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nightdiary · 1 month

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first dates with enhypen

word count: 5.4k genre: fluff, gender neutral reader, suggestive bits in jake's and hoon's but nothing too crazy imo author's note: been wanting to write more for enha so this was born... i am down bad for all of them i fear ): also it was almost too easy to get carried away in some spots but i didn't! i'm thinking of making more specific and individual bf posts for each of the members... saving my juicier ideas for then 🤍 as always, feedback is appreciated greatly<3!!!

✧ heeseung - tinder date

you have a routine with all of your tinder dates. after three months on the app, you’d learned how to cycle through the guys quick enough so as not to waste a minute on someone who you didn’t see fitting into your life.

there are three stages to the cycle: one, they had to pass the initial profile check. simple enough, and yet most failed right at the beginning. half-naked photo holding a fish? swipe left. in a douche-baggy frat you’d never heard of? swipe left. 27, not sure what he’s looking for, and republican? hard swipe left.

the second and third stages took the longest, but that’s when the disappointment came in. after a few days of texting, the inevitable message about meeting in person would come. if the guy seemed normal enough, you’d agree, and finally meet. you’d build up the moment in your head and pick out a cute outfit and dance excitedly in your room beforehand, going through the possible conversation starters you could use if it got awkward.

you’d sit through a date with them and wait to be asked questions, wait for them to express some sort of interest in you as a person, but it would never come. instead, you would sit and listen to them harp about themselves for hours. every time, without fail, it was almost as if they didn’t care enough that you were there.

then, they’d presumptuously ask if you wanted to come home with them and, well, your decision couldn’t be clearer.

as much as you hated generalizing, the men from your tinder dates were proving to be pretty shit. they looked good on paper, but when it came down to dating you, they fucking sucked. and you were beginning to lose hope.

you’d sworn that you would take on one last date before deleting the forsaken app. lee heeseung is everything you’re looking for in a man, and you think it’s a wonder he matched with you instantly. the texts you exchange pass your perception of normal, and before you know it, he’s proposing you meet up at a japanese restaurant downtown.

you find yourself sitting across from a man you think god sent as an apology for all of the other 4 billion and some men.

“you are suspiciously perfect,” you frown, squinting at your date across the table. “like it’s weirding me out. what is wrong with you, lee heeseung?”

“quite a lot actually,” he jokes, “but my mom says i’m a good boy. i’d trust her, if i were you.”

snorting, you reach to snatch the last dumpling with your chopsticks. heeseung’s grab the dumpling before yours do, but he’s quick to place it onto your plate and tell you he’ll order more. as he politely calls the waitress over and thanks her when she brings over a new plate of dumplings, you can’t help but think you’re fucked. either your standards are low, or heeseung is just one remarkable man.

but as the afternoon progresses, you begin to lean towards the latter. heeseung takes a genuine interest in your hobbies and work, asking you thought-provoking and personal questions that don’t toe the line of being intrusive and passive-aggressive. you realize that this is the first date you’ve been on where you’ve talked so much, and it feels so weird to not spend the entirety of your date looking forward to going home.

“i think i’ve found out what’s wrong with you,” you tell him once both of you are standing outside of the restaurant. heeseung had paid for the bill no questions asked, and when you’d gotten up to shrug your coat on, you realized with a start that the sky outside was pitch black.

as heeseung hums unassumingly and fixes you with a questioning look, you grin and say, “you hate mint chocolate. you’re a walking red flag, lee heeseung.”

your date bursts out into laughter and shakes his head. the wide smile stays on his face as he offers his arm to you, bringing you close to his side when you take it. “fine, you’ve got me there. can i at least walk you to your bus stop before you block me?”

you pretend to think about it, tapping your chin with your forefinger, before sighing and agreeing with a matching smile. your walk to the stop takes you through a busy central street that’s alive in the early evening, and you can’t help but press yourself closer to heeseung. he steers the two of you through the crowds with relative ease, and you somehow manage not to bump into anyone for the entirety of the walk, all thanks to him.

as you sit on the bench together and wait for your bus to show up, you use the cold as an excuse to huddle up to heeseung’s side. he laughs again, a lilting noise that tugs at your heartstrings, and you quickly realize you’ve gotten yourself in far too deep from the first date.

you have to move off his shoulder when he begins taking his jacket off. confused, you watch as he drapes the material over your back and urges you to slip your arms in through the sleeves so he can zip it up. you notice your bus rolling up to the curb and panic, turning to heeseung with a frown.

“don’t worry about it,” he reassures you. kissing your cheek sweetly, he helps you get up and walks you toward the bus door. “you have to walk home from the bus, i don’t want you getting cold. just give it to me on our next date, yeah?”

stunned, you nod shyly and step into the bus. as you scan your card and take a seat next to the window, you peer outside and grin when you find heeseung waiting to wave goodbye. he’s a bit blurry because the glass has fogged up from the heat, but you can make out the way his face softens when you trace a heart into the window.

with the promise of a second date and heeseung’s cozy coat on your shoulders, you begin making your way home, feeling oddly warm and thrilled beyond belief.

maybe tinder had finally worked out in your favor. you’d make sure to leave a 5 star review when you got home.

✧ jay - rollerskating rink

for what it’s worth, you weren’t the one that chose the location for your first date.

you’d left the decision up to jay, who, in all of his dependable glory, seemed to have chosen the worst possible location– at least for him.

“jay?” you call to the panting boy behind you. “are you sure you’re okay? we can always go sit down for a bit and come back later.”

your date shakes his head adamantly and pushes himself forward using the railing, scrunching his eyes shut like he’s anticipating another fall. he looks awfully adorable in the hot pink skates that the rink had lent him, even if he’s faring worse than a newborn deer with them on. the juxtaposition of his carefully crafted and sophisticated outfit with the cartoonish design of the skates is oddly endearing to you.

“wow, i really thought this looked harder than it actually was,” jay pauses by the railing, leaning down to rub at his ankle with a pained expression. “these skates are beating my ass.”

“why’d you choose this place if you’ve never been rollerskating before?” you can’t help but ask.

“okay, don’t laugh,” jay warns, avoiding your curious eyes. his cheeks are all red as he continues to massage his ankle, and you doubt it’s entirely because he’s exhausted from skating. “your best friend told me you like to come here a lot, but that you never have someone to go with. figured i’d be that person for you, even if i suck a lot.”

the thought of jay willingly sacrificing his comfort and the wellbeing of his ankles for you makes you feel warm all over. you help him stand up and regain his balance without relying on the rail, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek as encouragement. poor unsuspecting jay crumbles down immediately after, clutching onto the rail for support. you can’t help but laugh, though it isn’t unkind.

“just know i appreciate all of your sacrifices,” you tell him. offering your hand, you pull him up and continue to hold on to him as you lightly push backwards with your skates. “we can go slow, i’ll teach you some basic moves to get you moving around on your own.”

jay gulps but nods nonetheless, staggering forward after you. it’s relatively easy to keep him upright when you’re going at such a slow pace, his soft hands encased between the firm fingers of your own. you throw a look over your shoulder every now and then to make sure you don’t run into anyone, but the rink’s empty enough at this hour that you have enough space to move about freely with jay attached to you.

“bend your knees a little– yeah, that’s good, now glide forward one foot at a time, lean into your strides a bit,” you instruct, gaze focused on your date’s wobbly legs. the tight fitting jeans he’d worn are admittedly hot, but you feel a bit guilty thinking about jay’s thighs while he’s trying not to break the bones in them.

as soon as jay gets the basic motions down, you switch to skating side by side with him, your linked hands suspended between the two of you. he’s still slow and careful with his movements, but you can tell he’s fallen into a rhythm that works for him. you don’t mind having to inch your way across the rink with him. if anything, it’s nice having him by your side.

“i think this was just a big ploy to get me to hold your hand,” you tease.

jay flushes and, very tellingly, doesn’t say a word.

snickering, you begin to swing your hands between your bodies. jay’s hand is big and warm, and you don’t want to let go soon. “you should know i would’ve held your hand anyway. next time, let’s hold hands at a place that won’t break your tailbone.”

✧ jake - bowling

“you know what they say about men and bowling?”

“no, jake,” you deadpan. you knew exactly where this was going, and yet you still decide to give jake the satisfaction. something about being a good date, even if jake has always been a friend you’d teased first and foremost. “what do they say?”

“they’re either good in bed or at bowling,” jake steps back from the lane and looks over his shoulder to wink at you. his arm swings back an exaggerated amount as he walks toward the foul line, sending the ball rolling onto the wood with zero coordination. it immediately goes towards the gutter. “these are mutually exclusive, scientifically proven.”

but in all of jake’s infinite luck, the ball veers towards the middle at the very last minute, hitting the front-most pin and knocking down the rest in succession. above you, the screen plays a cute animation of bowling pins running away from the ball, only to be smothered with a large neon text spelling out STRIKE! in bold letters.

“oh this is so bad for you,” you bite back the urge to laugh. jake’s mortified face turns towards you and you almost lose it at the sight of his heartbroken expression. “you’ve got another turn, by the way. let’s see if you can get a double, babe.”

jake’s next ball ends up in the gutter and he cheers loudly, earning him very confused looks from the kids in the lane next to you. one of them offers their dinosaur bowling ramp to help jake out, but he kindly turns them down and tells them he’s trying to let you win.

unfortunately for the both of you, you don’t hold up too great score-wise either. even with your one lucky spare and otherwise average abilities, jake ends up winning by 20 whole points, a feat he doesn’t seem too keen on celebrating. the light in your lane turns off after the round is over, and jake proposes you two get some well-deserved food.

“do you think this is a lame date?” he asks you once you’ve sat down at one of the plastic benches. you instantly frown at the question and reach out to spear a handful of fries with your fragile plastic fork.

“don’t worry, i think it’s sexy when men are good at sports,” you reassure him, “also it’s cute that you wanted to let me win. and that you bought me loaded fries with extra cheese. it’s super romantic.”

jake snorts, but you notice how his shoulders visibly relax at your words. navigating your friendship-turned-something-bigger was harder than you’d anticipated it would be, and acknowledging your reciprocated feelings was proving to be the easiest part.

you knew that jake was equally on edge about fucking this whole thing up. there was a lot more at stake here than with someone you hadn’t known for years prior. you were afraid of diving headfirst into something that could potentially rip away an important part of you, afraid that one wrong move would send jake tumbling out of your life. you had cherished him long before you had realized you loved him differently.

but as you watch jake chew through a forkful of fries, you realize that there’s nothing complicated about this. things have always been simple with him, and they’ll continue to be no matter if you’re dating or not.

“cmon, next round is on me,” you stand up and wipe the last of the cheese from your mouth. “if you can beat me again, i’ll consider letting you prove that silly bowling theory wrong to me.”

the speed at which jake gets up is dizzying. he’s at the counter paying before you can even catch up to him, sliding a few bills over to the employee and turning to you with a playful grin. “we’re at lane 7, babe. go get warmed up.”

✧ sunghoon - laser tag

your heart is racing so fast you can feel it in your head. clutching the plastic gun to your chest, you press yourself closer to the wall and still your breathing. the red light on your heavy vest has stopped blinking, meaning you’d recovered from the last hit, but you know you can’t risk running just yet.

the undeniable sound of footsteps creeping closer makes you inch toward the corner of the wall, where you know sunghoon is waiting for you. you bite your lip and tense your finger on the trigger, peering over the bricks that are obscuring your vision.

surely enough, even in the darkness of the laser tag arena, you can make out sunghoon’s determined face. he’s crouched down behind a beat-up car, wearily scanning the area. most likely looking for you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction just yet.

the blue on his vest has dimmed down– you’d hit him several times earlier and knew this was probably one of his last lives left. your own indicator showed that your lives were also running low, and based on how exhausted you felt, you knew you couldn’t have much time left from the round. you had to move in soon, or risk tying with sunghoon.

in your case, you thought that would be worse than losing.

taking a deep breath, you lift your gun and peer around the corner one more time, and in the split second it takes for sunghoon to notice you, you manage to send a shot straight at his vest. but the light on his vest doesn’t budge, and as you realize you had horribly misaimed, your date takes the opportunity to aim at you properly.

your vest makes a video game-like noise of defeat and you feel your gun power down. you know you have to hide for the next minute to let it recharge, but as you spin around and try to figure out where to run toward, you notice sunghoon already closing in.

“such a shame,” he drawls, holding up his gun with a smirk. you frown, backing up until you feel your shoulders hit a concrete wall. sunghoon’s voice is quiet enough not to draw attention from your teammates, but it sends shivers down your spine nonetheless. “thought you’d finally beat me this round. what happened, babe?”

“i still have one more life left, don’t get all cocky.” you mumble, shaking your gun frustratedly. the minute needed to pass by quicker.

looking over his shoulder, you realize with a frown that you’re in quite possibly the most secluded part of the arena. there’s no hope calling out for help or trying to make a run for it.

sunghoon squints down at your indicator and moves in even closer. you feel your breath quicken when the front of his vest hits yours, and you’re left caged in to stare up defiantly at him. he’s grinning at you like he’s already won.

“i’m not going to let you win,” you lean in toward him and whisper. sunghoon’s eyes flit toward your lips, and you try not to think about throwing your chances out the window and kissing him.

“you don’t have anywhere to run,” he places a hand next to your head on the wall, and to really drive the point home, you feel him press the muzzle of his gun against your side, where you know your sensor is. you’re pretty certain he can hear how fast your heart’s beating, and it makes you flush red from embarrassment. “you ready to admit defeat yet? or are you going to keep being stubborn?”

there’s no reason you should feel this lightheaded, but sunghoon’s so, so close to you that you can’t think properly. he’s practically pressed up against you, warm and solid and he’s barely a few centimeters away, and if you lean in just a bit more, you’ll be able to kiss him.

so that’s what you do.

“sure,” you say simply, and lean up to softly brush your lips against his. you grab at his neck with your free hand, bringing him flush against you so that you can fully slot your mouth with his. he’s surprised– you can tell from the way his gun clatters loudly to the floor next to you, and you try not to smile into the kiss.

seconds later, you distantly hear your gun make a familiar rebooting sound. you hold sunghoon firmly against you as you blindly aim your gun toward the sensor on his side, and with one last peck to the side of his mouth, you pull the trigger.

sunghoon’s vest goes dark. you don’t think he registers this, though, because he stares at you wide-eyed and adorably confused as you pull back from the kiss.

“i win,” you tease, and your date blinks down at his indicator.

“you win,” sunghoon affirms quietly. conveniently, the overhead lights turn on as the round draws to a close, and you can’t help but notice the way he’s reddened all over.

“victory kiss?”

✧ sunoo - picnic

ten minutes into your date with sunoo, you make the most devastating observation ever: sunoo has freckles.

they’re visible for only seconds at time, when the sun hits his face at just the right angle, but it still makes your breath catch in your throat every time you see them. they’re littered across his face like miniature stars, dipping across his cheeks in multitudes and scattering off toward his temples and brow bones.

your hands itch to reach out and trace them.

“–and then once we finally got to the place, it turned out to be super cute and they had some of the best lemonade i’ve ever had.” sunoo’s voice slowly trickles back into your ears, and you blink the world into focus once again.

you find your date looking at you with crinkled eyes, studying your features with amusement. almost like he knows exactly what’s been going through your mind.

“sorry,” you laugh sheepishly, reaching out to grab another chocolate-covered strawberry. sunoo had made them himself for the occasion, that much he’d eagerly disclosed within the first few minutes of the date, and you had found it too endearing for your poor heart. “i got distracted. what was this place called again?”

"auntie lim’s diner,” he answers slowly, smirking when you nod off-handedly. “hey, what’s on your mind?”

“lemonade,” you respond just a bit too quickly, face blanching when sunoo’s grin grows impossibly wider. whining and covering yourself with your hands, you try not to focus on the way his melodic laughter rings out like bells.

“lemonade, huh?” sunoo’s teasing is light-hearted, but that doesn’t stop your heart from leaping up into your throat. “was there some on my face? because you’ve been staring an awful lot for the past few minutes.”

groaning, you duck your head and try to focus on finishing your strawberry. you can feel the heat rise from your cheeks to your ears though, and are certain sunoo’s made note of this when he giggles and leans forward to get a better look at you.

“you’ve got freckles,” you mumble, picking at the leaves of the strawberry. when sunoo doesn’t respond for a while, you look up and bravely gesture toward his cheeks, pointing at where you’d seen the aforementioned spots with a shaky finger. “and like– it’s super cute. you’re super cute. but it caught me off-guard so, like. yeah. sorry for staring.”

sunoo hums. you can feel his eyes roving through your face, but you immediately look away once they finally meet yours. then, you feel something warm encasing your hand, and nearly jerk in surprise when your fingers come to brush against the soft skin of sunoo’s face moments later.

“don’t apologize,” he mumbles, leading your hand down the side of his cheek, where you’d pointed just seconds ago. “i’m really flattered you noticed. and you don’t have to be shy about stuff like this, i’d honestly be a bit worried if we were on a date and you didn’t find me attractive.”

reveling at the supple skin beneath your fingertips, you feel the weight ease off of your chest almost instantly. despite having known each other for a limited amount of time, sunoo’s come to be quick at recognizing when you feel out of place or uncomfortable, and he’s become too good at easing you back into safe waters. he’s too good to you.

“don’t get ahead of yourself,” you tease back instead, unable to handle the growing wave of emotions in you. “i only said your freckles were cute.”

sunoo looks up at you through his lashes, and your hand freezes where it’s fallen by his chin. flitting your eyes downwards, you watch his rosy lips part, almost like they want to voice your hidden intentions. gulping, you subconsciously feel yourself draw in closer, until you can feel his breath wash out against your cheeks like water on shore.

your heartbeat’s in your ears and sunoo’s pretty mouth is right there. glancing back up at his eyes, you notice that he’s also looking down at your lips, tracing the minuscule movement of your tongue peeking out to wet them.

he’s so close. you can almost just lean in a bit and–

“yeah? so then my second date invitation to auntie lim’s diner has been rejected?”

pausing, your eyes widen as you stare back at sunoo in bewilderment. he’s grinning at you slyly, the edges of his eyes crinkling with laughter as his whole body shakes with amusement. you can’t help the string of giggles that bubble out of you almost like second nature. it’s nice, you think, having someone like sunoo to laugh with.

“i mean, i guess i’ll have to try this lemonade you speak so highly of."

✧ jungwon - boba place

in retrospect, choosing a first date location for you and a total stranger was easier than you thought it would be. yang jungwon, as your best friend had briefly introduced him to you, seemed simple enough to enjoy normal things. you already had a place in mind before your friend showed you his photos, but you really couldn’t help it once you laid eyes on him.

“has anyone told you your eyes look like tapioca pearls?”

jungwon’s cat-like features curl in amusement and he pops his lips off of the boba straw. he chews through his last gulp, wiping at the droplet of milk tea that had trickled out onto his bottom lip. you follow the movement with your eyes, coughing when you absentmindedly swallow a pearl without chewing it fully.

