing that Y/N stood up taking out a little bag from the chests of drawers.

"I hope you wouldn't mind." She mutters showing him the lil knitted gloves and Harry slid his palm above her's wrapping them snugly, "I don't want ye' to think ya can't love on 'em 'cos after all it's ye'r womb they belong too." Her lip wobbles at his words and she stuffs her face against his chest fisting the hem. It fred away butterflies inside Harry. He sucka his lip. He shouldn't be acting like this. He has a girlfriend that he's gonna have a baby with. They're happy or atleast he thinks so.

They've been bestfriend for years and those feelings never drowned him. Is it because now she's having his babies? Maybe? Harry tries to convince himself.

When he looks down Y/N's drooling onto his shirt deep into slumber. He pecks her hair slipping his arms under her to hold her firmly against his chest. Laying her on the bed tucking her under blankets.

. . .

It sounds like multiple thuds as doctor hovered the ultrasound device over her gelled cover belly. Her belly growing way faster than it should. Her gaze glued at the ceiling fingers crossed. Harry and Chessie holding hands tight gazes fixed at the screen both of them confused at the disoriented image. They all were on the edge of their seats waiting for their turns. Y/N wished that someone could give her a huge warm hug to soothe her nerves down. But, in the first place she shouldn't be worried about the gender as it's none of concern but theirs. It's getting hard day by day.

"It's twins!" Doctor announces chirply getting a wave of silence in return. But, soon the room filled with happy giggles and gasps of Harry as he went to hug Chessie who's expressionless from shock. Y/N pouts wishing it was her. Smiling at doctor when she squeezed her hand in consolation. She's frightened though. How could she deliver two babies? To deal with the roughness that comes along them? Gonna be pretty hectic.

"We hit a jackpot, innit?" He grins down at her kissing Chessie's cheek last time before leaning down to hug her. "Gonna be super carin' with ye' now." Y/N gives a pat to his back in return awkwardly eyeing as Chessie left the room hastily.

. . .

It rakes against the wood harshly as Chessie glided keys of Harry's house towards him without a word. He puts the baby guide book aside arching his brow, "I can't do this anymore. I want an out." Dread. Seeping down Harry's bones.

Guarding himself down he grits, "What do ya mean you want an out? We agreed with full consent of yours Chessie." She shakes her head furiously.

"I didn't sign up for two of 'em Harry I could barely be there for one!!" He puts his elbows on his knees head lowering, "But you wanted to have a family with me didn't ye'?" His eyes tearing and she throws her head back in annoyance finding it difficult to make him understand.

"No. No – No. You wanted a family! Because of your continuous protests I gave in. Told you I wasn't ready for all of this bullshit now we are here." She emphasises. Harry stands up from his seat towering her pointing a finger at her.

He's rageous. Could burn this house down. How could she be so mean? Cowarding back at the last moment.

"Don't call it bullshit." He spits full of venom for the woman he mighty love and she snaps her head other way, "Congrats she finally ruined us and couldn't be more happy – now that she's having your mother fuckin' babies." He stumbles back knocking the coffee table lungs congesting.

"Don't drag her in all of this she's innocent." She laughs ironically looking him square in eyes yelling like a maniac, "Gave her your sperms now you can't hold back from fucking her. I knew it. You were fucking her behind my back weren't you?" She thinks of him like that? A cheater? He loved her and she always thought he was cheating her.

"Don't yell. I don't want to see ye'r cruel face when I come back home." He tries not to croak mustering strength to walk away from her. Exposing himslef to freezing weather locking himself in his car and crying his heart out. Sky crying along him. He punches the steering wheel brutally shouting "why's?" Head falling atlast as he thought of all his dreams shattering at his feet.

She caged him instead of giving him shelter. Replaced the butterflies he used to get from her with a burning hell in his pit, should've been mother of his children now she's just an ex.

The excruciating part is how he's gonna tell Y/N about this? She'll be crushed.

. . .

"Oh my god . . ." It was the roar of thunder that startled her but something else took her attention away. That tinsy kick protruding the taught skin of her belly, ". . . which one of you?" She was extra happy today. It's swimming in her head. It's just a thought but sharing it with Harry wouldn't kill someone. She wanna ask him if she could've one of the babies. It's just she's too much into the moment that she forgot she still have a degree to complete. A career to pursue and a life she always wanted.

