#usually you’d get nothing but I spent too much time messing with the colors so you get that at least

[sprite-writes]

Yours (and Ours)

Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Reader (Original Female Character)

Summary: McCoy hated surprises, and being interrupted. Though for the right person, he supposed he could make an exception.

Word Count: 2,214

A/N: Guys im so sorry this chapter took so long LOL sometimes writing is hard but worlds biggest shout out to my beta @lightninginmyeyes who I could not have finished this without <333 also masterlist is coming soon !! anyways enjoy <3 

Breaks were hard to come by in the medical field. Being a doctor was all gas, no breaks. Patients' demands were high, and staff demands were even higher. Most of those in Science Blue spent most of, if not their entire day, on their feet. 

Leonard McCoy, most of all.

Chief Medical Officer was no small feat. Most days he wasn't, just a doctor– he was a nurse, a therapist, a leader, and whatever the hell else was demanded of him. 

Without a doubt, breaks were hard to come by. 

So, on the rare occasion when the medbay breathed for a moment, and he could slip out for an indulgent walk and a much needed cup of coffee, he thanked god for the opportunity. With a loop around the mess hall and a replicated coffee, he felt like a new man. Far too soon, he was back in front of the medbay, strolling in, greeting Chapel with a nod and as much of a smile as he could muster. His head nurse returned the smile…a bit too cheerfully for the day they were having. Leonard elected not to think about it too much. God knows he had enough on his plate. He punched in the keycode to his office, ready to tackle this new bout of paperwork. 

The thing is, McCoy was used to his office being a particular way. He kept his lamp on the left side, his family photo on the right, with a box of tissues and a cup of pens. Everything had its place and was accounted for.

So the box of colored pencils and stack of paper laying atop his things was a fair shock to him. So was the woman sitting at his desk, in his chair, looking very much like she belonged there. 

He faltered for a moment as he took in the sight and gained his bearings. 

“Uh, Sunshine?” he said with bewilderment. He glanced at his watch to double-check that his coffee run hadn’t stretched to the end of his shift (which was impossible anyways) and confirmed she should have been on the bridge by now and certainly not sitting in his office, in his space, amongst his things. 

At the sound of his voice, the woman's head shot up, her focus broken from the papers laid in front of her. 

“Oh hi, Len! I was wondering when you’d be back,” she said casually, like it was routine for her to be there. With no explanation, she returned to the task of, well, whatever she was doing. 

Leonard stood, thoroughly perplexed. It was midday, and he knew for a fact an operations manager would not have nothing to do around this time. From her silence, it would seem that he would be getting no answers unless he asked for them. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you Sunshine but, uh, aren’t you on shift right now? And how exactly did you get into my office?” he inquired with more patience than he would have offered anyone else. 

She lifted a red colored pencil from the paper and thoughtfully tapped it to her temple 

“Technically, yes, I am on shift, but I decided this is part of my job, and Kirk hurt my feelings earlier this week so he owes me a moment away.” He finally approached the desk and peeked at her handiwork. “And Chapel let me in, by the way – said you wouldn't mind.” 

Her movements slowed to a stop, and she looked up at the doctor with the biggest, prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.

“You don't mind, do you?” she asked. Usually, he would have, but he decided right then, that he did not actually mind at all. 

“I’m more curious as to what this,” he gestured to his now messy desk, “is all about?” 

She beckoned him to come closer, and he found himself sitting in the obligatory guest seat…at his own desk. Sunshine held up a glossy piece of paper, folded in half with blue and pink bubble font across the front reading, ‘Get well soon!’

He stared for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together.

“You’re…writing cards?” 

“Yeah!” she nodded. “For the engineers who got affected by that gas leak. That rash looked… not fun. Thought it might cheer them up, maybe.” 

He would never say it out loud, for fear of losing her friendship forever, but at times like this, Kirk may have had a point about her being a bit…kindergarten teacher. 

She laughed at his sort of scrunched-up expression. “Listen, I know what you’re thinking and you’re right! It's a little silly, but the engineers that were on that dock were all Ensigns! Like, fresh out of Starfleet! They probably miss their families, and now they have a nasty purple rash to worry about. I just thought they might like a card.” 

McCoy could say for certain that he had never met anyone quite like Lieutenant Sunshine - and realized he never would again. This was incredibly kind, and wholly unnecessary… and a very Sunshine thing to do. Though one important question still lingered. 

“And you’re doing this in my office because…?”

She shrugged. 

“Well I could do it in my quarters, but I figured you could use the company.” She paused. Before adding sheepishly, “And I wanted the company.”

McCoy coughed to cover up his surprise. Though, he wasn’t sure what else he was expecting. Sunshine was known for being candid with her feelings. Most of them anyway. His cheeks dusted pink. 

Sunshine, oblivious to her friend's blushing, tossed a colored pencil and a card his way.

 “You should sign this one, by the way. A little birdie told me you yelled at Ensign Barlowe while taking her vitals, and I’m sure she’d appreciate a card from you.” 

He internally damned Scotty, who was not only probably the ‘little birdie’ but also definitely put her up to this. 

He stared down at the card, forcing his head to stop running a mile a minute, and finally mustered a scoff. 

“I’m not signing an apology card because an Ensign couldn’t sit still on the Biobed.” 

Sunshine shook her head and giggled. God, what a sound, he thought. 

“It’s a get well soon card, not an apology card. And I’m not scolding you, Len. That day must have been stressful. I mean, fourteen engineers all turning purple? Crazy. I could never do your job.” 

He shook his head. He was pretty sure Sunshine could do anything she put her mind to. His mind wandered briefly to what it would be like, with her by his side, decked in Science Blue. His heart stuttered at the image. 

He wasn’t sure why, but he found himself scribbling ‘feel better’ onto the bottom of the paper, and tossing it back to her. The smile that bloomed on her face told him it was the right decision. 

He leaned back in the chair and watched her thoughtfully. The sound of her voice played on repeat like a record in his head. He found himself ruminating on every pretty syllable she spoke. 

“Kirk hurt your feelings?” he blurted, remembering how she got here. Sunshine paused, surprised by his suddenness. An unreadable look passed over her frowning face.

“He just said a dumb joke, it’s nothing to worry about. Promise.” Her smile returned, just as quickly as it left. Leonard tilted his head. He was expecting her to launch into a story of which he would hang on every word and that would give him fuel to berate Kirk with later. Just how badly did Kirk fuck up?

“I can practically hear you thinking, you know. You’re such a worrywart.” Her eyes playfully flicked from her cards to him. “Like I said, it’s fine.” 

“You sure? If you’re mad enough, I could schedule him for a measles vaccine. Maybe a booster shot too.” 

Her laugh echoed around his office and illuminated it like a fire. He smiled, finding hers to be contagious. 

“That’s gotta be malpractice, Len. Hard no from me.” She shook her head. 

“Malpractice? I’d be doing him a favor. That man avoids healthcare like it’s the plague.” 

Sunshine rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Doctor.” 

She looked like she belonged, he thought. Sitting in his office, in his chair. He allowed himself a brief moment of peace, as he sipped his coffee and watched her switch colored pencils. He was content to just watch her like this, without conversation or reason. Unfortunately, nothing can last forever. His eyes drifted toward the ticking clock. 

“You know I have to get back to work eventually, right?” Not that he wanted to leave, at all. In fact, if time allowed, and if he didn't know Chapel would be beating down his door soon, he would stay cooped up in his office with her for hours. 

She laughed. “Yeah, I know, CMO. I’m starting my rounds soon too. All I could squeeze from Kirk was 15 minutes down here.” 

Leonard blew a raspberry. 

“I wish I could get 15 minutes away.”

Her head quirked. 

“Don't you have some time? Chapel told me you weren't busy, or else I wouldn't have bothered you.” She paused and received the pointed look from her friend. “Okay, I probably still would have, but with more poise and apologeticness - but that's beside the point!” Sunshine began stacking up her cards and putting away her colored pencils. “Chapel specifically said you weren’t busy when she let me in!” 

The gears in Leonard’s head turned. He was very, very far from not being busy. The Medbay had been as bustling as ever this shift, and the only reason he left in the first place was by Chapel's suggestion, who swore she could handle things for a few minutes. 

Damn it, Chapel. 

“Len? Everything alright?” 

When his eyes pulled from the ground, Sunshine was right in front of him, with a questioning smile. Leonard felt blood rush to his face at their proximity. She smelled like… well, sunshine. And flowers. And just… good.

“Yeah, fine,” he said gruffly. 

“Walk me out?” 

“Of course.” 

He dared to place his hand on the small of her back as he led her out, and if he paid just a little more attention, he would have seen her cheeks redden at the contact. 

They exited in tandem, with Sunshine rambling about wishing rounds were any other day, and how the last thing she wanted to do was run around the ship checking up on complaints that ‘could easily be solved in an email.’ 

“Well,” she said as they reached the entrance. “Thanks for letting me hide in your office for a few.” 

He waved his hand. “Anytime,” he said with lighthearted sarcasm. 

She placed the cards on the reception desk and snorted, “You’ll regret saying that, McCoy.”

He replied, with all sincerity, “I doubt that.” 

They were both quiet for a moment, looking at one another, eyes glossing over with adoration. 

Sunshine had always admired the doctor's strength, and his drive to help others in all circumstances. 

Leonard would forever be in awe of her kindness and her unwavering spirit.

A cleared throat broke both of their gazes. Sunshine flinched, nearly dropping her papers. 

“Chapel! Hi! Thanks for letting me use Len’s office.” She laughed nervously, awkwardly dropping the stack of cards on the desk. “You’ll make sure the engineers get these?”

Chapel glanced between the two knowingly. Both of which now refused to make eye contact. Leonard was suddenly very interested in the linoleum floors and Sunshine in the plain white ceiling. 

“Of course, Lieutenant,” the head nurse said politely. Sunshine thanked her again before acknowledging Leonard. 

“Have a good shift, and, um, see you later!” she blurted before hightailing out of the medbay like it was suffocating her.

The Doctor watched her go with the sudden sinking feeling that he’d done something wrong. And as usual, when these feelings began to well within him, he took them out on whoever was closest, or, in this case, responsible. 

“Really, Chapel?” 

He leaned over the reception desk. 

The woman in question stared at her manicured nails without a care in the world. 

“Really, what, Doctor?” 

Leonard gritted his teeth impossibly hard and blew a long breath out of his nostrils. 

“You didn’t think to, oh I dunno, warn me before letting someone in my office in the middle of the work day?” 

He wasn’t angry at her, not really. He was more frustrated with the feelings that clawed up his chest whenever he heard Sunshine’s laugh or the constant feeling to reach out for her -

No, he wasn’t really mad at Chapel. 

But that wasn’t going to stop him from acting like he was. 

“It’s just Sunshine,” the woman shrugged. “Would you have preferred I turned her away?” She finally met Leonards's eyes with just as much ferocity as he was giving her. 

“No,” he gritted out, “but a warning would be preferable.” 

She rolled her eyes and returned to her work. 

“Just trying to move things along, Doctor.” 

He stomped away before his head nurse could add anything else. 

He returned to his office, palms sweating, and tried not to focus on the smell of her warm, floral perfume now hanging in the air.

#Leonard McCoy #on a cloudy day #leonard mccoy x reader #original character #yay new chapter #I hope u enjoy #star trek alternate original series #Star Trek #jim kirk

[kyberphilosopher]

Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck. 

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky. 

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same. 

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment. 

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position. 

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two. 

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close. 

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself. 

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you. 

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual. 

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him. 

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it. 

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes. 

“You promise?” Conner urges. 

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise. 

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for. 

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position. 

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed. 

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair. 

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear. 

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking. 

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing. 

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right. 

“Why not?” Conner questions. 

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast. 

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable. 

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it. 

You answer with a snort. 

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants. 

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left. 

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind  you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence. 

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time. 

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence. 

Say it. Say it. Say it. 

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it. 

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie. 

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever. 

#superboy x reader #superboy imagine #superboy imagines #conner Kent x reader #connor Kent x reader #connor Kent imagine #connor Kent imagines #conner kent imagine #conner Kent imagines #fluff #x reader #superboy fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #superboy fanfic #superboy fic #connor Kent fanfiction #conner Kent fanfiction #dc comics x reader #dc comics fanfiction #connor Kent fluff #superboy fluff #Titans x reader #Titans fanfiction #Titans fanfic #connor kent #conner kent #superboy smut #connor kent smut

[ecoamerica]

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[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Hello, can I have some head canons for the brothers? When their s/o gains a demon form (maybe the form is similar to theirs?) due to being pacts with them

Brothers When MC Is Reborn As A Demon And Gains A Similar Form To Their Own 

Paired these two together. Hope you both like it! 

Lucifer

Your death was both expected, and unexpected at the same time. Humans were fragile like that, but it still didn’t make it any easier for him to get over it. He could tell that you were back, although not the way he wanted you to be, he could see the little orb that was you, and with that orb would come your familiar scent. Usually you’d visit him in his office, and he’d quietly talk to you, and if he focused hard enough he could almost hear you talking back to him. It didn’t last long though, and soon your orb stopped coming around, it was almost as if you had died a second time… that is until you showed up at his office. You weren’t an orb anymore, but you weren’t yourself, at least not the you he remembered. You had horns, they resembled his so clearly, and the black diamond birthmark that he wore so proudly on his forehead when in his own form, you had a matching one on your sternum. You were… beautiful, to say the least. The resemblance filled him with pride and stroked his ego more than he’d like to admit. You had always been his, but now you truly looked the part. 