“no, but should i take that as a compliment?” jungwon asks, passing you a napkin.

you take it and wipe at your own mouth, cheeks growing red out of embarrassment. “yeah. but now that i think about it, it does sound kind of weird. i don’t want to eat your eyes, i promise.”

jungwon laughs, mouth pulling into an endearingly wide grin. okay, your friend had definitely undersold him. jungwon was cute as fuck.

“why’d you choose a boba place, anyway?” he continues, fiddling with the cup in his hold. he’d finished his drink surprisingly fast, and you have half a mind to offer him some of your own. “not that i don’t like it. great choice, honestly. but why?”

you shrug. “the atmosphere is nice. and if you’re going to go on a date with someone you don’t know that much, might as well go somewhere you can talk. it would be pretty awkward to watch a movie with a stranger, don’t you think?”

jungwon nods seriously, hair bouncing along with his movements. “your friend was right about you being smart.”

“yeah?” now that you thought about it, you hadn’t considered how your best friend had sold you to jungwon. given that he’d agreed, you figured it must’ve been pretty alright. that, and the fact that it was your beloved best friend in question, you had no doubt you were probably oversold, if anything.

still, there was a nagging curiosity in your head that you couldn’t ignore. “what else was my friend right about?”

“that you’re easy to talk to, and that i’d feel comfortable around you,” jungwon muses, glancing down as he traces the rim of his plastic cup. he seems to be mulling over his next words carefully, lips twisted into a cute pout. “they also said that you were pretty. the photos they showed me really were great, but you’re even better in person. not that looks are the most important thing but, y’know. you’re a package deal, basically.”

you feel the way your ears burn red from his words, and you stutter your way through a shocked thank you. jungwon grins knowingly, but doesn’t comment on it further. instead, he asks you if you want to share one of the cake slices in the display window that you were eyeing earlier. you try not to look too eager as you nod, choosing to ignore jungwon’s mumble of cute as he walks away. for your well-being, of course.

jungwon returns with a slice of red velvet and two forks in hand. he waits for you to take the first bite before sinking his own fork into the cake. “your turn. what’d your friend tell you about me?”

you know you have to word your answer carefully, or else you worry you’ll come off as a weirdo. jungwon’s too good to chase off just yet, and you haven’t had this much luck with a date in a long while. or ever, you think.

“my friend told me that the most important things about you were that you’re a psychology major and that you look like that one campus cat,” you trail off, unsure, “charles? was that his name?”

jungwon barely manages to set his fork down before he’s bursting into laughter. you would think you’d said something wrong but his entire face is crinkled with amuse and you can’t help but join in on the giggling, ignoring the glaring teenagers from the table over.

“charlie, yes, of course i know him,” jungwon manages to squeeze in between giggles, “oh my god, i didn’t know people outside of my friend group knew about this joke."

“so you’re the cat that’s always hanging around the quad,” you say, dead-serious, and jungwon meows cutely as if to agree with you.

“okay, so,” he puts his hand up and begins listing off on his fingers, “i look like a boba ball, the infamous cat on our campus, and what else?”

“my next boyfriend,” you say before you can stop yourself, and you slap a hand over your mouth in surprise as your cheeks color in embarrassment.

jungwon grins. “that can be arranged.”

✧ niki - arcade

“okay, now i’m actually convinced you’re cheating,” niki whines loudly, letting go of the controller and slumping back in his seat with a pout.

the game you’ve been going at for the past half hour– a car racing game set in an alternate reality– dramatically replays the moment your character crossed the finish line and won. the stark contrast of the accompanying confetti on the screen next to niki’s misery makes you giggle, and you reach out to slip the tickets that the machine spits out into your backpack.

“will you feel better if i get you something with these?” shaking a strand of tickets enticingly, you watch as your date immediately sits up and abandons his sulking to nod at you eagerly.

the teenager working the prize desk looks at the two of you with such a deadpan expression you nearly mistake him for a robot. gathering your pile of tickets onto the counter, you look up at the various different stuffed animals and boxes on display, frowning once you notice the ticket prices taped onto them, denoted with far too many zeroes for your liking. almost like inflation’s gotten to the arcades as well.

“see anything you like?” you turn to niki, brushing your shoulder against his.

you watch him survey the different rows, expression growing grim once he comes to the same exact realization as you.

“um,” it’s almost comical how you can hear the frown in his voice. “actually nevermind, these prizes are crazy. holy shit, three thousand tickets for a snorlax plushie?”

“right!” you nod, ducking your head and stifling your laughter when the employee sighs out loudly.

with your meager six hundred and thirty-seven tickets, you and niki manage to get a handful of smaller, yet arguably better things: a sticky frog, two chinese finger traps, a whistle that sounds like duck quacks, and three boxes of different pocky flavors.

“i had no idea that coconut pocky existed,” you mumble in awe, reaching into the packet to draw out another stick. you observe it under the fading sunlight, popping it into your mouth with a happy hum.

after you and niki had spent your fortune of tickets, you’d decided to take your business elsewhere (or, alternatively: leave before the employee ended up kicking you out). you found yourselves on a bench right outside of said establishment, going through each of the prizes that you’d tucked away into your backpack.

“me neither, but i really like ‘em. here, have some of the mango ones,” niki holds out a second box towards you, and you eagerly reach in to pull out some of the sticks.

the sun’s begun to descend down the horizon, and you realize with a start that you’d managed to spend the entire day in the arcade with niki. the date seems to be drawing to an inevitable end, much to your disappointment, but you can’t help and savor the warm feeling that the day has left you with.

“it’s getting dark,” niki seems to read your thoughts. you hear shuffling and turn to see him stand up and collect his belongings, reaching out to offer his hand to you once he’s done. “i should walk you to your bus stop.”

staring up at him, you blurt, “do you want to go get a proper dinner instead?”

the words rush out of you before you can think, but no matter your shyness, you’re glad you’ve said them. niki’s surprised expression quickly morphs into something gentler, and he nods almost like he’s relieved. “oh thank god, i didn’t want to go home yet either.”

laughing, you take his hand and stand up from the bench you’d been sharing for the past hour. but even after he helps you up, niki doesn’t let go of your hand, instead threading his fingers through yours to hold you more comfortably.

you don’t say anything, but when niki looks over at you to make sure it’s okay, you smile at him brightly.

“so– fried chicken?”

540 notes · View notes

finleycannotdraw · 9 months

Note

Goldenheart question. Who do you think proposes? Ballister or Ambrosius?

Bonus on how they would do it? ✌️🌈

OKAY SO. I thought about this for like five minutes. decided something. and then I changed my mind like five times. and then I was like “hmm. fic time”

I know you just asked for my thoughts but I hope you enjoy this!!

Ballister had a plan.

He loved Ambrosius. Of course he did. He’d loved him when they were classmates at the Institute, loved him when they snuck onto the roof at night to talk, loved him when they became knights, and loved him when the wall came down. He’d loved him for as long as he could remember, so of course he loved him when he looked up from his crossword puzzle and saw Ambrosius dancing in the kitchen, wearing a pair of Ballister’s pajama pants, holding a pancake batter-covered spatula and looking more carefree than he’d looked in months.

He’d marry Ambrosius in a heartbeat. He’d get on a train right then and elope with him if he asked, but he thought his partner deserved something bigger, something romantic, something grand and joyful after all of the stress and responsibility he’d been shouldering since the Director’s demise.

Hence, The Plan.

Nimona had been… mostly helpful. Ballister approached her one afternoon, after Ambrosius had left for work, and sat down across from her. Since the three of them had moved into an apartment together, Nimona had gotten much more comfortable relaxing, which warmed Ballister’s heart.

“What’s up, boss?”

“I want to ask Ambrosius—” he began, and Nimona sat up straight, immediately invested.

“To marry you?” she exclaimed. “Yes. Do it. Why haven’t you done it already.”

Ballister blinked. “I thought you’d be more hesitant about this,” he said slowly. “You used to hate him.”

Nimona waved her hand dismissively. “Ehhh. The past is the past, and all that jazz. Speaking of jazz—”

“No.”

“Ugh, whatever. You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I didn’t need to.”

“You’re horrible. Anyway, I hated him when all I knew about him was that he cut off your arm. That was before I’d lived with you guys for a year. And it would be pretty hypocritical of me not to be open to changing my opinions about somebody. He makes you happy. You should totally marry him.”

Ballister smiled. “Thank you, Nimona.”

She scoffed affectionately. “Sure, boss.”

And a plan—namely, The Plan, which was the whole point—formed.

Nimona and Ballister flew all over the city looking for parks and possible activities, such as restaurants or shows. Most people had gotten fairly used to the pair of them flying around, Nimona sprouting wings and carrying Ballister above the streets, so they didn’t worry about staying out of sight.

If Ambrosius noticed or thought it was suspicious that Nimona and Ballister constantly went out together and didn’t talk to him about any of it, he didn’t comment. The three of them still had their movie nights and game nights, and Nimona and Ambrosius still had their terrifyingly intense card games (War, Go Fish, Crazy Eights, and several games Ballister had never heard of) that Ballister was forbidden from joining, so altogether not much had changed.

One thing that did change, though, was how often he paused, watched Ambrosius do something completely ordinary, and thought ‘I want to marry this man.’ It happened more and more with each passing day, until Ballister very nearly proposed to him when he walked into the apartment and found Ambrosius standing with his feet on two separate chairs, about three feet apart, holding a collection of colorful paper streamers above his head while Nimona, in the form of a small monkey, perched on the top of his head and put them in place on the wall.

Ballister stared at them for a long moment before he said, very confusedly: “There wasn’t a more efficient way to do this?”

Ambrosius and Nimona turned at the same time, both looking quite delighted despite their precarious position atop the chairs.

“We’re just mixing it up!” they both replied. Ballister looked around. The living room was covered in party decorations and newspaper, and Ballister thought he’d never seen more glitter in his life. He pictured Ambrosius buying a basket full of glitter for whatever party Nimona was planning on throwing, and wouldn’t have been surprised if his heart actually melted.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked.

“I asked Nimona when her birthday was,” Ambrosius explained. “She said she didn’t have one.”

“And if I do, I don’t remember when it is,” Nimona added. Ambrosius threw his hands out to the sides in an emphasizing gesture.

“Which means she’s never had a birthday party,” he continued. “So we decided that today’s her birthday and we’re having a party.”

“Which is just going to be like a normal night except with decorations,” Nimona said. “The glitter was Goldilocks’ idea.”

Ballister raised his eyebrows, and Ambrosius shrugged unabashedly, then turned back to finish putting up the streamers.

Marry me, Ballister thought.

Within the next week, he had everything figured out. He’d looked at the weather for the next few days, planned where they’d go and when, and had even bought a ring, which he’d hidden in his extra pair of running shoes and shoved under the bed. If Ambrosius noticed that Ballister seemed extra nervous or more likely to become agitated if he spent too long in the bedroom by himself, he didn’t comment.

So yes. Ballister had a plan, and it was much more concrete than ‘something something something, we win’. He didn’t have a script, but he had just about everything else. Nothing could possibly get in his way now.

Or so he thought.

One night—there was nothing particularly special about it; they’d had dinner with Nimona, danced and laughed while cleaning the kitchen, and kissed while getting ready for bed—Ballister and Ambrosius were snuggled up together under their blankets. Ballister’s prosthetic arm was hanging from its charger on the wall, so he couldn’t hold Ambrosius as close as he would’ve liked, but the blond knight was lying with his head on Ballister’s shoulder, which gave him room to wrap his left arm around his partner’s back.

Ambrosius moved to tangle his legs with Ballister’s and gave his middle a squeeze, causing Ballister to smile up at the dark ceiling. If he paid attention, he could hear quiet music through the walls from Nimona’s room, and the moon was shining brightly through the window. Ballister carded his fingers through Ambrosius’ hair and breathed deeply.

Ambrosius, after several minutes, pushed himself up onto his elbow so that he could see Ballister’s face. Ballister’s arm slid naturally to rest around his waist, and he wished he had his prosthetic so that he could tap Ambrosius on the nose. Whenever he did so, Ambrosius’ face would scrunch up in the most adorable way possible, and Ballister had no choice but to kiss him.

“Hey,” Ambrosius whispered, as though Ballister hadn’t already been giving him his full attention.

“Hi,” he said in the same quiet tone, and matched Ambrosius’ answering smile. They bumped their noses together and giggled, and Ambrosius flopped to the side, landing on his own pillow. Ballister freed his arm and laced their fingers together, and Ambrosius brought their joined hands to his lips, then rested them on his chest and stroked Ballister’s hand with his thumb.

“Bal?” he said, tilting his head to the side to look into Ballister’s eyes, which he was quite honestly struggling to keep open.

“Hm?”

“Will you marry me?” Ambrosius asked softly, simply, his gaze full of love, exactly the way Ballister had been fighting the urge to ask him for weeks.

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed, and got out of bed to grab the ring box from his shoe, forgetting that Ambrosius had no idea what he was doing until he sat up, looking worried.

“Bal?” he said again, this time much more guarded. “I’m sorry, what—”

“I was going to propose to you!” Ballister interrupted, opened the box, and shoved it towards his gobsmacked partner, who stared at it in utter shock before looking back to Ballister’s eyes. “I had a plan! And it wasn’t ‘something something something, we win’!”

Ambrosius’ eyes were shiny. “Was it more like, ‘something something something, marry me?’”

Ballister laughed surprisedly and leaned over to plant a kiss on Ambrosius’ lips. “Yes,” he said. “Well, no. I didn’t have a speech.”

“Hence the something-something-something,” Ambrosius teased. “You know, you never answered my—”

“Yes, good Gloreth, yes, I’ll marry you,” Ballister interrupted again. “Though I think you could’ve inferred that from learning that I was going to ask you the same question.”

Ambrosius laughed tearfully, and Ballister kissed him again.

“I’m not taking your last name, though,” he added moments later. “As funny as it is.”

“Nimona would kill you,” Ambrosius agreed. “So would I, probably. I don’t want to keep my last name either. It made for some good jokes, but other than that—”

“Well, Boldheart is nice, but it wasn’t my birth name. You know the Queen gave it to me at the ceremony because somebody—probably the Director—said that Blackheart sounded too dark for a knight?”

“Right,” Ambrosius mused. “What should we do, then?”

“We could combine our last names,” Ballister suggested. “We could be Ambrosius and Ballister—”

“Goldenheart,” Ambrosius finished, and wrapped his arms around Ballister, shaking with laughter, tears, and joy. “I love it.”

“I love you,” Ballister told him, and there was very little talking for the rest of the night.

When morning came, they headed into the kitchen in their pajamas and found Nimona already up, sitting at the table with her headphones on. She appeared to be drawing—likely another action scene with herself as a large animal with Ballister and/or Ambrosius as her murderous accomplice—and didn’t look up as they entered.

“Morning, Nim,” Ambrosius said as he made his way to the coffee machine.

“Goldilocks.” She acknowledged him with a nod, then raised her eyebrows. “Sleep well?”

Ballister held his crossword puzzle up and hid his face behind it while Ambrosius nearly dropped the coffee pot. They both knew that Nimona was over a thousand years old and there was probably very little she hadn’t seen, and even less she wasn’t aware of, but she was so good at acting like a teenager that it was quite easy to forget. She watched their awkward reactions and snickered, but her eyes widened as her attention zeroed in on something on or beside Ambrosius’ hand.

“So, who snapped first?” she asked pleasantly, a wide grin forming on her face.

“Me,” Ambrosius admitted without turning around. “Wait. Who snapped first? You knew he was planning—”

“You knew he was—” Ballister began too, and they both stopped and stared at each other.

Nimona just burst out laughing.

#nimona #nimona movie #nimona netflix #nimona 2023 #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #nimona fanfic #this is. not betaed and barely proofread. enjoy #I HOPE I CHARACTERIZED THEM RIGHT #ALSO IN MY POST CANON UNIVERSE THEY ALL HANG OUT IN THE TOWER/LAIR FOR A WHILE AND THEN GET AN APARTMENT #ITS A WHILE BEFORE NIMONA CALLS EITHER OF THEM DAD #nimona and ambrosius playing hyper-competitive but ridiculous card games without ballister is a hill I will die on #he thinks they’re going to become enemies for real but the card game animosity just makes their friendship stronger everywhere else #ALSO goldenheart is their ship name but it’s a PERFECT combined last name for when they get married <3

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artists-ally · 6 months

Note

I love your Harvey fics😍 and I have a this fluff thatmayleadto spice/smut scenario in which Harvey comes back home from home finding the reader reading a particularly spicy scene of a romance novel and in the beginning Harvey makes a little fun of her but then he sees the appeal and...you know😂

{That Kind of Love} Harvey x Reader

Can I just say @kjbg-fantasymoon is so sweet??? Like ugh you are so nice ilysm. Told you I’d answer all your requests 😘😘 Anyway here is my two cents on the matter, enjoy!!! Title from this song (p.s. both books I mention in here, Flawless and Dirty Letters, are both real books and I high recommend both of them!)