When there's a knock at door she tries to stand up with the support of armrest a hand on her back. A gasp falling from her mouth at the sight of Harry's clothes soaked and another when he looks up with bloodshot eyes. Tears dried cheeks and heaving chest seeming utterly devastated.

"Pet what happened!?" She grabs him from elbow pulling him inside and he falls onto his knees smashing his cheeks against her showing tummy -- a sob recking through him, "Harry you're scarin' me. Tell me what happened is everything okay?"

"Chessie don't want these babies - sh-she didn't wanna ruin her career but atlast agreed . . . n-n now she doesn't want 'em 'n wants an out." He stutters. White noise deafening Y/N's ears and she steps back with expressions as if she's scared. Horrified of the future.

"It means she never had complications? She just didn't wanted her body to go through all of this." When Harry didn't fill in to her inquiry she flopped onto sofa from the shock shoving her face into her palms giving out a cry of hurt at her stupidity.

"God. I'm such an idiot!" He shakes his head crawling towards her with sad eyes and lil hiccups, "No please don'tcha say that. We'll figure it out yeah? Never wanted this t'happen." God. How bad he wants her to assure him that it'll be alright.

"You'll figure out what, huh!? Leaving them just like she did!?" Swear Harry felt a dagger jabbing it's way into his heart more upsetting tears spilling down his throat. "I hate you guys. They're none of your babies from now on. . ."

"Leave." She orders him wiping her tears roughly with the sleeve of her jumper. Running out of breath with each sniffle. Raises her hand stopping him to step forward and protest, "I said leave before I make you!!" He nods inhaling breath of remorse looking at the ceiling for a second then to her.

"Before, that want ya t'know. I still want 'em. They're mine. How could I not? love 'em. Hope ya'll forgive me." Then it's just sobs of Y/N taking over the buzz of telly as the door ticks. He didn't leave though. He's too afraid to. His back sliding against her door knees closing against his chest letting it all dawn upon him. His green luscious orbs hooding with sadness and the fluff of his curls.

Dunno if Y/N would be able to forgive him.

. . .

He woke up to a boot nudging to his thigh squinting up to find Niall stating down at him with consoling eyes. Poor Harry slept in the hallway. His neck sore and limbs stoned.

"Heard it 'lad. Was suspicious with Chessie long way." He helps Harry stand up patting his shoulders, "Y/N called ye'?" He grogs rubbing his eye with knuckles. When Niall confirms he quips with pleading eyes in a low whisper knowing he'll get his hair ripped if that furious little mama bunny will find him outside.

"Ye' think she'll forgive meh?" Niall chuckles to light up the situation, "'course H. Do ya think our pet's that ruthel—" He bites his tongue. Harry's gaze following the snap of his neck when the door opened revealing Y/N in a lilac chunky sweater. Puffy eyes and swollen lips. Harry feeling like a dickhead at her condition. It's all his fault. Then their eyes fall at the piping hot cuppa of tea in her hand.

With a stoic face she hands it to Harry and pulls Niall inside slamming the door at curly boy's face. So, she knew he was there sharing a door with her the whole night.

. . .

"Isn't it a good thing thou, love?" Niall smiles. He's chill in all of this. Watching it unwrap. They were meant for eachother Niall thinks so, "You wanted one of 'em and ended up havin' a whole bean can." She groans throwing her peach plushie at his chest. A smile swirming up her lips at his silly statement now that she's more stable less sad.

"You're the absolute worst, Ni!" He holds her cold hands tugging her close to make her look, "Want ya to forgive H. He did nothin' wrong, pet." When she pouts ruffling the silk strands of her rug with her feet he grabs her chin.

"Remember how happy he was? Don't go mad on him yeah?" She bobs her head not meeting his gaze. Meanwhile, there's knock at the door and Niall takes it laughing to himself softly at the box of doughnuts with a note.