“Welcome back home, Darling.” 

Mammon 

He didn’t take your death well, at all. He sat in his room crying for days after you had passed, and he refused to leave for anyone or anything. Even the promise of Goldie didn’t drag him out of his somber state. When your orb first appeared, that was the first time he left his room, screaming as he ran out the door. You were such a bright ball of light, and it hurt his eyes to stare at it for too long, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it, off of you. The sense of comfort it brought when it was around, he knew that it was you. He started expecting to see it, and when your orb stopped showing up he searched the entire house, slumping back to his room when he couldn’t find his little ball of light, he couldn’t find you. When he opened the door he was shocked. There you were, sitting proudly on his couch. Your horns were exactly like his, and he slowly walked toward you, noticing the golden lines that traced along your torso, much like his own. Gold… his favorite color, his favorite thing, it was a way of showing everyone that you were his. His human… not anymore… not quite. You were his… demon. 

“Oi! Why’d it take so long for ya tah come back?!” 

Leviathan 

Broken, that’s how he felt when he lost you. He wasn’t okay, and according to him nothing would be okay again. Everyone knew he had the tendency to be just the slightest bit over dramatic about things, but your death even had them upset, not like he was though. He was sitting in his room, he had been gaming for about 16 hours straight when he first saw the orb of light, dancing in front of the screen. He thought it was just the light of the screen reflecting off his eyes, that is, until the orb moved, going around his head a few times only to stop next to the bathtub. Your name slipped from his tongue in a whisper, finally pushing himself away from his desk and following you to the bathtub. It was like a blanket of peace enveloped him when your orb was around, just like when you were alive. Then you stopped coming, your light stopped showing up in his room. Even as a spirit you got tired of him, at least, that’s what he thought. He was heading back to his room after getting a package from the front door, impulse buying to try to make himself feel slightly better about losing you a second time. At first he didn’t notice, going straight to his computer to begin unboxing, then he heard your voice, his name, his head turning around so fast he could have broken his own neck. You were sitting in his bathtub, smiling up at him as a tail… your tail… you had a tail now, flicking happily over the side of the tub. Your head was adorned with horns that looked so much like his, but instead of four points on each horn, you only had two. He loved it, you looked like him, you looked like you were his… and now you really were. 

“Y-You’re back, I missed you so much!”

Asmodeus 

Death was such a beautiful thing to him, beautiful and bittersweet. Your death was no different, seeing you layed out so peacefully, you looked as gorgeous in death as you did in life. Still, once your body had been removed, there was an emptiness, a strange loneliness that engulfed him. Not even his own reflection could make him smile, how strange that a human like you could cause such a hole in his life. He tried to fill the void with self-care days and shopping trips, but it was useless if he wasn’t doing it with you. Sitting at his vanity, he stared at his own reflection, his eyes dull, not glowing nearly as bright as they used to. That’s when the little ball of light caught his eye, darting back and forth behind his head, trying to make him look, you were trying to get his attention. He smiled softly, knowing immediately that it was you, his eyes glistening with tears as they followed your orb. You became a constant presence in his room, one that he held onto dearly. He might have lost the sparkle in his eye when he lost you, but you had come back as the physical manifestation of that sparkle. He came back to his room, calling out for you quietly, knowing that you’d be there, his favorite little ball of light, except this time you called back to him. He pushed open his door so quickly, his eyes wide and a beautiful smile gracing his features as he took you in. Your horns matched his to a T, right down to the pink tips, you had one heart shaped birthmark right over where your heart was that matched the hearts that adorned his left arm. You had one tiny set of wings, much smaller than his own, and instead of having double on each side, you only had one wing on each side. You were beautiful, and dare he say it, almost as beautiful as him. 

“I’ve been waiting so long for you! Come here, beautiful!” 

Satan 

Getting attached to you was the best thing, and the worst thing he could have done. Allowing himself to get close to you and love you, it was the greatest decision he had ever made, while simultaneously being the most awful. He had never lost someone he loved before, only hearing stories of how hard it had been on his brothers when they lost Lilith. The pain was foreign to him, so when he experienced it, it hit way harder than it would have hit anyone else. He locked himself in the library, burying himself in books and meaningless research that he had no need for, it was just something to get his mind off of you. The ball of light that began to circle him, at first, was irritating. He just wanted to read, and he thought that Mammon was messing with him, like an owner would tease their cat with a laser light. Then he felt the coldness, the calming chill that almost felt like your touch when the orb landed on his shoulder. That’s when he knew it was you, and, although he knew that you were there, it didn’t ease the pain much more than his books did, but he tried. He would read his books quietly to you, to your orb, just as he had read to you when you were alive. It became a daily occurrence, going down to the library to read to your spirit, but this time was different. He opened the doors to the library and saw your form sitting in front of the fireplace. The shape of your horns… his horns… protruding from the side of your head, a long black tail wrapped around your body, the tip flicking back and forth as you watched the flames. His body filled with pride as he walked toward you, stroking his fingers along your new horns, before kneeling down behind you. 

“It’s wonderful to see you, kitten. Shall we continue our story?” 

Beelzebub 

Losing you was the second hardest thing for him, only next to Lilith. He knew it would happen at some point, you were only human, but it didn’t make it any easier for him to handle. He only had two moods, eat away the sadness, or let the sadness eat away at him. His days were either spent in the kitchen devouring everything, or laying in his bed and not eating at all, letting his stomach burn and ache with hunger, but it still wasn’t nearly as close to the pain he felt in his chest. Your name was whispered from his lips late at night, the room empty other than him, Belphie had already moved himself up to the attic so he could actually sleep at night and not be woken by Beels crying. The bright light seemed to blind him, illuminating the dark room with brilliant white. It was as if someone was shining a flashlight straight at him, but he didn’t feel angry or irritated by it which he usually would have been. His urge to cry seemed to fade completely, his hunger seemed to disappear as well, it was a feeling only you could give him. His eyes couldn’t move from the light, and he actually reached out to touch it, his fingertips feeling cold as he moved his hand closer to the orb. A shiver ran down his spine, but even with the chill, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. In some way you were back, and even a small orb of comfort was enough for him. He hadn’t seen your orb at all that morning, and while it was upsetting, he knew that you’d come visit the room. For now, he was hungry, and for once he felt like he could actually eat, walking quickly down to the kitchen and stopping dead in his tracks. There you were, leaning against the counter and smiling sweetly to him. The horns on your head, they were like his but pointing downwards instead of up like his were. You had birthmarks, much like his own along your lower back, a small set of wings protruding from your upper back. Everything about your form was a reverse of his own, but when together, it was like you fit together like puzzle pieces. Not only did you fit together, but you looked like you belonged together, and you did. He would never let you go, not anymore. 

“You’re home! You’re finally home!” 

Belphegor 

Of course you died, at least this time it wasn’t his fault though, it was just… time. Time, which had a sick way of giving and taking. First Lilith, and now you, death wasn’t anything new to him, that didn’t make it hurt any less though. It was time to sleep away the pain, it was all he knew how to do. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings, not with anyone, not even Beel. It was easier to deal with these things without actually facing them, he didn’t have to face the reality that you were gone while he was sleeping, because in his dreams you were still there, you were still with him. Your voice called his name, and even in his dreams it sounded so clear, like you were right next to him, and somehow it even felt like you were. His eyes shot open, looking around the room for you or for whoever would have been stupid enough to play this kind of prank on him. The light was blurry at first, sleep still clouding his vision. He quickly wiped the sleep from his eyes, finally focusing on the orb that hovered over the end of his bed. It was you, he could tell it was. Only you and Beel were allowed up in the attic, and he had locked the door so no one else could get in. It wasn’t the same, not even close. He couldn’t hold a tiny orb in his arms at night to help him fall asleep, but the presence of your orb brought about your scent, your emotions, your aura of calmness, it was all felt when you were around, he could even feel it when he was sleeping. When he woke up, the room was dark, too dark. You weren’t there and he desperately searched the room with his eyes to try to find his favorite little ball of light only for his eyes to land on the outline of something or someone on the edge of the bed. He quickly turned on his light, gasping quietly when he saw you. It was a different version of you though, a version of you that looked more fitting to stand by his side, a version that he knew he’d never have to worry about losing. Your horns curled around only once, they were smaller than his, as was your tail that flicked back and forth excitedly when you saw him. The left side of your body, from your neck and all the way down your arm was covered with cow like birth marks that matched his own. You were his match, and you always would, and always will be, just the way it should be. 

“Come to bed, it’s been too cold without you here.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #om! shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me Lucifer #lucifer avatar of pride #obey me Mammon #mammon avatar of greed #obey me leviathan #leviathan avatar of envy #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus avatar of lust #obey me Satan #satan avatar of wrath #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub avatar of gluttony #obey me Belphegor #belphegor avatar of sloth

[phoenixyfriend]

Sugar, Spice, and a Heart to Entice

AKA: Jango Fett speedruns a romance with someone who should be his enemy. (It's okay. We know he makes bad choices.)

Note: Ahsoka uses the pseudonym "Ashla" in this fic. Warnings: slavery, references to drug use, crude sex jokes, undressing of an unconscious person (for medical reasons)

----

The girl that they shove into the chains next to him is... worrying.

(Well, probably a girl--he'll adjust later if it turns out he's wrong.)

She's not that much younger than him, he thinks. It's hard to tell, with the way her skin is taut over muscle and bone, too little water and too little sleep, and probably not enough food for whatever labor she's been doing. He's also, admittedly, not great at gauging ages in the first place, and certainly not for Togruta. Still, he thinks it's safe to say that they're close in age, and that she's probably younger than him.

She's lucky, by some measure. The spice ship is terrible, but it's probably better than the fate tog girls are usually subject to in this industry. They're hazardous conditions, and violent ones, but Jango's yet to see a slave here stripped of their clothing for anything other than a whipping.

He thinks it's probably a matter of money. That kind of violation lowers the profit margins, he imagines. Spice is more lucrative than anything, and pain is a better motivator than... well.

So she's lucky, by that measure, and that measure alone.

They clap her in bindings before he even sees her, even though she's unconscious, and bring her sometime in the night cycle. Jango doesn't have a lot of pity left in him, but some goes out to her. He won't say she's too young for this, because nobody is ever old enough for slavery, nor do slavers have any compunctions about selling babes in arms, but Jango would wager she's already led a hard life.

She's fairly covered, but what little is visible shows enough old battle wounds that he can't imagine she's stayed off of battlefields. He knows how to read a Togruta's markings for stress history, too, and hers tell a story. Her facial marks are thin and delicate, and he'd say they're certainly more complex than the average; the striation on her lekku and montrals is thin and jagged, like marble. It's pretty enough, but it's also a sign of the fact that her life has likely been anything but easy. Some of it might be genetics, and he hopes it is, but with the scars he can see... he doubts it's much.

"Keep that one alive," the overseer orders, eyes on Jango and hand gesturing at the tog girl.

He leaves.

Jango isn't sure what they're hoping to get out of putting her with him. The room is built for four, yes, but they usually don't try to have anyone share with Jango. Maybe they ran out of room, or just assumed Jango was the most likely to know field medicine, or just figured there wouldn't be any trouble until she woke.

As he gets closer, his confusion grows. The tog's got burns all over, ugly ones that aren't going to heal cleanly without bacta. They're going to get infected, as likely as not. He hasn't got much besides water in here, but the overseer's left behind a box of what looks like bandages. If he's lucky, there's burn cream in there.

(He's not lucky.)

He works slowly, careful of every movement. He builds up a story in his head as he does, based on the wounds he finds and what he starts to notice of the clothing. He can't see all the details, not in what little light he has, but there's plenty to notice.

He hadn't realized, with how dim it is, but most of what she's got on as an outer layer is hardened leather, real leather, not synth. There are attachment points for armor at the shoulders and hips, and he thinks he sees signs of wear for vambraces and greaves. She's no Mando'verde, not with how he can see that the fabric at her torso and upper legs is intended to stay light and flexible and uncovered, but the crafting of the leather layers is familiar. He thinks she might have contacts among Mando armorers.

She might even wear beskar, if she's impressed the right person.

The wounds are recent, and unfamiliar, and he thinks she was probably fought into chains, rather than bought in them. She's a captive, not a purchase, or maybe... maybe they just found an unconscious woman, and decided that she was worth keeping.

He thinks she lost a fight, or won but with great injuries, and just... stumbled off and collapsed. He gets the feeling no one on board the ship could have fought this woman, except for himself. It's not based on much, not until he can see her move, but he's got good instincts for that sort of thing.

Jango keeps his assessment of her torso quick and clinical, not even bothering to mentally apologize for stripping her bare. This is medical, and he's not a doctor, not even a field medic, but he's professional nonetheless. Even though there's nothing in the box but bandages, not even the burn cream he'd hoped for, he'd still rather know if there's a broken rib to worry about. He doesn't want to wait for her to wake up and then find out she's got a punctured lung, even if he can't do anything about it. He finds bruising, but... he thinks that if anything is broken, it's hairline at most.

Lucky, he thinks again, in the unluckiest situations.

She doesn't wake that cycle. It's all he can do to get some water in her, dripped into her mouth in a trickle, but it's something.

----

When the Togruta girl wakes up, it's sudden. Jango is wiping down her lekku with a wet cloth in hopes of staving off a fever, kneeling next to the bunk. She opens her eyes, stiffens with a sharp breath, and then twists off the bed. Before he's fully processed this, her legs are up and around his neck, and then he's being wrenched to the side and onto the filthy ground, cheek grinding down into the grit. He feels a bony knee press into his spine, and the growl of a predator.

