#i managed to make his haircut look alright

[butts-art]

They are happy and going on adventures together

Uncropped and high res

#i managed to make his haircut look alright #star wars #the bad batch #tbb tech #phee genoa #tech x phee #painting #illustration #butt art

[joelsgreys]

weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 5.7k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess. 

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite. 

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside. 

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look. 

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity  to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime. 

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude. 

Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his  index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you. 

Could Frank actually be right? 

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut. 

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls  might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s  difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch  smells heavenly—Frank knows  it’s  your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart. 

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly. 

Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. 

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. 

Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.

 Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in. 

As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair. 

Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.

About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum. 

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe. 

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside. 

When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking  long since anyone had ever touched him like that. 

Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. 

He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks  into your touch.

Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.

Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…” 

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes  its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.

The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is  at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage. 

Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face. 

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. 

But he was yours too.

#joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

[luveline]

hot bombshell bau!reader flirting and winking at spencer every chance she gets and poor spencer just gets hot and bothered very flustered and blushing😋😋

i love you jade i read ur blog like it's the daily newspaper<33

I love you anon, thank you for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"So," says a voice, low and syrupy as warmth spreads up Spencer's side, "how's my favourite agent?" 

Your perfume a subtle fragrance of jasmine and vanilla alike, sweetness that lingers —and Spencer knows, having thought of you every time he walks past the sugar ring donut stand by the Staples Mill Station for weeks— you put a hand on his shoulder and lean in for a one-armed hug. His skin erupts with goosebumps. 

"Y/N," he says, sounding much too much like a wimp for his own liking. He clears his throat. "When did you get back?" 

He's afraid to look at you. He doesn't have a choice. His heart skips a beat at the state of you, which is to say you look stunning in your dark clothes, a tight cut top that borders unprofessional and a pair of thigh hugging pants that pass the border completely. (He's kidding. Mostly. You're dressed fine. He's a loser, is all.) 

"This morning. They couldn't keep me from you if they tried, handsome. You look good." You disengage from his side. Spencer's relieved and regretful at once. "I love the haircut, they take a little more than you were expecting?" 

"Is it too short?" he asks unsurely. 

"It's perfect."

Spencer's taller than you but he never feels it until you're looking up at him, pretty eyes and quirked lips, permanent amusement in your gaze. "I missed you," you say.

"Y/N," Hotch says as he descends the steps to the bullpen. "We talked about this." 

"Pen and Morgan do it every day." Your eyebrows pinch together. 

Hotch doesn't say anything else, an empty coffee mug in hand as he passes. You don't baulk at his disapproving look, the opposite, sitting on the edge of Morgan's desk to kick your kitten heels gently, a slow back and forth that has Spencer's eyeline pulling down your legs. He shakes it off, but not before you've noticed. 

"You don't mind, do you, babe?" you ask. "My flirting?" 

It'll probably kill him sooner rather than later. "No. Don't mind." 

"'Cus I can stop, I promise. But you're the kind of boy that should be flirted with, you know? And the kind of smart that makes you crazy attractive, which is unfair. It's not like you needed help in that particular department." You lean back as you talk, scrounging around Morgan's things.

"Second shelf," Spencer says. 

You stop your searching to grin at him. Pleased, you reach down to the second drawer of Morgan's desk and find what you'd been looking for, a coveted, half-eaten pack of cherry twizzlers. 

"But we're not like Pen and Morgan," you say, bringing a twizzler to your mouth. 

"We're not?" Spencer asks, confused. He may not summon the necessary charisma to flirt back, but he likes what you have. 

"Nope." You take another bite, chew, leaving Spencer in anticipation. Finally, you swallow, lips curving into an even stickier smile. "'Cus Pen and Morgan are never gonna happen. They're better as friends…" 

You slip down off of Morgan's desk, leaving his twizzlers behind. Spencer has enough sense about him to anticipate your approach. He's proud of himself for the composure he maintains as your footsteps slow. He even takes a step back to follow you, to your abject delight. 

"But we're not just friends, are we?" you ask softly. You lift your chin. He can smell the cherry on you. 

"Y/N, enough," Hotch says from somewhere behind. You refuse to look away, and while Spencer fears his chief's tone, he manages to hold your gaze. "HR will mandate another presentation." 

"It's alright, Hotch," Spencer says. His cheeks are flushed and his palms are clammy, but his voice holds up. "I don't mind." 

"I'm sure you don't." 

"This could all be avoided if we took this somewhere a little more private," you murmur. 

"Enough. I won't tell you again, Y/N. Shouldn't you be helping Penelope with her ViCAP recalibration?" Hotch asks pointedly. 

Spencer takes it for what it is; an effort to separate you from each other before it goes too far. You know it too, rolling your eyes at Spencer like you've a shared secret —Can you believe this guy?— clasping his arm loosely in farewell.

"See you later, Spence." You call him handsome, babe, bub, even sweetheart, but Spence is the worst of all of them because of how you say it, your voice entrenched in pure honey. His heart pangs as you go.  

Hotch lingers by Spencer's side, coffee freshly filled and steaming in rings. "You know, you're getting better," he says sympathetically. 

Spencer rubs the bridge of his nose roughly. "Thanks." 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[fatuismooches]

Hello! If your requests are open, may I request Akademiya Dottore and Reader where the reader helped design his hair? Like, cut his hair and get him to have the curtain bangs and mullet he has now? I apologize if this is confusing.

Being Zandik’s lover in the Akademiya also meant being a dutiful roommate and his part-time caretaker, because if it weren’t for you, there would be many more occurrences where he skipped meals and lost dozens of hours of sleep. Let’s just say, you were a very persistent person when it came to your boyfriend’s health.

At the very least, he did keep himself presentable. But once he came to terms that you were genuinely trying to help, he left the buying of products like lotion, soap, and shampoo to you, so he wouldn’t have to leave the dorm to purchase such items. This was actually a good thing because you could make him smell however you wanted! Though you don’t want to think about the time you found out he used a 9 in 1 shampoo. (It was banned from the dorm immediately.)

One of the other things you did for Zandik was cutting his hair. Many of his haircuts were done by you, he found it convenient since he could continue to read while you snipped-snipped his locks away. You normally kept it short, so it wouldn’t get in the way of whatever illegal or legal things he wanted to do. But this time, you wondered how long his hair could grow if you didn’t intervene.

And oh, did it grow.

His blue hair was now a little bit past his shoulders, fluffy and curly thanks to your brushing. (The first few times, he had chased you away, but gave in when he found out he liked the feeling of his hair being combed.) Zandik didn’t bother questioning why you let his hair reach this length, he didn’t care much about his appearance unless it was bothering him personally. Until now.

“[Name], give me a haircut,” Zandik’s annoyed voice broke the silence of the room, his notes lying abandoned on the desk as he gave you a vexed look, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. You giggled, pushing away your homework that was definitely due the next day in favor of your lover.

“Oh? You’re not enjoying the long hair anymore?”

“It’s grown to be inconvenient,” he muttered. “It’s so long, sometimes blood gets matted in it.” You had to hold back a snicker at that complaint. As to why Zandik simply didn’t tie it up, well, for some reason, he doesn’t like doing that. Oh, but you do wonder how he managed to get blood in his hair. Usually, he’s more careful than that with his subjects. Guess it was indeed time for a haircut. “And these bangs, they get in the way of my eyes. It’s hindering my research,” he huffed. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll cut it,” you chuckled. You just wished you had some sort of device that could capture his current look forever. It was just so adorable to see Zandik with a mop of fluffy long hair.

After you had set up the area with a towel and a mirror, you got your scissors and comb ready (unfortunately Tevyat didn’t have any better tools.) Zandik already had his attention placed on a hefty ancient book, and you began to move the scissors to a tuff of hair.

Snip. The fluff ball flew down to the floor. And that was when you paused. All of this hair was really going to be gone soon. Which was a shame, considering it was really growing on you. But then an idea popped into your head.

“Hey Zandik,” you said, propping your arms on his shoulders, “What if I gave you a different haircut?” A few seconds of silence passed and you couldn’t contain a grin as Zandik’s red eyes flicked up from his book to stare at you through the mirror you had placed in front of you two.

“Is this why you didn’t bother cutting my hair for so long? I don’t recall being asked to be part of your little experiment.”

“Well, it’s not like you were that much of an unwilling participant. If you truly hated it, you would have made me cut it a long time ago, no?” Zandik scoffed and you took it as a sign it wasn’t a flat-out no.

“Come on! You’ve had that same haircut for years, it’s time to spice things up a bit,” you insisted. “It’ll look so good, promise,” you pouted, going as far as to press your cheek against his scowling face. He let out a sigh but you already knew he was going to agree. It’s the intuition you got from years of dealing with him.

“Fine. Do as you like,” he grumbled, giving you authority over the direction his hair would be now, as he returned his attention to the book. “As long as it is something decent.” You silently cheered. 

You had a faint vision of what you wanted, but you had to be cautious of the snip-snipping. Maybe you should start with the bangs first. Instead of the hair falling on his forehead, you wanted to clear that area and make two long bangs to the side of his face instead. Convenient, Zandik’s favorite, and pretty too, your favorite! And so you got to work, clipping and cutting around. But it seemed like your human experiment was more interested than you gave him credit for. 

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” Zandik let out a discontented noise but allowed you to proceed. You found it amusing how his eyes were flickering up to you every now and then to assess your progress. And soon enough, you had done it! Two long, blue locks of hair now bordered your boyfriend’s face, parted from the middle of his forehead. Even Zandik seemed to be satisfied with your work.

But still… it felt like there was something missing. It needed a little something else, to make it a bit unique. Perhaps if you just changed the length of one… you brought the scissors closer to snip off a piece of hair before a hand suddenly grabbed yours.

“Is it not fine this way?” Of course now he has to intervene.

“Well, it is, but… I just think it’ll look better if I just cut one a little bit.”

“I’ve never seen anyone with two differing lengths of bangs,” he frowned. “I remember asking you to present to me a decent haircut, not an outlandish one.”

“That’s because you barely go anywhere besides the dorm, Akademiya, or deep in the forest and desert,” you refuted. “It’s very stylish nowadays!” He didn’t seem much persuaded. “I’ve been cutting your hair for this long, I know what I’m doing, Zandik!”

“You’ve been doing the same haircut for years, I don’t see how that equates to knowledge or experience with other haircuts, [Name],” he rolled his eyes at you. Harmless bickering like this was normal during your Akademiya days.

“Alright, if it looks bad, I will give myself the same uneven cut. Then we’ll be even,” you whined, practically begging for him to give in. “This is very important to your long-time partner, Zandik!” You had a vision and it must be realized!

Before Zandik could let another insult roll off his tongue you made sure to throw your arms around him dramatically and bury your face in his neck, whining out another ‘please’. He stiffened at the sudden contact and you could feel the heat slowly emitting from his body, before he quickly announced his permission.

“Fine then, get on with it idiot.” He could not meet your eyes, but through the mirror, you could see his very slightly flustered face. He still had a hard time accepting physical affection without giving you a few choice words.

“I will!” With no hesitation, you snipped one of his bangs, and now, one curl of hair hovered over his shoulder while the other rested comfortably on his upper chest. And it looked… really good. 

“I told you, Zandik. You need to listen to your assistant more often,” you puffed your chest out proudly. Indeed, you didn’t know much about hair, but he didn’t need to know that, and you turned out to be right anyway!

“It’s passable at best,” he remarked, but you had already translated his sour words to that of regular language: it meant that he liked it. Hopefully, now that he’d seen your expertise, the rest of the haircut would go smoothly.

Only that it was the opposite.

“I don’t like how that looks.”

“I’m just parting your hair…”

“Part it the other way.”

“I thought you didn’t care about this,” you heartily laughed and complied with his demands. “You seem more interested in this than me.” Seeing the mad scholar so into what hairstyle he was getting was rather amusing. 

“I’m only doing this because I cannot afford for you to mess up, since you want to be so complicated with mere hair. And I don’t need the other scholars talking about me more than they already do.” Zandik wasn’t even trying to fake his keen attention now, the book long discarded on the table. Ah, you did love doing such domestic things with your murderous boyfriend.

It was hard to shave the side of his head, but with your boyfriend’s guidance (who was honestly better with scissors than you for… obvious reasons) you managed to get that part done. And at last, came the hair to the back of his head, which you shaped up easily. The locks of hair rested at the back of his neck and tickled his shoulders. It was long, just as you liked it, but not too long that it would be annoying. And so the haircut was done, with lots of blue locks now lying on the floor surrounding you. Zandik looked like a very different person now, more mature, you think.

“Well, how do you like it? I did quite well, I know,” you hummed running your fingers through his newly formatted locks.

“It’s adequate,” he replied dryly. But it seems like your content smile and gentle hands on him brought out something a bit nicer. “Not bad, indeed.”

“I’m glad you like it, love,” you pecked his forehead before you pulled away, stretching out your body. You didn’t realize how sore you were from all of that until after it was done. And now your body was crying to just collapse in the soft bed and go to sleep. Oh, your homework? Eh… your homework could wait for the morning. You’d just let Zandik do it for you. Speaking of Zandik… it looks like he was already preparing to start getting back into his research and notes again. 

“Zandik, I know you’re not thinking of going back to work now,” you sighed. “You’ve been sitting down for hours.” He simply shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“It doesn’t bother me. And I’m busy. During our last expedition, I discovered that…” Out of nowhere, he began to go off into a tangent about something he learned, which you still listened to, because you did enjoy his mini-lectures, but the new haircut especially made him look extra alluring. It was really a good look on him… and now his voice was making you want to fall asleep even more.

“Mhm, that seems quite interesting… but you’ve been pulling all-nighters this whole week. I didn’t forget how you fell asleep in the middle of dismantling a Ruin Drake during that same expedition,” you smiled, a little bit threateningly.

“It was only for a few minutes-”

“And also,” you interrupted. “I do not want to be woken up in the middle of the night during one of your loud eureka moments again, Zandik,” you stated firmly, “Especially not after I just broke my back standing up for so long. Bed. Now. And I will hold your arm hostage if you don’t come.” Normally there would be a long back and forth between the two of you, but it seemed that even Zandik lacked the normal energy to keep up the banter. 

And so with enough pulling and tugging, the two of you landed in the bed with utter darkness around. Should you have cleaned up the tufts of hair lying on the towel you placed? Yes, but cuddles and sleep came first. And for someone who moaned and whined about getting into bed with you, after years of being together, Zandik was awfully touchy when it came down to it (in a discreet way, which wasn’t very discreet though.)

Speaking of indiscreetness, your mind was brought to a certain someone who seemed to gain some interest in Zandik a while ago. “Say, Zandik, you should let me know if Sohreh has something nice to say about your new hairstyle,” you teased. “I’m sure she’ll love it.” Zandik let out an immediate groan of annoyance.

“Don’t get me started on that girl,” he clicked his tongue in irritation. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle her.” You thought the whole situation was funny, Zandik thought it was horribly annoying.

“Aww, don’t say that… I’m sure she’ll leave you be eventually,” you giggled, tightening your arms around him while your lover just hmph-ed in response.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to sleep? Cease this nonsense and rest already.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m doing that now, Mr. Popular,” you rolled your eyes mockingly. “Good night, Zandik,” your tone turned softer at that last statement, as you pressed a kiss to his chest before fluttering your eyes shut.

“Yes, good night, [Name],” the scientist returned the farewell in an unusually soft tone as well, only after you were fast asleep though.

The two lovers had a rather restful sleep that night.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore fluff #genshin impact il dottore #il dottore #genshin il dottore #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #zandik x reader #genshin impact dottore #genshin impact zandik

[marvelouslizzie]

are you mine?

summary: You have been seeing Bucky Barnes for while. Actually seeing doesn't cover what you two are doing but you don't know what else to call it. You just didn't give the relationship a name, yet. One day, you get a voice message and a photo from your best friend which makes you think, Bucky Barnes, the man who you fell head over heels in love with is cheating on you. Jealousy takes over.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader 

word count: 5.1K

warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, unlabeled relationship, misunderstandings, suspected of being cheated on (BUT THERE IS NO CHEATING), jealousy, feeling insecure, unintentionally hurting the person you love, mentions of roleplaying, adult language, pet names, dirty talk, light deep-throating, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do it in real life these two know each other), emotional assurance, no mention of y/n.

a/n:  This was a random idea I had and with the help of @notafunkiller and @es1dit, it turned into reality. I thank them for helping me through my writing journey, beta-reading, and even for the photos and the gif! You two are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission. Every like, comment and reblog is highly appreciated.