"What is it?" He's already flopping beside her hooking his nimble finger around the white doughnut with rainbow sprinkles, "If I'd have known pregnant ladies gets treated this way. Would be havin' one baby every year." She smacks him in belly and unlatches the note reading it with a sucked lip.

Ye'r antenatal class's tommorrow. Don't forget to take ye vitamins :)

How gentle, calm and optimistic Harry could be needles her some.

. . .

Harry's waiting for her in the car fiddling with the radio. He isn't gonna lie. He's been going through a heartbreak. To cope with it he wants to accompany Y/N in her parent craft classes. When she waddles towards his car cosied up in a yellow baggy sweater and a cardigan Harry remembers she stole from him ages ago he mighty scrunched his nose in adoration at her cuteness.

Her nose pink and cheeks flushing as she slips into her seat, "Can you stop bringin' me stuff. I know how to take care of myself." She nips at him when he forwards her a kale smoothie. He doesn't seem to mind. Both, of them knows very well she's trying to avoid drinking it. She finds it yucky!

"Wanna take care of ya'll is all." He mumbles putting it in her side's cup holder. Ya'll .She regrets it instantly. Damn his puppy eyes!

. . .

"Mr. Styles and . . . Miss Y/N." The instructor calls them and they both raises their hand awkwardly as if in elementary school. "You're the parents of twin right?" She asks. Y/N wanted to say that their supposed to be parent ran off from the fear. But, she couldn't. Could never. It'll be like rubbing salt to his wounds. Bestfriends don't do that shit even in their most anger.

"Yes." She confirms. When Harry didn't. Scared if he might say something wrong. "Ok then! Lay your mats n' have a seat." Harry guides her with the little of his hand on her back. Her shoulder nudging his taut chest, and goosebumps pimples at her skin when his fingers brushes the side of her belly as he helps her sit down.

She takes an all rounder of the room and none of the parents looks like they're here to prepare for war unlike them. She shyly waves at the two mothers beside her and Harry twinges his lip equally flustered as her.

They start with relaxation and breathing exercises. Telling Y/N to let herself loose in Harry's arms. She fumbles with the hem of her sweater when his fingers gingerly winked at her sides and the lull of his breath hit her earlobe.

"Like a train engine whistling -- it's annoying." She mutters rolling her eyes and turning back to listen to instructor. "Now, I can't even breath without ye' comin' fo' me throat?" He grits with a kink of brows and when she confirms with a no --- He gasps dramatically. He hates her hormones little bitches.

It's gonna be a long journey of Hell for them.

. . .

"Are you hungry?" He asks turning the heat on knowing how cold her feet could get in the span of seconds. She huffs trying to buckle her belt and it squirms a fond smile out of him at her cute effort to be put in place due to her bump. If he'd coo. She'd rip him into tiny bits. It's better if he gazes away.

"Does it mean emptying your pocket?" She arches her brow sinking into her seat. "Bitso. . " He chuckles softly drumming at the steering wheel.

"Then I'd love to." She adds with a smirk. Clasping her hands atop her heart outta excitement. It makes him shake his poof of hickorey curls at her silliness.

They end up taking a takeout of onion loaded cheese burgers. Greasy fries. An iced-tea and a box of cookies from Babara's shop a block away from Harry's house.

"Wanna choose fo' ye'rself?" He asked her before going inside and she denied with a worried expression. Not knowing how she'll explain all of this to Babara who's her one of the good friends from UNI. Harry respects that. If she isn't ready to talk about it he isn't gonna pressurize her. They've been dodging the serious talk since she let him take to parental classes. Knows one day or another they've to decide how it's all gonna work.

. . .

Good food can make you more high than actual drugs. Licking their fingers off now they feel all sleepy and lazy sitting on the comfortable sofa watching telly with hooded eyes.

Harry's cheek smushed adorably against her baby bump ears tuned into what his babies are talking about.

"You know what? 'S not about winners or loosers. Bu' I won." She bubble hiccups slumping deeper with sugar rush hitting her. "Huh? Harry mumbles eyes drooping. The cotton balls of snowflakes glittering outside, collecting at the window and foging them up.