Word Count: 1,481

Warnings: smut, minor d/s vibes, spanking

Summary: Harvey catches you reading a particular smutty scene from your current book.

~~~~~~

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea?”

“Is what a bad idea?”

“You know,” I said, motioning between us. “This. Us, alone together? We can’t keep our hands off each other.”

Griffin laughed, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me tight against his chest. “It absolutely is an awful idea. But you look so fucking good in that skirt. I mean Jesus Luca, it barely covers your ass. And you know how much I hate it when anyone looks at anything that’s mine.”

I clenched my thighs together when he pushed the skirt up my ass, not being shy with the noise that burned my core.

“Griffin,” I rested my forehead against his collar bone, gripping his shirt as he pushed my underwear down my thighs.

“Yes?”

“Please,” I begged. I needed to feel him. God, twelve years of sexual frustration was not helping me in any way. Every fantasy I had as a teenager was coming to life.

“Is my girl needy?” I whined. “Aww, do you need me to take care of you? To force you on your hands and knees and fuck you like you’ve always wanted me to? How about I tie you up and make you cum on my fingers, then my mouth, then my co-”

“YN!”

I flailed so hard the book clattered to the ground, and I could feel my pulse in my fingers. “Jesus fucking Christ Harvey don’t you know how to knock?”

“I did knock,” he countered, reaching down to pick up my forgotten story. “Twice. And I opened the door and called your name. And I’ve been standing in front of you for two minutes, watching you read. Watching you bite your lip in that way you only do when you’re completely lost. So, wanna tell me what you were reading?”

I blinked, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. He turned the book over in his hand, reading the cover. Harvey raised an eyebrow at me and offered the book back. With a blush to my cheeks, I plucked it from his hand and folded it into my lap.

“What’s the book about?” He asked again.

“Nothing you’d like, Mr. Harvard,” I stuck out my tongue, placing the book on the table beside me before walking into the living room. “How was your day?”

“Nothing, huh?” Wow, Harvey could not take a hint. “Come on, just tell me. Was it about vikings? Pirates? Viking pirates? What about some small town romance, where the city girl moves back home and the farm boy reigns her back to her roots? Just like his pops did with his mamma?”

“Please, I am far above that cliche bullshit.” I am most certainly not above it. At all. “And why do you care?”

“Because, you were so entangled with it you didn’t even hear me come in. whatever is in that book, maybe I want to find out what it is so you’ll pay attention to me that intensely,” Harvey cornered me in the kitchen, caging me in against the counter after I got a glass of water.

“I pay attention to you,” I argued, looking from his eyes to his lips when he licked him, very clearly looking at mine.

“Uh huh, sure you do. When it involves my wallet and my lips in between your legs,” Harvey teased, bringing me in against his chest. In an oddly similar way that the main character of my book did. “Just tell me, I’ll stop asking if you tell me.” “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” Harvey smiled, and I rolled my eyes. “It can’t be that bad, Yn. I’ve caught you reading smut more than once, so what was it this time?”

“How do you know I read smut?” My eyes went wide, and my heart sped up a little in my chest.

“I didn’t at first,” Harvey said. “But then I told Donna about one of the books you were reading, Flawless by Elsie Silver, and she told me how ‘spicy’ it was. And you are pretty bad at being subtle, my love. You don’t do a great job at hiding your emotions on your face.”

Welp. Fuck.

My eyes narrowed at the New York lawyer and he just gave me a cheesy smile. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But you’re gonna have to read it. Because you’ll understand why when you do.”

As I walked back into the den, Harvey in tow, I plopped the book in his hand. Dirty Letters follows Luca and Griffin, childhood penpals turned strangers, through their reconnection. He’s keeping a huge secret and she’s a recovering victim of PTSD.

“Well, with a title like that I expect it to be dirty,” Harvey rolled his eyes, reading the back of the cover. “Show me the good stuff.”

I flipped to the page I was reading, scanning to make sure I was in the right spot. I didn’t have to bookmark the page because someone decided to scare me half to death. He should know by now to just leave me alone when I’m reading. It’s not my fault that I get vaulted into another world when I do.

“Here, start there and let me know when you’re done.”

Was I entirely sure that leaving Harvey to his own devices with my book was a good idea? No I wasn’t. I knew he was going to make fun of me, but oh well. Everyone else in the world liked to watch porn, I just liked to read it. He didn’t have to understand it, but if it would get his ass off mine? I’ll take the embarrassment and get it over with.

It wasn’t even ten minutes before he set the book down on the kitchen island, clearing his throat. I turned to face him and saw a slight tinge to his cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get it over with,” I prepared for the roasting. “Tell me how much of a nerd and how much of a loser I am for reading word porn.”

Harvey just shoved his hands in his pockets. He no longer had his tie, or his jacket for that matter. His hair was unusually messy and that blush. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Harvey blush before.

“Well,” Harvey started. “I can see the appeal.”

He can what? There was no possible way I heard him right. “Say that again?”

“I can see why you like to read. That author is really good at being… descriptive.”

I smirked, “So, you thought it was hot?”

“Amongst other things,” he bent at the waist, resting his elbows on the counter. “I get why you get lost in it, especially with something like that. Griffin is very charming, something we both have in common.”

“Oh please, you read some of the best smut an author can write at that’s what you take away from it?”

“Not at all, my love,” Harvey stepped closer. “I also learned that you have a thing for being called ‘my girl’. And I don’t blame you, you like it when I’m possessive. When I tell you that you belong to me.”

“This was not the reaction that I was expecting,” I eyed him.

“Don’t worry, Yn. I promise I’ll make fun of you for it after I finish making you scream my name,” Harvey ducked his head down and wasted no time in showing his need.

His tongue brushed over mine and he pulled me in tight against his body. Damn him and his unrivaled ability to turn me on. All it took was a few well placed kisses to my neck, to my ear to get me to our room and on the bed, hands not able to get enough of each other.

If I knew Harvey would’ve had this type of reaction to reading smut, I should show him some real smut. That was nothing compared to some of the other stuff on my shelf. Maybe I could get him to do some of those things to me.

“Aww, is my girl already messy for me?” Harvey clicked his tongue, stripping the last of his clothes off. “Who knew you’d be so easy.”

“And who knew that you’d be so easy when it came to getting what I want by giving you a book.”

Harvey’s eyes narrowed. “You think you’re gonna get what you want?” In a quick grab, I was on my stomach, ass up, and Harvey’s hand came down a lot harder than I was prepared for. “Wanna try that again, pretty girl?”

I gasped when the next one came, and the next. “N-No.”

“Okay then,” Harvey let out a dark laugh, fisting his hand in my hair and pulling me up. “You gonna stop being a brat and let me do my job?”

I nodded, eyes falling shut when he pinched my nipple between his fingers.

“Good girl.”

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #harvey specter smut #suits #harvey x reader #suits smut #smut #suits fanfic #suits fanfiction #suits tv

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so-long-soldier-writes · 9 months

Text

Movie Night

kol mikaelson x reader (minor poly!mikaelsons x reader) | requested

summary: kol is unsure about letting his siblings meet you, afraid they'd scare you away and he'd lose his best friend (and the girl he's in love with). but when he finally brings you home one night, his family has a reaction he never would've expected.

tags: mutual crush / pining, flirting, confessions

word count: 2.1k

“They asked to meet you again,” Kol says suddenly, “I keep saying no, but they keep asking.”

You smile a little, curiosity peaked. “What’s the harm?”

“They’re… difficult sometimes. You know how families are.” He bites his tongue, afraid to say too much. You two are best friends; very loving and protective of each other. But there seems to be only two responses that the Mikaelsons ever give: complete obsession or extreme dislike. They could either love you or hate you, and Kol’s not sure which is worse.

“Yeah, but what family isn’t complicated? I’m sure they’re not so bad.”

“Y/N,” he sighs, tone somber, “are you forgetting my brother is Klaus Mikaelson? The greatly feared hybrid that terrorized Mystic Falls before he even arrived to town? And the rest of them are only a diluted version of his madness.”

“You aren’t.”

“You didn’t see me in the 1600s, darling.”

“Well that was then and this is now. I’m not afraid, Kol. I know you’ll keep me safe if they try anything.”

“You know I will. They wouldn’t dare.”

“Then there’s no reason to worry.” You give him another smile.

As soon as he meets your eyes, he looks down immediately. Your smile gives him butterflies. Kol would be lying if he said he didn’t harbor a little crush on you. That’s part of the reason he doesn’t want you to meet them - he’s afraid they’ll scare you away and you’ll want nothing to do with him. “I’ll try not to,” he finally replies.

A few minutes go by before you groan and shuffle in place. “This line isn’t going anywhere.”

The wait time on the screen says fifteen minutes, but it’s been way longer than that. You take a sip of the drink balanced in your arms amongst popcorn and snacks.

“I guess that’s what we get for trying to see a new movie on opening night.”

“Do you still want to see it?”

Kol’s juggling his own handfuls, or else he would’ve taken yours so you wouldn’t have to carry it. When he realized he couldn’t carry yours on top of his own, he apologized. It’s little things like that that make you want to cross the best friend boundary. He’s just so sweet, funny, and gentlemanly. Though you have yourself convinced that you’re way out of his league. I mean, come on - why would an original vampire date a mere human? You shook your head a little to send the thought away.

“Eventually, yeah. But I’m not so committed to this line.”

Lost in your head, you forgot you asked him a question. It takes you a second to ponder a response, but then he continues,

“Alright, how about this? We’ve already got the drinks and snacks, so why don’t we go to my house and watch something there? It’s plenty dark, usually quiet. It’ll be just like the movies.”

“Wait, did you say at your house?” Usually your own house is the movie destination. Did Kol just propose to go to his instead?

He shrugs, “my family wants to meet you, you aren’t intimidated by them. They might be there and I could introduce you, or we could slip in and watch a movie in peace.” You’re stunned for a minute, and he starts to take it as hesitation. “Unless you don’t want to. I understand completely if you don’t.”

“No, we should! I’d love to meet your family, Kol, no matter how scary.”

“Okay.” He puts a smile over top of his worry while he fishes his keys from his coat pocket. “I’ll drive.”

On the short ride to his house, he gives you a basic rundown of each of his siblings. He knows you already know most of what he’s telling you, but it distracts him from his nerves. And you, recognizing he seems more antsy than usual, listen quietly.

“So to summarize, they’re all pretty outspoken, very protective, and often threatening, but if you’re someone they care about, you have nothing to fear.”

Kol swallows hard at that. You’ve got it on the nose, but your awareness doesn’t give him much comfort. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, cool. Let’s go.”

To his horror, all three siblings are in the living room at that moment. As soon as the two of you enter, all eyes snap to you.

“Well that was a quick movie,” Rebekah had started. Then she sees her brother’s company. “And who might you be?”

“Bex, Nik, ‘Lijah, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is the family.”

“Hi!” You greet them with a smile.

For a second, they only stare. Though Elijah’s first to speak, “Very nice to meet you, Y/N. I suppose you are the friend my brother speaks of so often?” When you nod, he continues. “My, was he right when he said you were beautiful. Those e/c eyes remind me so much of the stained glass windows they used to make in the 1100s. Kol, do you recall it?”

Once he gets over the perplexed feeling running in his head, Kol clears his throat. “I do, brother. And yes, Y/N is quite beautiful, as I told you. She’s a good friend.”

“More than beautiful,” Klaus compliments, “she’s a work of art. Would you like to sit, love?”

Your face turns red as the men praise your features. Your response comes out in a stutter. “U-um, I’m okay. The movie we tried to see had a really long line, so Kol suggested we just come here to watch one instead.”

“Kol suggested it? I’m surprised he would let us meet you. He’d been denying our curiosities for months.”

“Don’t put her on the spot, Nik, she’s-”

“Oh, she’s fine, brother. She’s doing well for someone in her position. Y’know,” Klaus twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “it must be quite intimidating to meet a whole family of original vampires all at once.”

Don’t scare her, Niklaus! Ease up on the poor girl,” Rebekah interrupts, swatting his hand from you. “And don’t touch her without her permission.”

“I’m sorry, love. Your hair just looked too soft.”

“It’s alright. But um, yeah, it’s a bit intimidating, but I’m not easily shaken.” You straighten your back. “I was actually wanting to meet you all, too.”

“See if we live up to the tales?” Rebekah teases. Her eyes stare into yours, and you find it hard to maintain eye contact.

“Not really,” you admit, “just wanted to meet Kol’s siblings. Out of curiosity.”

“Ah. So are your expectations met?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know what to expect.”

Elijah then steps forward. “Tell us this, Miss Y/N. Do you feel safe in this moment? Or would you like Kol to take you away from here?”

It’s an odd question, even to Kol. The man’s throat dries and he narrows his eyes. Is his brother threatening or welcoming you?

“I um…”

“Please, be honest.”

“I’m good. I mean, I feel safe.”

Elijah’s straight lips curve into a smile. “Delightful. It was an honor meeting you, Miss Y/N.”

“T-thank you. You too, Elijah. All of you, I’m glad we got to meet.”

“I second that,” Klaus approaches you again, “what a lovely girl my brother’s brought home to meet the family.”

“Friends, Niklaus,” Elijah mutters under his breath. It’s quiet, but you can still hear it. “He’s said they’re just friends.”

Klaus gives the man a look, like he’s doubtful of that, but then turns back to you. “Apologies. What a lovely friend you are to my brother. Perhaps, if you’re available later, we can talk more. I’ll show you one of my favorite paintings. The shade is just like that of your skin.” His eyes travel your body like it’s a piece of art, and you can’t help but blush.

“Okay. I’ll be sure to stay a while after the movie.”

“Wonderful!”

The eldest two leave you with the youngest two. Kol, teeth clenched in aggravation, turns to direct you to his room. His sister, however, beats him to your attention.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N, as my brothers have said. My, my, I sure do see why Kol speaks so highly of you.” She smirks a little. “Enjoy your movie, and if you need anything, I’m just down the hall.” As she walks away, she flashes you a wink, then disappears.

Kol wastes no time bringing you to the lounge room where he and Bex used to kill time some hundred years ago. He explained in the car that they’d watch old black and white films in there together, while their brothers were off running amuck. Even now, they still retire to the darkened room for the occasional movie.

“Sorry about that,” he says the minute he shuts the door.

You cock your head at him. “Sorry about what?”

“Them.”

“What about it? They were nice.”

“Y/N…”

“What? Were they not nice? Is that their ‘not nice’ behavior?”

“No, darling. That was actually the nicest I’ve ever seen them.”

“Then what’s the-”

“They were all flirting with you, darling. Ogling you. Not a care about it.”

“Oh,” you whisper, realizing he might be right.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. We shouldn’t’ve come here.”

“Wait, Kol, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

“No, it was totally inappropriate. In fact, I should talk to them about not doing it in the future.” He starts to rant. You’ve learned to not interrupt Kol when he’s ranting, because he’ll miss every word you say. “God, I didn’t want them to see you because I thought they’d scare you off, but I didn’t think they’d so openly hit on you! Elijah, too, where did his manners go? And I mean, I know why they were. You’re gorgeous, Y/N, and I’d want you, too, but…” he stops, realizing what he had admitted.

Your heart leaps out of your chest, but then falls to the hard ground all at once. I’d want you, too, but…

“But what?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Kol.”

“It’s nothing, darling.”

“Kol, tell me. Please!”

He takes a deep breath. “I can’t have you. I can’t put you in that kind of danger. Being your friend puts you at risk enough, but if we were anything more, you’d become a target. I can’t let that happen; I can’t let anything bad happen to you.” One glance, he allows himself to take, before dropping his eyes back to the ground. He sees your frown, but misses the way your eyes search for him. “Besides… you’re better off with a human, not someone with such a violent past like myself.”

“Well I’d like to disagree with that last part,” you snort, “your past doesn’t matter to me. Right now is what matters. Also, being a vampire doesn’t make you violent. Plenty of humans are violent.”

“That’s not the point, Y/N, I’m saying-”

“I know what you’re trying to say. But I’m saying I like you regardless of whatever you’ve done in your past. And - since you already admitted it, what’s the harm in me saying it, too? - I like you. More than a friend. I have for a while.”

Finally, he looks up at you and doesn’t break eye contact. “You do?”

“How could I not?”

“But what if you get hurt? If we were to have something?”

“Well, one, you’d protect me. You already do, so why would it be any different now? Two, I don’t care. If that’s the only thing standing in the way of us trying this out, then we’ll just have to face it head-on. And who knows? Maybe it’ll never happen. But I want to be with you, if you want it too.”

“More than you know, darling.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, giddy with excitement. “So what first, boyfriend?” You test the term out, tasting it on your tongue. You like it.

Kol’s smile tells you he likes it, too. “Well I have a great idea for our first date. How about a home movie?”

“Perfect idea. What time?”

“Right now.”

The two of you move to the couch and assemble your drinks and snacks. Only this time, when you sit beside one another, he can confidently put an arm around your back to pull you close.

“A true gentleman waits until at least one date to kiss the girl,” he mutters into your ear, “but that’s not counting these.” Then, you feel a quick kiss to your cheek.

Your face blushes instantly. “Okay, so how about you press play so we can get to the end of the night?”

He senses your quickened heart rate at the thought of getting to kiss him for real. It makes his own heart race, too, but he holds himself back. Instead, he gives you another kiss on the cheek in the meantime. “Oh, we’re just getting started, darling.”

#kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagine #poly!mikaelsons x reader #tvd fanfiction #tvdu fanfiction #requested

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nhlclover · 1 year

Text

football | jack hughes

summary: at your boyfriends lake house, you get dragged into a family football game.

request: yes / no

warnings: sexual innuendo

a/n: i saw someone say this joke to harry styles at a show in australia and had to use it in a blurb

word count: 0.6k

The Hughes’ lake house had to be one of the most serene places I’d ever been to. The house was in somewhat of an alcove, providing a makeshift sound barrier, and on top of that, there wasn’t another house for about half a mile in each direction. The calm water, only occasionally disturbed by a fish, was peaceful to look at while I could sit on their dock and get a nice tan from the beating sun.

Yet for some reason I was not relaxing on an Adirondack chair and reading a book. Rather, I was being dragged into the Hughes brothers' game of football they were playing on the lawn.

“C’mon, y/n. You’ve been reading all day.” Luke whined.

“Yes and I think that’s something the three of you should do more considering you barely have high school diplomas.” I chirp back.

“Please, babe.” Jack says, standing in front of my spot on the chair, blocking out the sun. The way the light cascaded around my boyfriend's body made him look like an angel.

“Come play a few rounds with us? If you play with us I’ll play with my shirt off.” he smirks.

I roll my eyes but give in, knowing that they won’t stop asking until I do. “Fine. But know I am not playing because you are shirtless.” I say, pulling on my sweater over my bikini.

“Oh sure.” Jack says, doubting me, removing his shirt and tossing it where I was just sitting.

I was at a significant disadvantage with all three brothers being quite taller than me. Anytime I tried to catch the ball one of them would come out of nowhere, smacking it away before I even touched the leather. I was about to quit and revert to the dock, but didn’t want to ruin the mood after seeing how much fun they were having.

“Ready?” Luke shouted out. He was now throwing the ball to Jack, while being defended by Quinn, leaving me to defend Jack. “Blue 42… hut!”

Luke shouts out the meaningless football play, before setting his feet to throw to Jack. I follow my boyfriend as he runs in various directions to evade me. He may be taller but I’m still just as agile as he is. Luke sails the ball over Quinn, who jumps on him just as the ball leaves his hands. I stay with Jack, but his height gets the best of me as he’s able to jump up and catch the ball over top of me. Luke and Jack cheer, gloating in our faces.

“I hate football.” I groaned. “I haven’t even touched the ball yet.”

“Oh, you wanna touch it? Here.” Jack says, sticking out the football.

I go to grab it, but he pulls it back, raising it above his head. “You’re not funny.” I roll my eyes.

I reach to grab it, but Jack continues to hold it out of reach. I start jumping for the ball, coming close a few times, which causes Jack to cradle the ball and squeeze it into his chest. I jump on his back, reaching over him to try and grab it.

Suddenly, Jack pulls his arm back, which sends his elbow flying straight into my forehead at full speed. I recoil, jumping off his back and falling to the grass, holding my head in pain. Jack immediately kneels beside me, holding me instead of the football.

“Oh my god, y/n, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Jack asks me.

I nod in response but stay down holding my head. “I’m okay, just give me a second.” I replied.

He stays quiet for a few seconds, letting me absorb the pain. I blink my eyes open, seeing Jack’s concerned face in front of me. The pain had already pretty much subsided.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“I’m fine.” I assure him.