"Where am I?" the tog girl demands.

"Spice ship," he says, and oh but this place has ruined him for fights; he's having trouble breathing from whatever she's done to him, and she doesn't even have the use of her hands. "Deep space. You're in the slave cells. Don't mess with the collar, it'll explode if you try to remove it."

"Spice refinery?" she repeats, sounding completely baffled. He gives her a second to process, but she blindsides him. "Someone got me in their hands and they went for spice slavery?"

"As opposed to..." he really hopes she gets off soon.

She doesn't answer him immediately, and he can't get a look at her face. He gets his arms out to the sides, plants them to the floor, and shoves back. She doesn't fall off, but she does slide to the side to sit on the floor.

The expression she's got is best described as 'shell-shocked,' he thinks.

"You don't know me," she says, faint and confused. He shakes his head; he's pretty sure he'd have recognized her if he'd known her at all, given the time he's spent cleaning her wounds and trying to keep her alive. She laughs, breathless and a tad hysterical. "You don't--fuck. You don't know me. That's... great. Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Don't know how they missed it, but okay."

"Bounty on your head?" he guesses.

She smiles, thin and unpleasant. "Something like that."

"Thought as much. You're built like a fighter." He intends it as a compliment, but he doesn't think she takes it as one.

"I've never had a choice otherwise," she says, and when she next looks around, it's to find a place to sit. She pushes herself up to the thin mattress of the cot behind her, and Jango mirrors her on the cot across the room. It's not his bed, technically, but it's not like there's anyone to complain. She frowns at him; it's not a rude look, he thinks, but an attempt to put something unfamiliar in place. "What legion were you with?"

He blinks at her. He's been part of an army, but never one that big. "Legion?"

"Were you with special forces?" she tries again. "Or--wait, did you even get off Kamino before--"

"I'm not whoever you think I am," he tells her. "None of that means anything to me. I know what a legion is, but I've never had reason to be part of one."

"But you're..." she trails off, brow furrowed. "I guess just a similar face, then."

"To who?"

"The clones?" she hazards, as if that clears anything at all up. "I have no idea where we are; maybe the war holos never made it out far enough for you to know what they looked like..."

"Which war?" he asks, because he feels like he'd probably have heard of a war that used clones, especially one that had enough holos spread around for this woman to expect him to know what the clones in question look like.

"The... the clone war," she says hesitantly. "With the Separatists?"

None of that means anything to him.

It must show in his face, because her brow furrows, and her eyes go wide in a way he doesn't like. He can't tell if her skin's losing color or anything, but he's pretty sure the curl at the tip of one lek is a sign of anxiety. He's not sure how to help, but part of him already decided he liked this woman, just on the suspicion that she was friendly to Mandalorians.

(It's been a solid year and a half since Jango has had anything approaching a friend. He may be, subconsciously, a little desperate.)

"What's your name?" she asks, voice pitching in discomfort, and tight as a garotte.

"Jango Fett."

She closes her eyes, clenches her jaw, and... he can't see, can't know if she's trembling, but he thinks she is. She lets her head fall back against the wall, and breathes in sharply. It's a shaky breath, and he doesn't like that much, either.

"Fuck," she repeats. "No wonder--fuck."

He gives her a few seconds, but she doesn't elaborate. He asks another question instead. "Do I get to know your name?"

Her eyes crack open, and then she sits up straight and looks him over. Her lips purse, and she comes to some decision, though he's at a loss for what. "Call me Ashla. She/her, if you'd rather stick to Basic."

Fake name. Alright. She mentioned a bounty, so it's probably about that.

"Well met, Ashla."

She laughs, empty and painful. She swears in a mix of Huttese and Mando'a, and a few languages he doesn't even recognize. The Core accent on her Mando'a is strong, but he thinks whoever taught her might have been from Concord Dawn.

"How old are you, if you don't--"

"I'm twenty-one," she says. He was right; she's only two years younger than him. "At least... fuck, okay. What's the date?"

He tells her, and she screws up her brow and mouths something to herself. He's not entirely sure what.

"How long ago was..." she trails off.

"Was what?"

She presses a hand over her eyes. "I don't know what year it is."

Ah. Well, he can help with that much. He tells her that, too.

Ashla drops her hand. She visibly mulls it over, eyes on the underside of the bunk above her. He has no idea what she's thinking.

"Why aren't there other people in this room?"

"Weak ones couldn't sleep because I'm 'too intimidating,' and the rest kept trying to throw their weight around." He shrugs at the look she points his way. "I'm not dumb enough to start a fight with a bomb around my neck, but I'm not letting someone knock me around so they can earn a reputation."

She purses her lips, but lets it lie. "You let me take you down, then?"

"You had the advantage of surprise," he says, and doesn't bother to list every other advantage. She's better fed than he is, has spent less time in spice-suffused air, was unconscious and resting while he was awake to keep an eye on her fever. He's got the feeling she already knows.

When she speaks again, it's low and in fluent Mando'a, heavily accented though it may be.

"You'd get out of here eventually," she tells him, eyes half shut. "But you'll get out faster with my help, Mand'alor."

His stomach twists.

----

"They are either very stupid, or very cheap," Ashla mutters a day later, when he's supposedly helping her change some bandages. It gives him the excuse of leaning in close.

"Probably the former," he says.

She grins, and then stiffens and hisses out a low breath as he pours some of the stolen whiskey over one of the burns. It's not a real disinfectant, but it's the best they've got at the moment. Jango still isn't sure how she managed to get it from the overseers without them noticing, but he's quickly gotten the gist that she's a fair shot sneakier than he is.

"What did they do?" he asks, and she huffs out a laugh.

"I need you to promise you won't try to kill me," she says, and he stills.

She seems to be waiting on his response. Great. "That's not an auspicious start, Ashla."

"Eh, I've survived more than my fair share of people trying to kill me. No offense, bro, but I could take you," she says.

She's probably right in their current circumstances. "Let's hear it."

"I left the Jedi Order when I was seventeen."

The whiskey bottle slips from his fingers.

An invisible hand catches it, and it settles quietly on the floor of their cell. No guards will come running. It's a damning sight, for him.

A Jedi.

A Jedi who--who left.

Jedi committed Galidraan, but she left three years before that, but she was--was--

She has her back to him, trusting.

Or just arrogant.

She phrased it that way on purpose, phrased it so he'd know she left before he--before--

"I was framed by my friend for a terrorist attack," she says, and he can't find his voice to tell her to stop talking. "And sentenced to death by a non-Jedi military tribunal for it. By the time they figured out I wasn't guilty, I'd already been kicked out."

He forces his hands to his knees, grips at the bones that are too close to the skin, and orders himself to breathe.

Ashla turns on the spot, blinks at him. "I'm telling you this because it's how we're going to get out."

"Your people killed mine."

"I wasn't a Jedi when Galidraan happened," she says. There's more she wants to say, he's sure, but she keeps the words locked behind her teeth. That might be a good thing.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"Only for long enough to get out of here," she tells him. She shrugs, easy as anything. She's done this before, maybe. "Trust me, I have plenty of reasons to hate you, too, but I'm a little more concerned about getting this ship taken into custody, and having all the slaves freed."

"And you can just... make that happen."

"I told you, they're either stupid or skint," she says, with that same disarming grin. "I had lightsabers on me, and they kept them on the ship. They haven't drugged me since I woke up. They put me in normal cuffs, Jango."

He hates the way his name sounds on her tongue.

He hates the fact that he sees her plan already.

"You don't even need me," he points out, resisting the urge to try to kill her here and now. He doesn't have his armor. He doesn't have weapons. He's good, but she's got the Force and thighs that can crush a bantha skull.

"I'm not exactly... legit," she admits with a grimace. "Once you're back in Mandalorian space, you at least have an identity. People that will give you a place to stay. A chain code."

"And you don't."

She smiles, brittle. "Give me a week to scope out what I need and get us out of here, and maybe I'll explain."

A week. Fine.

And once they're out of here, and he has a blaster and a meal and a good night's sleep, he'll handle her.

----

He hates the fact that he likes her, still. People had already noticed, even just one day in. The first time someone notices he's giving Ashla the cold shoulder in the workroom, they joke at him about her not putting out. He's known her one day, and they think--

He stops the thought in its tracks.

Jango doesn't start fights here, but he is tempted.

"Oh, he wouldn't dare," Ashla simpers, sweet as spun sugar. "I bite."

She smiles, every pearly white tooth on display. The fangs near glint in the light. She eyes the speaker, squeezes the tool in her hand. Her tendons strain, but the metal bends with a creak.

The overseer shouts for them to get back to work.

Jango steps closer to her, lets his elbows brush against hers, and glares off anyone that tries to get too close.

"I don't need protection," she mutters to him from the corner of her mouth.

"I keep my word," he replies, hating himself for it.

He said he'd have her back. He may hate what she is, but... she left the Order. She's not a Jedi anymore. If he thinks it enough, he can believe it.

----

There's always a camaraderie in shared suffering. Jango is aware of this, and he feels his fondness for Ashla grow against his better judgment. They're both slaves on a spice ship, and he can't change that. It makes him tolerate her more than he sensibly should.

She acts like a Mando soldier, sometimes. She's not at all like Haat Mando'ade, but she knows some of the jokes that Mandalorians grow up with. She walks like a woman used to beskar'gam. She knows a drinking song or two.

(They don't waste the whiskey. It's for injuries, not intoxication.)

"I had brothers, once," she tells him, late at night. "A lot of them. They had a Mandalorian parent, sort of, but he'd never seen fit to really... let them have the culture. I lost them all, mostly to slave chips, and a few to just normal deaths, but... I learned what I could about Mandalore, after, for their sake. In their memory."

It's not a terrible reason, he thinks.

"Irony for you to end up in chains, then," he mumbles, and she barks out a sharp laugh.

"Tradition, more like," she says, and explains before he can ask for her to keep talking. "My... teacher was born a slave, and I... have a suspicion he ended up back in chains after we lost contact. His teacher was enslaved at least twice that I know of."

"Shitty tradition," he says, because there's nothing else he can think of.

"Could be worse," she tells him. This time, she doesn't elaborate.

----

He likes her more than he should.

----

He likes her so, so, so much more than he should.

----

She steals datachips when nobody's looking, using the Force instead of her fingers. She wraps dismissal around her like a cloak to access computer terminals without anyone but Jango noticing. She slips spice into the drinks held by guards and overseers.

She moves through the ship like smoke, in the dim lights of the false night.

Someone notices. Someone always notices, in Jango's experience, but they have no idea who's doing it. They lock down the cells for the sleep cycle, turn down the temperature, leave all the slaves shivering in their beds.

He pulls Ashla into his cot without hesitation, fits their bodies together to conserve heat, and ignores the rest. They're both soldiers; there's no shame in survival for those like them. The lekku at her back drapes over his neck like a scarf, and he almost wants to laugh.

He's pathetic. His men would be so damn disappointed in him, sharing bunk with a Jedi.

"You're thinking too loud," she mumbles, shifting somehow closer. The chill clings, creeping in through the thin clothes and thinner blanket, but he feels like it's bearable with Ashla here.

----

When they enact the plan, it's so much quieter than Jango would have run it. Ashla holds his hands in the early morning, before anyone is awake, and smiles. When she closes her eyes, sinking into a light meditation, the collar around her neck just... comes apart. Nuts and bolts and curves of metal float about her like a wretched parody of the mobile hanging above an infant's crib, and then land quietly on the nearest cot. When she opens her eyes, hazy and distant, she looks at his throat, and frees him with a thought.

It's a heady thing, freedom.

"Come along, Fett," she goads, almost crooning the words, backing out of the cell with his hands in hers. Nobody is awake yet, or at least they shouldn't be. Her words curl in the air like something cloyingly too-sweet, and he's sure it's her way of trying to piss him off. It's only working a little. "We've work to do."

Said work involves slipping past guards with a Jedi's timing, commanding them to sleep with a whisper and a poke to the forehead, and drugging the ones that she claims are resistant to Jedi tricks. The work is, as such, mostly hers to do. They hide the bodies, but the alarm goes off by the time they get to the weapons locker.

That's fine, because the weapons locker is where they were headed.

"Oh, hell yes," she hisses through a grit-tooth grin, and a matched pair of lightsabers float to her. Jango turns off the energy field by the time they reach her, and she hooks them onto her belt. Beskar plating follows, exactly the pieces that Jango had guessed from wear and tear. It's real beskar, too, not even an alloy, and Jango doesn't ask the questions on the tip of his tongue. She straps it on in practiced movements, without hesitation and almost without thought.

"See anything better than what you got off the guards?" she asks him. "Or did they all take the best blasters for themselves?"

"The latter," he says.

(His eyes trace over the armor she wears, and while she does wear it well... he's jealous.)

(He misses his armor.)

(Envy is unbecoming of anyone, but he thinks he can be afforded a little leeway.)

There are people in the hall by the time they exit, a dozen blasters at the ready.

The people in the hall are... not a problem.

Ashla had called it the Sword and Shield maneuver, when walking him through her experiences working in a Mando/Jetii team. He'd laughed, because the saber was the shield. She'd smiled at him, and he'd cursed himself for it.

If he'd had his armor, they'd have been able to move forward as a pair of unstoppable monsters. As it stands, they're... still doing that, really, just a tad slower.