“Hey, girl.” Your friend's voice sounds different than usual. You wonder what’s wrong because she usually doesn’t send voice messages. “I really don’t know how to say this. I wanted to call you and explain everything, answer all your questions, but I have a meeting in five minutes.” You look at the time and see the voice message was sent more than ten minutes ago. “I thought texting is worse so I decided to go with a voice message.” She stops for a second to take a deep breath. “I really hate to be the one to tell you this. I really do. I hate to break your heart but if I were in your place, I’d like you to tell me. It’s better to know instead of getting fooled, right?” She sounds like she is trying to convince herself, not you and you can’t help but wonder what she is talking about. “Okay, here we go: I saw Bucky with a woman. They were hugging so I couldn’t see his face clearly at first. I thought the guy was just looking a lot like Bucky, so it made me stop. I thought how many guys should have this haircut? It turns out it was really Bucky. He was hugging her so tight, it was just confusing. Then after they broke the hug, she put her hand on his chest and I went ‘wait a minute, who is this redhead?’ I got my phone and right before I took the photo, he laughed so loudly. I couldn’t believe it! Bucky Barnes, the guy who gives everyone a death stare, was laughing with his whole body. I managed to take a good picture, but I could not see the face of that woman. The only thing I can say for sure is that she's a redhead. Oh, and she has an amazing body. Even from behind…” She stops for a bit when she realizes she’s praising her while telling you Bucky is cheating on you. “Sorry. I just can’t believe what I've just witnessed. I thought you should know. I’m sending the photo so you can see it with your own eyes. I’m sorry for dropping a bomb like this and running into a meeting. I promise you I will call you after I’m done with work and we will talk, alright?”

From the moment you first listened to this message, you couldn't think of anything else. You keep looking at the photo, zooming in on the woman countless times in hopes of magically figuring out who she is and how she managed to make him laugh that hard. You don't remember him mentioning meeting any woman today. Especially one that seems so close to you.

You also listen to the voice message over and over again, but nothing makes sense.

Is he... is he really seeing her behind my back? 

Your heart is beating so fast, you can’t focus on your thoughts or hear anything else. Breathing becomes so hard that you feel like you are drowning. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t. You hope taking deep breaths might help, but not even that helps. It actually makes you feel even worse. You just drop your body onto the couch and suddenly you notice you aren’t afraid or anxious like you initially thought. You are just… hurt. So hurt that the pain you are feeling is actually physical. You never felt this way ever in your life.

If Bucky Barnes pointed his gun right at your face now it would hurt you less. If he shot you without blinking once, it would hurt you less because you would know for sure that he is brainwashed and turned into the Winter Soldier by someone again. And he wouldn’t be hurting you on purpose. This… Whatever this is… feels like he’s hurting you on purpose and it's unbearable.

Now, you aren’t so sure of who he is. This guy, who is hugging someone else like that and laughing, who lets another woman touch her so freely like this can not be your Bucky. Or maybe he was never yours to begin with, who knows?

You have no idea how much time passed between the moment you got this message and Bucky arrived at your place. While you are drowning in your thoughts and feelings, he lets himself in.

“Hey, doll.” He sounds really happy, which is rare and mostly when he’s around you. Now you know you aren’t the reason for his happiness and it stings. He must have had a good day with that redhead. Whoever she is.

You look at him without saying a word. That’s when you see that he’s holding a big bouquet of flowers. Your favorites. God! He is really cheating on me. He felt guilty and bought flowers on his way here, you think. While growing up, you remember hearing something over and over again: When a man feels guilty because they're cheating, they start to treat their partners better. Bucky always treated you well and bought you flowers but you aren’t in a place to think clearly anymore. You just assume he’s cheating, therefore he got you flowers to feel better about it. It’s clear as day.

“Are you okay?” He sounds concerned already because he knows how you would normally act. Whenever he arrived at your place, you ran to him and gave him a huge hug. Sometimes you literally jumped in his arms and he lifted you up with no effort. He would just hold the flowers until you got down. In the rest of cases, you would give him a kiss, thank him for the flowers, and put them in your favorite vase. But right now all you do is glare at him, taking a deep breath before standing up.

Your knees already want to just give in and let you fall, but no, you aren’t gonna go down that easily. You are going to face him first and let things play out. If you are gonna fall on your knees, it’s gonna happen when you are alone and defeated, and you can cry yourself to sleep.

“I’m not.” 

“What’s wrong?” He just puts the flowers away.

“Are you cheating on me, James Barnes?” The question flies out from your lips easily. And you are surprised you managed to get it out without choking or crying. 

Bucky’s expression is hard to read at first. You have no idea what it means. Then it slowly changes into something you are familiar with: concern. Anytime he is even a little bit concerned, the lines between his brows become so visible… But this time, they don’t stay that way for long. Instead, you see a little smile creeping up his lips, and a wave of anger washes over you. Before you're able to say anything, he speaks.

“Since when we are in a relationship, darling?” 

Oh my fucking god! The audacity of this man! 

“Excuse me?”

“I asked you: since when are we in a relationship? I thought in order to cheat on someone you have to be in a relationship first, and I don’t remember us discussing the nature of our… friendship.” The bastard sounds so smug until the last part. Then he seemed unsure for a second like he was trying to find the right word. Friendship… That wasn’t the right one for your relationship. You were friends, of course, but the word doesn’t cover it all. You were also exclusive. Or, at least, that is what you thought until now.

“I guess…” You sniff. “I had the wrong impression…” You stop again to collect yourself. “About our… friendship.”

That’s when he notices the tears in your eyes, threatening to fall down any second, but you are holding yourself back. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You don’t want him to see how much he broke you. Instead of approving what you just said, Bucky closes the distance between you two. 

“Darling…” His tone has completely changed, that smugness vanishing completely. “Are you crying?” He tries to touch your face and probably wipe the tear away, but you don’t let him. With a quick step back, you put distance between you two while looking directly into his eyes.

“It’s none of your business.” The lines between his brows are back and they are deeper than ever. Confusion is written all over his face.

“Baby, I don’t understand what’s wrong. Please, talk to me.” He sounds completely broken now and you can’t believe how he could just change his emotions like that. Like there is a switch inside him and now he decided to act a bit more appropriately.

“I already told you, and your answer was clear enough.” The coldness of your voice creates a cold shower effect on him. 

“Wait…” It finally sinks in. “Do you really think I am cheating on you?”

You give him a dry humorless laugh. “You've just asked me since when we're in a relationship twice and technically said it wasn’t cheating.”

“I thought you were roleplaying.” He desperately tries to get closer to you, but you raise your hand to stop him. “I had no idea you were serious.”

“Roleplaying?” You can’t believe this man. “Do you really think I would accuse you of cheating for the sake of roleplaying, James?”

“Please, stop calling me James.” He knows you only do it when you are angry. That’s why he doesn’t like it. “I don’t know. I thought…” He tries to collect his thoughts. “I thought it was a bit weird, but I was like if that’s what she wants to do, I can give it a try.” You can't believe this man. Is he really clueless or does he try to deceive you?

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Darling… I don’t know why you think that, but I would never ever cheat on you. I can never…” He chokes on the words and you finally notice he might not be lying to you. He might not be deceiving, but what about that photo? What about that redhead who made him laugh so fucking hard?

“You told me we aren’t in a relationship, Bucky.” He notices this time you didn’t call him James and that’s a good sign. Small but important. That encourages him.

“I was acting my part. I thought that’s what you wanted. Baby…” He tries to move closer once again and this time you let him. He carefully holds your hands while looking into your eyes. “From the moment you said yes to me, I considered us as a couple. I know we did not talk about it and I can see it was a huge, huge mistake, but please believe that you are the only one for me.”

“You did?” You can’t help but ask. You need to hear him say it again. You wanna believe him so much, but there are so many questions on your mind, waiting to be asked and answered.

“Of course I did. You have no idea how much it hurts me to see you believe that I could cheat on you with another woman while my heart belongs to you. Not just my heart, I belong to you. Body and soul. I’m yours, darling. Please, believe me.” This… this sounds like your Bucky. The way he talks, the way he looks at you, the way he just looks so sad and broken. 

“I want to believe you, Bucky. I really do. I just can’t delete that photo from my mind. I can't stop thinking about it. That woman was touching you and you were laughing! You laugh so rarely, especially around others, and I– I just don’t know what to think anymore.”

“What photo?” He doesn’t sound defensive or blindsided, only confused. 

You quickly reach out for your phone and open the photo. As soon as you turn the screen towards him, his eyes focus on it for a second, and then he bursts into laughter.

“Why the fuck are you laughing?” Your voice comes out so defensive, but you don’t even realize.

“This is Natasha!” He looks at you. “Remember? I told you about her and how we have similar experiences.”

“That’s how you two actually bonded.” You repeat the words he once said to you. God! She is Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. The woman Bucky told you about so many times because he felt like he finally found a sister. The first person who made him feel like he isn’t alone in this world. He isn’t the only one who got tortured, turned into a killing machine, then managed to get out and start over. And you just got jealous of Natasha. God, you feel like an idiot.

“Yes, exactly!” He approves. “I told you like a week ago that Natasha will be in town and we will meet for a coffee. Remember?”

“Oh god…” You let out a loud groan, remembering exactly the moment he told you, but then so many things happened during the last week. You just… forgot and made an unnecessary scene. You accused him of cheating. If things were reversed, you'd be so hurt. So fucking hurt.

You feel your cheeks burning in shame.

“You even asked me if I wanted to meet her and I just said you go ahead and tell her about me first.” He approves with his eyes and small nods. “God, I am such an idiot!”

“No, you are not.” He quickly responds. “You haven’t met her yet and in the photo… her face isn’t visible.” Then he stops for a second as something comes to his mind. “Who sent you this photo?”

Oh, shit. 

“What makes you think someone sent it to me?” You don’t want to snitch on your friend, she was just trying to have your back. 

“Because if you were there, you wouldn’t just take a photo and leave. You would come and call me out. Someone sent you this photo.” He stops for a second again. “Alice sent this to you, didn’t she?”

You don’t say anything, but you look guilty without intending and it’s enough confirmation for him.

“Look, I am not mad at her. You can tell me that she sent you the photo.” Your eyes meet his while he keeps talking. “I’m glad your best friend has your back. I just wish you gave me the benefit of the doubt.” 

Oh. He sounds hurt again, even more than before.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” You close the distance between you two completely. Your body is pressed against his and the warmth of him starts to calm you down. You just hope it will do the same to him. “She sent me a voice message and she sounded so… I don’t know… shaken. I couldn’t believe you could hug someone and laugh so hard with someone else. I couldn’t believe… that you would do this to me.”

“I understand that feeling, but I am just… hurt.”

“Can I make it better?” You ask immediately while reaching for his cheek. Your fingertips move towards his lips slowly. “Please, let me make it better.”

“What are you suggesting Ms. I doubt we have a relationship but I am gonna accuse you of cheating anyway?” 

You laugh because of that long-ass but rightfully deserved nickname. You should've talked about your relationship with him before anything like this happened. You should’ve given him the benefit of the doubt because he never made you doubt him before. Yet the jealousy you felt was so powerful. Actually, you can still feel it. That strong sensation is inside you, running through your veins, only getting calmed down by the loving words spilled from his lips. For the first time in your life, you notice what a jealous person you are. 

Instead of answering his question, you raise up on your toes and give him a kiss. Your intention is clear, but you don’t want to push him. If he needs a little time alone, he can end the kiss any second without feeling bad about it. That’s why you keep your kiss light and sweet, but in a couple of seconds, you realize that’s not what he wants.

He wraps his arms around your body and pulls you closer, then tilts his head just a little to deepen the kiss. That’s when you let a moan out for the first time. His tongue is moving so sweetly you get lost in the freaking kiss. While you are enjoying the taste of him, Bucky moves his metal hand toward your ass and grabs it a bit harshly, which instantly makes you gasp. Before you can do anything, he lifts you up with no effort. God, you love it when he does that. You quickly wrap your legs around his waist and enjoy feeling him this close to you. Despite still having your clothes on, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. It just makes you feel safe. You wrap your arms around his neck and keep kissing him like your life depends on it. You are just glad he’s on the same page as you.

In a matter of seconds, you are on your bed waiting to find out what’s next. Usually, Bucky starts with getting you ready. That means either kisses, licks or sometimes when you are already very close to being ready, sucks. He gives you whatever you want, but this time it feels different. He moves away from you unexpectedly and takes off his shirt pretty quickly. Then he looks directly at you while his hands start to work on his belt.

“I've just realized…” He speaks while unbuckling. “I don’t think you deserve my attention yet.”

His words catch you off guard. He never said anything like this before. Deserving his attention? God… Those words make the blood rush in your veins.

“What can I do to deserve it again?” 

“Well, I can think of a couple of things.” He unzips himself suggestively and oh dear god… He wants you to do something you suggested before! This man… He can’t be real.

You move closer to the edge of the bed and stand on your knees. Before he can take his pants off, you move your hand inside his boxers and gently grab him.

“Something like this?”

He lets out a low moan before answering. “Something like this.”

You push his pants and boxers down, his already hard cock bouncing a little. God… You really want to do this. You can feel your mouth watering just at the thought of it. You take him in your hand, running your fingers all over it, getting mentally ready. He is already making such delicious sounds while you are doing the most basic things. You try to imagine how he'll react when he is deep inside your mouth.

You are excited about all the possibilities, but you still take your sweet time. The first step is moving your hand away and replacing it with your lips. You don’t take him inside your mouth or give him a lick. No, you are going to start really slow. Instead, you give him kisses all over. You avoid his hard cock for a while and focus on what’s around. Then your lips move to the place where he’s aching the most. While he’s expecting more kisses, you give him a big lick, which makes him moan loudly. Even though you've just started, you already feel like a winner.

You keep teasing him with your tongue for a while until you feel ready. You look up at him before taking him inside your mouth and he gives you one of those killer smiles.

“If you wanna stop, tap on my thighs, alright?” His tone is completely different: so soft and caring, which makes you wanna try this with him even more.

“I will.”

You take a deep breath before taking him. This isn’t the first time he’s inside your mouth. This isn’t the first time you are giving him a blowjob, either, but you never took him so deep and let him fuck your mouth. Giving away all the control you have is a little scary but also exciting. 

He lets you work at your own pace. You take him inside your mouth inch by inch, trying to relax and just not think much about it. Of course, that’s easier said than done, and triggering your gag reflex doesn’t take long. He takes a deep breath, trying to contain himself. His hands are already in your hair, just tangled between the strands without pulling.

“We don’t have to do this right now, you know…” He reminds you.

Hell no. You are the one who wanted to try this. You aren’t gonna give up that easily. You simply shake your head while your mouth is full and keep going. Taking another big breath through your nose and moving your head a bit more. A couple more inches of his hard cock disappear inside your mouth. That’s when you feel him touch the back of your throat. 

Holy shit! Your mouth is full of him!

You look up, feeling proud of yourself. You can see it in his eyes that he’s so fucking lost in the pleasure already. 

“Are you ready, doll?” The raspiness of his voice shoots strings of arousal down to your lower belly and you feel the wetness between your legs growing. You give him the confirmation with your eyes and he starts to move.

At first, it isn’t overwhelming as you imagined. It’s just a pressure you aren’t used to. You let him use your mouth however he wants, but notice that he’s still being careful. Yet the sounds he’s making just… drive you crazy. They turn you on even more and you can’t believe that’s actually possible. As he starts to move a little bit faster, getting lost because of the pleasure you feel the wetness growing even more. 

“God…” He’s louder than before. “This feels– amazing. It’s… it must be– a sin to– feel this good.”

Oh, how much you wanna reply, but your mouth is too occupied for that. Instead, you whine and moan. The vibrations of the sounds amplify his pleasure for a second.

“Fuck!” He’s losing the little control he has for sure. “Your fucking mouth!” He thrusts a little harder than before and you start to feel the tears building up in the corners of your eyes. “Wet.” He trusts. “Hot.” Another thrust follows. “And mine.” 

Just like that, you feel his come shooting down to your throat with a loud moan that fills you with the feeling of victory. He slowly takes himself out of your mouth and you notice how his cock is covered with thick spit. While you are trying to go back to normal, he is breathing loudly. So loud that it's all you can hear.

“That was…” He tries to speak, but his voice gives out in the middle of the sentence.

God damn, I made a super soldier lose his cool.

This isn’t the first time you did it, but it’s the first time it’s this visible. 

“Good? Great? Amazing?” You play a bit arrogant thinking you deserve it.

“Earth-shattering.”

The voice in your mind instantly goes: Fuck yes!

“Does it mean I deserve your attention now?” You keep your tone as innocent as possible like you aren’t talking about sex at all.

“Definitely. Lay back.” 

You love when he gets all demanding for the sake of your pleasure. You do as he says and watch him climb on top of the bed and take off your pants. He drops them without care and his middle finger finds its way between your folds over the underwear.

“Oh, poor thing.” The teasing is so fucking obvious in his voice. “You are drenched. Do you need a hand?” This time his palm slowly brushes down and god… you never needed to feel a hand so badly as you do right now. As you nod, he continues. “Let me show you how you are the only one for me then.”

He grips your underwear on both sides and suddenly takes it off. Your wetness is even more apparent now as he moves his middle finger between the folds again. It feels so damn good even without him touching your clit, but he does. He touches it so lightly, his fingertip only brushing, bringing all the wetness up so he can make you scream. You let out a deep moan, pushing yourself against his finger.