“How’s your head?” he asks.

“You’ve never complained.” I smirk, cracking a joke.

Jack looks at me confused momentarily before understanding my joke. “Oh my god.” he rolls his eyes, standing up. I laugh at my own joke, taking Jack’s extended arm to help me up. “You are so not funny.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey #luvzegras

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katshelluvacritic · 6 months

Text

So…. Glitz and Glam huh… y’know what that means my fellow artists and critics…

REDESIGN TIME!!!! + (A bit of critics/opinions on the characters and the og design :-] )

To start it out a lil’ positive, If I gotta be honest I actually kinda liked these two characters from the mid-season special, even though they were just the bitchy woman character your supposed to hate (as if we needed any more of those characters than we already got viv), they were still really fun as characters in my opinion!

I feel like bitchy esc kind of character very much works for these two coupled with them being very competitive towards fizz in the episode, I feel like those two things were like the bread and butter for these characters and if I wanna be honest… I kinda wanna see these two again but wouldn’t be surprised if that didn’t happened bc c’mon this helluva boss we’re talking about after all!

The only thing I would have to say negatively about these two is that they literally got crushed by a rock in the end, like I get it viv hates writing characters who are woman but COME ONNN, you had these two characters that seem really interesting and the only climax you could’a think for them in the ep was to crush them with a rock? That’s literally lame.

But other than that, I think overall these characters were alright! At least writing wise….

Now for the redesign + critic thing on the og designs

I decided to change her outfit bc although I loved the character’s personality, the outfit viv gave them not fit them at all. The jester esc outfit personally I think doesn’t really work for these two because 1. The jester theme Fizzarolli’s thing and 2. It doesn’t really work well with their personality, the song they sang in my opinion shows that.

So I thought I’d base their outfits off of the bratz outfits and also any outfits similar to that, to try to fit their characters more!

That and I’m just getting real sick and tired of the jester/clown theming that’s going on in hb because oh my god it feels so out of place, especially with the theme of greed ring being a trashy polluted city. And even if, EVEN IF viv wanted to give them clown esc themed outfits, I feel like it would’ve made more sense if she gave them outfit that were similar to mimes because technically those guys are like elegant clowns! While jesters aren’t even the same as clowns at all.

I also kept the green ish’ tones while also giving them a bit off red and purple colors to compliment the identical twin duo thing they have going on! Because like… do I even have to say why I did it? Their colors are literally just black and the same exact hues of green, it was literally hard to focus on them when watching the episode because of much they blended in with the background.

I also took inspiration from this fish when designing them because from as far as I can tell (and do correct if I’m wrong), they’re supposed to be fish demons??? So I tried to add more fish motifs for them!

I also made them half succubus from the horns looking similar to that and also because I thought it’d be fitting for them!

I also made their hair look like fish fins because oh my god their hair in the canon design was probably the worst part about their designs, not only did it have too many details that it was too distracting when I was trying to pay attention to the characters but also I just trying to figure out how the hair works in general, because it honestly their hair kinda looked like paper instead of fish fins or even actual hair.

But other than that uhh…

TLDR: I love these guys sm, they deserved much better and uhhh I love women /hj

#anti vivziepop #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #anti helluva boss #helluva boss redesign #glitz and glam #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critique #hazbin critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss #helluva boss glitz and glam #helluva boss glam #helluva boss glitz

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novelistrry · 11 months

Text

“You know,” he started, his eyes watching hers as her eyes watched the fish through the glass of the tank, “I’m thinking you didn’t come here to spend time with me, but more so to spend time with the fish. Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were possibly a mermaid with how fascinated you are with sea life.”

Y/N wondered if Harry could feel the tension the way she was feeling the tension, although, it really could have been one sided as the inner turmoil started to flood through her once more and reveal itself. As best as she could, she tried to push it away, push it down, down, down so that she didn’t spoil their day together as her whiny attitude nearly spoiled the last time they saw each other.

In an effort to lighten the tension, to lighten the mood she replied with a big smile across her face, “If I had the ability to be a mermaid, you would absolutely never see me on land.”

Harry is a young professor and Y/N is a little confused.

Disclaimer: This is not proofread, there are mentions of miscommunication, and also smut.

Word Count: 10k+

Part One, Part Two

Y/N peered out the window behind her desk in Harry’s office. It was raining, which is on the list of things that put Y/N in a poor mood. She and Niall were supposed to have an afternoon picnic today, but there was no possible way that could happen now when the grass would be all muddy, the air would be too cold, and the food would get soggy.

She didn’t bother to turn her head and look at Harry as his fingers twisted the knob and he let himself into the office, shutting it softly behind him. Y/N had been sulky all day (all week actually), and he knew something was off but he wasn’t going to pry until she was ready to talk.

“It’s raining,” Y/N’s eyes stayed in the direction of the window, counting the amount of raindrops that were hitting the glass as the wind blew the rainfall in a slanted direction. “It’s not supposed to rain today.”

“I know,” Harry leaned against the door, wishing she would just look at him. All he wanted to see were her pretty eyes and her shy smile, but she wouldn’t turn. If she wouldn’t turn to give him attention, then he would just have to get her attention some other way.

In a few strides, he was standing behind her. The backs of her elbows were pressed into his palms and he pulled her so close to him that she could feel the way his chest rose with each breath. Her back was completely pressed against his chest, her behind grazing his crotch, and she let out a soft, quiet moan when she felt his lips press against the column of her neck.

Y/N was still upset about what that girl said at the party. I mean, she had no right to be that upset over it. It’s not like Harry told her he wanted her exclusively or wanted her for any other reason besides sexual. She felt stupid, so stupid, but Y/N thought that maybe their time together feeding the ducks, or going to the coffee shop down the street, playing miniature golf with her friends were outward expressions of Harry’s keenness toward her. There was no way he didn’t realize the butterflies that swarmed her head and fluttered in her belly when she spoke to him, or the way her gaze explicitly said I’m head over heels for you. But alas, Harry never once explained that he wanted more than making out on the couch or fingering her in the bathroom, and if that’s all she could get from him then… Then she wanted it, because she just wanted to be around him.

____

Harry continued working her neck, trying to tell her how much he loved her by his soft lips pressed against her neck. He hated to see his girl in such a sour mood, a mood that’s been working her over for about a week. Harry’s love language was physical touch and quality time. He thought maybe Y/N’s was words of affirmation, but he wasn’t quite sure, so he tried showering her in equal amounts of words of affirmation, gift giving (every time she said she liked something in a shop, he bought it then and there, no questions asked), he gave her copious amounts of physical touch (brought her to an orgasm at least once a day, if not more), and he spent almost all of his time outside of work with her.

He was rummaging through his brain, trying to figure out what could possibly be going on in that smart, little brain of hers. In fact, Harry wasn’t proud of it, but he sought out Professor Smith to ask about Y/N’s grade because he thought maybe she was slipping again and too embarrassed to tell him. When Smith told him she was hanging on to a solid B, and congratulated Harry for helping her get her grade to skyrocket from an F, Harry was back to square one and he hated it. He hated miscommunication, but he hated pushing her even more.

So, he continued to kiss on her neck, pulling those sweet moans from her throat. How could he work her up, just a little? Just to pull her out of the mood she was in? Glancing over at the clock sitting atop his desk, he realized he had twenty minutes before his next class shuffled in. Twenty minutes was a perfect amount of time for her to come on his tongue at least once, maybe even twice.

Harry’s tongue darted out, licking a long stride from the base of her neck to just below her jaw as if to say I love you, can’t you see that? And he knew she couldn’t help the moan, oozing need, that slipped past her lips and into his ear. Before he knew it, he was at the door, locking it and leading her to the couch where they shared their first kiss. He thinks that he’ll never get rid of that couch; it holds too much sentiment. Harry didn’t ever think he could love anyone the way he loves Y/N, even after a few short months of them getting to know each other, and he thinks that everything she touches turns to gold. She’s just so precious.

There she sat, looking beautiful as ever, on the couch that wasn’t so comfortable but meant the world to him, and her innocent eyes were saying are you gonna fuck me now?

He answered her silent question, “Not today, baby. I’m gonna make you feel really good with my tongue though, how does that sound?”

She only nodded in response, not offering the sweet sound of her voice and Harry decided he was getting a little tired of her lack of responses. He never wanted to be mean to her, no, but he knew she liked it a little when he bossed her around. So when he said, “Answer me with your words,” he could almost see her ears perk up, the cloudy haze that fogged her features shift to the bright sunshine-y features he knew and loved once more making a comeback. Harry thought he was about to work her out of that bad headspace once and for all.

“Yes, please. Wanna feel your tongue,” she replied with complete honesty. The words that would have embarrassed her before didn’t feel as dirty and lewd around him anymore. She was comfortable telling him what she wanted and needed, because she knew he was always willing to give it to her.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, “Your mouth is so naughty now, did you know that? Gonna wash it out with soap.”

“I think,” she spoke softly and sure of herself, “I think you like it when I talk like that.”

She sat back on the couch, and he dropped to his knees in front of her. Gently, he hooked his fingers into the belt loop of her pants, and when he pulled them down and realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear, he was positive his cock was going to burst the seam of his crotch. He didn’t even have time to register her words, the ones that just left her lips at the site of her bare beneath her pants. An animalistic grunt tore through his throat, as he spread her thighs just enough to get a good view at her center, dripping at the thought of his tongue, “So naughty,” he spoke clearly, his gaze meeting her frantic eyes, practically begging him for it.

Without hesitation, or even a warning, his mouth was on her center, licking into her softly. Gentle strokes of his tongue against that sweet spot inside of her had her back arching off the couch, her fingers intertwining in his hair, and moans cascading from her lips. Typically, she felt more self aware in the moment when his fingers were pumping in and out of her, stroking that spongy spot that always sent her over the edge. This time though, she could barely speak. Words were caught in her throat, soft moans and her body squirming beneath his touch were the only signals he had that she was enjoying herself.

Harry’s tongue felt much different than his fingers, though his fingers felt nice too. The way he licked and lapped at her, bringing his hand to stimulate her clit was almost too much for her. She could barely hold his gaze, sultry and enjoying the sight of her falling apart beneath his fingertips.

Giving her a short break, he popped his mouth off her core, giving one last kick up her slit before checking in, “Are you doing alright, darling?”

She nodded, tugging at her hair slightly, trying to push his mouth back to where it once was. She didn’t have it in her to beg, she thought he must know what she wants— what she needs.

“I know, baby,” he reassured her, telling her he knew exactly what she needed from him, “I’m gonna get you there, don’t worry.”

Splitting her thighs back open, he moved his mouth just over her slit once more. His tongue darted in, then out, painstakingly slowly. Once more, her fingers intertwined with his hair, pulling at the roots, and she received a moan in pleasure from him. The vibration came from his throat, sending jolts of ecstasy right through her. All he had to do was lick into her once more, stimulate her clit with his forefinger and then she was coming undone.

Honey coated his taste buds, and he had already known deep within him that she was going to taste sweet. How could she not when she was so sweet herself. Soft spoken, kind hearted, and just so lovely, it only made sense that she tasted like the honey that emulated from her personality.

“Refreshing,” he wiped his mouth as he drank in her expression, “Like cantaloupe dipped in honey.”

With exhaustion rooted deep in her bones, her fingers tried to hook in her belt loop and pull her pants back up. She did have a class she needed to get to soon, but she was so fucked out and tired, she thinks she could just curl up on this couch— this couch where they shared their first kiss, this couch where he licked into her with his tongue until she came for him— and doze off into a blissful slumber.

He stood from his knees, the evidence of their prior activities straining against the zipper of her pants, and she didn’t know what it was in her, but she wanted to tell him that she wanted to rut against him again. Like the first time he made her cum, and it was at that very moment that she realized she had never wrapped her lips around his cock or even touched it with her bare fingers. That realization alone was enough to spiral her back into that bad, dark, gloomy mood that was repressing her sunshine-y personality.

“Why don’t you let me touch you?” She asked, the words dripping from her lips with hostility lacing in between the syllables. Lips turned down at the corner, and brows furrowed, she knew she was acting like a right brat but she couldn’t help it.

With a pointed glance from him, she wiped the frown off her lips and the scowl from her brow. As if to say good girl, he shot her a wink and the heat that festered in her cheeks was enough for him to know she understood what he was saying just through his eyes. “I want you to touch me, darling. We just haven’t had the time.”

“Won’t you make time for me?” She hated how it came out, needy and whiny.

After the party Harry had taken her to, she couldn’t help but feel like a small pawn in his huge game of chess. Emma had said not to bother with him. Granted, she didn’t know they had already formed an attachment of sorts, but she just wanted to know how he felt about her.

Her feelings were quite clear, she liked him. She possibly even loved him, but this could have been his modus operandi where he lured a girl with his charming smile, the stars in his eyes, that sweet syrupy voice of his, but even if his eyes were full of love and adoration, he didn’t actually feel that way.

It was a terrible feeling, it really was.

“Of course I’ll make time for you, love.” His eyebrows furrowed at the words, like he was trying to understand what he could have done recently that made her feel like he wasn’t making enough time for her. Actually, they spent so much time together that if he were his own client in therapy, he would probably suggest they take some time for themselves rather than mulling over their partner. But Harry decided he could dote on her for a little while, show her how special she was to him because it was like the honeymoon phase. In a few weeks, they would still see each other all the time (this was his plan because how could he ever let someone like Y/N out of reach for too long), but they would get their space from each other. Right now, he just wanted to latch on to her.

“I have to go,” she sighed out, glancing at the clock. It was time for Harry to teach her next lesson and she had to go to Professor Smith’s class, even though she really didn’t want to.

His fingers reached out and grazed her hip softly before he pulled her into a hug from behind, the tip of her ear soft against the center of his lips, “Wait for me after class. I’ll take us back to my flat.”

She gave him a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes before they parted ways.

Harry threw his head back in frustration when the door clicked shut.

______

Y/N was finally back at the flat she shared with Niall for the first time in a few days. Niall had gotten accustomed to Y/N running off with Harry for a couple days at a time. She would send him a quick text, let him know that she wouldn’t be home, and he would give her the same reply as always:

Let me know if you need anything. X

As she paced around the kitchen, slowly licking the yogurt off of her spoon, she could feel Niall’s glower burning into the back of her head. At first, she tried to ignore it, she tried to pretend like he wasn’t staring at her with wide eyes, but after a couple minutes, she couldn’t help the irritation that bubbled up.

With a deep breath, and a calmness weaving through her tone (which she was surprised she was able to maintain, given the fact that she was not only irritated with Niall at the moment, but also the world) she asked, “Niall, is there a reason you’re watching me like a hawk?”

He took this as an invitation to step into the kitchen, and sit at one of the bar stools tucked under the island. “Yes, there is.”

“And what could that reason possibly be?” Y/N turned on her heels, her socks slick against the hardwood beneath them.

“You’ve been on edge,” his fingers tapped the countertop of the island, his eyes squinting as if he were reading the look on her face, “And if you won’t offer me the information, then I will just stare at you until a Greek God grants me the ability to read your mind.”

She huffed, her eyes locking with his. She was just so conflicted, “You know, I read a few articles that you should sometimes keep your relationship problems from your friends, because at a certain point they just start hating the guy, and I don’t want that to happen.”

“I don’t know how true that is, Y/N,” Niall’s voice was soft, a tone of concern that Y/N picked up quickly.

Oh god, it was nothing too bad, and she didn’t want Niall going down a rabbit hole and jumping to the worst conclusion he could possibly get to. If she didn’t want him to know anything, she shouldn’t have said anything at all, but maybe subconsciously, she wanted to tell Niall everything. Within a couple of steps, she was sitting at the bar stool next to him, her berry yogurt sat atop the counter of the island.

“I really like him,” Y/N began, “Too much, maybe. And I thought he really liked me, too. I mean, he took me to his close friend’s house for a small get together they were having, and introduced me to everyone. Maybe he doesn’t like me as much as I thought he did, maybe he doesn’t even like me at all. Maybe he just likes me out of convenience. I am conveniently there for him to have fun with?”

Niall opened his mouth to craft his response, but Y/N took a deep breath then continued, “And then,” she paused, her eyes glued to him, “This is the worst part by the way, when I was at his friend’s house one of the girls who was sat next to me told me not to waste my time on Harry because he’s not the relationship type. She said he was only the type that fucks, which I guess is fine, but I just wish he would have told me if that were the case, because now I have feelings for him, and I just don’t know what to do. What should I do? This feels so… Childish.”

With careful though, Niall rubbed his hand against his chin, his eyes focused on the view of the sky from their kitchen window. Niall wasn’t one to give unsolicited advice, but when she asked what she should do, he knew he wouldn’t leave her hanging. He didn’t respond too quickly, because he really wanted to think about his own approach. If Y/N was going to ask him for advice, he was going to give it to her with careful consideration before jumping to conclusions, and before he could give her any advice he needed to know one fact, “Have you spoken to him about it yet?”

Her eyes squinted into narrow slits, “No, I haven’t.”

“Well,” Niall clapped his hands together, a grin appearing on his face, “That’s what you should do, you should speak with him.”

“But,” Y/N started, her tone turning into a softness he hadn’t heard in so long, like melted butter, “I am afraid it will feel like rejection.”

Niall’s grin slowly faded, the fear of rejection was only natural. Aren’t they all afraid of that? “Sometimes you just have to take risks, Y/N. When are you seeing him next?”

“He’s taking me to the aquarium tomorrow. I had said something about wanting to see the manatees and he took it very literally and got us tickets.”

“Babe,” Niall said, the grin slowly spreading across his face once more, “I would like to add that I definitely think he likes you if he hears you talk about wanting to see some manatees and then decides he’s going to take you to do that. Also, just because one person says he’s not the relationship type, doesn’t make it true. Maybe he just didn’t want a relationship with them, and that’s okay.”

Y/N puffed out a sigh, the despairing emotions she has been feeling recently clouding her thoughts and fogging her judgment. Niall, her best friend, was a solid voice of reason and always anchored her back into the sand when she began to float away. He was right, she simply needed to talk to Harry, even if he rejected her and it felt like a knife twisting in her chest.

_____

Blue skies should be an omen for the day they were about to have together. The skies were the lightest shade of blue, only a few clouds hanging over the city. Birds were flying around, flapping their wings to the rhythm of the calls from the other animals. Butterflies were migrating for summer, filling the sky with colors of orange, green, and purple to accompany the blue. Light winds accompanied the heat of the sun, cooling the air around them, but it was also warm enough to wear shorts and sandals.

These were the kind of days Y/N lived for. These were the kind of days full of life and love in contrast to the dark gloominess of the rain, so Y/N took this as an omen that her day with Harry was going to be a great one. She wasn’t going to get into her head too much, she wasn’t going to think about how Harry might not like her as much as she liked him. She was just going to enjoy their day together, the quality time they had.

“Do you have your overnight bag?” Harry asked, as she walked from her porch over to his car. He was leaning against the passenger side, getting ready to open the door for her when she shook her head to tell him she didn’t pack an overnight bag.