"You're a Jedi!" one of them shouts. "You're supposed to be diplomats! You're not supposed to kill!"

Jango could laugh at that horrible, horrible lie.

"I am no Jedi," Ashla says, and the words cut through the air like something she's said a million times, and will say a million more.

Jango could do a lot with that line, tucked away in his memories for later.

There's a moment, though, where they're stuck at one end of a hallway, and the door to the bridge is just on the other side, and Ashla grins at him, a challenge in every inch of her body, and asks, "You wanna see something cool?"

He can't help it.

"You planning to show off, Jedi?" He can say the word without flinching, and it's... absurd. It's absurd. What in all the hells is she doing to him?

(He's been told that war makes for strange bedfellows, but he's long known that trauma does the same.)

He takes cover when she moves, and oh, does she move.

Ashla's a whirlwind, dangerous as anything and beautiful in her careful, precise violence. She knocks people out, more often than not, but there's more then one dead body left in her wake. It appeals to something in him. She flips and twists and throws people with the Force. She slices and kicks, and smacks people across the face with the blasters she lifts of their comrades. She headbutts at least two people, and then jumps to bounce off the ceiling and back down so she can land feet first on an enemy.

He hopes he'll get his common sense back when he's had time to put himself together, because the sight of those sabers doesn't make him flinch. After all he's been through, after all his nightmares, it really should. The sound alone should have him shivery and shooting.

Maybe there's just too much spice in the air.

A head drops to the floor in a different direction from the body it had previously been attached to. Jango's throat goes dry in response.

When Ashla stands at the end of the hall, a saber in each hand and the floor behind her littered in both bodies breathing and bodies bereft of life, she looks back at him over her shoulder. She deactivates her swords, and smirks. She's smug, and she makes smug look very, very good.

"So," she says. "Verdict?"

Fuck.

----

The bridge is easy enough to handle. They land the ship on a Republic planet, one with relevant authorities and at least some reputation for actually handling things with a degree of kindness and transparency. Ashla does the talking, letting Jango lurk behind her. She lies.

"Half-truths," she later tells him, in a low voice. The smile she wears is amused and self-assured, just a twist at the corner, and the slightest of pouts. He can't see it, when she leans in to murmur in his ear. "I certainly used to be a Jedi. They don't need to know this wasn't an officially-sanctioned infiltration."

Her breath hits lightly against his ear, and he wants--he wants--

"Have a comm code for any old friends?" Ashla asks, stepping away. Her face twists unpleasantly. Frustration, he's sure. "I've got credits, but no contacts."

He eyes the little pack she's got around her waist. "Stole that from the slavers?"

"We'll consider it payment for services rendered," she tells him, with an impish grin Jango wants to kiss off of her face, because apparently he's kriffing suicidal and wants to bed a Jedi. "I'll give you most of it, if you want. Call it the two years of backpay they owed you."

He snorts before he can stop himself. "Just one year, sorry."

"Oh, it's hazard pay," she insists, blinking innocently. "Dangerous conditions having been what they were, of course."

She presses a comm--probably also stolen--and a few credits into his hand, then loops her arm through his. She sets off at a lazy walk, ignoring the people who stare at them with distaste and disgust. "We'll find a hotel. We'll shower, with real water, and fancy soaps, and a little sonic just for the clothes. I'll run out and get you a basic outfit, and then we can go shopping, and once that's done, and you've had a chance to comm a companion, we can reunite you with your buddies, and you can go hunting for your armor, and I'll split and--"

"Stay."

She tilts her head at him, though she doesn't stop walking, and he feels his face burn. He hopes it's not visible. She hums lowly. He can't learn anything from it. "You hate Jedi, though, and I might not really be one anymore, but I'm still more Jedi than not."

"You wear beskar and speak Mando'a," he says. "You helped the Mand'alor. You're halfway to being one of mine already."

"One of yours, huh?" she mutters, eyes somewhere distant. He doesn't know what it is that she's seeing, but he's gotten used to it. "Alright, let's have this conversation again after you've had some sleep and clothes and a good meal, yeah?"

He can take that compromise.

----

"What do you mean, you're from the future?!"

#Jangosoka #time travel #Jango Fett #Ahsoka Tano #slavery tw #drugs tw #Phoenix Posts #I wrote this on a whim a few days ago but didn't get it edited until today #anyway have a nonsense

[wonderful-writes]

Presume

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tom thinks you’re too pretty to be any good at academics. You can imagine his shock when he’s proven wrong.

Word Count: 2k (2,097)

Author’s Note: The idea for this fic was given to me by @bellaswansrealgf. It was such a fun topic to write, so thank you so much bae for coming up with the idea! I’ll definitely be using more of your suggestions in the future.

Tom Riddle found himself becoming increasingly irritated. How could Professor Slughorn possibly expect him to work with a partner? What kind of fool did Slughorn think he was? Tom was perfectly capable of completing his project himself, and it was rather insulting for his professor to assign someone to help him. And not just anyone. Slughorn had assigned you.

You, the pretty girl, were in no capacity an ideal partner. You were friendly and charming and surely too bubble-headed to know a thing about potions. You were probably irritating and selfish and vain, too. Tom would have rather been partnered up with the clown from Gryffindor than with you.

“Tom, right?” you asked as you took a seat next to him. You were dressed in neat robes and had nicely styled hair. You probably spent all morning on it.

“Yes,” he replied curtly without so much as a glance your way. He began flipping his textbook to the desired page and scanning it with his eyes.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced.

Tom ignored you as he continued to read the page.

“So, what kind of potion do you think we should make?” you asked him, opening your own book.

Once again, Tom didn’t bother to look up or respond.

“Hello?” you tried again.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, I know potions is probably not your area of expertise, so it’s best if you just sit there and let me work.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, surprised at how this stranger could claim to already know you without having ever spoken to you. “How would you know if I’m not good at potions?”

Tom scoffed. “If you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly look like you’d be much of an academic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, starting to get offended.

“Well, I’m the best in the class,” Tom said like it was the most natural thing to come out of his mouth. “Professor Slughorn probably sent you here so that I could babysit you. You can’t be any good if you need me as a mentor.”

“I don’t need you as a mentor,” you told him. “Professor Slughorn wanted us to work together for this assignment.”

“Like I said,” he replied, turning back to his book, “maybe you should let me handle the assignment.”

You were beyond aggravated. How could someone who barely knows you make such assumptions about you? You were more than adept in potions, and it was unfair of him to shut you down without letting you prove your skills.

“You realize this assignment is worth 25% of our grade, don’t you?” you asked him as you crossed your arms.

 “Precisely,” he answered. “Which is why I won’t let you mess it up.”

You had never met a more arrogant person.

“If you’re going to be this way,” you declared, “I’ll just ask Slughorn if I can work alone. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience the great Tom Riddle.”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief as you packed your belongings and walked away. You were attractive, sure, but you were also annoying. He was glad to be rid of anyone who didn’t let him take charge.

Slughorn allowed the two of you to work separately. To Tom’s approval, you set up your station far away from his. He almost pitied you. It couldn’t be easy for someone like you to complete an entire project by yourself. People like you only cared about their appearances or what the latest gossip was. There was no way you could make any of the complicated potions on the list of options for the assignment without help.

~

By the end of the week, Slughorn had finished grading the students’ potions and their accompanying essays. Tom, ever so confident in his abilities, was shocked when he didn’t receive a perfect score.

“What did I do wrong, Professor?” he asked after class had been dismissed. “I could have sworn I didn’t miss anything.”

“You forgot to crush the bay leaves before you put them in,” Slughorn explained. “But not to worry, my boy. You chose a highly complex concoction. It is almost guaranteed that any student who attempts to recreate it will forget at the very least one step.”

“Did anyone else choose that potion?” Tom wondered.

Slughorn nodded with a twinkle in his eye.

“And did anyone get it right?” Tom asked. He was doubtful that anyone in the class could have succeeded at something he failed to perfect, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“That’s for me to know, my boy,” the teacher answered. Seeing the frustrated look on Tom’s face, he chuckled and added, “Just know that you shouldn’t judge your partners so prematurely.”

Tom spent the majority of the night ruminating on Slughorn’s words. Could it be that you were the student who had gotten the perfect score on the potion he had attempted? He refused to believe it. Slughorn must have been referring to another student, one that Tom was paired with in the past. You couldn’t possibly be the partner in question.

~

It had been weeks since Tom came in second for the first time in his life. He convinced himself that it couldn’t have been you who bested him. Of course, he speculated who the true victor could be, but he couldn’t put his finger on who in the class could be worthy of such high marks.

Eventually, the time came for the annual examination preparation. Professor Slughorn’s students were assigned a series of practice exams to help them prepare for the actual ones. Each practice test focused on a different area within potions, and it was the students’ job to be well-versed in all of them.

At the beginning of every week, a new practice exam was passed out, and the grades for the previous week’s exam was posted on a roster at the front of the class.

Tom never bothered with making a show of checking his grades, knowing fully well that he would always be at the head of the class. But with the newfound knowledge of a possible competitor, he couldn’t quell his curiosity.

Making his way to the front of the room with the usual throng of Slytherin boys, he displayed no sign of concern. Why should the best in the year have to worry about some halfwit who ran into a bit of luck one time?

His air of indifference was quickly squashed, however, when he approached the posted practice exam scores and saw that his was the second highest. Second? That couldn’t be right. Tom Riddle never came in second. Who was first? Who could feasibly best Tom Riddle at a potions examination? The most brilliant student in all of Hogwarts, and in his best subject too?

He was horrified beyond comparison when he saw none other than your name at the pinnacle of the score sheet.

You.

Impossible. There was no chance that the bubbly girl with the face of an angel, er, a moron, could ever have received such excellent marks.

He’d seen you around, and you were most definitely not the kind of girl who cared about your performance in school. You were always smiling with your friends or tucking your hair behind your ear or dazzling a crowd with an extraordinary story. When you weren’t smoothing down your clothes or checking your made-up face, you were befriending the professors, something only stupid people needed to do.

So how could you have gotten a higher score than him? There must have been a mistake. He would have to ask Slughorn about it after class.

As he walked back to his seat, he glanced at where you were positioned, a table not too far from his own. You had already started on your assignment for the day, making quick work of the cutting and crushing of ingredients. Sure enough, you were dripping with the grace and beauty of someone who most likely didn’t know the difference between reed and foxtail.

How could one possibly be proficient in any academic subject when they looked like that? You probably spent more time shining your shoes than studying for exams. Then how did you beat him, and twice?

He watched you work for the remainder of the period. To his surprise, you were doing everything correctly. You never added a drop too much or a sprig too little. You stirred with precision and knew what color to look for in the brew. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Were you truly more intelligent than he had originally presumed?

Still unconvinced, he approached Professor Slughorn after dismissal to question the scores from the most recent exam.

Slughorn only sent him a mysterious look before answering, “Everything is as it should.”

-

After the third week of coming in second place, Tom decided that it was enough. It was time he put his troubles to rest and find out for himself what sort of witchcraft was in play.

“Are you cheating?” he abruptly asked you the moment you took your seat. Professor Slughorn was not yet in class, giving the students ample time to converse before lessons began.

Startled, you stared back at him. “What?”

“You must be receiving help on your practice exams or at the very least borrowing notes from someone,” he stated matter-of-factly. “So tell me. Who is it?”

You had had enough of this arrogant git’s behavior. “What makes you think I need help? Is it so hard to believe that you are not the only person in this room who can do well in school?”

“Well I- you see, you’re not exactly the sort to put much thought to academics,” he defended.

“And what sort is that?” you questioned.

“You know, the vain, pretty lot,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d imagine you spend more time on your appearance than on your academics.”

You gaped at the boy before you. “You think I’m pretty? And before you go on, my appearance has nothing to do with my drive to excel in scholarly affairs. I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of receiving just as good of marks as you are, despite what you think.”

“Then work with me on today’s partner project,” he challenged.

“Excuse me?” The last thing you were expecting was for the high-and-mighty Tom Riddle to want anything to do with you after his blatant rudeness.

“If you’re truly as good as you say—”

“You mean as good as the scores prove,” you cut in.

Tom rolled his eyes. “If you’re really that good, show me. Demonstrate your skills on today’s potion, and I’ll believe you.”

So the two of you spent the class working together on the assigned potion. Tom made sure to stand back so that you could have the freedom to do things on your own, silently hoping that you would make a mistake. But you didn’t.

Your potion was perfect. There was not an herb out of place or a drop not potent enough. Everything was as it should.

You had clearly proven to Tom that you were a skilled student, worthy of his second glance. You only hoped that the self-righteous twat would realize not to judge people before knowing them.

“While I hate to admit my own shortcomings, you were right,” Tom conceded.

You smiled at his admittance. “Thanks, Tom. I’m glad you learned something from this experience.”

He had expected to feel more disdain at the fact that he had finally found his match. He was waiting for annoyance, jealousy, some spark of rage at being second-best. But all he felt was a strange sensation.

You were quite honestly brilliant, and he couldn’t remember a time when he genuinely thought that about a fellow student. You were quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and unafraid to back down from a challenge. You stood up to him despite barely knowing anything about him, other than that he was a royal pain to you. And, not to mention, you were quite a sight to behold.

It was no secret that Tom kept to himself more often than not. Sure, he had a group of peers who respected him — whether out of fear or genuine liking is up for debate — but he never got to know anyone on a personal level. He never let anyone get too close or see him for someone other than the shining pupil with big plans. But, for once, he wanted someone to share his genius with.