“So impatient, aren’t you?”

“I am.” you don't feel any shame. This is the man you love and you want all the pleasure he can give you.

“Since you are so honest… I won’t let you wait.” He pushes a finger inside you as he is talking and you gasp loudly in return. He moves it inside and out a couple of times before he adds the second one. “You are so fucking wet for me. You don’t even need stretching at all.”

You make an approving sound. You really would love to have his cock inside you right now but you know how talented he is with his hands. You can already feel the approaching orgasm and you desperately need it.

“I love it when you are so open like this.” He pushes his fingers a little bit harder than before. “Tell me…” He dramatically pauses for a second. “Do you want the third finger?”

“Yes!” Your answer is instant. “Please.”

“You wanna come already?” You nod eagerly. “Alright, darling.” He pushes the third finger inside, all three brushing that extra sensitive spot now, making you see stars. You don’t even notice how you lose control. He listens to your panting and moans and lets you beg for more knowing damn well all you need is him keeping up the same pace and he’s right. In a matter of seconds, you feel the pleasure explode inside you. It takes you in, makes you swim over the clouds, and then relief washes all over you. 

Bucky gradually slows down while letting you ride your orgasm until the last second. You take a couple of deep breaths and then look at his pretty face as he glances back at you with the warmest smile. Then your eyes drop down and you see he’s hard again. It doesn’t surprise you anymore like it used to. It’s one of the biggest benefits of the super soldier serum: having the best recovery time ever. His hardness waters your mouth again, but you know that it’s time for something else. You gotta do something about that wetness between your legs. Your mouth can wait.

Finally, you rise to your knees again and move on top of him. 

“My little doll wants more.” He places his hands around your body, moving them slowly as he talks. “What do you want darling? You wanna ride me?”

God, the way he speaks does things to you. Over the course of the flirting phase with him, you discovered that shameless part of yourself and you don’t care anymore. You don’t care if you are being too open. You don’t feel shy to accept that you want to ride him because you know he’s there to give it to you. Whatever you want.

“Yes.” You push his chest a little knowing them well you can’t do anything unless he lets you. And he always lets you. He falls on his back voluntarily. “Just enjoy the show.”

“Oh, I will.” He smirks and puts both of his hands behind his back, getting comfortable.

“No, no, no.” You reach for his hands and bring them to your breasts. “I want you to touch me.”

“Gladly.” He squeezes both of them before you move up a little. You open up a bit of space between you two, grabbing his cock and aligning it to your entrance, and with one swift movement he’s balls deep inside you.

“Fuck–ing hell.”

All you can do is moan as you feel so deliciously full and stretched even without moving at all. Your hands are on his chest, trying to support yourself while getting used to the feeling of him inside you. 

“Move, darling.” He sounds so impatient, so wrecked, so needy.

After a couple of breaths, you start to move slowly with your hands still on his chest, helping yourself keep the slow pace you are building. It feels so good, so fucking good to be on top. Not only do you feel full of him, but you are also fully in control. He’s a big strong man, much more stronger than any other and yet he just lays down and lets you do whatever you want to him. You wanna ride him? You can. You wanna torture him? You can. The power you have over him makes you feel invincible. 

His hands are all over you: massaging your nipples, caressing your tummy and grabbing your waist. When you start to move a little bit faster, his hands settle on your ass, trying to help you very subtly. It may be subtle for him but it makes a huge difference for you as he starts to hit the right spot inside you. You feel it and he definitely feels it because he makes sure to do it over and over again. Both of you are shaken because of the pleasure such a small change creates. Your moans get louder while he’s taking sharp breaths to hold himself back.

“I’m– I’m gonna–”

“I know, baby.” Your answer is quick because you can clearly see how the veins on his neck are extra visible and how his eyes are rolling back in pleasure. He doesn’t have to say it. You already know. “Me too.” 

That’s all the confirmation he needs as you gear up. When the first wave of your orgasm hits, he stops holding back. Instead, he starts to thrust back while you're still moving. 

“Fuc– Bucky!” The words slip out without intending. It feels so fucking good.

“Keep going! Keep going!” He instructs while thrusting inside you. In a matter of seconds, you are both moaning loudly.

“Oh, fuck!” He curses before he starts to spill inside you. He keeps going, just to prolong your orgasm, and what an orgasm it is! As you hold on to him, you feel breathless. He watches you as you get down from that high, tired but looking blissed out.

“You are so fucking pretty.” He closes the distance between you two and gives you a messy, sloppy kiss. “And you are mine. All mine.” 

“And are you?” You ask while still breathing heavily. “Are you mine?”

“All yours, darling. As long as you want me.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #celebrity!bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x oc #natasha romanoff #marvel x reader #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #dilf!bucky #bucky barnes fic #my stories

[just-imagine-that]

Ateez Reaction - You Call Him Pretty

Can't get my boys out my head, so here we go again!!

All Gifs From Pinterest

(Y/n/n) = Your NickName

WARNING: Fluff

Seonghwa

"Seonghwa?" You called out.

"Is something wrong, you don't usually call me Seonghwa unless something happened," he questioned, a concerned look on his face.

"No, nothings wrong, I just wanted to ask you a quick question," you explained, a small laugh escaping through your lips.

"Oh! What is it?" He asked.

"Do you know how pretty you are?" You replied.

Seonghwa's face turned a bright pink colour, an embarrassed laugh leaving him. He immediately pressed his hands over his pink-tinted face to hide his reaction to your words.

You tilted your head, "Well, do you?"

"Ahh, Jagi, why do you do this to me?"

Hongjoong

Hongjoong looked up from his book as he heard a groan come from your mouth. Seeing you pull a face, his focus is immediately pulled to you, wondering if you're alright.

"(Y/n/n), are you okay?" He asked, wide eyed.

"No, I'm not okay! How can a person look so pretty all the time!?" You exclaimed.

Hongjoong furrowed his brows in confusion, "What do you mean? Who?"

You glared, playfully, at him, "You! Like, is looking good a hobby of yours?"

Joong laughed at the realization of you calling him pretty and good-looking, "Oh yeah, it's just a hobby for me, but for you I think it must be a lifestyle," he retorted.

"Oh my God, Joong, this is why I love you," you said as you started laughing hysterically at his response.

Yunho

You and Yunho were re-watching one of the interviews that was just filmed with his group, Ateez. You kept glancing over at him with the most heart-eyed look, wondering how you got so lucky to have such an amazing man in your life.

While you kept staring at Yunho's beautiful face, he burst into a smile, remembering how funny the interview was, and how much fun it was to do.

"Baby?" You finally spoke.

"Yes, Jagiya?" He said, his head turning to face you fully.

"Have I ever told you how pretty you are?" You asked.

Yunho smiled, bashfully, a pink tint running across his face. He looked down to his hands for a second before answering.

"All the time, and you always manage to make me flustered by saying that, too," he laughed, a bit embarrassed.

You laughed aswell and leaned forward to give him a light peck on the lips, then proceeded snuggling deeper into his side, watching the rest of the interview.

Yeosang

As you watched Yeosang talk to San about their most recent music video, your heart couldn't handle how amazing his side profile was. How he even became your boyfriend was a mystery, but you weren't about to complain.

Yeosang glanced over to you, feeling you stare into his soul, he gave a quick smile to you before ending the conversation with San to walk over to you and ask why you were staring.

"Was there something on my face, I noticed you staring at me," he asked, feeling around his face for any excess food from what he ate earlier.

"No, I was just admiring you. You're the prettiest man in the world," you explained, simply.

Yeosang smiled before giving you a quick peck on the lips, entangling his fingers with yours.

San

San had just gotten back home from the hair stylist, a new comeback means a new hair colour, so you aren't surprised when you see a pink haired San walk through the door.

You jumped up from your couch and raced over to him, inspecting his new haircut, and colour.

"So, what do you think? Does it suit me?" He asked, doing a 360 so you could get a better look.

"Babe, I think everything suits you! You keep getting prettier and prettier with every comeback!" You exclaimed.

"Aww, stop it!" He joked, one hand on his cheek, the other making a gesture.

You laughed at his silly reaction and continued to look and play with his hair, admiring how good it looked on him.

Mingi

"Ahh, my boyfriend is always so pretty, please take this time to bask in his beauty!" You exclaimed, showing the camera a picture of Mingi you had taken on one of your dates.

You let the fans on Instagram Live see the pic for a few more seconds before taking it away and writing the date of when it was taken on the back.

You were about to look for some questions you could answer in the comments when your phone suddenly started to ring. The name reading Mingi, you immediately picked up.

"Jagiya, why did you show that picture, I look bad in that one," he said.

You frowned and glanced at all the comments saying how handsome he is.

"Yah, have you seen yourself? You could never look bad in anything. You said you're watching, your fans all agree that you're the prettiest boy ever!" You defended.

"Ah, well.. I suppose that picture isn't the worst.." he stammered, feeling shy at the amount of compliments he was reading.

Wooyoung

"Babe you can't just come in here and look all pretty like that, you're gonna give me a heart attack," you exclaimed, your heart pounding in your chest at how amazing he looked.

"What, like this?" He posed.

"Yes, like that, boy, you're gonna make me go crazy, I swear!" You blushed.

Wooyoung laughed at your reaction, shaking his head at how dramatic you were being. He took off the jacket he was wearing, he had just gotten into the house and you were already like this.

Your eyes followed his figure as he walked into the bathroom to take off his clothes and makeup to change into something more comfortable, purposfully leaving the door open for you to see him change.

That boy was gonna be the death of you, and you were TOTALLY fine with that.

Jongho

You and Jongho were on a Vlive together, talking about your relationship so far, all the embarrassing and cute moments.

You took your eyes off the comments for a moment to glance over at Jongho and see how he was handling all the support with your relationship.

The biggest smile was on his face, one where you can't help but smile, too. You stared at him for a few moments longer, taking in his beautiful smile.

"You're so pretty, you're smile could brighten anyone's day," you said, cutting him off from whatever he was talking about with Atiny.

His eyes widened at the compliment before blushing furiously, dropping his face into his hands to hide his bright red face.

"Aww, you're pretty, too!" He exclaimed, face still hidden.

#kpop imagine #kpop reaction #ateez #ateez seonghwa #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez hongjoong #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez yeosang #ateez x reader #ateez mingi #ateez san #ateez fic #ateez fluff #ateez jongho #ateez reaction #ateez reactions #ateez wooyoung #ateez fanfic #ateez yunho #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with Price that doesn’t involve having sex

One thing about Price is that he’s known for his love for hats. But very few people know the reason as to why he wears them in the first place.

Truth be told, more often than not, he will let his hair grow past the length that’s stated in haircut regulations. Curls will start forming at the back of his neck , unruly strands will stick to his temple as he sweats and if it’s a particularly windy day, wisps of hair will fall into his eyes and obscure his vision. So to cover up the fact that he’s clearly breaking regulations and to keep his hair in check, he’ll wear a hat on his head.

He always tells himself he’ll cut it short. Hell, he even goes out his way to take down the box of clippers from the shelf where they’ve been collecting dust for God knows how long. But every time he intends to cut it something comes up and he opts for wearing a hat instead.

However this time around, it’s a different story since inspection week is coming up and you’re the first to notice how long his hair has been getting lately.

As you lean in for a kiss, you feel the unruly strands of hair wrap around your fingers tips. You smile as you twirl them in your grasp, lips still kissing Price’s.

He pulls away, mirroring the smile on your face as he says “what are you smiling about?”

“Your hair’s been getting so long lately” you say as you run a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands as if to empathize your point.

His brows furrow, before a look of realization crosses his face “I guess it has, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to cut it, just haven’t gotten around to doing it,”

You nod as you continue to play with the hair at the back of his head, already aware of the box of clippers that’s been collecting dust on his desk “when’s inspection now again?”

“Next week. Cut it for me?”

The bathroom connected to his room is rather small, barely fits two people but you make it work as you sit down on the toilet seat while he sits down on the floor.

He sits so close you get a whiff of his cologne. The scent’s a familiar one, one you know not only by smell but also by name. It’s a cologne you’d spontaneously bought one day and had managed to use once or twice before it somehow ended up in Price’s hands. Now it’s a scent solely associated with him.

You can also smell the cigars he smokes. The scent is sickly sweet but also earthy- reminds you of mahogany much like the mahogany curls he's sporting at the moment.

You gently grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to shuffle closer. He’s now perfectly slotted between your legs, as you go to inspect his hair.

“Any special request ?” You ask as you card your fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the length. The man lets out an appreciative sound at your gently touch before he shakes his head in response to your question.

“Just want it short?” You ask again, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Yes, please”

“What if I mess up ?” You joke as you continue to inspect the length.

“Don’t really care, I’ll wear a hat either way” he shrugs, and flashes you a smile over his shoulder.

“Alright” you say, before you reach down and gently grab onto the edge of his shirt “May I?” You ask, lips brushing his ear as you lean down to ask for permission.

He shivers at your touch, but nods his head at your question.

You gently pull the shirt off of him, leaving him in just the undershirt that he’s wearing. The sudden exposure to the chilly bathroom air has goosebumps raising on his skin and your hands quickly find his arms as you attempt to warm him up.

“Sorry” you say as you plant a kiss on his shoulder. He just smiles and shakes his head “it’s okay, not your fault yeah?”

You grab onto the box where his clippers lay and take out the one you needed for his hair. You quickly adjust the settings on it before bringing it to his head.

As you turn on the machine you feel the familiar buzz coursing through your fingertips. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you as you get ready to cut his hair for him. However, sweat still trickles down your spine, the clippers almost fall out of your hand and you have to take a deep breath and apologize beforehand in case this doesn’t go as planned.

You do the first swipe with the clipper and watch as strands of hair fall to his bare shoulders. You quickly take the brush that came with the kit and gently brush the hair away from his skin. He hums in content as he relaxes into your embrace

“Good?”

He nods with a giggle “tickles”

You chuckle at that as you continue to cut his hair, tufts of it steadily falling to the floor and sprinkling across his shoulder. You even see the loose strands of hair sprinkling onto the undershirt that he’s wearing. However Price doesn’t seem to mind it, seemingly relaxed as ever.

Nothing can be heard except for the steady buzz coming from the machine, along with the soft noises Price will give in response when you ask him something. He’s long given up on talking, mind and body too relaxed to bother with it.

Your hands are gentle as ever as they grab onto his chin, cheeks and temples, turning his head in whichever direction is needed at the moment. His eyes, although closed, flutter at the touch, as he chuckles at the ticklish feeling that comes from your hands.

However you still check up on him to make sure that you aren’t hurting him.

“Am I hurting you?” You ask as you bring the clipper a bit closer to his ears. “Is this okay” You ask again when you fear you’re holding too tightly onto him. You even drop a “you tell me if I’m doing anything to hurt you yeah?” when you notice the flush on his skin.

Sometimes Price responds with a hum, sometimes with a nod and sometimes with the shake of his head (You almost have the mind to scold him for his careless movements but you allow him to do so anyway)He even chuckles at the last sentence as if saying not you, never you and that’s all the reassurance you need to continue cutting his hair for him.

At some point he does talk - asks if he can go for a smoke and of course you allow him to do so. If you smoke he’ll let you take a couple of puffs of his cigar. However he’ll use this as an excuse to steal a kiss since every time you lean in to put the cigar between your lips, he’ll place a kiss on your lips. If you don’t smoke he’ll have you light his cigar for him. He’ll playfully pulls you closer by your wrist, as you go to light his cigar for him, callused thumb mindlessly stroking it while you light it for him.

He stays in your embrace while smoking his cigar, enjoying your presence and your gentle touch.

From the bathroom window you can see that the sun is starting to set and the clouds of smoke that whirl around in the air become more prominent.

Price hooks his arm around your leg and mindlessly drags his hand along your thigh while he smokes his cigar.

“Thank you for doing this for me, love” he says and despite the clouds of smoke that swirl around in the air, you can still see the grateful smile on his face.

“No need to thank me ” you chuckle as you continue to cut his hair for him.

Once it’s done, you hand him a small mirror so that he can take a look at his hair. He takes a brief look in the mirror before he turns to you with a big smile on his face.

“It looks great,”

Truth be told he barely looked at his hair, didn’t see the crooked line or the uneven patches around his head (not that he would mind if he were to notice it anyway). All he saw in that very moment was your reflection in the mirror, the way you nervously chewed your lip, and the hopeful look in your eyes as you waited for him to comment on his new haircut.

Once it’s inspection day you’re back in that very same bathroom with him. He’s looking at himself in the mirror while you’re standing behind him with a comb in hand. His hair is still short and will surely pass inspection but you still want to comb and style it for him, claiming he needs to look professional and well groomed, seeing as he’s the captain.