Sometimes, when she saw him, her breathing would catch in her throat. She couldn't help the gawking, the way her eyes followed the curve of his lips down to the curve of his jaw. It was hard to not recognize how beautiful one person could be, truly like he was an angel walking on earth, blessing each person with his presence. It was a little embarrassing when he caught her ogling, so before he could make a comment sending heat through her bones and her cheeks, she blinked a few times and composed herself.

“You didn’t pack one?” He asked, opening the door for her, unsure if she was able to spend the night at his flat tonight.

“I didn’t know I was going to spend the night,” She replied, climbing into his car and whispering out a small thank you as he held the door open for her.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked. I just assumed,” he hesitated to close the door, waiting for her response.

“I would love to spend the night,” she offered as a consolation, which was true. She loved spending the night at Harry’s flat. She loved snuggling into him in the middle of the night, and the way he pulled her closer to him, like she could never be too close (even if she was practically on top of him).

“You already have a toothbrush at my house, and I can just give you my t-shirt to wear to bed if you don’t want to go grab a bag. You’ve got a date with the manatees,” Harry was trouble shooting, trying not to inconvenience her too much by making her go all the way back in and pack a bag when he knew she just wanted to get going to go see those manatees, and he didn’t want to outright tell her how much he wanted her to stay the night. How much he longed to feel closer to her.

Y/N noted how domestic it sounded, that her toothbrush had already infiltrated its way into her bathroom. For a moment, she wondered if it bothered him that she had snaked her way into his life, that she bothers him in his office when he’s meant to be eating lunch, that she sits at his kitchen table as he tutors her because she would be helpless without him. Did it bother him?

Blue skies, she reminded herself, and pushed the negative thoughts that were begging to ruin her day to the back of her head. She would deal with them later, give them attention when she was alone, staring at her ceiling and wondering if Harry had half the feelings for her that she did for him.

So, she nodded and told him that would be ideal, he shut the door, and they made their way to the aquarium, because, as Harry said, Y/N had a date with the manatees.

_____

In an effort to lighten the tension, to lighten the mood she replied with a big smile across her face, “If I had the ability to be a mermaid, you would absolutely never see me on land.”

And that smile she showed him, the flash of her teeth, the way the sparkle met her eye satiated the anxiety that was weighing on his chest. For the first time ever, he felt like he couldn’t do anything right, until she flashed him that smile and packed his nerves away.

She noted it, the way his eyes were darting around the aquarium, the way he was clearing his throat with each word, the way his hands were fidgeting as he tried to find something for them to do. All she wanted was to grasp his nervous hands in hers and tell him how much he meant to her, to try and fix the tension that was separating them so greatly. They may have been standing only one inch away from each other, if she leaned over just enough, her shoulder could brush against him, she felt like they were fifty feet away from each other. Maybe it was just because of the fact that their heads were in two different places.

“What is with your fascination with manatees?” He questioned, averting his eyes from her back to the clownfish swimming around each other in circles. Actually, it was kind of sad, he noted. They should be in the ocean, swimming alongside their friends with no glass limitations and no borders holding them back.

“I heard they were going extinct,” Y/N explained, “I just wanted to see them before they left us for good if that happens. Do you know how much we destroy the planet?”

Harry, who had one garbage for recycling, one for trash, and one for compost for his plants, did in fact know how much humans were destroying the planet. Harry, who preferred to walk instead of drive to reduce his carbon footprint. Harry, who didn’t eat meat (except for fish, which he was now feeling a little grimey about) because the more you consumed, the higher your carbon footprint actually knew a lot about the destruction of the planet.

“I do,” his voice was soft, his fingers were aching to intertwine with hers. “I didn’t know you were interested in that.”

“It’s a recent development,” she smiled at him, and he took this as an invitation. Maybe he was just nervous and was reading the situation wrong, but he was positive she liked him the way he liked her, so he linked his fingers in hers and when she pulled her hand away from his, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

“I think we should go,” Y/N said.

And that was that.

_____

Silence filled the car, neither one of them saying anything. He thought that he should take her home, given the fact that he had made her uncomfortable, but his pride was too hurt to ask her if she wanted to go home or to be the one to start the conversation up. The tension was so awkward, Harry could barely stand it.

As soon as he threw the car in park, he realized he was going to have to break the silence sooner or later, In hindsight, he should have asked her this before he had gotten all the way back to his flat, but since she was set on not speaking, he decided he would just ask now, “Do you just want me to take you home?”

“No,” she unbuckled her seatbelt, turning her body so that she was facing him in order to give him a better view of his face. “Why would you think that?”

“Honestly,” he began with his eyes squinting, like the words were out there somewhere and he just needed to find them, “I’m feeling confused, and a little embarrassed.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” The confusion was understandable, she was feeling confused too.

“I just thought I was reading all the signs correctly. I thought you really liked me, but when I tried to talk to you about things, you would just shut down. When I try to hold your hand, you pull away. You are never obligated to hold my hand, or kiss me, or dote on me, but I thought things were going well, you met my friends, and I met yours. I mean, I understand the power imbalance, and I’m doing everything I can to try and make that right, but if you’re not interested in me, that’s perfectly okay, Y/N. I just want to know.”

Tears formed in her eyes, and she was kicking herself for crying in front of him again. The amount of times she had done it was entirely too much, and it was probably the most annoying thing he has to constantly deal with. God, he has to deal with her. Y/N could only imagine how unbearable that was.

“When we were at your friend's house, I met a girl named Emma and she insinuated that she had some sort of thing going on with you, but you’re not the dating type, and you see, I didn’t know that. And maybe I’m just so stupid—”

“Stop calling yourself stupid, Y/N. I hate that.” Harry interrupted her, then encouraged her to go on, wiping at one of the tears running down her cheeks.

“I just thought that maybe there was something more between us, because you were so nice to me, and maybe I just expected too much from you. I just thought that you liked me and would want more with me other than just getting off, but if that’s what this is then it’s fine.”

“My little crybaby,” He reached over and wiped another tear, finding its way down her cheek. The amount that had spilled from her tear ducts was trailing their way down her cheeks and pooling at her chest, “Don’t you ever worry about Emma. Darling, you have no idea the feelings I have for you. Just being next to you makes my heart want to pump through my ribcage and out of my chest. I like you, a lot, Y/N. I like you too much, you might just break my heart. I wish you just told me, baby, you didn’t have to feel like this. I’m so sorry.”

“No!” She interjected, slapping his apologetic words from the air, because it wasn’t his fault at all. “You don’t have to apologize, I have to apologize. I should have just talked to you, I’m so childish.”

“You’re not childish, Sweetheart. Let’s just agree on no more miscommunication. If you have a problem, come to me. I can help you fix it, that’s what I’m here for. That’s what boyfriends do, right?”

“Boyfriend?” She cocked an eyebrow, not able to keep her smile to herself.

“I think it's about time for labels, don’t you?” He asked.

“Absolutely.”

_____

It took little to no time before they were out of Harry’s car, and had found their way to his bedroom. Y/N was lying on his bed as Harry helped her shimmy out of her clothes. Their sexual chemistry was too much, and if too much time passed before either of them got a release, they were both bound to explode.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He didn’t want her to push herself too far, but the thought of what she said to him in his office the other day was enough for him to succumb to her. Harry wanted her to know she was valued, and he would always make time for her. She didn’t have to beg him for his cock when he was so willing to give it to her.

“I’m not sure I’ll be any good,” she replied, self consciousness overpowering her desire.

“I’ll teach you baby, I’m good at that,” he reassured her.

In a few seconds, they were in the perfect position. Y/N was on her knees in front of him, and he was standing upright, his hands lacing through her hair to control the movements. A shudder raked down his spine when he realized in a few short moments, her mouth was going to encompass him and he was going to feel her sweet tongue lick up and down him. She was simply beautiful, peering up at him with a wide, sultry gaze.

“Can I start?” She asked, her fingers delicately touching over him.

Just enough for his voice to have a slight quiver in his response, but he didn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed by the way he was coming undone beneath her touch even if it was just a simple graze of her fingers over his cock. She deserved to know how she made him feel; he felt so good around her, he felt like this was heaven on earth. As if instinct was taking over, he looped his fingers around himself and rubbed the tip against her lips, and like the good girl she was she parted her mouth for him, letting him inside, “Yes, baby. So good.”

Harry always noted that she worked off of praise. The more praise she got, the better she did. In an effort to not make her feel uncomfortable, he tried not to bring it up, but sometimes he wondered if she lacked the praise most people were fulfilled with at a young age. Did that reflect in their sex life, who knows? But he was always willing to give it to her.

Her mouth was warm as she bobbed her head back and forth, taking the length of him in her mouth. It was sinful, honestly, the way her eyes looked so innocent as she peered up from him while she was on her knees. This is not something he ever expected to happen between them, but the sexual tension was entirely too much the first time he touched her skin. It was like they were feeding off one another, constantly craving each other’s souls.

“Feels so good, baby,” he encouraged, using the hand that was wrapped in her hair to guide her up and down his shaft. When she let out a moan around his cock, he nearly came from the vibration, but he wanted to hold out. He wanted to come inside of her, he wanted to finally go all the way with her.

In a swift motion, she popped off of him. Shyness written all over her face, and he already knew what she was about to say was going to be the death of him. He tugged on his cock, continuing to get himself off as she mustered the courage to speak the words she wanted to say. In an effort to get her more comfortable, he mumbled small encouragements as she tried to tell him what she wanted. What she needed.

“‘Want you to fuck my face, make me gag for it,” She mumbled out, barely able to look him in the eye as she said so. Harry rolled his head back, tugging himself once more as he murmured out a curse word.

“Fuck,” he spoke lowly, the word dripping from his mouth like honey, “So filthy. Dig your fingernails in me if it’s too much, baby, don’t want to overwhelm you.”

How could he not give her what she wanted? He led himself back into her mouth, wrapping his fingers through her hair once more and began doing what she wanted. Tears formed in her eyes as she gagged around him, and he kept asking if she was okay but she would only nod in response. Eventually, he decided that he couldn’t keep making her take him so deep no matter how much she wanted it. He wanted to give her a break, and when he pulled her off of him, she began whining for him to continue, “Please, Dr. Styles. Need it. I need it.”

Once more, a shudder raked through him at her begging for it. She was so perfect for him, so beautiful, “Mmm, good little puppies don’t whine.”

“I just want to keep going please, won’t you let me?” She knew how to work him, god, she was always so polite.

“I’m not good at receiving, baby. It’s my turn to make you feel good.” He explained, and she grumbled something about how they should work on that because she wanted to make him feel good too. His response was agreeable, but he was more focused on making her feel good, safe, and comfortable as he picked her up from her knees and gently laid her across the bed.

“Are you positive this is what you want to do?” He asked, needing to hear the words slip from her mouth in a verbal confirmation.

“Please don’t make me say it,” she replied, looking anywhere but his face, “Yes, I want it.”

Harry could never deny her what she wanted. It felt like a dream, at least, he had dreamt of this on multiple occasions. Waking up, rock hard at the thought of slipping inside her and her walls adjusting around him. He could barely handle the feeling as he slipped inside her with a warning, trying to relax her body against the bed.

The noise that came from her was something she was embarrassed of, as she tried to hide her face in her hands. He peeled her hands away and told her he wanted to see her face, needed to see her face as she adjusted around him. Her walls were constricting around him, the feeling was almost too sensual, too overstimulating.

“You can move,” she told him, letting him know that she was comfortable.

Gently, he rocked in and out of her. The noises she was making was pure carnal desire, her eyes fluttering open and then closed as he moved, hitting that good spot of hers with each stroke. When she brought her fingers in between her teeth to stifle the moans, he pulled them away, deciding he was going to have none of that.

“Baby, I’m working hard for these moans, don’t keep them from me.” And he had asked her so nicely, she always wanted to please him, to give him what he wanted.

They moved together, Harry kept a smooth rhythm in and out of her, and the noises she was making for him was something he was trying to imprint on his brain so that he could replay them later when he was thinking of her. She squeezed around him once, indicating that she was almost there. The second time she did it, he nearly spasmed then and there, releasing into her. And the third time she did it, he moved his finger to her clit and began stimulating her so that she was feeling it inside and outside.

“Harry,” she whined, tripping over her words, “Almost there.”

“Let go, baby.”

So she did, writhing around him, letting herself go and experiencing one of the best orgasms she had ever had. It didn’t take Harry much longer to follow behind her, pulling himself out and coming onto her exposed stomach. With a few pants, he flopped beside her, promising to clean her up and run her a nice, warm bath.

“I don’t just like you, Y/N,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she expressed, her eyes fluttering shut.

For a while, they just laid there together, telling each other how much they loved one another.

____

Two years had passed since Y/N first laid eyes on Harry, and her heart still fluttered every single time she looked at him. By the way his eyes swept over the contour of her cheeks or the outline of her silhouette, she didn’t doubt his heart fluttered over her as well.

In fact, Y/N didn’t doubt much about Harry anymore, and when she did… It was always over the simplest of things. Would he like vegan chicken parmesan for dinner or is he in the mood for sushi? She never doubted where his head was at, or that special little place he held for her in his heart.

“Darling, are you in here?” Harry called from the living room.

Harry and Y/N moved into their first house together at their one year mark. Harry was still teaching in his old position, but working less as a professor and more in his own practice. The professor job was just a little extra income for them to take the holidays they wanted to go on, and because, well, he loved teaching. Y/N was getting ready to graduate in a few weeks, where she would go on to do… Soul searching as Harry says. One night, while they were getting drunk off of an aged bottle of wine Harry had gotten while at a conference in Italy, Y/N expressed how badly she wished she took a gap year before she started her first year at Uni. Harry, being the smartest person she’s ever met, told her that she could always take a gap year before she began working her “grown up job” as she calls it.

“I’m in the office!” She called out, letting him know which room he could locate her in, as she really could have been anywhere.

Light footsteps pattered up the stairs, and she could have sworn she heard something clunking with each step he took. When he appeared in the doorway, a suitcase with the tags still connected to the handle in tow, she looked at him quizzically, a small smile dancing on the edges of her mouth.

“What’s that?” She asked, her eyes scanning over the way his hand looped between the handle and how his thumb brushed the tag lightly. Harry, with the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen, the kind of evergreen that was filled with youth and longing, twinkled at her.

She often described his eyes as charming, with a twinkle the stars were jealous of. How could a star, a glowing ball of hot gas with only the purpose of lighting up the night sky, not be jealous of the way his eyes could light up a room? Y/N could probably write a sonnet about his eyes— warm, welcoming, beautiful— a sonnet so beautiful, Shakespeare would have wished he wrote it.

God, he was so beautiful.

“A couple weeks ago we were talking about traveling. I just thought with your graduation tomorrow, we could probably use the luggage since we’ll be traveling this summer,” He shrugged his shoulders, ever the most thoughtful person she’d met.

Well, Niall came in as a close second (who by the way, recently got engaged to Mallory over a candlelit dinner. Y/N and Harry were in a disguise at the restaurant, recording in the corner to catch their engagement on film per Niall’s request).

“These are lovely, Harry,” Y/N stood from the pink swivel chair at her desk in the office, its shape was one to resemble a shell you would find on a sandy beach.

Suitcases with a map printed over the top, made of what she assumed was vegan leather because there is no way Harry would buy something made of real leather. It had a vintage touch to it, and Y/N noted that Harry’s style was that of vintage. He liked things that looked old, but in good condition. Timeless and classic was his style with a bit of modernity here and there.

“I saw them in the store and couldn’t pass them up. Go on and open it, each suitcase is crammed with a smaller one inside. I want you to see just how tiny these get,” Harry encouraged, dropping the suitcase at her feet and slowly letting go of his grip on the handle.

Brass metal buckles held the suitcase closed, a built in combination lock to refrain people from trying to open what was not theirs. Y/N’s fingers slowly grazed the lock before he muttered something about how the combination wasn’t set up yet, but he would do that before their first tip. With careful precision, like she was touching something fragile (she was if it was a gift from Harry, she always treated the things he got her with the utmost respect because she cherished him so deeply), her fingers hooked around the buckle and unlatched the top from the bottom, pulling the suitcase up.

In the suitcase, was another suitcase a few inches smaller in size. And in that smaller suitcase, was another suitcase a few inches smaller in size. And in that even smaller suitcase, was another suitcase even smaller in size. And finally, when she pulled open the fourth suitcase to reveal a fifth, she was sure that there was no possible way they could get smaller than that. A small giggle formed in her chest, as she peered up at him with glossy eyes, and for a moment, he thought that maybe he had done something wrong.

“Darling,” Harry crouched down on his knees so that he was level with her, his hands encasing her own hands as he kissed her brow gently, “What’s wrong?”

And if the watergates weren’t already open to let the tears flood from her tear ducts, those two words, spoken with so much care, were enough to release the dam.

“Nothing,” she hiccuped, her voice uneven, “This is just so lovely and you are always so good to me.”

He pulled her into his chest tightly, her cheek squished against where his chest slightly peaked out from his shirt as he pressed kisses to her cheeks, then the top of her eyelids, then all over her forehead, and finally her lips. “I’m just so proud of you. Won’t you open the last suitcase, see what is inside?”

Glossy eyes peered up at him, the color of her eyes even more pigmented with the redness encompassing her irises. “Surely there isn’t another suitcase, how could they make another bag so small?”

Harry let out a deep chuckle and shook his head as he released her from his strong grip, “No, sweetheart, but there is something else.”

With much curiosity, her fingers wrapped around the brass latch once more and clicked the lock open. Inside the smallest of suitcases was a piece of paper, folded and tucked into one of the pockets. As her fingers slowly inserted the pocket and pulled the paper out, she looked over at him to gauge his reaction. His face was unreadable, with underlying hints of anticipation, and as she unfolded the paper to reveal two tickets, her jaw dropped just a smidge.

“Tickets to Italy?” Y/N’s voice was just above a quiet whisper. How often did someone get a graduation gift in the form of a vacation to Italy?

“The night you told me you wanted to travel, we were drinking a bottle of wine. Your favorite wine, directly from Italy. What better way to celebrate your graduation than to go have a glass of that wine in Italy?” He asked her, now sitting in a criss-cross applesauce style on the floor, waiting for her response.

It wasn’t unusual for Harry to get a little nervous around Y/N. She meant the world to him, and he only wanted to make her as happy as she made him. He thought this would be a gift she would love, but every time he got her a gift, he would always get a little nervous after she opened it, just in case she didn’t like it. He never wanted her to feel disappointed, not since the day she had broken down crying, telling him how disappointed she was in herself for getting attached to him. Little did she know, he had been intertwining his soul with hers from the first time she looked at him— like a switch flipped inside his brain and his heart the first time his skin had touched hers, telling him that she was his person.

“Harry,” Y/N stammered out, trying to show her appreciation for him, “I don’t even have the words to thank you.”

“Words aren’t necessary,” Harry reasoned, the light green in his eyes darkening with each word.

So, Y/N didn’t say anything. She swung her leg over his lap, straddling him with a gentle rock of her hips and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her tongue sliding over his with gratitude.