He intended to make you that person.

—

Part 2

#tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction

[angry-geese]

Hi there <3 I've read some of your works and i'm in love with your writing. May I please request a fluff gojo x fem!reader? Like they finished their work in the evening and spend the rest of the night together at home💕 It could be a oneshot or a hc, whichever you feel to write. Thank you so much ^^ I'm sorry just in case my request is somehow not really clear☺️

Of course! here you go <3

Mochi

Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: none! entirely fluff! this will quite literally rot your teeth. afab reader

a/n: this ended up being a little longer than I intended lol whoops

Word Count: 2.5k

Satoru Gojo is a busy man.

The strongest can't really take a break. He’s on call 24/7. People are pulling him in all directions simultaneously. With everything that's been going on, between the mess with Sukuna, and everything happening at the school, he’s been short on time.

He needs a break.

He's more tired than he lets on. He’s good at hiding it. Especially around his students. It's hard to pull him away from his work. He's insistent that he’s fine. When you’re around someone for so long, you learn to pick up when they aren't. He can pretend to be fine all he wants. You know otherwise.

Sometimes what the strongest needs is someone to boss him around.

He’s capable of taking care of himself. He’s proven that already. But worrying is in your nature. You care about him, of course you’re going to worry.

You were a first year when you met him, having just transfered schools after an incident involving a curse. In a matter of weeks your life had seemingly been flipped on its head. The switch took some time to get used to. Switching schools your first year, let alone switching to this one in particular, was never going to be easy. Getting used to the way Jujutsu society worked took a while. He was a year above you, and you remember absolutely hating him. Gojo was insufferable- or you found him to be such. But he was friends with Nanami, who was a friend of yours, so you reluctantly hung out with him. Nanami, being in the same year as you, was the first to help you out, extending a hand and helping you get used to the way things worked.

Spending time with him didn't do much to change your views. The two of you couldn't have been more different. You still are. But something about opposites attracts.

The first time you gave him the benefit of the doubt was the first time he saved your life.

It may be a bit of an over exaggeration. You’re certain you would have survived without his help, but that could also be an attempt to preserve your pride. You went after a curse, not expecting it to be as strong as it was. As far as you knew, it shouldn't have been stronger than a grade three. Being a grade two at the time, this should have been well in your ability. There ended up being more than one curse, and they were stronger than anyone had realized. You were in over your head.

It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. It's not like you could pick and choose which curses you fought. As a student, that was decided for you.

You had resigned to your fate, separated from the others, injured. Nothing fatal. It left a cool scar, though. But you were well out of your league, put on an assignment far harder than you could deal with. You hate to admit defeat, but you had no other option.

Out of what seemed like thin air came Gojo, taking out both curses like it was nothing. Despite not liking him all that much, it was hard to not be impressed. He was strong. Stronger than you could ever hope to be.

You made it home in one piece.

It was three days before you’d finally confront him.

Getting him alone was hard enough. Being an underclassman, you didn't interact with him a whole lot. You didn't have any classes together. The few times you ran into him were when you hung out with Nanami, who was gone at the time.

When the opportunity presented itself, you took it, cornering him behind the school.

Even back then it was impossible to sneak up on him. He could sense you coming.

“Jesus-” he said, referring to you by your last name, “you look like you want to kill me.”

“You helped me out.” You said. “Why?”

He only shrugged. Not wanting to take that for an answer, you followed him. You were insistent you paid him back. You’d never let a debt like that go unpaid. The first debts are always the hardest to pay back. And when a first debt involves saving your life, well, you’ve got a lifetime to pay back. You only left once Gojo showed up. He needed to talk to Gojo about something, and although you were curious, you didn't feel like sticking around.

Gojo spent the next couple days scheming. You were determined enough you would do just about anything. He could have easily abused his power. It would have been even easier to force you to drop it, but something told him you weren't about to take no for an answer.

You wouldn't.

3pm in the bathrooms. It was hardly a week later. Your last class had ended for the day. You had snuck cigarettes in, blowing the smoke out of the crack in the window. You don't smoke anymore, but you went through nearly a pack a day in high school. There wasn't a specific brand you liked—you didn't necessarily like smoking, but you did it when you were stressed—you just used whatever you got ahold of.

You didn't hear the door open. Gojo wasn't the sneaky type, but he could be when he wanted. You weren't too hard to sneak up on.

If you didn't have contraband that likely would have gotten you expelled, you would have screamed when you saw him. He scared you, not to mention he snuck into the girl’s bathrooms. The two of you would be in equally deep shit if you reported the other. So at that moment you came to a silent agreement.

“You still want to pay me back?” He asked. “Cause I have an idea.”

You perked up at his words.

“Get me mochi from that shop just down the road. You know the one that just opened up?” He asked. “Bring me some and I’ll call us even.”

“That's it?” You asked. It was almost anticlimactic. But despite everything, he was insistent.

Gojo hasn't changed a whole lot since then.

He still has his sweet tooth. He still makes you get him mochi from that shop. It feels like you’re the ones keeping it in business nowadays.

You’re not quite sure who made the first move.

Soon you began spending more time together away from Nanami and Geto. You got along better than anyone—mostly you—ever expected. You weren't the most outwardly affectionate. While you were far from shy, pda wasn't really your thing. Gojo is the opposite. Even now, years after you began dating, he’s still clingy. You’ve gotten used to it. Gojo is possessive, he wants everyone to know you’re his. Not that they don't know already. He can't shut up about you.

Getting him alone has always been hard. Not much has changed in the past few years. He’s only gotten busier. Try to drag him away from work all you want, you rarely succeed.

Tonight he's come willingly. He finished his work early, and all you had left was stuff you could finish in the morning.

Nights at home like this—together—are rare. It feels like you hardly see him anymore. You often fall asleep alone, only to wake up to the other side of the bed being cold. He’s been so occupied with this business with Yuji, that he’s hardly had time for anything else. You sneak away during your breaks, like you’re teenagers again, stealing kisses between classes. You almost don't know what to do.

It almost feels like you should do something to celebrate.

The lights are off when you get home. Your apartment looks empty. Megumi must still be out with his friends.

“What should we do for dinner?” Gojo asks.

“Takeout?” You say. "I don't feel like cooking."

Gojo’s a decent cook, but he doesn't feel like doing so either. He’d get takeout every night if you’d let him. But that's not good for him (or Megumi) so you force him to do otherwise. Because you’re normally home, and you like baking, you’re usually the one to make dinner. There's not much in the fridge. You'll have to get groceries eventually. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. It shouldn't take long.

“How does Korean barbeque sound?" He asks. "From that place down the street?”

"Sounds good,"

You find a menu buried in one of your kitchen drawers, stashed with other takeout menus. You pick out something—two meals, plus some sweet buns for dessert—he calls the restaurant. You pay the extra cash to have it delivered. Neither of you feel like going and picking it up. It's more convenient than the alternative.

The tv drones on in the background while you wait. There’s not much on tv at this hour. News, some late night soaps. While you do like your occasional soap opera, none that you normally watch are on. Gojo changes it to the news. The weather. It looks like it'll rain tomorrow morning, but the rest of the day is supposed to be warm.

"We should go to the park tomorrow," you say, "having a picnic sounds nice."

Gojo hums in approval. As long as you make those tea cakes—the ones with honey drizzled on top—he'll agree to tag along. Maybe you'll go check out the bookstore too. It's been a while since you've last gone.

You strip out of your uniform, pulling on some more comfortable clothes; a pair of shorts and one of Gojo's shirts. It smells like him. You can't help but bury your nose in the collar.

When there’s a knock at the door, Gojo is the one to answer. He returns with your food. You gather napkins and utensils. Gojo never saw the point in anything other than stainless steel chopsticks. Or wooden ones—those given to you with takeout—if he wasn't feeling up to doing dishes. You, on the other hand, bought all sorts of colorful ones and stands that may or may not have been lifted from various restaurants. That's one habit from your teenage years you never lost. You'd pocket almost anything that wasn't nailed down. Your apartment has a rather impressive assortment of salt and pepper shakers. Not to mention the box of hotel soaps you never use, but took because you "might" need it. He enables you, taking some whenever he stays out of town, bringing them home for you. Gojo can hardly say no to you.

Gojo settles next to you on the couch, his shoulder pressed to yours. He can't keep his hands off of you. He’s possessive by nature. Everyone has to know you’re his. He always has to be touching you. Not necessarily with his hands, but he presses his thigh against yours while sitting next to you, or his body pressed against yours from behind in public.

The two of you eat in relative silence. Gojo’s attention turns to the tv, but that doesn't stop him from practically laying on top of you. Occasionally he’ll sneak bites of your food, and you of his.

When you’re done, you clear away the empty containers, sitting any leftovers in the fridge. Gojo sprawls out on the couch. He easily takes up any bit of space. The couch can hardly fit all 6-foot-something of Gojo. It hardly fits you. You've been meaning to look for another one, but haven't found the time to.

He opens his arms, and instinctively you go into them. You move so you can rest partially against the arm of the couch, Gojo's head leaning against your shoulder. His arms loop around your waist, his fingers lacing over your stomach.

It doesn't take him long to begin to drift off. He falls asleep in the crook of your neck. The low sound of the tv, combined with the warmth of his body makes you want to drift off to sleep. Sleeping on the couch like this isn't very good for your (or his) back, but you don't want to move.

The next time your eyes open, some late night game show plays, disturbing your sleep with loud music. The clock on the wall reads some time past two. It's hard to read the minute hand. You gently shake Gojo awake. One of his eyes cracks open and he lets out a soft “hm?”

“Come to bed,” you say, your arms wrapping around his neck, “it's late.”

His eyes close, and for a moment you think he’s drifted back off to sleep, when his grip around you tightens, and he’s rolling over on top of you.

“I think I’ll stay here with you, mochi,” he says, planting a wet kiss to your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck makes you shiver.

And though he doesn't move, there's a look in his eyes that tells you he has something planned. You only notice too late that his grip never loosens, and the mischievous glint to his eyes. You couldn't wiggle out of it if you wanted to. You're effectively trapped.

He litters your neck with kisses, sending you into a giggling fit, and he doesn't stop until you’re begging him to. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from laughing. Your nails dig into your palms so hard they leave little crescent-shaped indents.

When you finally settle down, he’s pulling you into his arms bridal style, heading for your shared room. The bed is still unmade from this morning. Neither of you bothered to put it away. You were busy, and the thought slipped your mind.

Gojo shoves the covers aside, pulling you to lay on his chest. His fingers gently trace up the curve of your spine as he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest. Goosebumps prickle your exposed skin. He’s careful with how he touches you, loving, and soft. It's like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. His heartbeat is audible. Steady, and quet, acting as a lullaby. Your eyes shut, but you’re still awake. The intimacy of the moment doesn't go over your head.

He thinks he could die happy at this moment. Any moment, with you, really. Even during fights, or nights where he doesn't come home until long after you’ve fallen asleep, and you’re left irritated with his lack of time. As long as you’re by his side, he’s content.

He doesn't give much to the thought of settling down. His work will never let him. Neither does he think much about having any biological children. You practically have two already. Settling down isn't really an option for the strongest. This is the closest he’ll get to it.

For now, he just thinks about the park, and the blue sundress you always wear when you go.

Not many people can say they’ve changed who Satoru Gojo is as a person—let alone for the better—but you’ve changed him twice. Once in your meeting behind the school, and once again tonight. He’s found the one.

The first debt is always the hardest to pay back. But you've paid it in full.

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff

[keilemlucent]

a nice break

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~3k

keigo really is just such a good boy for you, isn't he?

warnings: peggings, strap ons, wing kink, praise kink, spit kink, sub hawks, soft hawks, light religious imagery in the literal imagery, aftercare

enjoy some subby hawks pegging ;^))) 

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Keigo had the prettiest voice.

Fuck whatever ‘bird of prey’ act he put on, the man was a songbird like no other. Perhaps not always, but it wasn’t particularly hard to get him to sing either. Unabashed pleasure would send Keigo into fits of cries and lamentations.

“Oh fuck, please—!” Keigo’s voice broke above you. He was straining so hard to keep any semblance of usual composure despite his wrecked state. It wasn’t like it was doing him much good with how beyond fucked out he was, but you appreciated the effort.

How long had you had him bouncing on your strap? Long enough that he had begged you to let him rest, his wobbly legs growing weak despite their tone and muscle. Yet, not long enough to award him a moment of respite. You had rolled your hips up, jamming your metaphorical thick cock against his prostate as his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Keigo’s face had grown bright red, freckles dimming with the flush of his cheeks. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, drool escaping from the corners of his lips. He occasionally tried to wipe up the bodily filth on his face, but the action only served to make him even more of a mess. Keigo didn’t mean to, but his subtle, cute actions just debauched him more.

Keigo had a tendency to be a brat. That was just his private personality. Effortlessly laid back charm was a face he wore incredibly well for the public, but in the solace of his penthouse apartment, the man was a raging devil.

He typically took the lead on things. Throwing you up over tables and counters with the help of his wings, fucking you stupid without a second thought.

You loved it. Immensely.

Nothing made you soak yourself more than being on your knees for Keigo just before he would fuck your face in earnest, cooing and praising about how well you took his cock. He loved to see you sloppy for him, demanding and pushing and pulling you whatever way suited his pleasure (and yours as well, of course.)

But you also loved seeing Keigo sloppy. You relished getting to break him down, picking at his crafted facade with personal pleasures you made all for him, and you made sure to tell him so.