“There, all done” you say with a smile on your face, finally feeling satisfied with the look of his hair. All of sudden he turns around, hands gently grabbing onto your hips before he pulls you closer to him. You’re still looking at his hair, searching for any imperfections that need to be corrected while he’s watching you with an adoring gaze. Once you spot a strand out of place, you lick the pad of your thumb before gently slicking it back with the rest of his hair.

You go to pull your hand away but before you can do so he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and brings your hand closer to his lips before he kisses it.

“Thank you again, love”

#captain John price #captain John price x reader #captain John price x male reader #John price #John price x reader #John price x male reader #Alec writes #happy pride month to my absolute favorite way of being close with another man #I apologize for any mistakes #idk man I make this so hard for me by using this writing style #it’s like future and past and present tense all at once I hate it djdjdj #anyway #I hope it’s okay #army shabang is probes not accurate but none of this is real so let’s kiss #my goal here was to showcase how such a simple act can be so intimate I hope i managed to do so #since this is sort of a love language to me #and first fluff on here #wooo #weird to say that since I have always written fluff fics believe it or not

[bobfloydssunnies]

there's a hole where something was...

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader (its not a main focus really)

Rating: PG they make some jokes but nothing crazy

Summary: The daggers find out about a couple little secrets Bob has been keeping

Word Count: 2k

Note: This was born from me talking about fall out boy songs I think Bob would listen to and then turned into this wonderful idea after talking about it with @bobgasm and @pinkdaisies9285

I am also posting this before I can talk myself out of it because I've reread it so many times in the last few days I'm starting to hate it just a little

(I may have hidden a couple fall out boy reference into this as well)

Since the mission months ago and the daggers getting stationed closer together more often than not this meant they would meet up and get drinks together. Every night out usually ended up with tipsy games of pool or just talking about life outside work and learning things about new friends. 

Somehow on this particular night out at the hard deck the topic of what everyone looked like when we were younger before their navy days had come up. Which is how we all ended up seated at the tables not far from the pool tables swapping phones around with everyone  showing off pictures of them at various stages of childhood and adolescence and everyone laughing at the questionable outfit choices or bad haircuts. Slowly everyone else had their turn and had left Bob to be the last one in the usual fashion because he had hoped staying quiet would save him from having to show off his own photos. “Alright Bob you are the only one left who hasn’t shared pictures so are we gonna see you in those dorky glasses as a kid of what” Jake threw out across the tables that had been grouped together for us. “No one wants to see them, trust me they are pretty boring compared to everyone else” Bob stuttered out avoiding looking at anyone at the table. Slowly everyone started begging to see pictures and poke fun at him for now wanting to show pictures of himself saying they couldn’t be as bad as some of the others we had seen from the others tonight. Eventually, Bob decided he had enough of the teasing and pulled his phone out, unlocked it, and started scrolling. After a bit of time he seemed to pause and look up at the table and he seemed nervous like whatever he was about to show us would change something. Jake caught on that he was hesitating to show the group his phone and snatched it out of his hand, “No way this is you” he exclaimed looking at the photo causing everyone to flock around him and the phone in his hand. Suddenly everyone was freaking out and throwing questions about his hair and the piercings on his face. “Is that really an eyebrow piercing?” Phoenix asked looking at her wso, Bob shrugged not knowing how to handle everyone asking things at the same time. 

The picture in question showed a younger bob with a lip ring on the left side of his mouth, a silver barbell eyebrow piercing on the right, and his hair outside his normal look with it the top being longer and dyed dark with the ends of his hair being dyed red while the sides were cut shorter. “Who knew the little wallflower had an emo phase”, Bob laughed at that knowing there were other things about him that would surprise them more like the tattoos he has hiding on his ribs and upper thigh or the 3rd piercing he’s still got but managed to keep hidden all these years. I smirked after seeing Bob’s reaction knowing exactly what he was thinking.  “What else are you hiding from us?” Bradley asked, noticing both our reactions. Bob gave me a look and I just shrugged back as if to say the ‘choice is yours’. “Let’s just say those are the only piercings I got done” he replied with a smirk, Bob was just messing with them now. Natasha watched you both like she was waiting for one of you to spill exactly what it was or where it was. 

The others seemed to have calmed down from the news that their quiet wso had a secret past and were now making a list of different piercings that they thought he could have. You both knew they wouldn’t guess correctly because honestly, they wouldn’t expect Bob to have his nipples pierced. Bob looked good with the lip ring and eyebrow piercing, but him shirtless covered with a little sweat showing off the little collection of tattoos on his ribs and the nipple piercings was a whole other vision to behold. The list of piercings and where they had been/are included his ears (varying types for this one), his tongue,his nose, someone suggested a belly button piercing and they didn’t seem serious about it but someone joked about having a dick piercing.

As the others broke off into little side groups dropping the discussion of what other secret their friend has, Bob took it as a chance to go get drink refills up at the bar and leave me to my own thoughts. It would be easy to show off the piercing Bob has hidden away just not in the current setting we were all in because there is no way to really do it without Bob taking his shirt off in the middle of the bar and Penny probably wouldn’t appreciate that. But since hearing the list of piercings and the theories that up from the discovery about their teammate I could stop looking the general direction of Bob’s chest and how someone hadn’t caught on to the not so subtle staring was amazing because Bob was dressed in a loose button up outside his usual casual t-shirt and some nice jeans. And since talking about him I couldn’t stop thinking about what he has hidden under his civvies and uniforms. Near me someone cleared their throat breaking me from my thoughts and making me look away from Bob while he leaned up against the bar waiting for our drinks , I looked over to see Fanboy who seemed glad to have caught me looking at Bob “any thoughts to share with the group” he asked with a grin “ these aren’t ones y’all need to know about Bob” I reply feeling a heat creep onto my face “oh having some fantasies about baby on board” Jake jokes “at least someone thinks about me like that” Bob shot back as he returned from the bar.

After that it went back to being a normal night out just having drinks and catching up and playing darts, singing at the piano with Bradley and of course taking over the pool tables. When they eventually started up the games of pool it let you pick the best spot to watch Bob as he leaned over the table to take shots. He seemed to have caught up to why you had exactly picked the spot you had or had caught you staring earlier before rejoining the group because he seemed to have no shame in trying to find way that made sure his shirt moved just enough to show more of his chest of than necessary or he’d move just right to have the shirt rise up a bit had show off just a sliver of his stomach. 

The current game was maybe half way through when a gasp fell from someone's lips you were unsure who’s but it seemed to silence the group and got Bob to look up from the shot he was about to take. A confused “what” came from the group but wasn’t answered instead I noticed Natasha staring at Bob from her place opposite him as the pool table “So nipples piercings is the other one you got'', Bob grinned “surprised Tash” he asked while pulling himself away from the table. “Gonna be honest, had you pegged more as a guy to go for a nose ring or maybe your ears” she replied smiling “I gotta keep y’all guessing I wouldn’t want to come off too boring” he joked. The others joined in joking about his choice of piercing and started asking a bunch of other questions about them. “Are you even allowed to have them like does it go against regs at all” Bradley asked “ I mean maybe but I’ve had them for awhile now and no one has said anything it's not like I can hide them really during physicals and med evaluations” Bob replied before standing next to you. “Why didn’t you get rid of them when you stopped wearing the other two?” Fanboy asked “Oh I got them after I joined and was done with basic and most of the training like I had a decent amount of leave saved up and just decided to do it one day” Bob explained like it was obvious. “Why are we just now finding out about them though like it’s not like its something easy to hide I mean I’m pretty sure we’ve all seen you change at some point at time in locker room or ready room at work” Payback asked from his spot beside Fanboy “I cover them up usually when I’m on base just to avoid people seeing them or any other problems like them getting caught or me forgetting to put in the right jewelry I’ve learned its better to prepare for a possible problem than to be unprepared and hope one doesn’t happen plus it make it easier for myself that’s some of why I wore my shirt that day during dogfight football before the mission” everyone was silent like they were trying to picture it or just come up with something else to say “you know I don’t think we’ve ever actually seen you shirtless” Jake said “thinking about Bob shirtless now Bagman” I joke “no, pretty sure that your job” he shot back “hey I don’t blame you I mean between the piercings and the tattoos it’s a nice view” I say looking at Bob, who had a flush to his skin after my comment. “Tattoos too!” “Oops” I said sheepishly. “It’s just like 8-10 small ones that are random little things on my ribs, and some on one of my thighs. It's not like some big piece," Bob said, shrugging it off. I felt a little bad letting it slip, he had tattoos but Bob didn’t seem to be upset with me and was just more uncomfortable to still be the center of attention.  

The pool game was long forgotten at this point and the conversation had moved to everyone talking about their own tattoos and what they were getting next or already had ( everyone learned Bradley has a little goose on his ribs for his dad). I pulled Bob a bit aways from everyone to let us both have a moment together away from your friends “I’m sorry for telling them about the tattoos babe” I say holding his hand. “It’s alright darlin they would have found out eventually plus all this coming out makes it easier to add the new stuff we’ve been talking about” he smirked. You and Bob had been talking about him getting new tattoos and maybe looking into some other piercings (once you find the time to look through the navy regs to make sure it wouldn’t cause any problems for him at work) and the more time you had spent talking about it the more excited you both got it was probably for different reasons but you both wanted to see the art on Bob’s body grow. After a bit of time alone Bob takes us back over to our friends who are still stuck on talking about tattoos and what they can and can’t get done because of the navy rules. Natasha notices us both and pulls me to the empty chair next to her making me drag Bob along with me “Hey Tash” I say sitting down, “I can’t believe you never told me about all this that’s what our hang out are for we talk about our partners” she said pouting, okay so she’s a little tipsy “Trust me Tash I wanted to but I know Bob hasn’t told you and I didn’t want to share incase he didn’t want you knowing for some reason” I tell her honestly. Bob it seemed like had been roped into answering Payback and Fanboy’s questions about how much piercings hurt to get done when I heard Javy ask the question of night I’m sure “So you gonna try and get any more things done or is this are far are you’re going with the look”. Bob looked over at me and winked before responding “Who knows maybe inspiration will strike soon and I’ll show up with something new”. 

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #mission report [aimee writes]

[avatar-anna]

Can we please get more Julian and Harry content they are too cute

i looove them!! h obviously doesn’t have favorites, but i think he has a unique relationship with each of his kids, so here is a little bit about harry and jules

Julian is the only boy in the Styles clan, but he is definitely the most sensitive. For the first few years, he definitely crawls into Y/n and Harry's bed in the middle of the night, even though Harry already chased all the monsters out from under his bed.

The first time Jules goes to swimming lessons, he's terrified. He cries and kicks and refuses to get in the pool until Harry gets in with him to show him it’s not so bad; he even manages to get a floaty on so he and Julian can match.

Harry and Julian definitely go on father-son dates where they get lunch and get their nails done.

The first time Harry introduces Julian to his band (his live on tour band), Jules is super shy and hides behind his dad's leg or curls into his neck if he's being held. But when Harry sits him on his lap and helps him play the guitar, Jules gets more. comfortable, and Harry is super proud to see his little bubbie enjoying music and being less shy.

One time when Harry is in the dog house, he dresses Jules up in a tux and sends his son to Y/n with a heartfelt apology. When Harry finally makes an appearance, he asks Jules, “How did we do?” and Julian gives him a little thumbs up

Julian loves his Uncle Louis.

The first time Harry holds Julian after he's born, he cries. Considering his track record so far, he was convinced he would only have daughters, and to be honest he was a little nervous about raising a boy, but everything falls into place when he sees Julian’s little face for the first time.

Harry is constantly buying matching tour outfits for Julian.

One time, Julian wants to perform with Harry at his school’s talent show. Obviously they can’t risk exposing the family, but this is like the first time Julian wants to do something like this, so Harry invites close friends and family and they have a little Styles Family talent show where he and Jules can perform a little duet.

I feel like Julian loves dogs. He loves seeing them on the street and on TV, and there's definitely a time where he pretends to be a dog for a while. Like he sticks his tongue out and barks instead of talks. Harry totally leans into it to humor Jules, and one day Y/n comes home and sees the two of them crawling around on the floor and she's just like, wtf. Paw Patrol and Bluey are also popular in the Styles residence.

Before he leaves for tour, Harry always tells Julian, “You take care of Mama and your sisters, alright?” Julian is always really emotional when Harry has to leave, so Harry tries to give him a little pep talk and tells him to be a strong, brave boy for him.

When Jules is really little, Harry was gone a lot, and one time when he came back, Julian cried when Harry tried to hold him. It absolutely wrecked Harry. He can’t stand the idea of his son not recognizing his touch, and he beats himself up about it for a while.

Julian refuses to get his haircut because he wants to look like Harry after seeing some older pictures of Harry with his long hair. Y/n and Harry try to get him in a chair a couple times to get it cut, but eventually they just give up

There are tons of pictures in the house of Harry and Y/n with the kids. The one of Harry and Julian is definitely something like this.

Harry and Julian paint the nursery for Geneva and Natalia together. They both rock the jeans, no shirt, and backwards cap look. Julian wears a mask so he doesn't inhale the fumes, and Harry puts Jules on his shoulders to reach the higher parts. Unbeknownst to Harry, Y/n takes a picture of them and sends it to Zayn, who Harry doesn't really speak to anymore, but she makes it a point to check in every now and again (esp when she finds out he's having a baby). One day a package comes in the mail addressed to Julian, and it's a graffiti art of his name with a little more from “Uncle Z.” Harry’s confused, but when he asks Y/n about it, she acts surprised and says she didn’t know anything about it.

Harry and Julian are just best buds, and H loves his sweet boy so much🥹🥹

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young parent!harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[agendabymooner]

comfort crowd ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc) - tltl series

“telling you i’m fine i don’t really need nobody. but you said through a sigh that i said that lie already.”

summary: too many things happened during max verstappen's debut in met gala 2017 as sylvie's date - but it wasn't anything that he couldn't handle. after all, this was the first step to accepting their past issues - admittance. (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)(9)

content warning: use of explicit language, anxiety/panic attack, max verstappen and ofc being "just friends", mentions of j*s verstappen (paternal relationship issues mostly not just him), gossip outlets being crappy as ever, hurt/comfort, max's fashion choices being shit on by ofc, shakespeare reference (macbeth), mentions alcohol consumption, mentions of toto wolff x ofc (tilly marie)

note: releasing this now regardless of how many times i said i'll be updating my masterlist. character directory is now available! enjoy xx

masterlist

“That doesn’t look too bad,” Max murmured as he continued to examine the sketch in front of him. The Alexander Wang sketch taunted his creativity skills, and if he was being honest— he didn’t even think he’d have one. 

Sylvie hummed, her eyes looking down at her Pinterest board. She had just emailed her agent about the catsuit that she would be wearing, telling her that she was set and ready to go for the event. She only needed to work then she’d fly to New York as soon as the Russian GP came to an end. THAT and she needed to ensure that Max’s suit from Alexander McQueen was ready for the event as well.

“You said they’ll sew you into the catsuit?” Max asked, curious as to why Sylvie wasn’t responding with her words as he looked up. The Dutchman found her staring at her screen. 

He looked around the room and had found an elastic hair tie lying next to the papers and Sylvie’s laptop, grabbing it carefully before flinging it in her direction. She flinched at the impact of the band, making Max giggle as Sylvie glared. 

“Use your words, Emilian,” Sylvie hissed at him, grabbing the abandoned elastic before flinging it back to him. The man caught it in his hands as he continued to giggle.

“You’re the one who should use your words; I was asking you something,” Sylvie merely nodded as she stared mindlessly somewhere. Max’s brows raised, her silence prompting him to ask, “Alright, out with it. What are you thinking about?” 

His words brought her back to reality, her eyes staring at his blue ones. She asked, “Can you cut my hair?” 

“What- no!” Max exclaimed. Her hair was at shoulder length last Monaco GP, and now months later it returned to the rib cage length and continued to grow. 

She had expressed how annoyed she could be having to put it up as she often ran around the grid, media pens and paddock to communicate with other PR managers and drivers. While Max empathized with her, he couldn’t help but think that her request was nothing but obtuse. 

“Come on, Maxieeee~” Sylvie whined, begging him as she continued, “Just cut it to shoulder length and we’ll be sold.”

She was cute, indeed, but between Blanche Ford’s wrath and Sylvie— yeah no, Max would rather refuse Sylvie’s request. “No, I’m not going to cut it. Why don’t you head to a salon, instead?”

“I can save money and time if you did it,” Sylvie argued, petulance written all over her face but Max had the same look in his face. 

“You’d think that being a Ford would help you afford a haircut,” Max sassed, remembering how Sylvie had practically slandered his outfit last January. “Even Lewis could get away with his hairstyle.”

“I’m telling Lewis,” Sylvie threatened with a pointed finger, but Max continued to stare at her with a challenging look. She easily gave in as she groaned, “Come on- I don’t have time to get a haircut at a salon.”

“Yes you do,” Max scowled. “Why can’t you just ask your agent to hire a hairstylist when we get to New York tomorrow?” 

“Too much work,” Sylvie said, uninterested in his suggestion.