______

The airport was jam-packed. Pink and purple graduation leis were the only telling sign that there was a nearby university graduation as groups of families and friends circled the airport, trying to find their gate. Many people that Y/N recognized from her classes were here with their friends, standing at gates to tropical destinations. Her hand was linked with Harry’s as they found their way to their own gate, taking them to possibly the most beautiful place in the world. At first, Y/N was slightly self conscious. It’s not like she ever took a class with Harry where she was given a letter grade, but she was wondering if people would look at the two of them, nuzzled together and think her degree was simply because she was chatting up one of the professors. When a few of her classmates gave her discrete smiles with a wave, her anxious feeling about people thinking she didn’t deserve her degree dissipated into thin air, into oblivion.

Oblivion, that was a good word to describe the state she was in. It felt all too dream-like for her to be experiencing this with Harry, like she was unconscious and fabricating their relationship, how happy they were together, and this trip in her own head.

Taxis had been swarming the graduation site, so it wasn’t hard for Harry and Y/N to shove their suitcases in the trunk of one. Y/N’s chatter filled the atmosphere of the car the entire ride to the airport, telling him how excited she was to see the sea, taste the food, drink the wine, eat some pasta. Harry simply listened, nodding in agreement as they navigated the airport, pointing them in the right direction (Y/N was too excited to try to make sense of the layout of the airport herself). In fact, her excitement was that of a child who was just told they were going to Disneyland, but it made sense as Harry had only given her a one day notice.

“Dr. Styles, are you listening?” She asked as they boarded the plane and found their private seats in first class.

Harry couldn’t help it, maybe he was filthy for it. And even though she wasn’t his TA anymore, or even a student at the college he sometimes worked at, the title she had for him made his cock twitch in his linen pants as he thought of all the times she dropped to her knees under his desk and took care of him before his next class started.

“Yes, love,” The ache in his groin grew stronger by the minute as the plane took off, “I’m listening.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked, unbuckling her seatbelt when the light on the sign went off.

Y/N had never flown first class before, but she was convinced this was a different type of first class. She had never seen, not even in pictures, planes with their own little privacy cubicles where they could spread out and were free of prying eyes staring at them.

“Dr. Styles?” She asked again, the tone of her voice going up an octave as her eyes lingered over the curve of his jaw.

In a swift motion, his hands were fondling himself through his pants. Y/N hadn’t noticed the bulge that was growing, and when her eyes went wide and her cheeks heated, he couldn’t help but ache even more. She was his shy girl, no matter how filthy she liked it in bed, her cheeks would heat, her eyes would go wide, and she would struggle to tell him when she was feeling needy. As soon as her eyes widened, he brought his fingers to her cheeks to feel the flush raging through.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t know,” she whispered quietly, even though there was no one around to hear the shame in her voice.

“Have you ever been in the mile high club?” His question was casual, rolling off his tongue like it was something you asked anyone. As if it was part of a casual conversation you’d have with the stranger sitting next to you at the bar.

Y/N shook her head, the heat in her cheeks growing hotter with each turn of her head. Saliva coated her mouth when she looked at him, overproducing just a little when she glanced down and took in the shape of him through his cream-colored linen pants. If she licked over his pants, she was sure she’d be able to see the pink flush of the head. “No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“Yes,” he replied, a twinge of jealousy flowing through her gut as the urge to claim him as hers filled her head, “And you’re about to join.”

Quietly and with calculated precision, Harry lifted Y/N out of her seat, so she was straddling him. Her center directly pressed to his, the cotton dress she was wearing for comfortability on the plane was coming in handy as her center, only cloaked by the fabric of her underwear pressed against his groin.

The first time they ever had sex, Y/N had to get used to the size of him. She had to get accustomed to the stretch and feel of him inside of her before he could make any movements, quick or slow. Sometimes, he would press on her tummy as he slipped inside her saying, “Can feel myself right here, love,” sending her over the edge before they even began.

Harry was a little too cocky for his own good, but at least he had the ability to recognize it. The way she pleaded for him, her body’s response to him nearly made his head explode. And every time they fit together, every time they reach that peak at the same time, he really thinks there is no one else that could work for either of them. They are two parts of the same puzzle, constantly intertwining, interlocking, and moving together as one soul.

Y/N threw her head back as his fingers snaked between where the two of them connected, lifting himself off the chair and pulling his pants down just enough for his cock to spring upward. And the sound of her slow, steady breaths told him that she was ready for him without any warming up. Without hesitation, he slipped his fingers to where the fabric of her underwear covered her, his fingers already slicked with her wet anticipation and pulled her underwear to the side.

Agonizingly slow, he led his cock into his center. Her legs were burning as she propped herself up then sunk down on top of him, small moans collecting in his throat and tumbling off of his lips. The softest noise, the most beautiful noise she’s ever heard him make. Bliss, everything about this was pure and utter bliss.

“Come on, baby,” Harry said, sinking his face into her neck. Before she had the option to register what he was doing, his teeth were sinking into a sensitive spot on her neck, his tongue lulling around the area as he nipped and pulled. This was something they had never done before, she had never felt his teeth grazing over the soft areas of her neck, and (not to her surprise at all, she liked everything Harry did) she was writhing beneath the mark of his teeth against her skin.

“You like that?” He pulled away with one more nibble, his tongue tracing over the small pinkish bruise he left on her.

It was hard for her to speak as she moved up and down his cock, hitting that special spot which was bound to send her over the edge any minute. Instead of using her voice, using her words to tell him how much she liked it, she nodded in confirmation. Although, that wasn’t good enough for him as he dug his fingers into her sides, stopping her up and down motion as she got off on his cock. A whine ripped through her, pure neediness leaking from her bones and dripping from her lips.

“Wanna hear you say it, love,” Harry’s fingers gripped her tighter as she fought against him, trying with all her might to move against him in that beautiful rhythm once more.

“Yes,” she breathed out, finding her voice to satiate his desire to hear how she has to whine out her words, sweat beading on her forehead as she throws it back in pure desire.

And as the words tumbled from her lips, she could have sworn she felt his cock twitch inside of her, ripping a moan even louder from the deep pits of her stomach. Warm heat shot through her, coiling in her belly, which was always a telling sign to her that she was close, about to go over the edge, “Can’t hold it, Harry.”

“I’m just your plaything, right, Darling?” He whispered into her ear, his fingers still digging into her sides, but this time, he was thrusting up into her. The tip of him exploring places he had never felt inside of her before, and if she didn’t have a voice when she was getting herself off on him before, she sure as hell couldn’t find her voice now as her better judgment clouded her thoughts, and her body which now felt delicate and soft fell against him. Ecstasy coursed through her, sending her into that sweet spot she always reached when she was with Harry.

If there was one thing about Harry, he knew his girl. He knew how his filthy words send her over the edge, so when he felt the walls of her clench around his cock begging to milk him of everything he had, he sealed her climax with, “Look at you, Darling, getting off on my cock like the good girl you are.”

And that was it. Together, they reached their pinnacle of pleasure. Heavy breaths pulled from both of their chests, sweat streaming between them, and with a lazy smile, she rested her head against his chest and fell asleep with his cock still inside her and leaking from his seed.

_____

Harry and Y/N had been in Italy for two days, with twelve more days to go. In those two days, they had gotten on a boat and sailed down a stream in Venice, which Harry told Y/N was called a gondola ride. They had gone snorkeling in the Venetian Lagoon, spotting fish and sea creatures Y/N only thought existed in fictional movies. Every meal was divine, and Y/N thinks she could live off of bread and pasta for the rest of her life.

There were no words to describe how she felt; she was in love with Harry, in love with her life, in love with Italy, and in love with the world around her. Sometimes she would look at Harry, and he’d look back at her with pure adoration, she wondered how she ever doubted his feelings for her in the first place. She’d think about sucking him off in his office, or him taking her across his desk during his free time at school, and when she squeaked out the question, “Even though I won’t be on campus all the time, will you still take me on your desk,” he breathed out a ragged breath with a curse word in tow and took her right then and there.

Disbelief was the word she was looking for. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was, how much she had longed for someone like Harry to love. It felt unreal, and when she would get stuck in the headspace that she was undeserving and it wasn’t fair she was showered with so much love and care, he would tell her that she was enough. And Y/N believed him. The two of them together; they were enough.

“Are you almost ready, sweetheart?” Harry said from across the room. He had a pair of black slacks on, a silk top unbuttoned to show his tattooed chest just the way she liked it. Recently, Harry had been on a kick for layering necklaces, so gold chains swung around his neck, pendants resting in between his two swallow tattoos.

“Yes,” Y/N replied. She was already in her dress and small heels (she opted for a more comfortable lift, considering they had been doing so much walking through the city). All she had to do was slip an earring through her ear, and then she was ready to go to a fancy dinner Harry told her he had booked months in advance due to the high demand of the restaurant. “I’m ready now.”

“Perfect,” in a couple strides, he was standing next to her, linking his arm in hers. As they walked out of the hotel lobby, a couple people smiled at them and waved, and Y/N decided that she loved Italy so much, she wouldn’t mind it if Harry wanted to move her. She would follow him wherever.

The cobblestone sidewalk was slightly uneven, making Y/N grateful that she wore a smaller block heel to avoid tripping. That was definitely something she would do, trip, fall, and bust her knee open on a sharp rock, and when she looked over at Harry as the image of herself falling played in her head, she knew they were always on the same radio frequency.

“It’s a good thing you wore the smaller heels,” Harry guessed her thoughts as her eyes surveyed the cobblestone once more. “The sidewalk is a little jagged.”

“I was just thinking that,” Y/N said, tightening her grip around his as she peered up at him with warm eyes and a smile that could have made him melt on the spot.

It didn’t take too long before they were standing outside of the restaurant, and a waiter was leading them to their table. As always, being the gentleman that he is, Harry pulled out her chair for her, and she couldn’t help but zone out as the waiter and Harry conversed.

String lights hung over their table and all throughout the restaurant. Art so beautiful, she had never seen before, hung on the walls. A waterfall that she wasn’t even sure how they kept functioning indoors, flowed through the center of the room, creating sounds of streams and splashing to enhance the atmosphere, and before Y/N knew it, a bottle of wine was sitting in between her and Harry, and Harry was filling her glass.

As she looked at the label, she recognized exactly what wine it was. It was the wine. The wine they drank the night she told him of her aspirations, the wine they drank as she told him how badly she wanted to view the world with him alongside her. That same night, he decided he was going to book them a trip to Italy after her graduation so they could share a glass in celebration of her.

Or so she thought.

“I have to be honest,” Harry began, setting the wine bottle back on the table after filling up her glass the appropriate amount. “Your graduation isn’t the only thing I’d like to celebrate.”

Her gaze met his, confusion snaking its way through her as she thought of all the other things he could possibly be celebrating right now. There was no other big life event that happened to either of them in the past six months, it wasn’t their anniversary (which she for a second maybe thought it was, her heart dropping into the pit of her stomach when she thought she forgot, but as she said the date in her head, she realized he was about six months off).

Graduation, dating anniversary, birthday, what could it possibly be? She pondered everything she could think of, but his birthday was a few months ago and they celebrated that accordingly.

“What else do you want to celebrate?” Y/N asked, noting the nervous look on his face.

Harry typically wasn’t one to get nervous, but when he did, it was easy for Y/N to pick up on. His eyes would dart around the room, taking in all of his surroundings. He would clear his throat a few times, and fidget with his fingers. All three of those things were her checklist to gauge whether or not he was nervous or uncomfortable. So, Y/N began performing her checklist, figuring out how nervous he was depending on how many of the signs he was showing.

His eyes were darting around the room, but this time they had a dark flicker to him, like he was drinking in the moment. The way his eyes caressed her face, and lingered on her features made her think he was trying to film the moment with his eyes, engraving it and etching the moment into his brain.

He was clearing his throat as he spoke. One word, followed by a clearing of his throat.

His hands were shoved in his pockets. Even though this wasn’t a sign, he regularly stuck his thumb in his pocket with his hand poking out, she could see the way his fingers were moving in his pocket. Almost as if he was fondling something.

“I want to celebrate our love for each other,” He cleared his throat, and now instead of looking around the room, his focus remained on her and just her. “I think from the first time I ever met you, I knew you were made for me and I was made for you. I want to celebrate our love for each other, because I want to marry you, Y/N.”

Before she could form any words, he was pulling a box out of his pocket, a ring settled in the cushion of the box and dropping to his knee. She tried to say yes, to yell it out, but she was too clouded with emotion that she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. As she stood, and nodded her head, her hands covering shock on her face, he stood with her and brought her into a hug.

The kiss they shared was intimate, slow, like they were the only two people in the restaurant and as he slipped the ring onto her finger, she murmured, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Harry threw a thumbs up in the direction that led to the corner of the restaurant, and when she followed his gaze, she saw Niall and Mallory sitting in the corner. In a disguise, filming their special engagement.

It was truly a full circle moment.

Y/N couldn’t have been happier.

And neither could Harry.

TAG LIST: @skysladylazarus @sunshinemoonsposts @shamelessfangirl-3 @lovelyharry @tenaciousperfectionunknown @winterrays @kiwilikesmeow @cherieshine @harryssky1 @allannahdaisy @cthwildflwr @grapejuicebluesrry @ppleasingg @ronanthesimp @awwshucks13 @libbyhermione @matildasatellite @hookedonromance @vamprry @para-peach @daddylorianisastateofmind

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ataraxiaspainting · 5 months

Text

The Other Side Of Paradise.

Makima x F Reader.

Synopsis: Makima has grown on you like a parasite, minus the grossness. You think you have grown on her too.

Warnings: Slightly unhealthy relationships because, uh, you know, Makima.

Word Count: 1.5k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lilith by Ellise

she calls me daddy by KiNG MALA

Strawberry Blond by Mitski

Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic

How I’d Kill by Cowboy Malfoy

Kiss Of Fire by Georgia Gibbs

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Rule #4 - Fish in a Birdcage by Fish in a Birdcage

You don’t think she is the same as when you first met her.

You don’t think she is the same as when you first met her, because her body always faces you regardless of the situation. Whenever she visits you at your apartment, sitting on your couch while watching television, she is more often than not closer to you than she would perhaps admit. Her arms and legs are usually uncrossed too, though anyone could argue that she never does with anyone; co-worker or friend.

You fidget when she gets lunch with you or some other activity that is supposed to be calming towards those involved. It’s embarrassing whenever you think back on it; thinking about how you shifted in your seat a bit too much that you fell over onto the grass, the shame burning into your memory whenever you try to go to sleep.

You know you aren’t the same as when you first met her.

But has she? You hope so because you plan to confess to her today. It’s Valentine’s Day after all, and you think that there couldn’t be a better time to do so. The only thing you hate about Makima now is how difficult she is to read, especially in the workplace. It’s an improvement, you think, because you used to think much less of her. You most likely will never be able to tell if Makima found your once hateful feelings towards her amusing, pathetic, or didn’t even realize it at all.

Maybe it is a good thing though, because ignorance is bliss.

This both fuels and puts out the flames of your fears of rejection, like water mixed with gasoline.

The sound of Makima’s phone ringing only gets louder with every step you take towards her office. “Tsk. Troublesome.”

You take note of her slightly frustrated expression as she puts her phone on silent and places it face-down on her desk. “Um, hi Miss Makima.”

“Hello, Miss [Last].” You used to say her name with such passive aggression, envious that you will never be a director of public safety yourself and can only be an assistant to one. She, however, says your last name as she always has; with a calm and neutral tone. “Happy Valentine’s Day. You look nice.”

“T-Thank you.”

Her eyes smile more than her lips do. “I mean it.”

“Really?”

Every time Makima nods her head with a for once readable expression, you could swear that your pulse rate shoots up.

The proof is in how blood rushes to your cheeks, making you blush and turn away.

“Really. You are beautiful, Miss [First].”

You feel lightheaded, the amount of sanguine fluid moving to your head being heavy enough to almost make you fall forward and fall straight onto your face. “T-Thanks. You too.”

As you turn away from her and look at the gift piles next to Makima’s desk, so does she. There are at least ten bouquets and at least twenty small other presents. A large teddy bear too, is hidden beneath it all with only its face showing fully. Makima has never been short of admirers, another reason why you used to always be so jealous of her.

“Since it’s Valentine’s Day,” you mutter. “I just wanted to give you this.”

In your right hand is a gift bag with a few huskies on it.

Makima had mentioned that that was her favorite kind of dog to you before, and you archived the memory for later reference.

She leans forward and her fingers wrap around the string handle, pulling it towards her gently. “Oh, thank you. I have something for you too.”

You don’t know how it is possible, but you can sense your cheeks getting even redder. Even though you aren’t looking at her, you can sense her amusement based on her humming alone. Inside the bag is a box of dark chocolate truffles of a brand you both like as well as a framed photo of you two together. It probably isn’t the most original gift she has gotten today though, and that makes your stomach aches worsen from the anxiety.

“You didn’t have to give me anything, Miss Makima.” You smile only faintly.

“Then why did you give me something?” She asks, her tone slightly teasing, and you want to scream into your pillow tonight as compensation for your awkwardness. As a response to her question, you start stuttering out excuses one word at a time before restarting, over and over again.

I just thought you’d like these, you wanted to say, but emotion is taking over your ability to speak.

She waltzes over to her desk like a slow dancer, her movements much more elegant than yours ever could, would, and will be.

As if your heart was a drum, it beats in an irregular rhythm.

Bum bum, thump thump, dun dun.

She crouches down, curling her knees and putting a hand on her chin as her other hand opens the cabinet beside her desk. She takes three books out in total. Crime and Punishment. The Metamorphosis. I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream. All of these books you have mentioned to her before on one occasion or another, that now is leaving you genuinely touched by her present actions.

She leaves you feeling warm, a feeling you don’t think you have felt for anyone else.

“If I remember correctly, these were some of the books you have mentioned wanting to read in person, correct?” At the sight of your head bobbing up and down with pure and unfiltered delight with a mmhmm leaving your throat, she in turn finally allows her lips to move upward. No longer is the smile she wears cordial–instead it is bright like fireflies in summer, her eyes being the very sun itself.

It is a sight you will never forget, its beauty is too mesmerizing to be left out of your core memories. “I can’t believe you remembered that I wanted those.”

There is a chuckle that leaves her mouth that threatens to sweep you off your feet.

Her fingers graze against yours as she hands you the novels. They are softer than yours, cleaner.

“Well, believe it then.”

“I-I will.”

“Good,” She says, the praise only makes your face that much more hot. It feels like you are in a dream sweeter than cotton candy and just as soft as it. If this is a figment of your imagination, you would much rather stay in it for the rest of your life. “You’re quite adorable, blushing like that.”

She receives a gaze from you that can only be defined as being captivated by her stardom. “I-I gotta ask you something if you don’t mind.”

Her grin widens with each stumble of your speech.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you doing something after work tonight?”

For a brief moment, she rests her chin in her hand and lets out a thoughtful hum. Her gaze shifts towards the ceiling as she ponders whether any post-work plans are awaiting her today. After what feels like an eternity, she shakes her head. “I am not, why?”