Keigo loved to praise you, any time, not just in bed. He’d tell you what a good girl you were while spanking his hand on your backside for the umpteenth time, you teary-eyed and half-sobbing. He’d coo about how beautiful you were while he fucked you into yet another orgasm with his crooked fingers. He’d smooth you over and tell you how proud he was of you, how good you were for him, as you cuddled into each other, fucked out, boneless and brainless. He’d come up behind you while you cooked dinner, kissing at your neck and whispering about how kind of partner you were. He’d grab your hand in public to lay gentle kisses over your knuckles, speaking lowly about how he cherished you and the time you were able to spend together.

It took you a while into your relationship to realize that Keigo also fed off praise. He showered you with love and compliments and craved receiving similar affections.

And, you weren’t one to deny him.

“Come on, Kei’, you can do it, you’re such a good boy,” You crooned, pushing your hips to press the thick dildo deeper in him.

Keigo sputtered, his hands flying to your chest for purchase, lip wobbling. His eyes flicked to meet your own, widened and pleading.

You just smirked.

“Keep going if you want to come.”

He cried out, lowering his head and wiping at the different smears of fluid that wetted his face. Slowly, he raised himself up, thighs trembling with exertion and exhaustion.

You tucked your arms behind your head, truly getting off on the beautiful sight before you.

Keigo looked god-like most of the time, all feathered and blood-colored. He was sculpted like a marble statue; sometimes, you felt unfit of touching him. Yet, you debauching him was one of your favorite acts. Turning Keigo into some defiled deity riding the silicone cock of a mortal, divine, crimson wings a backdrop to ambrosian pleasures that only the two of you knew. Despite how bratty he was, he loved falling apart while you fucked his cute little hole numb.

Keigo rode your cock so well, he knew it, you told him so. Despite how much his body ached and how he was chasing orgasm but never catching it, he tried really, really hard to make you happy. You could see it in the way how each of his actions was followed by an expectant look, delivered to you with puffy, kiss-bruised lips.

Who would’ve thought Hawks was a crybaby when getting fucked so well?

Below him, you smiled, languidly playing with your own sex while drowning in Keigo’s image. Your own slick coated your thighs, wetting your puffy clit as you stroked yourself slowly to Keigo’s display.

His cock was swollen, bright red, and weeping preek. The ring at its base was wet with lube, tightly holding Keigo back from any sort of proper satisfaction. All the while, his cock was so much more sensitive, not to mention how you’d been teasing him for what felt like hours. You wondered if Keigo felt edged or overstimulated. You could only hope that it was both.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock, moaning with Keigo in tandem. He wailed, voice shattering into pleads and begs for “more, please, more!” as you fucked his cock with your hand. He was so slicked and hot, weeping for release in more ways than one.

You removed your fingers from your own sex, frowning.

The slick covered fingers pressed at Keigo’s parted lips. He opened his mouth for you, letting you fuck his mouth with the digits, pressing gently on his tongue and the back of his throat. You felt the vibrations of his suppressed cries so well, it made your cunt ache. 

“Good boys don’t talk with their mouths full, do they?” You taunted, pressing harder and pumping your hand faster around Keigo’s cock.

Keigo screamed against your fingers, sweaty locks falling over his eyes as he shook his head. With all of his hero-refined skills, his thin hips couldn’t figure out how to both fuck down on the strap and fuck into your hand. The infuriating amount of stimulation without a thread of relief made tears leak from Keigo’s eyes anew, running rivers down his cheeks and drip onto your torso.

“Aw, baby, why are you crying?” You loved teasing Keigo like this. He’d never let you do this shit to him unless he was this fucked out. You knew he liked it too, based on how the degradation made his cock throb in your grip.

You squeezed, rubbing a thumb at its leaky head. Keigo sobbed around your fingers, “Pweaze! ”

“Pweaze’? ‘Pweaze’ what, baby? Use your words.” You sneered, watching spittle drip from his mouth onto your lap. To taunt him even more, you pressed your drenched fingers onto the back of his tongue as he tried to speak. Unintelligible, garbled syllables were all he could produce beyond chest sobs.

He just looked at you helplessly, nails digging into your sides.

You relented, removing your fingers and wiping them onto Keigo’s swollen dick, still pumping it slowly.

“Please, let me come, please!” Keigo’s voice curled so well when he begged. You fucked up into him sharply, Keigo’s hands clawing into your ribs as he screamed in white-hot pleasure. His spent thighs trembled around your own, wet with sweat and shaking with exhaustion.

You ran a hand through his hair, feeling the layer of thin sweat and boiling heat. He leaned into your touch immediately, doughy and glassy-eyed.

Keigo was art, sculpted all for you. Any bits of his public, bastardseque persona had been ground away with pleasure and coaxing. He had fallen apart for you, gently pleading for release like it was a hymn to his god.

You crooked a smile.

“I don’t know, baby. Have been good enough to come?” You hummed, grinning smugly as Keigo’s expression fell. His lips moved in horror as he began blubbering, fucking himself again on the strap, harder, faster, and with more vigor than before.

“I have b-been, I’ve been good!” Keigo sobbed, rubbed at his eyes as one of his legs gave out no a particularly rough thrust. Your hand slid up to support the spent muscles, knowing he was beginning to reach his limits.

“Tell me how and you can come, Keigo,” You said his name so sweetly, you felt another flood of pre dribbled sticky from his cock, “Tell me how you’re such a good boy, for me, Keigo.”

He shook his head, breathing harshly, but still managing to fuck himself half-heartedly. He bit his lip as he looked at you with red-rimmed eyes, wings fluttering at his back.

It gave you an idea.

You’d pay for it later, but that was a future problem.

All contact with Keigo’s cock and body went away, holding your hands on your chest, slowly rolling your hips and strap into Keigo’s tight hole.

You stilled for just a moment, drinking him in.

Your hands shot out, just brushing against Keigo’s sides before burying themselves at the tender roots of his wings.

“F-Fuck!” Keigo wailed, bowing his back and falling against your chest, unable to hold himself upright.

You adjusted your legs, allowing yourself to still fuck into Keigo. Even better, this position perfectly allowed you to ram his most sensitive spot, sobs and cries muffled into the skin of your chest. He pawed at one of your tits half-heartedly, but you knew he didn’t really have it in him.

Pleads and cries for mercy spilled from his lips as you massaged at the base of his wings. The downy feathers were petal-soft, all the betters for rubbing deep into as Keigo twitched and wailed.

“Just tell me why you’re a good boy, Keigo, you’re so close,” You encouraged him, shifting so that his head was pressed into your neck. You felt his cock, hard and hot against your stomach. With this position, Keigo could rest his body to some degree. But, it provided an absolutely obscene amount of friction that would be damn-near brutal mentally.

His wings splayed out above the two of you, cocooning you in vibrant reds and scarlets as you thumbed at individual feathers. Keigo finally found his voice as you dragged the strap back from his hole.

“I-I ate your pussy really good,” Keigo’s voice was high, stumbling on his words.

You hummed appreciatively, scrapping your nails down thin bones of his wings. He arched against you, hands flying your hair and pulling. He broke into bawling, tears wetting your neck and the sheets beneath you.

You fucking loved it.

“I l-let you sit on my face, and let you fuck- ME!” Keigo howled as you dug into his feathers, tsking lightly.

“Up, baby. Sit up for me,” You commanded, though softly. Keigo slowly righted himself, shaking like a leaf. You could tell by the way he shifted his hips that he was more than a bit sore and overworked. Not to mention that his cock was turning darker red and bulging hotly by the minute.

“Those are all good things you did, but that’s not why you’re a good boy,” You trailed one of your hands down one of the lovely curves of his lower back, cupping his ass and squeezing.

He sputtered, shaking his head, rubbing at his eyes, “Please, I’m sorry, just let me—”

You’d done this song and dance enough with Keigo to know the way to really get to his cock. After so much mental conditioning and training, parts of him were still left raw. To touch and stroke them just right was an art you had taken upon yourself to master and perfect. You’d do anything for Keigo, anything to help him chase pleasures that could be too fragile or fear-filled to voice.

“Keigo, you’re a good boy because you’re you,” You massaged at his aching, sore parts with warm hands. “You’re such a good boy for me, Kei’. You ride me so well. Can you just a little more?”

If Keigo hadn’t been fully crying, he was now.

He tearfully nodded, bouncing himself on the strap again, sending loud moans far and wide.

You helped him along, rolling your hips, “You’re such a sweet boy, Kei’. You sound so pretty when you wreck yourself for me.”

He keened.

The hand that wasn’t helping to hold him up went to palm at the head of his cock, “You are so sweet and so beautiful when you’re fucked out like this. All stupid for me, right, Kei’?”

You trailed a finger up his shaft as he drooled, eyes struggling to focus, “So good at listening and following my rules. Do you like being a good boy?”

He was fucked too silly to manage anything other than a nod.

“Do you want to come, baby?” You pumped his cock with your slick hand, almost mockingly.

“PLEASE!” Keigo screamed, nails breaking the skin of your breasts, but you could hardly care. His head bent forward as a mix of his tears, snot, and spit dripped between the two of you.

Keigo really did deserve it. You relented.

Your fingers dipped slipped the cock ring off in one motion, grabbing his face by the cheeks with the other hand, “Then, come for me, baby.”

And he did.

Keigo fucked himself down on the strap one final time before screaming in divine rapture.

He collapsed on top of you, crying out and curling into you as his cock sprayed your chests and thighs. Thick spurts of creamy cum dripped between the two of your bodies as Keigo rode out his orgasm, your hand still on his cock, milking him for all he had. Any words he tried to babble out were broken and meaningless, only serving to help Keigo release his pent up need for relief now that it was finally squashed.

You kept your hand wrapped around his cock, rolling your wrist from base to hip as Keigo rattled on top of your own sweaty frame.

He sniffled, pressing into your neck and weakly pushing your hand, “T-too much.”

You released him easily, shushing Keigo when he tried to move or assist you. You carefully slipped from his tight, lube-slicked hole and undid the harness of the strap on. Your own hips ached from exertion, skin bruised by the biting of the straps, but you were sure it was nothing compared to Keigo’s full-body ache. You’d had him every which way throughout the course of the night, you were sure he wouldn’t be standing correctly for a few days. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

You fell back with Keigo, pulling him to your chest. His head fell against you as his wings spread haphazardly and unsupported. For a moment, you worried he’d passed out, but a short groan and gentle squeeze proved you otherwise.

You set upon his trembling form with all the love you could show him.

“Oh, Keigo,” You peppered his forehead and hair with kisses as he hid his face at your sternum. “You did so well, you took me so, so well, baby. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much, 'Kei.”

He nuzzled into you, making small noises with not much sense to them. You gave him a sympathetic smile, rubbing circles into his lower back, “Would you like some water, baby? Or do you want to wait a little longer?”

Keigo shook his head, weakly kissing the top of your breasts, “N-now, please.”

You grabbed a bottle on the nightstand, pre-chilled in preparation for the inevitable outcome. Keigo slowly rose when you offered the bottle to him, hardly going far before downing mo of the liquid in a few gulps. It was obvious he needed it with the harsh flush of his face and the sweat growing cold on his skin.

He passed the bottle back to you, nestling back into you as he did. His wings quivered as they covered your forms, plumage soft and twitching as Keigo sweetly came down from his overstimulation and mushy mental state.

You set upon him with more sweet kisses and enough praise to drown a man with an ego smaller than Keigo’s. It was all gentle, coaxing him from his mental fog with lots of obvious love and attention. Keigo didn’t fall into submissive headspaces easily and that made it all the more imperative to be deliberate and ginger with helping him out.

You started blowing and leaving kisses around his ears, making him jolt and giggle at you. It was something high and airy, a side only you got to see. You loved how it sounded and felt so close to you.

Keigo gently cupped your face, returning your affections, albeit weaker. With his sagging eyelids, he was clearly spent.

“Was all that okay? I know it was intense,” You asked, pressing into Keigo’s gesture. You needed a bit of extra attention too, and Keigo was more than willing to lavish you the best he could in his state.

All gooey himself, Keigo shook his head, wrapping his arms and legs around you in a tight embrace, “Very good. Still kinda fucked out though.”

“I can tell,” You laughed. You kissed into his honeyed hair, tangling your fingers to the scalp to massage and work any tension out of his neck. “Take all the time you need. I’m right here.”

Keigo purred around you, breaths evening out and slowing.

You silently slipped from the bed, running to the bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean him. When you re-entered the dimly lit room, Keigo was sitting up, rubbing at his eyes and finishing his water.

Keigo cracked you a smile, as you came back to kneel on the bed. His voice was hoarse with its prior activities and expletives, “You know, I’m gonna get you back for all of that. Even worse.”

You rolled your eyes, “I look forward to it.”

You pressed a kiss to the corner of Keigo’s mouth, urging him down to the sheets.

He didn’t fight you, but you were sure he would.

#salem writes #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #takami x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks reader insert #reader insert #hawks smut #mha smut #mha #bnha #takami keigo x y/n #i tried to write smut without a bunch of lead up i rlly did #soft hawks #sub hawks #sub takami keigo #mha x reader #bnha x reader

[neoculturetravesty]

The waiting game

Image taken from here.

Pairing: Kun x Reader Genre: smut, pwp, it’s literally just filth with a tiny bit of fluff at the end. Warnings: 18+, Daddy Kun, sub reader, daddy/ddlg kink, praise kink, bondage (handcuffs and ankle restraints), fingering, overstimulation with a vibrator, orgasm denial, anal plug, humiliation, spanking, unprotected sex, squirting, facial, fluffy aftercare. Word Count: 3.2k words of the most pwp I’ve ever written. There is no plot whatsoever.