Max scoffed, “And you thought it’ll be a piece of cake if I did it?”

“Last resort,” Sylvie replied, her tone now showing her boredom as she sighed in annoyance.

“You are unbelievably lazy at times,” Max shook his head in amusement, pulling out his phone to text his own manager to see if they’d be able to hire a hairdresser for the event on Monday.

“I’d say a unique character,” Sylvie told him with an amused grin, her head leaning against the sofa as she looked up to the ceiling. 

“Of course you would,” Max rolled his eyes.

“What, you don’t believe me?” 

“It’s hard to believe you when you keep pulling my leg like a clown,” Max joked.

“You’re friends with a pathological liar,” Sylvie cackled, earning a laugh from her best friend. “If anything, you’re the clown for believing everything I say.”

He couldn’t help it. It was hard not to believe when you’d go to hell and back for her. They were so much like the modern day Lady Macbeth and Macbeth— except they weren’t really interested in taking over the world. It was just that Max could be easily manipulated by Sylvie (even if she doesn’t) and he’d let her get away from that. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a text from his manager as he read it. He immediately responded with a simple thank you and a request.

“Don’t cut your hair— not right now,” Max instructed Sylvie, leaving the woman to shoot him a confused look as she wondered what prompted him to say that. He continued, “My manager’s generous enough to send an email for you— just so you can get your haircut. Because you want to save some time. It only took me ten minutes to get you booked—“

“Ugh you areeeee amazing, Maxie!” Sylvie squealed, hopping off the sofa to launch herself into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him for a second, then realized what she was doing before she pulled away with her cheeks heating up.

“Yeah, I know,” Max playfully shoved her off, “you’ve said that a lot of times. But then again as you said, you’re a pathological liar.”

“You know, I was excited about taking you to New York for the MET gala— Alexander McQueen even got you a suit that I definitely hadn’t personally overseen,” Sylvie huffed out, kicking Max lightly as she continued, “But then you agreed that I’m a liar- so now I’m regretting every single bit of it.” 

“No you’re not,” Max snorted.

“You’re right. I’m excited to see you outside of your shitty skinny jeans and Red Bull polo combo.” 

“Oh so now you’re shitting on my workday outfit?” 

“Not just you— don’t be too self-conscious; even Daniel’s getting shit from me because of those skinny jeans. That man has thighs and he’s hiding them away through those ugly jeans? Ugh, seriously.”

FIRST MONDAY OF MAY 

“Maxwell! Did you fit in the suit?” Sylvie called as her eyes were trained on the reflection of the bedroom door. Max stepped out of the room with an annoyed look, but her eyes were trained on the body that wore the suit. 

She was surprised at how perfectly tailored the suit was for him. The details of his suit were intricate and had the same appearance and texture as the ones that she wore, but they have topped a black pinstriped fabric with the hand sewn lace and butterfly details. Underneath his double breasted blazer was a black silk shirt with white printed details.

The blazer had hidden away most of his sculpted upper body, but not his neck area. Wrapped around his neck was a white gold tennis necklace, glimmering under the chandelier of the suite as much as his watch did.

Cartier, as far as Sylvie knew. It was the one that she got for him on Christmas, after all. That and the Graff Diamonds wrapped around his wrist that she certainly hadn’t purchased for more than fifty grand. She definitely hadn’t bought something that expensive. Could you just imagine the stories that would come out if they realized that Sylvie’s love language was expensive gift giving?

But she couldn’t allow her eyes to linger any longer than she had as she looked up at Max’s annoyed expression. His Dutch accent rang out inside the suite quite a little bit louder that even the hairdryer was rendered slightly silent. 

“First, you called me Emilio Estevez and now I’m Maxwell?” Max scowled, leaving the woman to grin cheekily as her hairdresser plugged in the straightener. “Yes I did fit in.”

“Good.”

“I was there for the fitting, Sylvie,” Max pointed out. He stood there for a moment to have his outfit fixed by Sylvie’s stylist, ensuring that his ensemble was displaying and showing in the right places. His hair was combed back and held in place by some hair gel, Sylvie thanking whichever god had gotten rid of his hat. 

“You lose a lot of weight when you’re racing,” Sylvie shrugged nonchalantly, leaving Max to roll his eyes lightheartedly as he sat on the empty loveseat right by the window of the suite. 

He sighed, already set to go as he stated aloud, “I’m surprised Tilly’s still invited.”

“As she should be,” Sylvie chuckled, remembering how sour it had turned out for her eldest sister when she worked at British Vogue.

Ever since the gossip/news outlet Fast Lane Daily published the article about Tilly’s immediate resignation in July 2014, the publishing company received a backlash about how poorly they recognized talent. Tilly returned in 2015, but she was just a guest at the MET Gala because of her prestigious title as an owner of a major company and a philanthropist. Some even said that it was Vogue’s karma for treating Tilly as a bait to get an inside look at a luxurious lifestyle like hers. 

“You would think that with how she was treated she wasn’t going back,” Max said. “Now she’s here for what… the third time? And she isn’t just here as a staff member.”

“They didn’t think to care about who her family was,” Sylvie responded, “so when they got a glimpse of Toto in those photos, they immediately wanted to know what it’s like being a sugar baby to an older man.” 

“If they only knew,” Max huffed a little, shaking his head in amusement as he remembered how TIME magazine had officially named her the richest woman after reaching her £1.5 billion by the end of 2016.

“Yup,” Sylvie laughed, “if they only knew.” 

THE FAST LANE DAILY

SUPERMODEL SYLVIE FORD STUNS IN ALEXANDER WANG CATSUIT AT MET GALA 2017

The Met Gala 2017 was a night to remember, filled with fashion, glamour, and a star-studded guest list. Among the attendees, supermodel Sylvie Ford made a jaw-dropping entrance in a catsuit designed by the renowned Alexander Wang. However, what made her outfit even more remarkable was the fact that she was sewn into it just hours before the event, showcasing her dedication to fashion.

Prior to the gala, Sylvie also debuted a fresh haircut, which she proudly showcased on the red carpet. In an interview, she revealed that she had been insisting that her friend Max Verstappen, the F1 driver, cut her hair. However, Max, being the supportive friend he is, called his own manager to book a stylist for Sylvie. This gesture highlighted the strong bond between the two friends and their commitment to each other's success.

Sylvie Ford's stunning catsuit, crafted by Alexander Wang, accentuated her flawless figure and exuded an air of confidence and sophistication. The intricate design and impeccable tailoring showcased Sylvie's fashion-forward style, making her a true standout at the event.

But Sylvie and Max were not the only F1 personalities in attendance. Sylvie's sister, Tilly Marie, the owner of Hearth Automotive Groups, graced the gala alongside her partner, Mercedes AMG F1 Team Principal Toto Wolff. The power couple added their own touch of elegance and style to the event, further solidifying their status as influential figures in the F1 world.

Additionally, Sylvie's other sister, Stevie Marlene, a model herself, attended the gala representing Tommy Hilfiger alongside Tommy Hilfiger ambassador and Mercedes F1 driver, Lewis Hamilton. The duo made their own grand entrances, showcasing their unique styles and adding to the overall excitement of the evening.

Although the F1 personalities arrived separately and were seated at different tables, their presence at the Met Gala 2017 added an extra layer of intrigue and excitement to the event. Each individual brought their own sense of fashion and charisma, captivating the attention of onlookers and leaving a lasting impression.

As the night unfolded, Sylvie Ford, along with her F1 companions, enjoyed the festivities, mingling with other A-list celebrities and fashion icons. Their collective presence at the Met Gala 2017 showcased the strong connection between the worlds of fashion and motorsport, further solidifying their influence and status within their respective industries.

The Met Gala 2017 was undoubtedly a night to remember, and Sylvie Ford, along with her F1 friends and family, made their mark with their impeccable style and undeniable presence. Their individual entrances and unique fashion choices added to the allure of the event, leaving a lasting impression on the fashion world and fans alike.

SYLVIE & MAX: From Childhood Friends to Enemies to Long Lost Lovers. 

Sylvie Ford is the only person who doesn’t give a sh*t about Jos Verstappen— and here’s why I love her for it.

From Providing Testimonies to Adopting a Pet Together: Here’s How to Become the Max Verstappen to her Sylvie Ford.

Sylvie Ford and her friendship with Max Verstappen shows that you can be two-faced for the benefit of your own mental state. Where is the support for Max when he needs it?

She hadn’t seen any of her sisters inside the venue and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. She could have sworn she’d seen a certain tall Austrian man, but it must have been her anxiety speaking when she turned away and didn’t see him again. She tried finding the Tommy Hilfiger table but found nada; neither her sister Stevie nor Lewis were there. 

She promised she wasn’t going to look at her social media. The story that everyone ran about her and Max used to be tame and decent. But she began regretting her decision to bring him as a date when the topic tripled across Twitter and Instagram— even TMZ had something to say about that. 

Her mind began spinning when she read the article about how she’d only bring Max along to make Abel feel terrible about himself. Her mind thought of it too much and began wondering if Max thought of it as that? 

Suddenly she felt herself shaking as she continued to recall the past few months. Moving in together, adopting a puppy, and having each other’s backs. She felt herself wanting to throw up at the thought of being nothing but a burden or something that took advantage of a vulnerable person. She couldn’t do that to Max. She had never done that to appease herself. She hadn’t done anything to take advantage of Max’s caring nature. 

But everyone seemed to see her as someone so cruel. Like she would rip everyone’s heart out. At some point Jos told Max that she didn’t care about him and that he might as well let go. Yet Max never listened, only caring about her. 

She felt disgusted with herself. She hadn’t done anything to make it up to him. She was a selfish prick, and she was here trying not to cry because her conscience continued to torment her. She didn’t deserve any help. 

She reached down to text her manager, who should be somewhere in the venue.

Sylvie: Might not make it to after party. I feel sick. 

Sarah J: Do you want me to call the chauffeur? Your sisters might look for you.

Sylvie: I’ll let them know l8r. Can’t breathe atm but pls.

Sarah: Where r u? 

Sylvie: Bathroolm west winh

She couldn’t even remember how she ended up falling off.

“Sylv,” she hadn’t even noticed that her anxiety knocked her unconscious until she felt a shake of her shoulders. The rapid beating of her heart returned when she saw Max, who had found her slumped against the wall after running around trying to figure out where the fuck west wing was. 

There was nothing scarier than finding her in such a state. Miserable, in pain and suffering. It was petrifying, not knowing how to deal with the pain should he struggle to do so in public while they take her away. He really didn’t want to see her being taken away by an ambulance. Not anytime soon. 

“Shit, good- you’re alive, good,” Max continued to swear as he placed his hand over her forehead, checking her temperature. She wasn’t too warm. Her body didn’t indicate anything about any illness— she just looked too pale.

“Fuck, fuck,” Sylvie cursed as she tried to stand, only to end up stumbling while Max supported her by grabbing her waist. “How long was I out?” 

“I don’t know, but Sarah said you’ve last texted her when she approached me— six minutes ago,” Max sighed in relief, content that Sylvie could speak. “You looked dead, Sylvie. I got scared. Do you want to head back?”

“Please,” Sylvie nodded before biting her lip nervously, “you don’t have to come along— you can stay as long as you’d like— stay with Stevie and everything.”

“It’s nice to know you’re as equally idiotic as you were a few hours ago,” Max joked. “I’m exhausted. I'm coming along.”

“Max—“

“I'm tired, I’m not going to go just because,” Max raised a brow at her. “You need to stop thinking you’re being a bother. If it makes you feel better I’m going back because I’m beat. This fucking place is full of people I’d rather not get in the mix with.” 

“I’m one of those people, bastard,” Sylvie scoffed, making Max roll his eyes. 

“You’re trying to fool the only person who’s seen you shove Mick- a three year old- to the pool when we were five and act like you haven’t? Nice try. C’mon, stop wasting time— I want to sleep and you need to get away from this stupid place.”

“We should get something to drink on the way back,” Sylvie suggested in a mutter. 

“Passing out from a panic attack doesn’t exactly call for alcohol,” Max told her off quietly, his hand slipping to hold hers as he continued to guide her towards The Great Hall, “you need your anxiety meds— not tequila. Quit being stupid. You’re too smart and pretty for that shit.”

“I should apologize,” Sylvie murmured as she wiped her face with a warm, damp cloth. She was dressed in nothing but some white tank top and striped pajama bottom, her shoulder length hair tied into a messy ponytail with strands hanging out. She was staring at her reflection while she wiped away the smudged mascara that she attempted to remove five minutes ago. 

Max leaned forward the sink while his right hand brushed his teeth, now looking at Sylvie’s reflection with a questioning frown while his mouth was full of toothpaste. 

“For being a prick,” Sylvie continued with a sigh, looking down at the stained cloth before she wiped the remains of her foundation. Finishing off, she started her skincare routine and washed her face. “You’ve done so much for me this past year— or years, whatever. And I’ve done fuck all for you.” 

Spitting out whatever it was he had, Max gargled and rinsed off his mouth. “Was this about the articles that just came out?” 

“Not really,” Sylvie denied. 

“Yes it is,” Max chuckled, wiping his mouth with a clean towel. “Why are you apologizing for that?” 

“I just explained why,” Sylvie’s eye peeked at him while she continued to massage her foam lathered face. “Or are you trying to get an ego boost from my humiliation?”

“No, I’m genuinely asking why,” Max replied, now setting his toothbrush down and leaning against the counter while he watched his best friend rinse her face with warm water. The Dutchman handed her another clean towel, watching as the Red Bull communications coordinator patted her face dry. “There’s no reason to apologize.”

“Are you deaf or just obtuse?” 

“You weren’t being selfish, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Max pointed out. “You were upset at me for years. You left the academy because of me—“

“I was expelled.” 

“And you never asked for any help,” he continued nonetheless, earning a heavy frown from the woman. “In no way you’re selfish. I’m giving this support because I want to— you didn’t ask for it.” 

“I still was rude to you,” Sylvie justified. 

Max chuckled, “Nothing new but alright.”

“Max Emilian,” Sylvie scolded him.

“I’m joking,” Max pinched her cheek, making the model swat his hand away. “You didn’t ask for help, which isn’t selfish. The only selfish part of it was that I never had the chance to fix it. I lost my best friend because of it.” 

“Teenage angst must’ve sucked us all in, huh,” Sylvie rolled her eyes with a huff. “It does suck. Not being able to tell you about university and all that. I went through four years of not seeing Victoria and spending my time with Lando. But, if you think of it now— I’m still around you, no?” 

“Not in the track,” Max muttered, guilt written all over his face as he continued, “you should have considered the academy’s offer to review your performance.”

“Meh,” Sylvie murmured, “it’s a waste of time. I’m way past my academy days, Max.” 

“Never too late for the track to have the first woman to ever drive the RB17.” 

“I’ll stick to my routine,” Sylvie shook her head. “It’s less traumatic. It’s bad enough that I see—“

“I know, I know,” Max chuckled.

There was a long pause between the two of them, staring at each other for a moment before Sylvie turned away. She then looked back at him with, “Thank you. For coming with me instead of flying back to the Netherlands.”

“I was just spending my time with Dad before we could fly back to England,” Max waved her off. “It’s nothing big.”

“Sure it is,” Sylvie scoffed, “he’s still your dad.”

She hadn’t needed to utter the words not a good one because they both knew the truth.

A strong feeling haunted the two of them so much they wondered how to make the first move. 

They knew each other too well that they’d know how to act when they even try something new. But they didn’t know their hearts well enough to trust the instinct that they had. They knew that it was easier for them to make the move and be with each other already. 

They were practically together. The only thing that they missed was the label, and the fact that everyone around them already knew what they were as a whole. Everyone rooted for them, but for some reason, moving forward wasn’t too… easy. 

As if they’d rather love each other without putting it out there. It’s such a shame that they’re still proving people right that things would never work out the way everyone wanted it. 

At least they’ve admitted how much they missed each other. It was a step forward. 

#max verstappen x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula one x oc #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #red bull racing imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen angst #mv33 imagine #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one au #max verstappen au #f1 au #f1 x oc #f1 fanfiction #f1 fluff #f1 angst

[det-loki]

A messy collection of my thoughts and theories for episodes one and two of 'a murder at the end of the world' :

• starting off with The Doors, already a yes from me

• this is my, hmm, sixth rewatch of both episodes? maybe more? Anyway, darby is warm colors, bill is cool. love this detail.

• The Silver Doe, silver earrings. I'm convinced Darby's earring means something. I've seen others speculate that it's reference to a hourglass. it's also similar to the logo of Andy's company.

• We meet Bill in the motel room and that is when I immediately knew I was a goner for this story. sue me, Harris Dickinson is handsome. I also love his terrible haircut

• Harris and Emma's chemistry is INSANE

• "Lee. She doesn't need my help." Oh, but maybe she does Darby. I don't trust Lee's husband in any way, shape or form

• When Darby stumbles down the (poorly made) stairs and bill asks her if she's alright? listen, i love them a whole lot. even if it's common decency to ask

• creepy fucking basement.