"I get to have babies of my bestfriend and this nice foodddd — 'n what did Chessie got? No babies and no happy feeling of being their mother." Harry shots up from his snooze blinking up at her and she quickly takes it back regret eating her alive, "'m sorry it slipped."

"No!!" He almost shouts cupping her cheeks making her look at him. His dimples deeps that someone could scoop them like an ice-cream. He gives her an eskimo kiss that makes her veins run with glittery blood.

"I wan' ye' to be the mother of me babies." No hesitation. No dithering. Just him asking for the tinsy bit of her heart. For her forgiveness. For the love they've kept blind eye for years. "We'll figure this out, yeah?" He murmurs their lips brushing and breaths kissing. Pulling back with a forehead kiss.

She lives for forehead kisses makes her shallow tin heart explode with glittery firecrackers.

She nods to give him the affirmation that she wants what he wants.

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hangovercurse · 4 years

Text

The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About

Pete invites you to meet his friends from The Dirt and makes you promise not to flirt with any of them, which is a lot easier said than done, especially when Colson Baker acts like that.

Request: “Hey so I love all your writing and I just thought you should know that! But also I’d your requests are on still would you mind writing a youre Pete’s little sister but kells got a crush xx”

Colson x reader

Warnings: Drug use, Cursing

A/N: I know, Dom (Yungblud) wrote the song, but also I am the writer and I say that Y/N wrote it :) Anyways, enjoy. This is only part 1 of what is probably going to be a fun, cute lil series. Also thank you to the anon who sent this! You made my day(s)

Word Count: 2411

| ii | iii | iv | v |

masterlist

New York was lonely without your brother. He had been filming in New Orleans for the past three months, leaving you alone. You had some friends, but Pete was your best friend. You were only eight months younger than him and practically attached at the hip. You supposed going through trauma together would do that to people.

He facetimed you all the time from set, updating you on things in his life, showing you cool stuff from the set, and introducing you to his castmates. You had kept him updated on your music, playing him demos of songs you were writing and getting his opinion on them.

Him being away wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it definitely sucked for you. So, when Pete texted you that he was having a few friends from the movie over the night he got back, you were ecstatic.

Before you left your apartment to walk to his, he texted you.

You’re not allowed to flirt with any of my friends

You rolled your eyes as you locked your door, preparing a response.

I’ll try my best

Your phone buzzed seconds later.

I’m serious. I don’t trust any of them with you.

And I don’t need that kind of awkwardness in my life

Like if you date one of my friends and it goes badly

I don’t wanna deal with that shit

You chuckled at his chain of texts.

Don’t flirt with your friends because they’re dicks, got it

Don’t worry bro, I know the sibling code

You came to find out that that was a lot easier said than done. When you walked into his place, everyone in the room turned to look at you. You recognized most of them from your facetimes with Pete, but you doubted they remembered who you were. One who did remember you was Colson, Pete’s new best friend. He made eye contact with you from across the room, a sly grin on his lips. You sent him a small smile, Pete’s text running through your head briefly.

You found your brother lounging on the couch, a huge grin on his face. He was definitely tripping on mushrooms. “Y/N!” He yelled. “This is my baby sister, everyone.”

You rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, grabbing a drink from the cooler, and taking an empty seat on the opposite couch. “I’m less than a year younger than you, Pete.”

You heard a snicker from the one of the guys, looking over to see Colson covering up the smile on his face. “But you’re still younger than me so it counts.”

Everyone went back to their own conversations, which you were thankful for. “Y/N, you remember Colson, right?” Pete motioned to the blond guy.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking him up and down. His muscle tank exposed the sleeves of tattoos, which seemed to cover every inch of his skin. “Your hair was different, but yeah I remember you.” You opened the beer on the coffee table, taking a swig.

“You’re the musician, right?” He asked you, leaning back onto the couch.

You nodded, “Aspiring musician but, yeah.”

“Oh, she’s great. You should hear her sometime.” Pete butted in, grinning like an idiot at you.

You rolled your eyes but had a smile on your face. “I work primarily as a songwriter and editor right now, but I’m trying to work on putting out some of my own stuff.”

You felt a little intimidated talking to Machine Gun Kelly about music, seeing as he was one of the best in the industry, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in your work. “Well, if you ever want some help or someone to listen to it, I’d be willing.” He flashed a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling.