Summary: “Will my baby be okay to bend over like this for a while?” you hear him ask behind you. You turn your head just a little to reply “Yes, Daddy.” 

A/N: Kind of wanted to write some absurdist, slightly unrealistic, fantastical, pornographic smut. And it so happened that Kun ended up becoming the vehicle for this piece. 

“Daddy, please…” you look up at Kun, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you whimper.

“I know, baby, I know.” He takes your face in his hands and wipes away at your tears with the pads of his thumbs. He leans in and gives you a healing, nurturing kiss. “Daddy knows you can take it. Daddy knows you’re his brave girl.”

You whimper and your eyebrows knit together as you look up at him to sob. You’re pretty sure you look anything but brave... you probably look like the most pathetic girl to ever exist. But you can’t keep your composure any longer and you suppose that is what Kun wanted. He wanted to strip you bare so you weren’t hiding from him. So you were showing him your true self, your most vulnerable self, your most naked self. 

It’s why he had put you in this position for what you’re sure has been an hour. On all fours on a table top, panties pulled down to your thighs, a vibrator attached to your pussy, a shiny pink butt plug inserted in your ass. Your tits were just covered enough by a barely there camisole that said ‘Daddy’s Princess’ across the chest in bright pink letters. Each of your ankles was tied to the corresponding leg of the table. Erotic handcuffs with black leather straps were binding your delicate wrists like bracelets. Your back was beautifully arched and your chest was risen tall because that’s how Kun liked it. 

“My princess looks so pretty like this.” He had complimented when he had finished his handiwork and stepped back to look at you. But it was getting harder and harder to stay pretty for him. The vibrator bound to your pussy was buzzing at an agonizing pace--not moving any slower to give you a break, not moving any faster to give you relief. You had, at one point, ground your hips against it to get some variation in friction and you think you must have lost your posture in doing so because it had resulted in Kun giving powerful smacks to your bare ass which made the plug jolt inside you, making you see stars.

Now your ass was red and hot as you struggled to keep your back arched. 

“Press down to absorb the pleasure, princess. Make yourself pretty for Daddy.” Kun had taught you and that’s what you had been trying to do for the past few minutes. But now it was getting to be too much. The slow, tormenting buzzing on your core was making it drip embarrassingly. You were pretty sure your pussy had engorged to maybe twice it’s usual size. Plus, any time you clenched and unclenched around the plug; it made lubricant ooze out of you, because Kun had used way too much and asked you to hold it in like a good girl. You couldn’t see it, but you felt the mess your holes were creating. The only upside was that Kun had placed soft pillows beneath your hands and knees.

You felt vulnerable like this. Wearing a barely there shirt, with your panties pulled down to your thighs. Maybe you would’ve felt less humiliated if Kun had simply taken them all the way off. But you were so exposed and your need was building but not being fulfilled. You were so sexually frustrated and so fucking needy that it was making you cry. But Kun kept stalking your body. Circling around as if you were a lab experiment he was studying, as if he was taking notes on how your body was reacting to each sensation. Every now and then, he would press his palm to the small of your back to put you back in his desired state. Or he’d wiggle and smoothen your panties so they laid smooth and stretched around your thighs. He’d fix your top when all your squirming had made it ride over your tits. He’d push the butt plug back in if you had pushed it out. When would he stop? You didn’t know and it drove you crazy. Maybe that’s what he wanted. To break you down bit by bit through this waiting game. To get to the deepest parts of you that no man had ever seen. To get you to show your true submissive self where you would want nothing else but your Daddy for relief.

Right now, though, he was by your head and he wasn’t fixing you anymore. All his attention was on calming you. When you let out a wail and cry so much that your chest heaves, he presses a long, lingering kiss to your forehead and says,

“Just a bit longer, baby girl. You’re doing so well.” He takes your face in his hands and looks at you with nurturing eyes. But it only makes you look back and cry to him.

“Daddy, pleasseeee… I can’t take this any more! I need to come!” you are barely able to word it out between your sobs.

Kun sighs and grabs a stool and adjusts its height so he is at level with your face when he sits. He takes your face in his hands once more.

“Kiss Daddy to take your mind off of it, princess. But if you want it to stop, you’ll have to say your color.” 

You think about it for a moment. You had come this far. Your pussy was aching and sensitive and your asshole was swollen. Your back was aching a bit and the makeup you had spent nearly an hour doing was probably spoiled. You’re pretty sure the mascara is streaked around your eyes from all the crying. Your hair was probably messy, too, because Kun had grabbed it at one point. But you had come this far. Kun had never been one to hold back his rewards if you’d pleased him in these waiting challenges. And those rewards were always so toe-curlingly bountiful that they made every moment of sexual agony worth it. 

So you end up kissing him though the decision makes you sob into the kiss, like you knew you that you yourself had chosen the torture whereas Kun had offered you a way out. You’re sniffling as you absorb the slow torment in your pussy and Kun kisses you deep. He swirls his tongue in your mouth till you’re drooling down your chin but he doesn’t care. He loved all your messes. He loved that he made you this way: leaking and drooling and crying and submissive. His perfect little princess.

“You’ve made Daddy so proud today, princess.” he coos into the kiss. “Will you be a good girl and stay very still while he undoes everything?”

You nod furiously, your sobs dying down to obedient sniffles as the hope of relief runs through your body. You can feel the mess of tears, mascara and drool on your face, but you don’t seem to care. Kun had already seen the worst of you. No, he had pulled it out of you because that’s what he wanted. That’s what your man wanted.

The man in question walks around to the back of the table now and finally turns the vibrator off. You let out a high pitched, shaky sound of relief, although you don’t feel relieved in any way. You just feel even more sexually frustrated because Kun is taking his time wiping the vibrator off and wrapping the cord and putting it back in it’s right place. Sometimes, you hated his fucking perfectionist guts. Then he methodically undoes the binds around your ankles and you exhale as the circulation returns when you move them around. You place your chest down on the table for a breather when he moves his attention to the huge plug in your ass. He holds it gently and though you know he’s going to be as careful as ever to take it out, you still find yourself gripping onto the edge of the table and holding your breath. But the pain does not come because he twists and turns it so gently, you barely even feel it and only notice it’s absence when the lube starts dripping more freely out of your hole. 

You feel his warm, soft kisses on your ass. “My baby did so well.” he praises and you feel your heart soar. All this pain was worth it if you got to hear him talk like that. Then you find him holding you by the waist and sliding you to the edge of the table, holding your legs and helping you find your footing till you are bent over like he wants. 

“Will my baby be okay to bend over like this for a while?” you hear him ask behind you.

You turn your head just a little to reply “Yes, Daddy.” 

“Good girl.” he pats your bum before you hear the telltale sounds of him undoing his belt and pulling his zipper down. These sounds worked on you like the sounds of bells worked on Pavlov’s dogs. Because you find your pussy dripping for him almost immediately. You move the pillows under your chest and place your cheek on the cool surface of the table as you wait for him to take you. Your wrists are still bound by the handcuffs and it makes you feel so bloody submissive that for a while, you’re happy your pussy is dripping so shamelessly for Kun. You wonder if he likes the mess he’s made between your legs.

But that smugness is chased right away when he pushes his cock inside of you and you’re moaning out in no time. He fucks into you so your mound presses into the edge of the table over and over and your moans become more gurgled.

“Your cock feels so good, Daddy!” you mewl desperately and it works because it encourages him to go faster and soon, your chest is lifting off the table because the pressure in your abdomen is building and building. 

Kun grabs your hair and lifts you off the table and hugs your body to him, into his chest. He fucks you like this, standing up and moans in your ear.

“My baby is so good for me. My princess is so good for her Daddy.” He tells you and you think you’re going to burst, so you tell him.

“Daddy, I need to come!” 

“No, baby.” He replies and pulls out of you so quickly that you lose your balance and double over the table, breathing out of your mouth erratically.

“Daddyyyy!” you whine with your entire body at the betrayal.

“Come here.” He invites as he takes a seat on his favorite armchair. Your panties are still around your thighs and you know he wants you to keep them there. So you waddle your way to him, all your pride be damned. He cups your ass right away and helps you get on his lap, looping your bound wrists around his neck as you straddle him.

“My pretty baby.” he says as he looks up to kiss you. “Does my baby want to come?”

You nod and your face contorts again and you don’t realize that your frown has turned into a sob “Please, Daddy…” you beg.

He kisses your shoulder. “Shhh. It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s got you.” 

He brings both hands between your legs from behind and pushes down your panties that have ridden up and goes straight for your pussy. His hands rub soothing strokes on the entirety of it, almost like he’s massaging you. Both his hands spread your lips apart then his fingers press against your flesh.

“My good girl…” he coos when he sinks two fingers into your hole while the other hand keeps holding you open for him. He begins pumping and you whimper in his lap, saying ‘Daddy’ over and over like an incantation. But then he curls his fingers inside of you and starts pumping up strongly and you know you’re going to burst soon. You unloop your arms from around him so you can push against his chest.

“Daddy, I think I’m going to squirt.” you warn desperately, worriedly.

He kisses you “It’s okay, baby girl, you can squirt,” he assures you.

“Can I get off you, Daddy? I don’t want to make a mess on you.” you bring both hands to your pussy now, covering because you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out before you have an accident on his pants.

But he uses his free hand to grab your bound wrists and loop them around his neck again. “It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s got you. You can squirt right here.” He kisses your cheek caringly.

“Can I take my panties off, Daddy? I don’t want to make them dirty.” you have no idea why you’re so self-conscious about your messes when your face probably looks like one anyway.

“It’s okay, baby. Daddy doesn’t mind if you come in your panties or on his pants. Daddy wants you to come like this, on his lap where you’re safe.” he wraps one arm firmly around the middle of your back while the fingers of the other hand pump with precision because he knows exactly how to make you explode. 

You know you have no choice. You’re whimpering in frustration but you have nowhere to go but his arms. It’s what he wants. He wants you coming undone without hiding from him. And you know it’s bad because your hips are hovering off of his lap, trying to get away from all the pleasure and pressure in your pussy. You bury your face in his neck and wail till your voice strains before it cuts off. And before you know it, you are raining down all over him.

“That’s it, baby girl. Just let go for your Daddy. Let it all out.” He’s rubbing your back, nurturing, which is in striking contrast to what his other hand is doing inside your pussy. You’re embarrassed beyond belief because the squirt is falling onto Kun with a splattering sound and you regret lifting off of him. But you can’t really think because your entire body is convulsing and if he wasn’t holding you, you would’ve fallen off already. When you still, he holds you close, rubbing his hands up and down your back, pressing kisses to your forehead. 

“Are you sure you let it all out, baby girl?” He asks, bringing a hand back to your pussy and sinking a finger into your hole as if to confirm.

“I think so, Daddy.” you say meekly into his neck.

“Stand up so Daddy can check.” He says and you almost groan because you don’t want to stand up. You just want to go limp in his arms and never move ever again in your life. 

But nothing good even comes out of defying Kun so you’re up on your feet, supporting yourself with your bound hands on his shoulder. Your pussy is right in front of him like this and he furrows his eyebrows, pushing his fingers inside of you and inspecting you with an almost clinical concentration. When you moan out, he nods like he’s confirmed something.

“I think you can come one more time.” he turns you so you’re standing sideways to him. He brings one hand from behind, under your legs and into your hole, while his other hand splays over your lower abdomen, pressing as if to squeeze anything that’s left out of you. Your toes curl as you moan restlessly because you weren’t sure you could, but once Kun had decided he wanted something, he almost always got it. You let out dry, frustrated sobs and he looks up at you.

“Baby girl. Concentrate and come.” he scolds and he reaches with his thumb to rub circles on your clit as well. You stand there whimpering, moaning, giving into your boyfriend’s desires and soon, you find your body convulsing once again. Kun has to hold you tighter by the pussy because you’re doubling over as your orgasm hits. Soon, he has pulled you into his lap once more, making you sit on his thigh as he kisses you.

“Good girl.” He kisses your lips while his hand goes between your legs to soothe over your aching pussy. “That’s my good girl.” he says in between kisses and you smile lazily because you’re happy you pleased him. 

“Is my good girl going to take Daddy’s cum on her face?” he asks lovingly as he gently pulls your panties up and puts them snugly in place, covering you.

“Yes, Daddy.” You say, in a soft, almost sleepy voice. You were spent.

Kun kisses your temple, tender and long. “Get on your knees for me, baby girl. Take Daddy’s cum all over your pretty face.”

“Yes, Daddy.” you say sweetly as you get on your knees and look up into his eyes from below, like the loving submissive that you were. And he stands up and unzips himself more so he can take his cock in his hands and look at you adoringly as he pumps himself. You rub your palms over his thighs to help him along and soon his breaths have turned to moans and his moans have turned to grunts and he is coming all over your face, hitting your cheek, your forehead, your lips, your eyes. It clings onto your eyelashes; some of it even lands on your hair. You squeeze your eyes shut and keep them closed, staying very still as Kun holds the top of your head and strokes every last drop out onto your face.

He stands back panting “Fuckkk, you look so fucking gorgeous, baby.” he breathes out and you smile gently without opening your eyes.