• bill protecting darby. BILL PROTECTING DARBY!!!

• was bill shot? did the person shoot themselves?

• I feel like importance of tattoos and meaning might come into play (darby looking at crime scene photos but also bill's and darby's)

• also during the scene where darby is being messaged by Andy's assistant, someone on reddit theorized that the letters on darbys open tabs are a code. Maybe?

• The health check before boarding the plane is raising red flags for me. Mainly the cheek swab. I dunno

• Alice Braga! You gorgeous human

• Martin reading Darby's book right in front of her is a little bit strange for a multitude of reasons but I'm definitely reading too much into most of my thoughts about it

• Darby's attention to detail is so good and such a wonderful element, considering the storyline

• Grimes.

• The closeup on Martin's nightmare on the plane. Obviously a deliberate camera choice. But whyyyy

• Flashback to Bill in the bath. I assume it's after they were confronted with the gun. Bloody rags and dirty water, Bill seems physically okay. previous point, was he shot?

• "I think this is both too much and not enough."

• Camera/Darby lingers on fisherman.

• Ray makes me nervous

• Oxygen tank to Lee's room. Strange. Food to Lee's room that Zoomer accepts, strange. Lee cleaning up the broken glass and making eye contact with Darby. very strange.

• The deep fake talk with Oliver about how you can make anyone say anything will definitely come back later. isn't audio recorded in every room or did I misunderstood that in ep 2?

• Lee and Andy are not selling me on a happy marriage. Back to maybe Lee does need Darby's help.

• Bill appearing at dinner. Was he late or early? the way bill and darby look at one another make me melt

• Also, as Bill sits down, Sian says 'definitely not him' meaning Andy didn't invite him, Lee did. And we later learn that Lee and Bill knew eachother. (how tf did darby not know that if she is such a fan of Lee. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEANNN)

• The lighting plays a huge roll. The halos above Darby and Bill at dinner

• I too would choke after seeing bill again for the first time in six years

• Lee's toast, 'to finding a way out.' And then Andy saying, 'together.' ???

• Zoomer. Robot child? Bill's kid? strange little dude nonetheless. (Zoomer doesn't/can't eat. Lee and Andy looking at one another while Zoomer and Bill play. darbys smile as she watches them. then the face bill makes after zoomer is called to sit down. and the way he responds to question of how old he is???)

• The pool scene. These people are so cliquey. yuck

• Darby punching bill and then immediately asking him for a drink. I get it. Also the way he looked at her after she punched him. Lovesick.

• Bill telling her how he loved her book, oh my God. "Really tough and fragile at the same time" fucking incredible line.

• Bill and Darby flirting

• "I need to tell you something." Insert Jennifer Lawrence clip, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!

• Darby runs into Marius, the hotel manager when she goes to Bill's room. Suspect but maybe too obvious?

• Bill asking her to stay as he dies. Holding hands through the glass. Him smiling at her. It's all too much for me.

• So much blood for someone overdosing? Head wound.

Episode 2:

• Darby's book in Bill's room covered in blood. Is that Bill's copy or Martin's from the plane?

• Everyone is very insistent on getting Darby out of Bill's room.

• The tea going to Bill's room. More broken glass

• Lee comforting Darby is very nice

• Rohan (fisherman) is the only one visibly upset and reacting like a human being told about a death

• Andy and Sian are acting like Darby is overreacting about his cause of death

• Andy saying that bill wouldn't want them to go home and quit. Dude, you didn't know him. Kick rocks.

•  Again, Andy and Lee are giving me bad vibes. Lee fawns around him, he speaks over her/for her

• Lu Mei seems uncomfortable when she says she'll stay, seemingly intimated by Andy or fearful of his reaction if she did say she wanted to leave. Therefore I don't think anyone is comfortable going against him. Power imbalance. Darby seems to pick up on this

• Darby going to see Bill. Her frantically asking Ray questions with obvious answers but she craves the validation that she isn't wrong about what she suspects....I'm so sad

• Bill's tattoos are so interesting and I crave meaning

• "Someone killed you."

• My knowledge of injectable drugs all comes from 90s rock musicians, so take that as you will. The needle in Bill's room is the strangest thing I've ever seen. It looks like a diabetic tester needle. And no fingerprints.

• Lee also going to Bill's room. The plot thickens (I need to re-create her outfit in this episode it's so good)

• Is Lee telling the truth about what she was actually looking for? Also her giving Darby advice. I very much like them teaming up together

• "Don't get caught."

• Is it possible that Andy/the hotel is fielding the internet? like when darby can't look up a hack for the doorbell cam. is this an ignorant question? Perhaps.

• Darby and Bill flashback! when bill offers to come pick darby up and she immediately freaks out and runs away from the conversation...I have never felt more seen or understood. me too, girl, me too.

• Do Lee and Bill having matching line tattoos on their forearms???

• Happy birthday Darby 🥺🥺🥺

• 04/14/2017 Zoomer's birthday.

• Darby has doorbell cam footage. employees have towels. noted. David on a phonecall.  Bill 🥲 (not wearing his ring) Ziba hears something, looks frightened and leaves. Bill's door opens from in the inside, hallway wall is illuminated.

• Bill's smile when he meets Darby in person for the first time. I LOVE THEM!

• Creepy mask person, go away!

• the diner darby and bill meet at is called Ray's

• I believe in love at first sight because of them.

• Frank Ocean. That's all.

#a murder at the end of the world spoilers #a murder at the end of the world #bill farrah #darby hart #harris dickinson #emma corrin #brit marling

[jarofstyles]

Cozy

Hello… we’ve got mountainrry author and hairdresser y/n here 🍂 I hope you enjoy!

They’re sweet babes.

Check out our Patreon!

WC: around 3k

WC/ around 3k

I hope you enjoy. I will do a part 2 if you’d like 🔮

—-

If there was one word she would use to to describe Harry, it was Cozy.

Y/N had never met someone who was so… soft. So warm in her life. He radiated the heat and comfort that a fireplace did on a snowy winters day. It made a lot of sense, considering where they lived.

Harry thought better in the woods. Being a writer, it was easier to keep his mind at ease when he was mostly alone. He had tried a plethora of places to try and write. Coffee shops worked out alright at first but the smell of coffee was too tempting and it messed with his stomach. The park was beautiful but one too many footballs to the head made him rethink it. It was a step in the right direction, though. Nature seemed to soothe his racing mind and have him be able to focus on the words he was writing versus the thoughts swirling around his head.

It had been trial and terror but somehow, he had managed to write his first number one best seller when he spent a month in a cabin in a mountain town. The inspiration never seemed to dry up, and it prompted him to take the generous earnings he made from the freelance writing he did on the side to buy his own cabin, not too far away.

It was this beautiful town he was eternally grateful for. It’s his oasis, his home, and where he met his lover.

Y/N had been a beautiful surprise packaged in a hairdressing apron. He had let his locks get overgrown being holed up while he wrote. It was to the point that his mother told him she would fly out to take scissors to his head if he didn’t go and get it done as soon as he could, which resulted in Harry taking his cell phone and searching the nearest salon.

It landed upon Sweet Thang. A smaller, up and coming salon in the little ski town he now resided in. The reviews looked fantastic, his mop needed a trim desperately, and it was only 10 minutes down the mountain. So he hopped in his truck and got down to thee town, finding a space on the street and headed into the salon, only to get the surprise of his life.

Y/N was immediately someone who he wanted. He was blown away with just how soothing her voice was, how she had managed to knock him out of his quiet, reserved space he usually got into when writing and made him want to talk. Which he did. Harry chatted and laughed with the pretty hairdresser with magic hands and the ability to relax him with her voice and a simple head massage. He had never clicked with someone so quickly in his life, which led to him asking her on a date after the best haircut of his life.

A year later, he was deeply in love, moved to the same little town they met and writing his 3rd best seller (fingers crossed) while he waited for her to come back home. Sitting in their dining room, his laptop sat on the oak table while the snow fell on the growing blanket, inches piling up soon. The man had woken up after she left with a kiss to his forehead and decided to work in their brightly lit common area today, needing the slight change of scenery. He moved about the house depending on the mood of the scenes he was writing.

His ears perked up as he heard the garage door mechanics pulling up, alerted to the fact his soon to be wife was now home. They’d moved fast, sure, but Harry didn’t have a single doubt. Their first date, he knew she would be his. Of course it was probably a bit of the romantic in him, he was a fucking writer after all, but he adored her. Worshipped the ground the woman walked on. He stood from the chair, stretching his back and winching at the cracks before making his way to the kettle. Every day she went to work, he made sure to have the kettle going when she arrived home from work. Her post day ritual of her herbal teas was adopted by him, taking down two mugs as his body giddily waited for her to walk inside.

“Honey, I’m hoooome.”

The sweet voice brought a grin to his face, leaning his ass against the counter as he watched her plop her snowy boots on the weather tray and hang her tote bag on the hooks harry had installed after he had tripped on her totes one too many times. Considering he stayed home most of the time, he was usually the one to work on the house. She was on her feet all day anyways.

“There y’are, mt gorgeous girl.” His voice traveled to her as her socked feet padded over to his tall frame. Immediately, she sank into his warm embrace, snuggling into the soft sweater he had put on to keep the chill out. He always chose the coziest things, but especially because of this moment. The time of day she would come home in the winter and seek out his heat, his comfort. A soft hiss left his teeth as he stroked her cold hair, pulling her closer as he kissed the top of her head.

“Freezing’ out there, isn’t it? Even just putting stuff away in the garage got you all frosty.” He sighed, not liking her being cold at all. Harry kept the fire stoked all day, taking breaks for his own brain to feed the fire and mess around so the house was toasty for his love to come home to. He had never felt such a compulsion to take care of someone before Y/N. Now it was a pleasure, second nature.

“Mhm. But I knew you’d have it feeling good at home.” She got on her toe, giving a peck to his lips before burying her face into his neck. Her cold nose made him wince but he didn’t pull away, instead enjoyed how she rubbed it back and forth on the heated skin, Y/N knew how creepy it sounded but she never felt close enough. Part of her wanted to crawl under his sweater and simply listen to his heart and feel his hands run up and dow her back for the rest of time.

“Made sure the fire was on all day. I’ll have to chop some wood tomorrow, though. Tea water is on for now,, wasn’t sure if you’d want jasmine, chamomile or mint.” She usually switched between the three while harry settled with his standard.

“Thank you, my angel.” Y/N sighed against his neck, kissing delicately over the vein there. “I can see you’re writing the softer stuff today.”

Harry had a series of predictable patterns. If he was writing lighter, softer things, it was in the brightly lit dinging room, open to the living room. Intimate scenes he wrote at the desk of their bedroom. More intense, dramatic scenes would be written in his home office. There was a space for everything. Outdoors in the summmer would be a wild card, though.

“Mhm. More world building. Dynamics forming. You know the same old.” He sighed, inhaling a deeper breath as she let her weight sag into him. He stroked over her back, going under her cardigan to the thin black tee shirt she had underneath. Y/N smelled like shampoo, the green apple and mint kind. It was his favorite thing, he thinks. “Made some muffins this morning for breakfast. And I’ve got pizza cooking in the oven now. Made the one with the peppers for me and your specialty one for you.” It had been a later day at ther salon as the holidays approached, and Harry tried not to complain. She had the whole week off starting now, and he knew her hands could use it.

“How’s your wrist?” Her wrist had been giving her some trouble lately with how much she moved them, Harry suspected some carpal tunnel. He knew all too well about it considering he had his bouts with it and typing. “Wear your brace today?”

A black bandage covered wrist escaped from behind him, raising up to show his eyes before going back behind him to cling to his solid form. “Yeah. Bothered me when I was using the scissors most but the brace helped. Don’t say I told you so.” She pepped, hiding her face in his shirt because yes. Harry had in fact told her so when she had been skeptical.

“I would never.” He smirked though, and she could feel it against the top of her head. “M’just glad it made it hurt less. Don’t like my girl in any pain. I remember how badly it can hurt. Remember? That’s why you showed me the wrist elevating mouse pad. Worked wonders for me. No shame. You’re working hard, but that’s why you’re getting your break now, hm?” He gently peeled her back so he could look at her face, polished fingers cupping her warming face. His glasses were on, a favorite yummy look of hers on him, stubble growing on his jaw. Harry looked delicious, if she did say so herself.

“Yeah.” She sighed, moving her hands to rest on his shoulders. “And that means you’ve got to take more breaks during the day to give me attention.” She blinked at him a few times, utterly serious. Harry could get into the zone and forget the house was bringing around him, so she wanted him to be aware.

“Of course. My favorite little distraction will be walking about. Probably in my sweaters because on top of being distracting, she’s a silly little thief.” He squeezed her cheeks together to make her lips pout, kissing them sweetly as she humphed in protest. “Plus, think I need a trim myself. So I hope you’re well versed in using kitchen scissors to cut-“

“Do not finish that sentence.” She placed a hand on his mouth. Her faux snarl melted when he kissed the palm over his lips, letting it move to scratch the stubble. “I like this. Keep it for a bit, for me. At least this week.” She felt it under her fingertips, moving back and forth on the texture of the hair on his chin and jaw. It was a personal favorite of hers, when he let it grow out just for her.

“Hmm. I can.” He smiled lazily, leaning his cheek into her touch. “But then I don’t want you complaining about carpet burn down there. Know your thighs are extra sensitive to it. I plan to spend all my free time there.” There was that mischievous glint in his eyes, but for once she was looking forward to said shenanigans. When they surrounded her pleasure, she truly couldn’t complain.

“Oh? Is that the type of week we’re having?” Manicured nails gripped his soft sweater, kicking a leg up behind her as she batted her lashes. Y/N looked ridiculous but he loved her, so he just laughed, pinching her hip lightly to make her cut it out. The little yelp was cut off with his mouth, successfully quieting her with a sweet kiss. Slightly obnoxious when he made a ‘mmmmm’ sound against them, making her want to giggle but refusing to pull away.

When she found an escape, a gasp was exaggerated at the extended kiss. “You tried to suffocate me!” The accusation held no weight, flopping right back on to his chest. Harry’s cheeks were slightly sore from the size of his smile. Moments like this, the domestic and cute were things he often dreamt about. Now he had his forever muse. The sole inspiration behind half of the feelings of love and yearning in his writing.

“I would apologize….” He trailed off, sneakily grabbing under her thighs and picking her up to set her ass on the counter. “But I am not sorry.”

The beep of the oven cut her off, Harry leaving her sitting on the island while she kicked her feet in protest.

It was something else. Watching his hand slip into the checkered oven mitt, sliding the pizza pans out of the over one by one and setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was incredible and her mouth was already watering, thinking about how good it had been last time. Harry was an incredible cook, especially with his spin offs to Pinterest recipes.

Watching him bop about the kitchen was somewhat arousing, too. Seeing his broad back as he picked things up, set them down, cut into things. Watching him pop a finger into his mouth to ‘clean it off’. The concentrated look on his face and the purse of his lips when he tried to get exact measurements. Y/N mourned the loss of that experience today. Damn work.

“Sexy little househusband.” She cooed, peeling her cardigan off and tossing it onto the nearby stool. He loved sitting her on the counter instead, and every time she tried fo ask why he would shush her. So rather than fight it, she accepted the inevitable. “Making me food when I get home, cleaning the house. It does things to a woman, y’know.” Twirling a strand of hair around her finger, she made a show of looking him up and down- because god damn, those pants did him some real service- and she giggled at the raised brow he gave her while he put the overhead fan on.

“Oh? You are something else.” He sighed, returning to her open thighs. His hand settled on her hip while the other grazed her cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the opposite. “I’ll gladly be your sexy little househusband. As long as you let me write my books that sell millions of copies and sit in my chair while you do the head massage thing…”

He was so cute. Y/N had learned early on that her cause of death would probably be him.’ Harry being too cute’ plastered on her headstone. It was a nice way to go out, she thinks.

“Oh, you’re good.” She mumbled, taking each side of his face in her palms and squeezed a little to make his lips push out, kissing the wet pout. “Too good. I’m gonna give you such good head tonight. Mind blowing. Show stopping. Ridiculous. Pizza and being cute. Too much for me to handle.”

This made Harry perk up. Immediately. Of course it would- but he was particularly fond of her mouth. The things it could do and the words that came out of it. It was a never ending stream of love that flowed from him right to her, and it always felt matched. Reciprocated.

“There will not be a single complaint from me.” He said, slightly slurred because she had his lips squished with her hands on his cheeks. “Sounds good. Perfect? Actually. Let me block out my calendar. Next chapter can wait. Please.” He leaned forward and caught her lips again, the hands on her lover's cheeks loosening as he tugged her body to be flush against his. Indulging in a dirtier kiss, a hand straying to his hair and brushing it out of his face while he slipped under her tee shirt to feel the hot skin of her back again. Harry swore he would never get enough of this. Even in its simplicity, it was the most beautiful feeling in the world.