“Thanks, that’s really cool of you.” You bit your lip slightly, trying to hide the fact that you were totally breaking Pete’s rule.

Pete sent a glare your way to which you raised your eyebrow. You weren’t really flirting; you were just… making connections. “Anyways,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve been working on this sketch idea, Y/N, and I need your opinion.”

You nodded, letting him talk. “So, I was thinking like, there’s this guy with posters all over his wall. Like life size posters of a bunch of different people. And he falls asleep while doing homework and he dreams about them coming to life. And it plays out like one of those really bad commercials that encourage kids to stay in school and shit. Like the posters are telling him to study for his test, but then there’s this one poster that’s like, very sexy. And she’s just like, talking about hot dogs and everyone else gets really sick of it and one of the other posters tries to like, tear down her poster or something.”

Throughout his description, you got more and more confused. “Pete, that’s not funny that’s just fuckin weird.” His mouth hung open in shock. “Dude, seriously? The big punchline is the playboy poster girl talking about hot dogs until the other poster people get tired of it?”

“Yes.” Pete said, as if it were obvious. “That’s hilarious.” You glanced at Colson with a questioning look on your face. He seemed as unsure of the joke as you were.

“Pete, man, that’s not your best work.” Colson clapped him on the shoulder and you giggled at Pete’s disappointed expression.

“You guys are mean.” He pouted and you two laughed. “Ok, well, how would you make it funny?”

“I don’t know if you can, bro.” Colson’s laugh was contagious. When he laughed his whole body shook, his feet stomping and everything.

“What are the other posters?” You asked, trying to be supportive but knowing this wouldn’t turn out very good.

“Well, I was thinking maybe one is like a video game character. Like that lady from Wreck-It-Ralph. The mean one. And then like a snowboarder who is definitely high, and someone else, I dunno.” He shrugged, taking a hit from the joint in his hand and passing it to you.

“Okay…” You trailed off, looking at Colson for support. You brought the blunt to your lips, inhaling the smoke and bringing it down, letting the smoke leave your mouth slowly. You passed the joint to Colson, who gladly took it, a smirk on his face.

Pete looked between you two at the small interaction, a frown. “So, the posters,” he brought your attention away from the man again, “they’re all really serious about teaching this dude math. But the hotdog girl just keeps talking about hot dogs in like this really high-pitched voice.”

You watched the smoke fall from Colson’s lips, not fully paying attention to your brother.

“Yeah man, I think that sounds funny.” Colson told Pete, his eyes lingering on you for a little longer than they should have. “It could use some work but if anyone can make it funny, it’s you.” Colson punched your brother on the shoulder, but the look he sent you said the exact opposite.

You held in your giggle, taking another sip of your beer.

The rest of the night followed a similar pattern, you and Colson flirting and Pete trying to get in between you two. At one point, after a few more hits of weed and a couple more drinks, Colson brought out a guitar, insisting you play something for him. Where he got the guitar from, you had no idea, but you didn’t ask questions. Instead, you rolled your eyes, insisting that “if I have to play something, so do you.”

Everyone was too caught up in their own conversations to care about the noise, or too drunk. You started strumming, trying to remember the chords to a song you had started writing a few days ago. “There’s no lyrics yet, just a melody I came up with.” You blushed, feeling very self-conscious suddenly.

“Guess I’ll just free style to it then.” He chuckled as you started to strum, your fingers working the strings like they had your whole life.

The blond man closed his eyes, head nodding as you played and thinking of what to rap.

“Watch me, take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night. Catch me, I’m the one on the run away from the headlights.

No sleep, up all week wastin time with people I don’t like. I think, somethin’s fuckin wrong with me.

You smiled as he sang, watching his expressions change as he tried to think up the next line.

Drown myself in alcohol, that shit never helps at all

I might say some stupid things tonight when you pick up this call

I be hearin silence on the other side for way to long, I can taste it on my tongue, I can tell that somethin’s wrong.”

He opened his eyes, looking rather proud of himself. “I had some of those lyrics already, but I just changed ‘em a little. I really liked that.”