“Oh, well…” You pause for a second, looking down to try to somewhat cover your embarrassment. When you finally work up the courage to speak again, you sound hopeful. “You know how it’s Valentine’s Day today?”

She nods in turn, acknowledging the obvious. “It is indeed.”

“Uh, I was wondering…” You pause again and try to focus on your shoes instead of your stuttering words. “Would you want to, you know, go out or something?” As you both lock eyes in silence, a surge of determination prompts you to expand your inquiry while assuming a more upright stance. “If you’re not doing anything, of course.”

Once more, her lips curl into a smile and she affirms with a subtle nod. “Sure. But Miss [Last], is this a romantic date?”

Your face flushes, betraying your hidden desire for this outing to be more than just a casual hangout. Despite your efforts to conceal it, deep down, you know she can sense your longing for it to be a date instead.

“Er, yes,” you finally say, the ends of your shoes rubbing against one another as you fiddle with your fingers. You hate how awkward you can be, especially with Makima. “I was hoping it could be… a romantic date.”

Once more, her laughter echoes as you stumble over your words, and you brace yourself for the impending disaster. Anticipating her rejection, you find solace in the darkness behind closed eyelids, fully aware that this could lead to your demotion.

“Then it shall be. I’ll pick you up.”

You don’t process her words at first. You are still preparing for the carpet to be pulled from underneath your feet and for you to be ridiculed. But that never comes, because after a few more seconds of silence, you open your eyes to see that Makima’s cheeks are light pink, barely noticeable.

“R-Really?”

“I mean it.”

You know that she does, and that makes your heart flutter like a bird.

#makima #makima x reader #csm makima #chainsaw man #csm #chainsaw man x reader #reader insert #author aya #just a little something <333

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hauntedhokage · 2 months

Text

check yes

Nanami Kento/F!Reader

summary: Nanami makes a request of Gojo to use his connections to arrange his marriage. He just wasn’t expecting to develop a crush on the person arranging his marriage.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: inexplicit references to sexual content

note: I had a very different intention for how this would flow but this is not it. oh well.

[ao3 link] [masterlist] [nanami masterlist] [ko-fi + commissions]

He was already starting to regret this. The house he was brought to was lavish, well maintained and belonging to an owner who took excellent care of the property. Someone from Gojo’s circles outside of Jujutsu Tech and not someone he’d rub elbows with commonly. In all fairness, they weren’t people Nanami wanted to rub elbows with either, but he felt it was natural to be nervous in a house this nice. Just how lucrative was this business anyway?

“Gojo, where did you bring me?”

“I said I’d bring you to the best in the world, didn’t I?” He did say that, but this was Satoru Gojo. There was always a joke or a loophole, Nanami learned to expect that. “This is where the best in the world lives and works - but only for her favorite clients.”

Just how many people had Gojo brought here that he’d become a favorite? Or was he really a favorite? Again, this was Satoru Gojo.

“When you said you had a proposition for me, I thought I’d finally get the big fish engaged.” The teasing tone pulled his attention to the staircase, and he rose an eyebrow at the sight of a woman who seemed vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place from where. “Who’s this?”

“Kento Nanami. A grade one sorcerer in need of a lady friend.”

“Why can’t you ever give me a proper introduction?” Nanami asks, following behind Gojo when his coworker moves to follow you into a room off to the side of the staircase.

You’re standing at a bookcase, opening and flipping through various notebooks until you find what you’re looking for, and Nanami notices that the notebook has Gojo’s name on the front of it when you turn to face them. Based on the size of the notebook and how worn it was, you do a lot of work with Gojo. Both men sit at the desk but you opt to continue standing as you flip through pages, and Nanami takes the time to observe how neat your office was. Art prints on the walls, a couple certificates, and two swords that he could feel the cursed energy radiating off of. Imbued with strong cursed energy, he’d assume you’d had a heavenly pact if he hadn’t already felt the fountain of energy you contained. It felt different from Gojo, it was warmer - much more comforting.

“Kento Nanami,” you mumble, writing in the notebook and only once barely glancing up from the page to see him watching you intently. “You’ve got a technique, right?”

“Seven-to-three. It’s a ratio technique.”

“So someone interested in math might be a plus. Height?”

And he’s forthcoming with the answers to your questions - sometimes having to correct Gojo’s incorrect answers - and he hates that Gojo is getting so much detailed information about himself that was so delicately tucked away. Things about him that would be used against him, as if Nanami asking Gojo about how to have his own marriage arranged wasn’t fuel enough for relentless teasing from the so-called strongest sorcerer.

“Is there a type of woman you’re most interested in?”

“Intelligent, patience, and being competent in a kitchen is a bonus but not required. I’m more than capable of cooking for myself.”

“You want a spouse who can keep herself occupied, I’m sure. Employed?”

“Unnecessary. I have an ample salary to care for two.”

“Appearance?”

“That’s irrelevant to me. What is most important is what lies beneath.”

That had you looking up from the notebook, pen halting only for a moment before you recovered and crossed something out before writing something else. Gojo was shocked enough for the entire room, you didn’t have anything else to add.

It’s only another twenty minutes and a couple pictures with requests for others where he looks less constipated before you’re walking them to the front door of your home while explaining next steps to Nanami. He’d expect to hear from you in a couple days with a date and time to look at profiles of prospective brides that you pulled based on the information you got from him today and estimated compatibility scores.

Gojo is left with a demand that he deal with the Zen’in clan who had been in contact with you regarding Megumi’s future plans for marriage that were none of your business. It seemed you had the same opinion of the clan that Gojo did, which wasn’t surprising but was definitely interesting. He'd have expected your work to not interfere with the dealings of the clans, but he supposed the jujutsu world was always dancing around the wishes of the clans.

“How do you know her?”

“We worked together a few years back on a special grade that had popped up while she was in Tokyo running errands. She doesn’t do a lot of sorcerer work, but she’ll gear up if her services are requested. Mostly she gets paid good money to arrange marriages for people like us.”

“But not you?”

“I’m too busy for a spouse. You’ve got strict hours and a real want for someone to come home to, better suited for marriage than someone like me.”

Everyone eventually resigned themselves to their fate. Maybe in a few years Gojo will change his mind, slow down in his work and let himself accept what he knew they all wanted deep down: a way to escape from the harsh reality that was the world of jujutsu. For now, that wasn’t an issue for Nanami to make his own so he wasn’t going to allow this to slide for the time being.

“Y’know I’m sure Shoko would let you take her out on a date - for practice, of course.”

Nanami pretends to not have heard the suggestion. Shoko had much more important things to do than go on pretend dates with him.

Two weeks pass before he’s sitting in your home again. This time not in your office, but outside on your back patio enjoying a tea and light snacks while going through the stacks of folders produced with potential marriage candidates. You preferred pen and paper to digital record keeping, printed photographs on glossy paper or the occasional polaroid carefully fastened to the folder with a paperclip. Some records were so extensive that an actual binder was required rather than just a folder, whether that was by your design or the client’s he’d yet to figure out.

There were two loaded binders, three thick folders, and two thinner ones stacked on the side of the table, and he dreads needing to look through them all. Arranging a marriage seemed much more simple when he floated the idea past Gojo - it didn’t feel like he’d need to be so involved. He could learn to live with and care for anybody as would be his responsibility as a husband - the responsibility he was signing up for by requesting a marriage to be arranged.

The seven potential candidates you’d selected had the highest compatibility scores from your own assessment of his wants and theirs. All in his preferred age range, some with their natural hair color others with artificially colored hair, even their sexual experience was provided in some detail.

“Your research is extensive,” he comments while reading through the first file. Her name was Yui, first born daughter to a farmer and his wife (who was a former sorcerer) with three younger siblings but no training in jujutsu but the ability to see curses and potential for a cursed technique to have been inherited. Artificial blonde, went to university to study journalism and writes for a gossip magazine with freelance projects on the side.

Key consideration: terrified of the sight of blood. That note has him closing the folder and setting it to the side to create his own discard pile.

“The world of jujutsu is a picky and particular one. The clans go off of technique, fertility, and strength which makes it easy. Those who don’t have clans arranging or go outside of their clans want much more freedom of choice, and things to choose from.”

“Has someone really turned down a candidate because of their sexual experience?”

“More often than you’d think, in both directions. Why didn’t you like Yui?”

“Being afraid of the sight of blood doesn’t seem to fit right with my profession.” As expected, you write that down in your notebook while your free hand idly stirs your tea.

“Reckless in combat?”

“No, but I’m not untouchable like Gojo is. Accidents happen, I’d hate to spur my spouse into terror because a bloody shirt was in the washing machine.

You nod, this time lifting one of the small finger sandwiches to your lips as you continue to write. He looks into the next folder, surprised to see this candidate was a sorcerer from overseas looking to move to Tokyo. Céline from Paris, grade two sorcerer without a cursed technique. Her mission record was attached, and Nanami raises an eyebrow at the fact that she’d never completed a mission on her own. That was intriguing, and the notes that followed regarding the reason for denial to be promoted to grade one made it clear why she’d never finished a mission on her own: she was reckless and endangered herself and her colleagues on every mission.

With moving to Tokyo, she doesn’t want to give up being a sorcerer. Ideally would continue down this career path until plans to have children were made and solidified.

With that, Nanami moves Céline into the discard pile as well. He had no interest in a spouse who was recklessly endangering herself and planned on continuing to do so until pregnancy forced her to stop. He wasn’t even certain that he wanted children, and it seemed like she did eventually which was not going to be satisfactory for her.

The other five files meet the same fate, neatly stacked on the other side of the table while you continue to take notes. You’d added about three more pages on notes while watching him read through files and provide commentary when asked, which showed just how observant you were. This was a profession you excelled at for a reason.

“Are you normally this picky, Mr. Nanami? This is just a review to see if you want to meet these ladies, not propose on the spot.”

“I don’t want to waste their time or my own if I don’t believe there will be a connection after the meeting. If I don't see a future, why bother?”

“Should I just let you read through my entire filing cabinet on prospects to see if there’s anyone you like?” You were teasing him, that was clear and made him feel just a bit better about shutting down all of your preliminary choices. But perhaps you expected him to do that, if the additional set of four folders you pulled from the bag sitting on your left meant anything. You truly watched everything that he did.

“That shouldn’t be necessary. You spent the last hour psychoanalyzing me with intentionally incompatible brides for a reason, did you not?”

“Not intentionally incompatible, just incidentally. Everyone is open to options until they have the options, that’s where the pickiness sets in. Everyone has lines they’d prefer not to cross, I needed to find yours to better asses potential partners.”

“What are mine?”

“The most basic one is consistent mutual inconvenience or concern”

You go on to explain how that spiderwebs into a few other different lines that created his personal boundaries for selecting a wife (and, really, any personal acquaintance). Consistent mutual inconvenience, like him needing to hide a key risk of his profession for a wife terrified of the sight of blood while the wife would need to constantly emotionally prepare for the day where she made contact with the sight of his blood, was not a strong foundation for a relationship. Arranged or not, there needed to be levels of trust and comfortability that could be built, and that comfortability would never be built upon a foundation of fear. That mutual inconvenience webbed into concern, like always being worried that your spouse’s reckless behavior would get themselves killed but they have no desire to quit their job or change their ways would just create exhaustion in the relationship and that wouldn’t be healthy for the marriage.

If asked, he was definitely reading the words on the paper in his hands and not too captivated by every word that left your mouth to even remember the woman’s name on the page. He had a type, and you were sitting right across from him. It was a shame you weren’t an option.

A month passes and you’ve finally gotten him to agree to meet with a prospective bride. He had a condition and that was that he got to debrief with you immediately after to share his thoughts and feelings, and you agreed to it without hesitation. Of course Gojo was paying for every minute of your time that Nanami used, so agreeing was a natural decision, but part of him hoped it was a desire to spend that time with him and hear his opinions as more than just a client.

The prospective bride was named Sayuri. She, like you, had graduated from Jujutsu High’s Kyoto campus and she also, like you, had retired from working as a sorcerer. But with a full stop due to an injury that rendered her cursed technique inoperable, leaving random missions off the table for her own health.

He appreciated a woman who knew her physical limits, and you looked so proud when he told her that to her face. He was trying, and he was glad that you saw that too, but he knew he’d take the wind out of your sails when he told you that he didn’t see himself with Sayuri for more than just a couple dinner dates. She was nice, truly a lovely girl, but her opinions on teenagers were far too negative while he greatly enjoyed the time he got to spend with the Jujutsu High students (even if they weren’t aware that he enjoyed being around them). As much as they could irritate him, he learned a lot from them but that was a notion that Sayuri just couldn’t accept. He couldn’t accept her as a bride if she would be uncomfortable with Yuuji or Maki stopping in for a visit every now and again.

Nanami is only slightly disappointed in himself when you deflate at the news. But you also seem more determined to find him a bride, and that brings him relief that you didn’t think he was a lost cause just yet. He would hate to feel as though he’d wasted your time, that was clearly a precious commodity to yourself and other people who desired your services.

“It’s almost like you prefer spending time with me rather than any other women,” you comment off-handedly before leaving, something he knew you meant that as a tease but he dared not tell you it was an accurate assumption. He wanted you to want to continue to be around him, this crush of his would go away once he’d found a suitable arrangement.

You start to consume his thoughts, the worst part is that he’d been traveling for missions so he hadn’t seen you in weeks. Every day he’s checking his phone for a message from you, his email for new scans of your notes on a prospective spouse, any indication that you were thinking of him just as much as he was thinking of you. It was disgustingly unprofessional to be so distracted, especially when you were simply doing your job that Gojo was paying you to do. To think that you had any sort of feeling for him would be presumptuous, preposterous, and downright idiotic.

But you never said anything about having a partner of your own, and that gives him a hope that he’s not sure he should have. How could he maintain an air of professionalism when in the back of his head he’s wondering if there was a flavor attached to the glossy shine decorating your lips?

He lets himself get distracted during his first mission back in Tokyo. The curse wasn’t even a particularly strong one, just annoying, and he let himself get distracted by his phone vibrating in his pocket. He usually put his phone on do-not-disturb when he was on a mission, this time he did not and he had a growing red stain on his shirt to pay for that error. If it was just a text, that’d be one thing. Unfortunately for him it was a call, the vibration strong against his thigh and enough to skew his focus long enough to miss the way the curse lunged at him. Poor performance on his part.

He was just going to go home after this, enjoy a shower in his own personal bathroom and then check in at the school in the morning. Sleep in his own bed and enjoy being home after six weeks of hotels (as nice as they were).

Then he checked his phone, listened to the voicemail that you had left and how excited you sounded to have found the one for him.

He tells the cab driver your address before he even considers going to the school to see Shoko to have his injury treated. He’d rather be dead in an alley than be in the school infirmary for the night, the concrete was definitely going to be more comfortable than the bed there.

He doesn’t even know what he’d say to you when he knocks on your door. He doesn’t know how you’d react, but he feels better when you open the door and bring him in with just one look at his disheveled state and bring him up the stairs. In all the visits he’d made to your home, this was the first time he’d been up the stairs.

“What happened?” you ask softly once he’s in your master bathroom, and he sighs as he sits on your toilet per your instruction. The first aid kit is pulled from under the sink, but his attempt to unbutton his shirt is thwarted when you start to do it for him. “Talk to me, Kento.”

“I got distracted while fighting a curse.”

“Distracted? That doesn’t sound like you.” You sound worried, and that makes him feel better about being here. Less imposing, at the very least. “But I guess you’ve been going nonstop for a few weeks. Must’ve been a big distraction.”

“I was only momentarily distracted. A mistake that won’t be repeated.”

“I’m sure,” you murmur, your hands carefully cleaning around the wound in his side. “Y’know, Shoko would be a better doctor considering she actually is one.”

“I can leave, if-”

“No.” Your hand on his chest stops him from trying to stand. “I’d rather you stay, honestly.”

He relaxes at that, letting his head fall back against the wall with his eyes closed as you continue to work. It wasn’t life threatening by any means, and you were being very gentle with him as you worked to clean up the blood so you could better look at it.

“Why me, though?”

“I didn’t think much about it. I considered where I felt safe, and you were the first to come to mind.” It’s a vulnerable answer, an honesty he wasn’t prepared to share so openly but you were safe. Always had been. Even with your analyzing gaze and the way you managed to carefully pick apart his guarded exterior, you still felt safe for him. But the way your brow furrowed when he looked down raised a concern. “Is there an issue?”

“No, no issue. You bled a fair amount but that made it look worse than it actually is. You’ll survive until the morning, and Shoko can patch you up properly then.” And he feels the gauze on his skin, your hands applying decent pressure to keep it in place as you start to wrap the bandaging to keep the gauze in place throughout the night. Then your touch is gone, and he sees you standing while carefully removing the gloves that were now stained with his blood. “Pain meds?”

“Please.” He’s letting you pull him to stand, his shirt is now ruined and not worth keeping on but it’d be rude for him to walk around without some sort of covering. This feels indecent when his relationship with you was supposed to be strictly business, like he’s crossing a boundary that wasn’t meant to be crossed - a boundary that he supposed he had crossed when he came to you instead of calling Shoko. He didn’t even know if you had medical training aside from the basic first aid all sorcerers are taught.

“I make you feel safe, huh?”

“You know almost everything about me. More than any of my colleagues who I trust with my life know.” He hears your thoughtful hum in response to his statement, watching as your fingers carefully roll one of the buttons of his undone shirt between them. “So, yes, I feel very safe with you. I enjoy the time we spend together.”

And he doesn’t register how it happens, all he knows is that his lips are on yours and your hands are now gripping his shirt to keep him close while his hands hold your face close to his. Your legs hit the footboard of your bed frame, something that halts him for only a moment before he’s carefully helping you over it while your hands push his shirt off of his shoulders.

This was not what he had intended when he showed up on your doorstep unannounced and bleeding, but now he knows your lips taste like strawberry and the flavor of your gloss lingers long after you’ve removed it. He knows that you’re not afraid of taking what it is you need, that you had wanted him just as badly as he had wanted you.

But after he’s come down from the moment he lets his brain take over and his anxiety flares. You were supposed to be finding him a suitable spouse, yet here he was in your bed - how could that possibly end? Would you want to help him after he crossed this boundary? Did you want him to stay here with you tonight? Probably not, even if you were sleeping soundly with your head on his arm. So he pulls himself away from you as soon as he’s sure you won’t wake, knowing that he caught sight of a guest bedroom down the hall close to the stairs. He’d sleep there, then make breakfast in the morning. Simple recovery of a situation that he hoped wouldn’t crumble in his hands.

If you’d been upset by his choice not to sleep in your bed, you don’t show it. The following morning you only greet him with breakfast and let him know that you enjoyed yourself and hoped that he did the same. He left your home to go back to the Jujutsu Tech campus with a kiss on the cheek and mug of coffee to go, with a promise that he'd be in touch to properly go over the notes you'd sent him.

Then it was back to business.