“Dork.” The word was mumbled against his lips, the buzzing feeling in the now slightly swollen flesh making her smile. “That was too sexy of a kiss. I need to eat some pizza and take a shower before any sort of intimacy happens. I smell like developer and shampoo.” She pushed his chest a little, making him sulk. Harry didn’t care either way, but he wanted her comfortable. Plus, in his mind, that meant she was going to put on sexy panties. Or none. He would love that.

“Fine. I need you fed and energized. The week break is going to be a lot of fun for us… so I need to make sure your in tip top shape. Especially if you’re going to be living with me inside of you. My beautiful girl…” he sighed, eyes taking in her face again. “Got spoiled rotten with you. Didn’t I?” The switch between dirty and sweet could give anyone else whiplash, but Y/N simply grinned.

“You did indeed. Now feed me and let me shower, househusband. Let me start this week off with a bang.” The woman didn’t even need to look up to know his mouth was open to retort something filthy. “And you should keep that mouth quiet if you want it to happen.”

Y/N didn’t hear a peep as she plated the pizza, smirking to herself all the while she heard the snap and crackle of a new record being put on.

She was home.

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #Harry styles fic #Harry styles au #harry styles writing #Harry blurb #Harry one shot #Harry fic #Harry fanfic

[shiraishi-mai]

Strawberry Hairtie

(disclaimer: not proofread)

A few members of the Inarizaki volleyball team turn the corner to find a confession happening outside of school. It’s a classic shojou moment to witness and Atsumu, being the snoop he is, hurriedly shushes his twin and Suna.

“Please accept this!” A girl has her head bowed, pink letter thrust out and trembling.

The figure, they can’t see who it is from his back, hesitantly takes the letter and does a little awkward bow back. The girl runs off and the guy simply puts the letter in his bag and turns to the side path and walks away from them. 

A short wolfcut tied up in a ponytail and in track pants, bag carelessly slung over one shoulder is all they can make out from the distance.

Atsumu snickers and Aran materialises to hit him on the back for spying. 

“He’s kind of pretty, isn’t he?” Atsumu says. “I’m way hotter though. Where’s my confession??” 

This earns him a smack from his twin this time and a scolding about arrogance. 

Suna trails behind them, watching the sky and quickly forgetting about the whole affair. 

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

It’s the next day and new assigned seats are chosen for the second term of school. Papers for an assignment to do in class are to be passed down the rows and Suna turns to find a mop of hair lying on the desk behind him. The owner of said hair is fast asleep. 

He stares for a second, paper in hand, and pokes the figure. 

The student groans and lifts their head, only for Suna to realise it’s the guy from yesterday. He silently takes the paper and nods a thank you. 

The guy keeps catching his eye after that. It isn’t on purpose, Suna just realises that he happens to come across him a lot. He is hard to miss, considering there seems to be a few girls here and there that whisper and giggle in class and around the school wherever the figure goes around. 

During lunch, girls squeal as they peer out the window to watch those on the basketball court. Suna looks out to see the Atsumu is trying his hand at it and sure enough, ponytail is playing too. 

“y/n-kun is so handsome,” one sighs. 

“You have such a thing for basketball players,” another one teases.

“I dunno, volleyball players are cute too~” a third says, eyeing Atsumu and sneaking a glance at Suna. 

Suna watches as ponytail gulps greedily from a water bottle, sweat dripping down his neck. He runs his hand through his hair and stretches, eliciting more squeals from the spectators. 

After the bell rings, the teacher, much to the slight annoyance of Suna, asks him and a few classmates to bring boxes outside the school building. As he walks, he notes that he also needs a haircut as his bangs nearly plaster on his forehead from the heat and sweat gathers at the nape of his neck. 

Ponytail is part of the errand group and trails behind him. 

Suna huffs at his hair, trying to get his bangs out of his eyes.

“Want me to tie it up for you?” 

A pretty face comes up beside him. He notes that ponytail is fairly shorter than him and he peers down at his face.

“It’s alright.” 

“C’mon, you’ll fall that way if you can’t see.” 

Suna gives in and nods. Ponytail grins and pulls the hairtie from his own hair, roughly cut layers sliding down. Suna studies him as teeth lightly clamp around the tie, holding it in ponytail's mouth as he carefully bunches up Suna’s hair. 

Suna arches an eyebrow. “Cute hairtie.” It’s a red band with a small strawberry on it. 

“A friend gave it to me.”

Suna muses that perhaps a girl was finally successful with her confession.

“There.” A triumphant smile and then a chuckle. “Suits you.” 

“Thanks.” 

Ponytail's smile oddly sweet. He notes again that the guy really is pretty. 

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

It’s gym class now.

There’s a whine and a girl trips on the track. Ponytail manages to rush to grab her and the girl blushes and thanks him profusely. 

“Are you alright?” His face is contorted in concern.

Suna snorts at the shojou scene but his eyebrows lift as the girl sheepishly mentions that her ankle throbs. Ponytail carefully wraps an arm around her waist and has her put her arms around his shoulder. They slowly walk to the nurse’s office.

“Tsk,” Atsumu looks at the scene. “What a gentleman.” 

“Don’t be jealous, Atsumu. You’d get more girls if you stop laughing when they trip. Take a leaf out of Ponytail’s book.” The nickname for the guy had stuck to their group. 

The class comes to an end and everyone goes to change and clean up. Suna groans, hating the fact that he has to exercise during school, knowing they’ll have to go do it again during practice. 

“Guys!” Atsumu yells. “Guess what?” 

Suna has his phone out and doesn’t bother looking up. 

“You guys won’t believe it. This is wild.” 

“Are you gonna tell us or keep us stupidly in suspense,” Aran says drily. 

“Ponytail is a girl!” 

There’s a pause before a chorus of “what??” erupts.

They whip around to see ponytail by the outdoor sinks outside beside the track, having come back from the nursing office. She’s splashing water onto her face and lifts up her shirt to wipe the water away. As she does, they see a hint of a sports bra underneath.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Osamu says. “Atsumu’s being outclassed by a girl.”

There’s an indignant noise from his twin while Suna continues to stare at her, thinking that explains the strawberry hairtie.

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

“You’re a girl.”

She shows up in a skirt the next day and is walking past the middle-blocker when she hears that statement. 

“And you’re a boy?” 

“Huh?”

“Oh I thought we were just pointing out genders,” she grins. 

Suna feels his heart beat just a little faster and he can’t explain why. All he knows is that she’s cute. Awfully cute. 

“I’m joking,” she looks at his face. “I get that a lot, especially wearing the pants all the time. Class president finally scolded me into wearing the proper girls' uniform,” she scratched the back of her head sheepishly. “You’re Suna Rintaro right? On the volleyball team” 

He nods. “Have you seen us play?” For some reason, he faintly hopes she has. 

“Yeah I caught a game after I transferred here. You guys are really good. Teach me sometime?” 

“...sure?” 

Her face lights up. “Cool! I’ve always wanted to try it out. My toxic trait is thinking I could dig Atsumu’s serve.”

Suna has to chuckle at that and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh the way I want to record his face when you do.”

“Alright,” she tilts her chin up proudly, “Challenge accepted then.” 

He was pretty sure he was joking at the time, so he wonders why they’re in his yard, practising peppering a couple weeks later. 

Okay, to be fair, she was already at his house because they ended up working on an assignment together when they realised it might be easier to finish all their assignments for a project that happened to be right before an important tournament and she offered to help. He didn’t care THAT much about getting a good grade, but hey, she offered and he was discovering that she was hard for him to say no to.

Surprise surprise when they got immediately distracted from the papers spread all over the living room desk as his sister chattered away with his new friend and he glanced occasionally at them from his phone. 

They moved to the topic of sports and eventually ended up outside. He wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t bad, but he was surprised that she was fairly /good/. 

“I’m not too shabby right??” 

He snorted. “We’ll get that recording of Atsumu’s face in no time.” 

After an hour or so, she packed her bags, both ignoring that the assignments weren’t done and hoping that they’d get credit for trying. When she walks out the gate, he gives her a wave and turns around to see his sister standing at the door.

“I like her.” Her arms are crossed. 

“Good for you?” 

“She’s pretty. Should I get a wolf cut?”

He chuckles and pats her head once. “Whatever you want princess.”

His chest is warm and when he spots her strawberry hairtie on the table, his sister giggles.

“What?”

“You’re smiling like a crazy person.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

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

Atsumu is decides ponytail is a gift given from the heavens to him when he spots her and Suna standing in the middle of the hall. They stand similarly, hands in their pockets and slightly leaning back. Suna looks casual but Atsumu likes to think he knows Suna well enough by now that he looks a bit awkward. 

“We’re going to the spring tournament next week.”

“Is this an invitation to come watch or are you just stating your schedule,” she teases.

He shifts to one foot. “If you have free time, you can come watch. You can see Atsumu’s serves again.”

“This is true. Though I’m way more interested in middle-blocking nowadays,” her eyes shine and Suna swallows a bit harshly. 

“At your height? In your dreams,” he retorts.

“Hey, you don’t know my vertical. I play basketball, I think I can jump high enough.” 

Suna thinks she could but has learned from the past couple months, she’s far more fun when she’s riled up. A competitive streak he’s never really had coupled with stubbornness he finds incredibly amusing.

“Keep trying shorty. You’ll get there someday,” he gives her a shit-eating grin. 

“Don’t get cocky! I can do it,” she jumps slightly and flungs her arm around his neck, dragging him down and effectively headlocking him. His eyes widen and he yelps. “I’ll make you eat your words Rin.” 

A classmate sticks their head out and calls for her. She gives him a wave and leaves him standing in the hall.

“Rin huh?” Atsumu teases and Suna stiffens. “I’ve never heard you make a yelping sound like that before.” 

Suna rolls his eyes, refusing to give in to Atsumu’s teasing, but a hint of embarassment does cross his face. 

“Invited her to our game huh? Want her to watch you huh? I’ll be sure to set lots of balls your way~” 

“Shut it.” The middle-blocker strides away from him and Atsumu catches up. 

“You guys are so cute~”

Suna narrows his eyes at him. “‘Tsumu I have so much blackmail on my phone,” he warns.

Atsumu holds his hand up, keeping an arrogant smile on his face.

“Oh but Suna, now I have something against /you/.”

#haikyuu #inarizaki #suna x reader #suna fic #suna fluff #suna rintarou fluff #haikyuu fluff #atsumu miya #osamu miya #inarizaki fluff #haikyuu scenarios #wrote this in like 20 min #i want a wolf cut please #i never could figure out suna's type #hope this is alright

[davejade-daily]

whoa writing its like christmas up in here

or something like that

anyway have the first installment of the coffee shop au

---

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 10:47.

TT: Dave.

TT: I went to Karkat’s place of work.

TT: That cafe. Suburban Coffee.

TG: yeah yeah

TG: sburban coffee

TG: theres no u for some reason

TG: karkat thinks that the manager ate it or some weird shit like that

TT: And there’s this girl.

TG: oh?

TT: She types so fast. So well. With such purpose.

TG: one might even say hotly

TT: Yes, Dave. She types hotly. I’m currently twirling my hair and swooning from her sheer typing prowess.

TG: whoa so swoon-worthy

TG: better have someone ready to catch you when you faint from her hot as fuck typing

TT: Come with me today. I'll show you how hot her typing is. And, you can provide a cushion from when I inevitably swoon by being in her presence.

TG: alright

TG: sure

TG: cant say no to an opportunity to get caffeine

TG: and bother karkat while were at it

tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 10:58.

The cafe is nestled between several other shops, and it announces itself with a bright green sign. Sburban Coffee, it declares in big, blocky lettering. The outside is painted an unassuming gray-brown to match the rest of its neighbors, and there are colourful flowers in flowerpots clustered by the door. In the window, Dave can make out the shapes of many, many people inside.

The door chimes happily as Dave and Rose walk inside. The strong, strong smell of coffee immediately hits Dave. Inside, the cafe is bustling, and every table has at least one person sitting. The walls are a pretty orange, and there’s a wall with potted plants sitting on shelves. He spots Karkat at the register, looking as depressed and mildly angry as he always does. There is a smiley-face sticker on the register, along with a frowny-face. He notes the crab pin on his apron. Karkat is not the type to accessorize; Dave wonders what is different about the pin. Rose tugs him into line, and Dave begins to scrutinize the menu. He never knows what to get from coffee shops. There’s too many fancy names and words to know, and he usually just defaults to a latte. However, this time he feels like he needs to branch out a bit, try something new and all that jazz.

DAVE: hey rose

DAVE: youre smart

DAVE: whats an americano

DAVE: is it like

DAVE: essence de la america

DAVE: does it taste like eagles and football

DAVE: and FREEDOM

DAVE: its not tea right i dont want to be unpatriotic

DAVE: gotta make ol g washy proud

ROSE: It’s an espresso drink diluted with water.

ROSE: Now shush. Look over there.

ROSE: That's the girl.

Dave subtly looks over in the direction Rose indicates. The person in question has their back to him, but he can see that they’re wearing an emerald sweater and a long skirt. They also have the Lesbian Haircut™. He can see why Rose likes them. Rose pulls him forward again as the line moves up. They are now second in line, and Dave still doesn’t know what he wants. He sticks his hands in his pockets and does the patented Cool Guy Slouch to hide his indecision and decides to look at Karkat instead. He can’t imagine a guy like Karkat working at a coffee shop, yet here he is. Green apron, gray sweater. Dave doesn’t think he’s ever seen Karkat wear anything different. He might be an escaped extra from a cartoon TV show. Dave idly wonders why he’d liked Karkat back in high school. He seems all cool and tough from the outside but he’s really just a big, pathetic nerd with an extra large side of wet-cattiness.

BARISTA: hey, i can take you guys over here!

Dave stops staring awkwardly at Karkat and instead turns his attention to things like moving. He studies the barista at their register as they walk over.

His first impression: oh, she’s cute.

Man, what was that line of thought?? He internally winces. Anyway. Lame thoughts aside, the barista is very put together, at least in comparison to Karkat. Granted, the bar is low. So low, in fact, it could be a speed bump. Her name tag cheerfully declares her name as Jade in loopy green handwriting, along with a plant sticker. Colorful pins flash at him from her apron.

ROSE: Dave.

ROSE: Are you going to order?

Dave blinks, startled out of his thoughts. He decides to go for something smooth, suave, dare he say, even cool?

DAVE: uh yeah

DAVE: hey love

DAVE: shit

DAVE: i mean

DAVE: lovely lady?

Dave begins questioning all his life choices, and contemplates throwing himself out the window. Actually, no, it’s a first floor window. That’d just be embarassing. He might catch fire instead. That’s a better option. One flaming hot Dave, coming right up. It would be better than whatever this train wreck of a conversation is.

Thankfully, the barista – Jade – is far cooler than he is, and just laughs.

JADE: hey yourself, good sir

JADE: what can i get you

DAVE: i was hoping you had a recommendation for me

JADE: uhh, well

Jade turns to look at the board behind her, ponytail swinging. Dave takes this moment to regain his composure, ignoring the look Rose is undoubtedly giving him. The eyebrows are so totally up. He can feel their skeptical vibes. He rearranges his face to that of a distant, aloof expression. What flaming dumpster fire? There is only Dave. Cool Dave. He is so calm and composed. Everybody wants to be him when they grow up. Jade turns back around.

JADE: i think the cinnamon caramel chai is pretty good!!

DAVE: alright ill take that

JADE: your drinks will be ready in a minute

Rose pays, and Dave absconds walks calmly over to an empty table and claims it, taking the seat that puts his back to the register. Totally not because of what jsut happened.. After a moment, Rose slides into the chair opposite him.

ROSE: Dave.

ROSE: What was that?

DAVE: what was what you saw nothing there was no dumpster fire

DAVE: besides youre one to talk miss she types hotly huh huh

DAVE: shut up rose put those eyebrows away or ill shave them off in your sleep

ROSE: Dave, I haven’t seen you this bad since-

DAVE: DONT EVEN SAY IT HES RIGHT THERE

Smooth, Dave. Now everyone in the cafe is looking at you, probably even Karkat. He melts into his chair. Can this get any worse? He looks over at the register, checking to see if their drinks are done. Karkat is looking in their direction, vaguely confused. The poor barista that Dave totally ruined any chances he had with her has disappeared. Maybe she ran for the hills from the total weirdo that she just met. Oh, nope, there she is, shaking a bottle of milk. He pretends to stare off into space, in a cool fashion. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he studies her again. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to before, as he’d been otherwise occupied. Jade is a fairly tall girl with long, dark hair currently up in a ponytail that swings every time she moves. She has round glasses and a pretty smile. Unlike Karkat, she is wearing a tasteful orange shirt with her apron. He notes that she and Karkat move around each other easily – which surprises Dave – and while he can’t hear their conversation, they appear to be chatting. Karkat doesn’t like most people. Dave considers himself one of the lucky few that get to be Karkat’s friend.