You nodded, “That was impressive.” You smiled, looking back down to the guitar when something hit you.

You began to play the same melody but pitched higher to fit your voice.

“Roll me up, and smoke me love

And we could fly into the night

You take drugs, to let go, and figure it all out on your own

Take drugs, on gravestones, to figure it all out on your own.”

You looked up to Colson, watching his expression change, his eyes wide. Pete had a proud look on his face.

“Pete, you are a sucky hype man. You did her no justice.” Colson hit Pete on the arm.

“Whaddya mean, I told you she was great.”

Colson looked over to you, a stupid smile on his face. “Seriously, that was fucking amazing. Like, we gotta write that shit out some day.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” You were trying your best to keep your cool as Colson kept his gaze on you, but you were completely freaking out on the inside.

A little while later, almost everyone was gone except you, Pete, Colson, and Douglas Booth, who joined your conversation not long after your jam session. Pete let out a yawn, directing your attention to the time.

“Jesus, it’s already 4am?” You asked, a frown on your face.

“Why, you got somewhere to be, darling?” Douglas asked you, your face scrunching up from the nickname.

“I have a writing session at 11 am tomorrow. Or, today, I guess.”

Pete reached out to hit you in the head, playfully, which you dodged. “Go to bed, dummy.”

You shrugged, “I’m gonna be dead at it anyways, might as well keep the party going a little longer.”

Douglas rolled his eyes, patting your shoulder. “Be that as it may, I am ending this party and going home. Goodnight, guys. It was nice meeting you again, Y/N. Good to see you guys.” Douglas and the guys did that little hand slap and hug thing before he left.

“I love you both, but I will also be going to sleep. And you should too.” Pete stood up, stretching his arms out before giving Colson a fist bump and leaving to his bedroom.

Once your older brother left, Colson moved to the couch you were on, his arm falling over your shoulders. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And how can I help you Mr. Kelly?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m assuming Pete gave us both very similar talking to’s, given the glares you’ve been receiving all night.”

“You mean the “don’t flirt with my friends” talking to or the other one?” You tilted your head, a sly look on your face.

“That’s the one.” Colson laughed through his nose, an adorable smile on his face. You were both considerably high, but you still knew exactly what you were doing.

You moved closer to Colson’s body, “Well then I guess we’d better not do this.” You said quietly, leaning into him. “Or this,” You grabbed his jaw, inches from his face.

“Or this?” He whispered, connecting your lips. You smiled into the kiss, tasting the weed on his tongue. You adjusted your body so you were facing him, his arm that was once around your shoulder now wrapped around your waist.

His other hand grabbed your leg, pulling you up so you were straddling his lap, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips seemed to fit perfectly around yours, and you did all you could to keep yourself from moaning into the kiss as his hand began to travel up your leg.

Realization hit you like a brick wall, and you pulled away, your breathing heavy. “Sorry,” you muttered after a few seconds. You climbed off his lap, smoothing out your shirt. “We shouldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have done that.” You smiled awkwardly down at him.

He nodded, the same realization hitting him. “Yeah, that’s not the best idea. Sorry I wasn’t really thinking.”

You shook your head, cheeks still very red. “No, no, no don’t apologize. It was fine, it’s all fine.”

He nodded, looking down awkwardly. “I should get going.” He stood up, landing a little too close to you.

“Why don’t you just sleep here? Pete won’t mind and it’s a lot easier than going home.” You bit your lip awkwardly, taking a few steps back.

Colson scratched the back of his neck. This was a very different demeanor than he had before, and you found it very cute. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” You moved towards the guest bedroom, a guilty smile on your face. You moved your hand to your lips, feeling where Colson’s lips had graced you minutes before.

You came back to find Colson laying on the couch, one hand behind his head. “We don’t have to tell Pete about that, right?”

You shook your head, a small smile still playing on your lips. You put the pillow behind his head, watching his eyes as he watched your lips. “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll do something else we can’t tell Pete about.” You said quietly, watching him grin. You pulled the blanket over him, leaning down to be level with his face.

“I kind of like the things we can’t tell Pete about.” Colson chuckled, leaning forward to connect your lips again.

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