Only that business involved more overnight visits, ones where he stayed by your side through the night and went through the motions of the morning with you. Breakfast and coffee, then you both were off to perform your respective jobs. It was odd, sleeping with you then the next day receiving texts about potential candidates. Part of him admired your ability to maintain sight of the goal, the other part wished you’d tell him that you wanted to be with him instead of some random person seeking a husband. He’d miss the intimacy you shared when he finally settled for someone he could live with for the rest of his life - when that would happen, he wasn’t sure.

He just knew it wouldn’t be any time soon. He didn’t want to settle just yet.

“I found another candidate for you to review,” you mention one evening, your fingers lazily carding through his hair as he relaxes against you. A disinterested hum is all he can bother to respond with, knowing that he was going to find a reason to reject the proposition. He knew what he wanted, and you unfortunately weren’t an option.

“Would you marry me, Kento?” He’s surprised to hear you ask such a question, lifting his head from where it rests on your chest to see you watching him with a soft smile. “I’m running out of candidates for you to turn down.”

“I didn’t think you were an option,” he murmurs, watching as your shoulders shrug against the mattress. Clearly you didn’t realize that you were an option either until recently.

“Originally I wasn’t. But now we’ve had sex multiple times, I’m not sure either of us would move on easily.”

Sound logic, he knew he wouldn’t be able to move on at all. Not for months, at a minimum - he really liked you a lot. “Besides, you’re very picky.”

“Do you want to be my wife?”

“I think we would have a very comfortable marriage. Mutually beneficial in many ways. The major bonus is we already like each other.” Again, your logic is sound and he knows that you know that. Why wouldn’t he want to marry you? This was exactly what he was hoping for and thought was unattainable. But you’re smiling up at him, your hand gently caressing his cheek as he watches you for any sign of uncertainty and finds none. “Do you want to be my husband?”

And he knows that he’d be honored to be your husband. You could take care of yourself, but would let him take care of you when needed. You were intelligent, independent, able to act when needed, and understood his work as a sorcerer intimately so you didn’t fear the potential consequences of his career.

You truly would be the perfect wife, the only downside was that he’d have to thank Gojo for bringing him into your life.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento jjk #nanami kento fanfic #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami imagine #nanami kento imagine #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

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sunnybunnyy2 · 6 months

Text

Two Wrongs Don’t Make A Right

Daryl Dixon x platonic!reader

Negan Smith x daughter!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.0k

TIME: season 7

Warnings: imprisonment, talk of rapists(briefly), talk of murder, mentions of Abe’s and Glenn’s deaths, arguments, mentions of saviours, mentions of what transpired in season six and seven, spoiler warning and bad writing.

CHAPTER 2 of the Dark Cell series

Series Masterlist Official Masterlist

This is long awaited! I'm sorry that this has taken so long but I have been making fanfics on Wattpad recently and if you are a fellow fanfic writer you understand how much unnecessary time it takes to come up with ideas and lines to make your character come to life. Thank you all for being so patient with me! Also, requests are open, and I will be redoing my master list, so look out for that. I have been influenced so yes, this is going to become a series so stay tuned! Now that I finished this part I have more motivation to actually write for this! I’d you want to be tagged in the series let me know! Thank you so much for reading<3

(if there is third person slip ups I’m sorry, I’m just so used to writing in third person :( )

The exchanges took place every night at around 1 a.m., and it had for the past seven days.

You would arrive carrying a plate or bowl of whatever leftover food you had managed to swipe from the kitchen or some dinner from the meals you would share with Negan.

You had aimed to make the food before you went down so that it was still hot but it was risky as, there was a large chance that one of Negan's men would notice and alert your father, which would raise suspicion.

The food consisted of Sandwiches, chicken, pasta, fish, soup and wraps.

You wished you could do it more often, but you knew that it would largely increase the chances of you getting caught.

You knew your punishment wouldn't be anywhere near how severe Daryl's would be. You also knew that as much as you pleaded your father would allow his pawns to have their fun in harming the long-haired man. You weren't quite sure why your father's men were so willing to starve and beat a man senseless to appear strong. Men and their egos you supposed.

Your father could preach all he wanted about how he would do anything for his daughter, how he would move mountains to appease you. How he would kill anyone who dared to disrespect you (he had) but yet he couldn't try and be a better man. He couldn't put his rage and grieve the wicked world had caused him and help people instead of torturing broken people and turning people who wanted to survive into heartless killers. Turn them into him.

You couldn't say you hated your father. You never could. But that certainly didn't mean you agreed with half the things he did.

You could tell he cared what you thought of him. You were the last thing he had of your mother, but that didn't mean he listened to you when you expressed your opinion.

You and your father were close before all of this happened, well before you found out about his affair. After that day you hated everything about him. Even when your mother got sick and he stood by her, did everything for her. You weren't sure if it was because of how guilty he felt for betraying her or because he loved her.

Normally you would insist on it being the first but now she was at a loss.

Since your mother's demise, your once childish but thoughtful father had turned into a power-hungry greedy man. At first you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was grieving and was trying to find a way to cope with the loss of the woman he loved but it was as though he was forgetting that his daughter had lost her mother.

He wanted to make you happy, so he gifted you the biggest room in the sanctuary and allowed you to purchase whatever you desired without working, though you often helped with the growing crops in the back of the sanctuary. Your father never really liked the idea of her around the fence but he backed down after a heated argument between you. He did send some of his men to keep an eye on you, he tried to be discreet but his men were less than.

You always made sure to bring a large glass of tap water from your room down to his cell, wanting to at least make sure he didn't die of dehydration.

You knew that his physical health wasn't as bad as it was before but you knew that his mental health was still declining. He had been locked in the tiny cell for weeks on end, the only sound filling his ears was the constant lyrics of the song 'East Street'.

The bags under his eyes were proof enough of the lack of sleep he had been receiving. The way his eyes could barely focus on one thing when you would bring him his meals was another important factor in your conclusion.

Since your visits had become more frequent he had uttered his name quietly into the comfortable silence that had filled the cell as he hastily inhaled what was in front of him. It was so quiet that you had barely heard him, but once you realized that it wasn't your imagination you smiled softly to yourself before muttering your name as well.

In your mind, you were friends. You knew his name, he knew yours, you would bring him food, he would be thankful and you were both the highlight of each other's day.

Daryl- because he wasn't rapidly dropping weight as he had been before from his lack of food, which in turn kept his brain running so he could coax his thoughts into coming up with a plan to escape his captivity. Plus your company wasn't so bad he reckoned.

You- because you got to meet another survivor from a rivalling group, you had heard your father angrily ranting to his soldiers about how this mysterious group had taken out one of his many posts and killed everyone in it.

You were shocked at how brutal this group could be but you knew that your father could be even more heartless and it was proven when a week later whispers were passed along through the sanctuary that your father had partaken in another one of his lineups and had bashed in two members of Daryl's groups heads in with Lucille.

You knew that Daryl's group had killed countless people, saviours but at least their families and friends didn't have to see it, as apparently the people from the outpost were killed while they slept. It was a very cowardly way to kill but it was better in a way, they didn't see it coming.

You clutched the tray of food which consisted of a slice of ham from a pig the saviours had recently slaughtered as a way to celebrate the new community they had under their control, standing with the other few that they had taken over. With a side of carrots that you had picked herself to give him some energy.

Then finally a generous helping of mashed potatoes to fill him up, as you knew that a small sandwich was going to get him through the day. Well, you guessed it was two, as Dwight had made sure to feed him a dog food sandwich every other day to keep him going. A dark pork gravy from the brand Bisto (clubhouse is better but whatever) that was covering a large portion of the potatoes. Your father did always say that you made it taste even better when you made it.

Your eyes peeked around the sharp corner to make sure Arat was on her way to her break that she always made sure to hide, always quick on her feet to head to her room to get several strong minutes of shut-eye.

Your eyes caught sight of Arat quietly creeping her way further and further away from Daryl's new home. You waited a couple of minutes until you were sure she was in her room, possibly already captivated by sleep. You placed one foot in front of the other as you too, crept down the hallway, the fear of getting caught burning fear into her veins.

You balanced the tray on one hand as you reached into your left pocket, to pull out the cell key that you had stolen from Laura, well it wasn't quite stealing, she had dropped it and hadn't even noticed. You could still remember her confused face when she caught you on the ground after catching you mid-grab. You smiled at her and played it off as if you were tying your shoe, which she bought as she shot you a smile and continued on with her ranting.

You turned the key clockwise into the rusting metal, smiling in satisfaction when the lock clicked quietly as a sign that it was now unlocked.

The creak that was loudly pulled from the door as it was opened left you cringing as you quickly shuffled into the room, closing the door until there was only a fragment of it for a little bit of light but it wasn't large enough to draw suspicion towards your meetings.

You could already see Daryl gazing up at you as you pulled the door closed, before lowering yourself to the floor, holding your hands out as a sign for him to take the plate which he did. He had loosened up a large amount since you had started being him food a week ago.

He was still stand-offish and didn't like to talk about his group which you didn't blame him for, you were with the enemy, you were his daughter. You weren't sure if he knew of your status at the sanctuary but if he did, it didn't come from you. It had already taken a great amount of effort to gain his trust and you wouldn't want it broken just because of who your father was.

If he brought it up, you would talk to him about it, but for now, you didn't want to risk losing one of the only people that didn't just suck up to you because they wanted more points or because they were scared to face your father's wrath if they hurt your feelings.

"Hey, sorry I was late, Arat took longer than usual to hit the deck." You quickly explained as expected the food in a curious glint in his eyes. "It's ham. Sorry, I didn't know if you liked it but they just killed a pig and me and my-... I had some for dinner earlier, it was good... and there's potatoes obviously, there's some cheese in them too with carrots and gravy." His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you in question just as he had been since you had almost slipped up. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned well... at least I hope it isn't because I ate the same thing but I guess we'll find out."

He let a harsh breath out of his nose that sounded similar to a laugh before he picked up the metal fork before shoving a large bite of potatoes in his mouth, a barely audible groan fell from his lips as he continued to inhale the food, not even bothering to use the knife that you had brought to cut the meat, opting to just pick it up with his hands.

If it was anyone else you would find the wild eating disgusting, but you understood. He was being starved as a torture method to force him into submission. You had seen this countless times, but nearly all had caved within the first few days. It was shocking to you how strong he was. If it had been you... you weren't sure how long you could last if you were in the same position.

From how wild he was eating you could only assume today wasn't the day he got fed from Dwight.

You assumed you did well with the amount of food you had given him.

You kept your eyes trained on the opened part of the door to make sure the coast was clear still. Normally this side of the sanctuary was almost always deserted, but since Daryl as been held here, you had noticed a lot of working people wanted to catch a glimpse of one of the Alexandrians who had killed numerous soldiers. You weren't sure if was from fear or awe.

"Why are you doing this." He asked as he looked up from his half-eaten plate of food, to examine you while you spoke as if to see if you would lie to him.

"I don't like how he's handing this. I mean... what your group did was wrong. Really wrong. But what he's doing to you isn't right. No one should have to deal with this. I mean other than rapists, pedophiles, or child killers. I mean murder is really bad but there are some ways to excuse it, like self-defence but I mean the worlds over. People kill each other every day to survive. Don't make it right but it makes sense. You did what you thought you had to, to 'save' your group." You ranted slightly as you looked down.

"So you're doing this because I deserve better?" Daryl asked with a quiet snort as though he couldn't fathom the thought of someone actually thinking he was a decent guy.

"Everyone deserves better in some way. But no, some people just need a little help sometimes. You do, so I'm trying to help you." You said as watched him proceed with eating.

He looked up at you after he took yet another bite of his food. "I ain't need no help." He dismissed with a huff as he finished the last of his food.

"Obviously you do. Everybody does. You're no exception." You disagreed as he watched for any signs of Arat possibly returning earlier than usual.

"So why ya helping me? I'm sure the big man has more bitchs." He all but growled as he thought about your father causing your face to drop slightly as he kept your eyes away from him, in hopes of him not being able to see your full life story from just the shine in your eyes. Daryl looked like the type to be able to, you thought.

"He has some other... people in cells-" You were cut off by Daryl as he let out a dangerous scoff that should have had you scared. You were in a closed space with someone who wanted your father dead, I mean sure he didn't know that you and the man he hated most shared the same blood but it didn't matter. You were a Smith and that would never change. No matter how much you hoped and prayed that your father would suddenly turn a new leaf, it never seemed to happen. So at some point, you just saved your previously wasted breath.

"Ya mean prisoners?" He spoke sharply, his words not a question but a statement, showcasing how enraged he truly was with her father.

"Yeah...prisoners. There is some down here, yes. But they deserve it." You said while shaking your head as you thought about the awful people that were locked down here.

"Ain't nobody deserve this shit." He said with his whole chest as his eyes scanned your face with a mixture of hate and disgust at your words. You couldn't blame him though, he was locked in a cell and you had just said that the people locked in them deserved it.

"They're awful people. Rapists, child killers, people who kill without reason-"

"I ain't no rapist and I ain't no child killers. Me and my people had every righ-"

"Nobody has a right to take someone's life. Who made us god? When did we get to choose who got to live and who got to die?" You argued as you furrowed your brows at the man's words.

"How bout' ya tell yer buddy that? He killed my friends." He raised his voice louder than necessary which earned him a dirty look from you as you peeked out of the sliver of the door that shined light into the cell and once you were sure no one was coming with guns raised you turned back to face him.

"You killed dozens of his men while they were sleeping. You do realize that, right? I'm not saying what he did was right either, but you're lucky he didn't kill more of your people." You ranted slightly as you looked at him in confusion, he was so stuck in his own misery that he wasn't thinking about how other people were affected by his and his group's actions.

"Lucky? He bashed my friend's heads in." He said angrily but it was quiet. As if trying to scare you into submission but you didn't back down.

"And I'm sorry for your friends. I really am. But you couldn't have thought that your group could get away with slaughtering- and it was a slaughtering, his men and get away scot-free. You killed his soldiers. He takes that shit as a personal attack. So when I say I'm surprised he didn't kill more of you I mean it."

"One of my friends' wives was pregnant' ya think she deserved ta see that? Now tha' kid's gonna grow up without a father."

"Of course not. That's awful and I'm so sorry...but some of the men and women you slaughtered had kids. Wives. Parents. They had people who loved them too. One of the men, Mike, had a pregnant wife at one of the other outposts. She was eight months and gave birth to her baby girl two days after he died. Alone. And a woman, Mel, just got married to the man she loved, they were trying for a baby... He killed himself last week. Hung himself in his room all alone." You paused for a moment to see if he was going to speak up but when he didn't, you continued.

"An-and a woman named Willow had a baby at another outpost. Now that baby has to grow up without a mother. Another man named Carlos was an only child and had to work for points to provide for his parents. They're old and can't do it themselves. Now they're barely eating and are so depressed that their health is deteriorating, we're not sure how long they have left. So I'm sorry that your friends lost people they cared about but you didn't just get your group hurt with your guy's actions. You guys ruined so many lives that night."

You finished your rant as you shook your head, looking up at him only to see him looking down at his hands, his overgrown hair hung low to cover his eyes, masking his true reaction.

"I'm not trying to say that your friends' deaths don't matter but you can't just go around acting like you didn't kill people either. Like everyone else's pain doesn't matter to not feel guilty. But it does." You said quietly before deciding you had spent long enough in the stuffy cell. You reached over, grabbing the plate from in front of him before pulling yourself to your feet. You waited for him to speak again but he didn't bother and once you turned around he noticed that he hadn't moved from his place.

"Good night." You shook your head before he pulled the creaky door open a little more so the gap was large enough to fit your body through, closing it until you felt the metal clank quietly against metal.

You pulled out the key and shoved it into the lock, twisting it quickly before you heard quiet footsteps walking down the hallway from where Arat had left from. It seemed like you had left at the perfect time, you supposed.

You quietly but hastily quickened your pace until you were at the same corner you had looked over from around fifteen minutes prior.

You watched as Arat ran a hand over her short black and bleached blonde hair as she let out a yawn, swaying on her feet slightly from the over-tiredness she was experiencing, which was probably in full swing by the shortness of her sleep.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief before you quietly made your way in the direction of her room, the plate held tightly in your grasp as you walked past the mostly deserted sanctuary, sending a small smile to some of the saviours on watch duty. Most sent one back your way, while others seemed annoyed at the fact that they had duty at all, leaving them too aggravated to bother.

You were about to turn the handle of your door when you heard a voice stop you.

"Baby? What are you doin' up? It's late." Your father's voice stopped you in your tracks. A part of you wanted to run into your room and pretend that you had been sleepwalking but you knew your father knew you better than that and could almost always tell when you were fake sleeping. It was an odd talent if you were to be frank. So you turned around with a smile and spoke.

"I couldn't sleep. Decided to take a walk." You lied.

"With an empty plate of food?" He asked with raised eyebrows a sarcastic smirk on his face.

"...I got hungry on the way. Just heated up some leftovers from dinner. Didn't know that was a crime, Dad." You huffed in an attempt to sound believable.

"It's late. You could have woken me up. I would have walked with you." He said as he studied you.

"Seriously, dad? Literal armed guards are crawling the place. I think I'm okay walking to the kitchen. Plus you barely sleep as it is." You rolled your eyes at his mindset.

"I always have time for you, hunny... so who's the boy? Or girl. I don't discriminate. Hell, ya could be in love with a goddamn pumpkin and I would still approve. Maybe a little weirded out but hey, we all have our kinks." He smirked but his nose scrunched up slightly as he realized he was talking to his daughter and not one of his henchmen.

"Oh, wow, you figured it out. His name is Donteatmyseedsplease. I didn't want to keep it from you but I don't think you would approve. I'm so very glad I have your support, father dearest." You said in an overly happy voice even your eyes rolled with almost every word you spoke. You turned back to your door and turned ten knob, not going in as though to not give your father the opportunity to join you.

"You'll have to bring him over for dinner sometime we'll have squash."

"That wasn't funny Dad."

"Damn, you know how to wound a man's ego. Good girl, I taught you well." He said in a proud tone.

"I'm exhausted. Can we talk tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you about something actually..." You spoke as you pushed your door open even wider than it had been and started to make her way into your large room.

"That's never good." He groaned before he leaned over to land a kiss atop your head. "I'll see you tomorrow, baby. I'm busy but I always have time for you." He pulled away and sent a smile your way which you returned before closing the door and leaning against it. A sigh of relief left your lips as you realized you were in the clear.

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#the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon x platonic!reader #negan smith x daughter!reader #The walking dead x platonic!reader #The walking dead xteen!reader #daryl dixon x reader #Dark cell series

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