---

Well, that was weird, Jade thinks as she begins making the latest coffee order: a latte with four shots of espresso, with a little dark roast on top. She’s a little worried for the girl who’d just ordered it. She hopes that she isn’t responsible for her inevitable death by sheer amount of caffeine. Reaching around Karkat (who gives her a salty look that she knows holds no real bite) for the pitcher, she begins to fill it with water. Beside her, Karkat shifts, and she knows he’s about to ask her about what just happened.

KARKAT: HEY JADE, WHAT HAPPENED?

Called it. Jade has what she likes to call her “KARKAT SENSE.” She can always tell when he’s going to do something particularly weird, which to be fair is pretty much just Karkat’s natural state.

JADE: with the sunglasses dude?

JADE: poor guy i feel bad for him

JADE: he looked like he might die of embarassment

KARKAT: WHAT’D THAT IDIOT DO?

JADE: oh, do you know him?

She pours the water into the espresso machine and starts it, putting a cup underneath. While she waits, she begins to steam the milk.

KARKAT: UNFORTUNATELY, YEAH.

KARKAT: HE’S A FRIEND FROM HIGH SCHOOL.

JADE: oh nice!!

JADE: well i think he was trying to be cool or something

JADE: he tried to say [bad dave impression] hey lovely lady

JADE: but he called me love instead

JADE: it was kind of sad

KARKAT: WHAT A FUCKING LOSER. I CANT BELIEVE I WAS EVER INTO HIM.

JADE: wait, really?

JADE: i cant picture you with him

JADE: he doesnt seem like your type

KARKAT: AND HE ISN’T.

KARKAT: I WOULD NEVER DATE SOMEONE SO LAME.

Jade snorts derisively, and begins to pour the steamed milk over the four shots of espresso.

JADE: like youre that much cooler

JADE: just yesterday i watched you rant for about 20 minutes about spilling some milk on your shirt

JADE: youre just as lame!! admit it

KARKAT: OH FUCK YOU.

KARKAT: YOU ARENT COOL EITHER.

JADE: true, but at least i don’t go around pretending i am

KANAYA: Karkat Shes Right

KANAYA: You Would Be So Much Cooler If You Stopped Trying So Hard

KANAYA: Watching You Is A Little Pathetic

KARKAT: I HATE YOU ALL.

Jade just laughs and gives Karkat an affectionate whack on the back as she goes to set the now finished Latte of Death on the pick-up counter. He grumbles and steps on her toes as he moves past her to the register, serving the next undercaffeinated customer.

#davejade fic #davejade #mod harley #mod strider #sburban coffee

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Tremaines & Mims

For Dead Beauty AU, aka look at me making up the symptoms of (strychnine) poisoning as I go cos I don’t feel like research ♥

When Harry exits the Hell Hall his feet are too heavy and his mind is swimming in all the wrong directions: Ivy’s fault, naturally. The mix of alcohol and whatever poison she gave him.

He swallows heavily and bangs his hook to the metal gate, just because he fucking can. He hopes that bitch is suffering as much as he is.

On completely unrelated note, he really would like to know how she got Claudine fucking Frollo, please and thank you. That girl has problems, alright, and he’s the one saying it.

Y’know, maybe she decided if she’s going to hell, she might as well go with a blast, and Harry can approve of that. If he had his flask, he’d drink to  that sentiment, even.

Alas, he just starts walking towards the Tremaines – hey, it’s closer, and he doesn’t exactly fancy arguing with his older sister about his methods of delivering demands, thank you. Besides, Harriet is just a fucking hypocrite. He’s pretty sure she slept with Diego the last time she was vaguely in the vicinity of Hell Hall.

More importantly, he still wants his haircut.

He drags his feet as he sneers into the shadows, twists his wrist around to stretch it – the light twirls on his hook – cranes his neck around to stretch it too. Curiously, that seems to send a street rat or two running.

Harry smirks at that.

It shouldn’t be too long to the Tremaines now, but he could just swear the bloody streets keep stretching under his feet. He kicks on something at the ground, mutters curses under his breath. Two children run by him and he sneers at them to mind their way; his vision goes blank for a moment.

This is fine.

Tremaines’ is right there.

He breaks open the door, swatting his hook at the irritating decoration above it. He doesn’t manage to tear it down. Shame.

It is an eyesore.

He collapses at the nearest chair.

He’d say he hopes Anthony went out already, but frankly, he doesn’t care enough. 

„Dulcia, darling!“ he calls out, „You promised me the haircut?“

She appears behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder and sighing: „Whatever is wrong with you, Hook – my dear cousin is right there, and his mood didn’t get any better.“

She tugs at his hair rather harshly, which he registers mostly because he’s looking in the mirror.

„Also, what the hell do you want me to do with this?“

„Oh, I don’t care,“ he lifts his hand to make a dismissive gesture and lets it fall when he discovers how heavy it is, „Just do your worst. I want Harriet to know I’ve been there.“

Dulcia laughs: „Why, that almost sounds like a dare–“

Harry discovers his lips are too numb to form an answer.

#disney descendants #harry hook #dead beauty au #posting my drafts too early for Validation (TM)

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Meddling Mar

A warning this chapter for a mention of Dark Warrior Program related violence (because Praxis is just. The worst.) It will be in italics for those who wish to skip it.

Click HERE to go to the chapter index for this fic

(From last time:)

The king studied him for an uncomfortable moment, then his lips twisted at the corner into a smirk.

"You let me fix that haircut you gave yourself, and I'll call it even."

Jak did not appreciate Daxter's howl of laughter. Or Mar agreeing on his behalf.

Nonetheless, he had nothing to trade, and so he grudgingly agreed to let this bizarre ruler fix his hair the following day. Thankfully, Damas didn’t comment on how absolutely abysmal Jak’s handiwork really was. Instead, he just asked questions about preferred length, and what he wanted his hairline to look like.

"What do you mean hairline? I mean, doesn't it just kind of look like that normally?" Jak asked, a little bewildered.

Damas muttered something under his breath, but his expression was kind when Jak turned around.

"You have options, you know. Look at your brother’s hair. We could do it like that, or you could do a fade-"

"A what?"

"...alright, we're starting at square one, then." Damas stood up. "It's a tapered cut, essentially shaved on the sides and "fading" into the rest of the hair. Give me a minute, I think we're going to need the comb my wife uses."

"You're married?!" Mar demanded with an incredulous expression.

"Yes?" Damas raised an eyebrow. "Am I not allowed to be?"

"Well where is she, then?"

The king pointed to the window in the ward, towards the ocean.

"Fishing. She spends two days a week at sea overnight, barring storms."

"Oh. Like Ollie."

Damas didn't know who Ollie was supposed to be, but the name obviously meant something to the older boys. (Older boys: plural. That was going to take some getting used to, trying to remember that the orange mustelid looking thing was evidently a teenage boy with a very unusual condition.)

"What's she like?" Daxter asked, tiptoeing as if he could see her through the window, "Is she hot?"

He quailed under a stern look from Damas.

"She is to be respected. And while I will settle for a verbal warning for a first time, -- considering you have likely not been subjected to particularly reputable influences in Haven -- she is within her rights not to."

Daxter flattened himself against the bed, ears pinned back against his skull. He mimed zipping his lips closed and covered his mouth with both hands. Jak rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Disreputable influences, huh," he snorted. "That would be "loudmouth KG on every street corner and hour shift" in our case."

"And Torn," Mar chipped in.

There was something unusually bitter about the way Jak answered, "Sure. Torn too."

After an awkward few seconds, Jak added, "You can do the fading thing I guess. I don't care either way."

"You should," Damas grumbled, "Didn't anyone ever teach you how to take care of yourself?"

"Nnnnope."

The boy didn’t sound nearly as concerned about that as he should have.

"Ye gods and little fishes," Damas muttered under his breath.

He needed to come up with some kind of guardian, and soon. If he let these three attempt to survive on their own, his wife would skin him alive.

"Alright then. Fade it is. You make sure that razor is sharpened -- run it on the leather strop. Yes, like that -- I'm getting the comb."

It was a calculated move on his part, leaving Jak with a sharp object. It was a gesture of trust -- or more of a leap of faith. Giving Jak the sense that no one objected to him being able to protect himself, while also showing him vulnerability. If the kid was inclined, he could very well try to slit Damas’s throat. Of course, he hoped Jak wouldn't do that. It wouldn't end well for anyone involved. But maybe he'd find the gesture comforting.

Damas dug around upstairs through his wife's cluttered washroom. As sparse as it was, he was amazed by how much junk Phobos managed to drag in. It was always "I'm gonna make something out of that", but then she hopped from project to project as time allowed, leaving half finished blades and combs and cups all over every available surface -- and even some unavailable surfaces.

By the time he'd actually found the comb, Damas had accidentally knocked over a box of shells in the process of being ground up into paint, dislodged a sketch hanging over the mirror, and gotten pigment dust all over the right side of his head when he'd stood up too quickly and knocked his head on a shelf.

His attempts to hide the evidence were mostly successful, but not enough to keep the little Not-Mar from noticing a streak of gold on his cheekbone and hair. He let out a delighted shriek of laughter and pointed, so of course Jak and Daxter turned and stared too.

Ah, the judgement of teenagers. Just what everyone needs.

"Phobos booby-traps her bathroom, I swear," Damas sighed. "At least there were no snapping turtles in the sink this time."

"This time?!" Daxter echoed, alarmed. He fell back onto Mar's pillow. "Eesh. Jak used to do that too, til we got the dog."

Mar stiffened in something akin to panic. "Chopper! Where's Chopper? Did they take her too?"

"Calm down, squirt." Daxter patted Mar's knee. "I left her with Tess. She's gonna be fat and spoiled when we get her back, but Tess won't let anyone hurt her."

Mar relaxed. "Oh. I remember her, she's good."

Daxter grinned. "See? I know what I'm talkin' about." He elbowed their little brother. "Hey hey, maybe Spike King should put some of that glitter on Jak, since he's already having a spa day, huh?"

"Shut up, Dax," Jak huffed.

Jak would never have expected a haircut to be soothing -- embarrassingly.

Nobody was yanking through his tangles, complaining loudly about how "unmanageable" it was. No one was sloshing burning plant extracts into his hair, untwisting his coils into stiff, "good" hair. And somehow, Jak wasn't afraid.

The Baron’s prison had never bothered to cut their victims' hair; they hosed prisoners off to avoid vermin and wash away blood and that was the extent of it. But the Baron still had a habit of yanking prisoners around by the head on his few "inspections".

Especially Jak.

The worst had been a moment when they'd thrown him into the blood-soaked "training course", with the few other surviving members of the experiment. When Jak had refused to salute the Baron. A day when he'd been brave enough to spit in Praxis's face. Enraged, the Baron had hauled him bodily from the ground, hard enough to rip a couple of hairs from his head. He'd flung Jak headlong into the half-cover brick wall for his insolence. It had knocked out one of his canines on impact.

He still hadn't saluted.

Jak was glad they'd never figured out that his first dark transformation had completely regrown his missing tooth. He had absolutely no doubt that the experiments would've taken horrifying new turns if they'd learned about the regeneration. Jak's muscles twitched in a suppressed shudder.

Less than a second later, Damas quickly withdrew his hand.

"What is it?" he asked, "Did I hurt you?"

How had he known that had been a reaction? Even Daxter had trouble telling what was a fear reaction and what was just a spasm.

"Muscle spasm," Jak lied, "Sorry. It happens sometimes."

"....uh-huh."

Damas didn’t sound like he was completely convinced, but he didn't say anything more about it. He rinsed his comb in a bowl of water and continued easing through Jak's hair, gathering it up with a clip on the top of his head. Once or twice he sat back and made thoughtful humming sounds.

"Well, young man, now we find out how well you sharpened that razor." Damas held a hand out, just waiting.

Jak held his breath.

And handed him the blade.

"Well done. I'll be quick," Damas murmured. He trimmed and shaved in careful motions, pausing whenever the castaway tensed up. "This won't take as long as your brother’s hair did-"

Then he whispered, "-and clearly I won't have to bribe you to sit still like I had to with him."

After pausing to imagine the strange king trying to comb a squirming, thrashing Mar's hair, Jak scoffed and grinned.

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

They descended into silence, and Mar lost interest after a minute or two. He slid off his bed and began boldly rifling through Damas’s bag before the man reached back and caught his wrist.

"Excuse you!" Damas scolded, "What do you think you're doing?"

Mar shrugged. "Looking for the peg game."

"So ask, barbarian!" Damas gently pushed Mar away. "Pick a pocket like that in the city and you'll bring more trouble down on your head than it's worth. No more of that, understand?"

The little boy scowled. "Your hands were busy! Asking makes people mad at you for bothering them, anyway. What are you scolding me for?"

Wolves. They were raised by wolves. For a moment, Damas felt like he was dealing with one of Mar’s tantrums.

He stared at the little boy incredulously and leaned forward.

"Ask. First. We aren't mind readers. And this isn’t Haven."

Mar's frown deepened. "Fine. Can I have the peg game?"

"I didn't bring it today," Damas answered, "But you may get the green canvas bag out and play Pathway if you like."

"That one's hard!" Mar complained with a frustrated grunt. Nonetheless, he pulled out the bag and undid the drawstring to unfold it into a game board.

Jak raised his brows and studied the nondescript grid on the mat. "How does this work?"

Daxter shuffled a stack of battered cardboard squares with lines on them and separated them from several tiny figures.

"You start at a corner and put down tiles to make a road. Can't cross another line or go off the board or you're out."

"You have to trap other travelers in loops or send them off the mat," Mar added.

He pouted.

"Daxter always wins."

This, Jak was shortly to discover, was not an exaggeration. At their warden/potential new boss person's encouragement, Jak picked up a token and joined the game, only to find himself cornered within three turns. Daxter wasn't even that good at the game; Jak and Mar were simply too impulsive to consider strategy on something that wasn't life or death. (And even when things were life or death, they were still reckless.) Now and then Damas made an observation or suggestion, but for the most part he focused on Jak’s hair.

After getting his token run off the board for the seventh time, Jak was getting frustrated. Still, he was too stubborn to admit defeat -- especially in front of someone he was probably going to end up working for. (It was the only way he could think of to pay off whatever their medical care had cost, anyway.)

He was about to demand another rematch when he heard the razor drop into the bowl with a soft splash.

Damas thumped him on the shoulder in a kind of rough, playful gesture and stood to shake hair clippings onto the floor. There was more of it than Jak had expected.

"You're done. Look in this and tell me what you think."

He handed Jak a small, scratched mirror, no bigger than his fist.

Jak stared into the glass and a stranger stared back at him.

The face in the mirror looked softer, rounder. More like Mar than he'd ever believed possible. He was still pale, but it almost looked like the dark circles under his eyes were fading away.

With one finger, Jak traced the sharp, neat, line delineating his forehead from his hair. It would take some getting used to. But he liked how the sides of his head looked.

"Oh," he said softly.

"Oh?" Damas repeated, "Is that good or bad?"

"Good, I think." Jak ran his fingertips through gold coils -- the green was starkly obvious at his temples now -- and idly twisted a longer strand around one finger. "I look..."

I look like someone cares about stuff like my hair. Never had that before.

"It's new," he settled on.

"Better than before, at least," the king said. He shook the last stray hairs from his tunic.

Someone cleared their throat from behind them, and both Jak and Damas turned to find one of the monks a few feet away at the door. She looked faintly perturbed by something -- Jak wondered if seeing a king doing menial tasks was normal or not here -- but waited to be acknowledged. Immediately, Damas gathered up the comb and razor and left their alcove.

"Strip your bedding after the noon rest," he ordered, a little distractedly, "You'll be moving to Alma's building tonight, so your beds need to be ready for new patients."

Then he hurried to the corridor to speak with the monk.

"Ruth, yes? What is it?"

The woman glanced over his shoulder at the boys, and the lines around her mouth deepened. "Word from the medical records keepers, sire."

She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, clearly uncomfortable. "It's about the young exiles."

Damas ignored the foreboding whisper in the back of his mind and held his customary facade of stoic thoughtfulness. "Already? I was under the impression that the cheek swabs wouldn't yield results for another two weeks."

A muscle twitched in Ruth's ghostly white cheek. "Tam sent me to inform you that their gene samples are causing some trouble in the system. He requires four extra days to ensure that there has been no contamination of the samples during transfer. In the meantime, he had a question regarding the childrens' fingerprint records. There is an anomaly we are unable to account for, despite it being completely impossible."

"What kind of anomaly?"

Despite the heat of the afternoon, Damas felt a chill across the back of his neck when the monk answered him.

"The younger boy's fingerprints are fully identical to the elder one's, down to the last line. In all ways save the size, they are the prints of the same person."

#jak and daxter #meddling mar au #jak and daxter mar #jak and daxter au #dadmas #king damas #tw violence #the game is based on one i played at a work conference #i can't remember the real name of it #Phobos is going to come home and be like WHO MOVED MY STUFF #spoilers: Mar is IMMEDIATELY going to tattle on Damas to her #free day thursday #fic prompts #writing prompts