“Stay like that.” you hear after a while and then feel his thumbs swipe carefully over and between your eyelids. “Open.” he says and you blink your eyes open but soon realize that he meant your mouth because he’s scooping all the cum off your face with his thumb and feeding it to you. You oblige because when he’s done, he kisses you deeply in gratitude.

He walks away for a while and you stay there on your knees, wrists bound, spent to the bone, feeling like your legs have turned to jelly. So you lay your head on the seat of Kun’s chair so you can doze off just like that but he’s back before you’re totally gone. He’s undoing the handcuffs and kissing the skin of your wrists when it is exposed. He is lifting your shirt off of you and your panties and scooping your naked body in his arms and carrying you till he’s placed you in a hot bath. He bathes you thoroughly, massages your scalp when he shampoos your hair, then dries you off and anoints your pussy with soothing balms when he’s done. Then he puts you in one of his shirts that hangs to your thighs like a dress and then pulls you into his arms and tucks the covers around you so you’re snug into him, warm and comfortable and safe.

You feel so good that you decide that you would make breakfast for him in the morning just to thank him for being the best boyfriend in the world. But like all mornings, he beats you to it and you wake to breakfast in bed. 

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

#kun smut #kun fic #nct smut #kpopscape #neosmutcollective #ficscafe #kun #wayv smut #wayv fic #nct fic #wayv #nct #kun imagines #kun scenarios #qian kun #wayv kun #kun fluff #pwp #kpop smut #kpop fic #wayv hard hours #nct hard hours #ugh why won't this show in the tags

[anonquack]

| Chef Q |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot, Requested by: @anotherdreamsimp !!

Word Count: 3328

Warnings: Some curse words, mainly just some fluff !

Summary: Quackity hasn't been streaming recently, and decides to come back with a cooking stream. Featuring you as a special guest.

Lately, Quackity had been studying like crazy for his final exams. That meant no streaming. He'd take a break from it to focus entirely on his studies. Absolutely nothing else.

He claimed to have his priorities straight, and had the goal to pass all exams with high scores in order to keep his grades looking wonderful.

This also meant there was rarely any time spent between you two, beside the occasional snack breaks you forced him to take so he wouldn't die at his desk.

It was tough not being able to show him a random video you'd found on the timeline, or walking up to chat with him whenever you wanted, but you knew this was very important to him. So you gladly supported him and offered as much support as possible.

Thankfully, all of his studying paid off and he passed with flying colors. A teacher had even informed him that he'd received the top score for one of his final exams.

You were the first person to hear the news, and you couldn't help but feel the adoration coursing through your body at how excited he was to tell you. Jumping up and down and shaking you lightly as he told you about his scores.

You'd offered to take him out for a celebratory meal, to treat him for all his hard work and also since you missed the fun outings with him. There was no way he was saying no to that.

—

After a day out and about, you two had made your way back home. Both of you were pleasantly full, having enjoyed the meal and also dessert. His request, for "doing so well on his finals." How could you possibly deny him that?

You both were also very content, a warmth and comfort surrounding the air around you two the entirety of the outing.

One thing that was impossible not to notice was how he'd become exceptionally clingy as soon as you two were out of the car. Gripping onto your hand tightly as you singlehandedly unlocked the front door.

"I've missed you so much these past few days." He murmered as you finally got the door to open and pulled him inside.

"I've missed you too." You hummed softly. It was always nice hearing him say these things. You locked the front door, and gently pulled at his hand to lead him back to your room.

It didn't take much of a pull for him to willingly follow you. "Can we cuddle or something?" He asked softly, almost as if he was a bit embarrassed to ask. You turned to him and gave him a grin, along with a small nod.

You'd missed him, even if you two had been in the same apartment this whole time. You'd especially been missing cuddles with him, considering he studied pretty much all day. There wasn't enough time being shared together so you gladly agreed to some cuddling.

Sooner than later, you two found yourselves in your pajamas, laying in bed peacefully as you scrolled through tiktok, screen tilted in order for him to see as well. It really was so nice finally being able to be this close to him again.

After some time, you found yourself looking through tweets on the timeline. A certain one caught his attention and he asked you to stop scrolling.

It was a tweet from a fan, saying they missed Quackity since he hadn't streamed in two weeks, but that overall they hoped his tests were going fine.

"Has it really been 2 weeks?" He asked aloud as he clicked on it and looked through the replies, all agreeing with the original tweet.

"Mm.. two and a half, I think." You answered, looking at him curiously as a guilty expression appeared on his face.

"Hey." You called out once you saw the expression wasn't leaving. He turned to you with a small frown.

"It's fine. You had a good reason for being gone so long. I'm sure they understand. Plus, you'll be back soon, right?" You asked, to which he nodded before sitting up from the cuddling position you two were in.

You sat up as well, noticing how his eyes widened slightly, and a small smile made its way onto his face.

"I just got a great idea." He exclaimed. "Y'know, I was going to just spend the next few days with you since I missed you but– how about we stream something together? That way I can enjoy both, and the fans get a stream too."

You stared at him in surprise. The fans did know he was dating someone, but you rarely ever came out on streams, not because he didn't want you to but because you didn't deem it to be necessary.

The few times you had been on, you'd received tons of love and support from the chat, so you didn't think anything too bad would happen if you were to appear on his stream again.

"What did you have in mind?" You asked curiously. The other times you'd been on were him playing horror games and an extremely scuffed IRL stream.

"Well.. I haven't done a cooking stream in a while." He began, but you quickly shook your head.

"Oh no. Don't tell me you're going to make us eat some monstrosity‐ like your past cooking streams." You visibly shuddered at the thought. You remember having to help clean up the mess after. And no matter how funny it had been, the actual cleanup was awful.

"No no– I was thinking maybe we do a serious one, y'know? Chat hasn't really been able to see my cooking abilities, and well.. I'd say I am pretty good at it." He grinned. He was unfortunately right.

You relaxed at the mention of it being a 'serious' cooking stream. It could never really be too serious when it came to Quackity, but it meant not eating dog food or poorly made pizza. You were in.

"So we'll make an actual.. edible.. meal?" You questioned again, just to be sure. To which he nodded.

"Yeah, and we can enjoy that meal after. Like a date. What do you say?" He was beaming. It was his creativity rolling in. And he was probably so proud of himself for finding a way to spend time with you yet also give chat the stream content they'd been missing out on.

"Alright. I'm in."

You hadn't seen him this eager to get out of bed and head to the grocery store ever before. Chat was really in for a fun stream tomorrow.

—

He'd tweeted it out several hours before you two planned on starting the stream that he'd be streaming today with a special guest, and that he had his chef hat ready to go.

As you scrolled through Twitter you could see the timeline freaking out over 'COOKING STREAM' and 'SPECIAL GUEST'. Lots of discussion over who it was.

You couldn't help but feel a bit bad since the fans were probably speculating that he'd met up with his online friends, but in reality it was just you. In that case, you'd try your best to make this a fun stream, and your presence an enjoyable one.

As the time for the stream to start got closer, you helped him set the ingredients you'd be using onto the table, in a way where it was in perfect view for the stream to see and follow along if they wished.

"We're supposed to start in 5." You called out as he slipped his beanie on, fixing the few hair strands that were sticking out a bit too much.

He smiled and made his way over to you, cupping your face and giving you a small kiss. "I'm so excited to do some cooking with you. They're all going to love you."

You couldn't help the warm feeling that spread over your chest at his words. It was like introducing you all over again. He'd recently gained a lot of new followers, and that meant they probably had no idea who you were. Always fun going through that again.

He dealt with some last minute editing and placing, checking all ingredients were there and that everything was set, before hitting the 'Go Live' button.

It didn't take long for the viewers to increase after the tweet notification went out, and the starting soon screen was the only thing really protecting you two from the roaring chat.

Everyone was dying to know what was going on, who the special guest was, and whether this would be yet another scuffed cooking stream.

You stood behind the camera as the starting soon screen finally disappeared and he began greeting the viewers, thanking all the subs coming in, and eventually also giving them a little update on how he'd done on his exams.

You felt so proud as you watched him boast about how his studying had paid off, and how he talked about being the happiest he'd been in a while. He deserved all of it. And chat thought so too.

After some rambling about his test scores and what they'd be cooking today, chat finally became too impatient and asked for a reveal of the special guest.

"Fine. Fine. Since you guys are so fucking impatient." He huffed, watching as chat flew by, telling him to 'get on with it' and to 'TELL US WHO IT IS'. You couldn't help but laugh at the relationship he had with his chat. Always bullying each other but usually knowing when to stop and send love.

"I've actually had them on multiple other streams, not so much recently.. but they've been on my horror streams.. some IRL streams.. and they are really really special to me, chat!" He said with a big smile. Some of chat was confused as to who he was referring to, while older fans began to question if it was YOU. They were very smart.

"Some of the viewers might not know of them, so this is like I'm introducing them to chat all over again! Come over here." He finally directed the last part at you. You couldn't help but feel the sudden spike in anxiety, but chose to ignore it as you smiled back at him and headed into the frame beside him.

With a small wave and a greeting, you watched as chat completely broke. A mess of question marks and your name being spread in chat. You couldn't help but laugh. It was an overwhelmingly positive reaction as Quackity explained to new viewers that you were his partner, and that older fans were already aware of this for a while now.

The amount of 'y/n our beloved' and people asking if quackity's partner was single were abundant in chat, and you couldn't help but feel stupid for thinking the newer viewers would hate you or something.

Having the approval of Quackity's chat also made you feel lighter, it made it easier to let go and just enjoy the cooking stream.

You two began to explain what you'd be cooking to chat, and you made it very clear that he actually had to try and cook this time, to which chat agreed wholeheartedly.

He'd taken a recipe from his mom for one of his favorite meals, one he hadn't had in a while. He explained to chat that he wanted to see how well you and him could recreate it until you two took a trip to visit his family.

"Hopefully we don't disappoint her too much." You mumbled as he placed the chef hat onto your head, fixing it so you looked presentable.

"She can't be because we're actually gonna try." He stated before beginning to explain to chat what the meal was since many of them might not have even heard of it before. As he did that, you began to set aside the ingredients you wouldn't be needing until later.

After everything had been explained, it was time to get cooking. His concentration to try and recreate his mom's recipe was adorable, and chat agreed on that too.

This stream wasn't loud and messy like the others, but it was still enjoyable in its own way. Quackity was radiating such wonderful light and energy, cracking jokes and genuinely enjoying himself. It was all thanks to the stress and worries being lifted off his back. You really enjoyed seeing him like this.

Chat was able to follow along later if they wanted with how organized you guys were being, but the banter he had with you and chat made it entertaining to any casual viewer. He always found a way to make it fun.

Not only that, but chat was able to see a new side of him. The Chef Q side. More often than not, a message would roll in saying they were amazed by how good Quackity actually was at cooking. You could already imagine some of the edits that'd come out of the stream.

His mom had told you two beforehand how long it would normally take to cook this meal, and it was perfect for a usual stream and some extras where you two would actually get to try the food.

There was moments where chat was warning you two that the food would burn or that he'd accidentally set the kitchen on fire, but overall you were enjoying yourself so much.

And chat was enjoying your presence too!

By the time you two managed to finish the meal, you both plopped down onto the chairs he'd set for the supposed 'breaks'.

He had some of the sauce on his cheek and his apron, but still managed to look good. He'd also smeared sauce onto your cheek, and at this point some strands were sticking out of your hat in such a messy way since the last few minutes had been rather hectic, food almost burning and all.

"Chat. We did it." He called out before cheering loudly and clapping his hands, to which you swiftly followed along, chat beginning to cheer as well.

"I think its only right that we try what we made, don't you think?" You ask, to which chat quickly types YES in all caps, wanting to see the finished product and also find out if it even tastes good.

Quackity let out a chuckle as he smiled over at you. "Not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous. We haven't even seen it so it might just be black. Burnt to a crisp. Or what if it tastes like shit? Y/N i don't know what I'm going to do if the food tastes like shit. Thats what we're supposed to eat on our date." He whined a bit.

You shook your head, "It'll be great. And if not, we can just order takeout. It'll be fine big q." You smiled reassuringly. Chat became a frenzy of calling him cute for the state he was in, declaring their love for how supportive and kind you were, and melting over your relationship.

Before you knew it, you were both revealing the meal to chat, and pleasantly surprised by the results. The presentation of the meal itself looked really good. It looked like what you'd expect from such a plate. Quackity had even gone as far as saying it looked similar to how his mom made it.

You gasped, smiling in surprise at him. "Really? Did we really do that good of a job." His face turned into one of regret, and a long segment of silence engulfed you two before he nodded hesitantly. You both broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Okay okay, seriously. Chat's waiting for you to try it." You placed a fork in front of him, earning a loud scoff from him.

"They want to see you try it as well." He mirrored your actions and you gladly took the fork.

"Alright. First bite. Let's see if all our hard work paid off! Chat, are you ready?" You grinned and watched as the 'YES's started rolling in, some viewers telling you both to get the fuck on with it, and others gushing about how the food actually looked good. You could only hope.

You watched as he began to dig in, mouth full and chewing slowly, truly trying to savor the first bite. You did the same, and the stream was silent for the first time in a while. Chat was in suspense as well, question marks and incoherent rambling rolling through the chat.

"Chat..." he finally spoke after swallowing his bite. "Chat. It's." He paused before showing a small smile. "It's not bad at all. I like it. It's good."

You nodded your head in agreement, "It's nowhere near as good as the ones your mom makes.. but I think you and I make a pretty good team."

"I think so too. And not just for cooking." He grinned, earning himself a playful eye roll and shy smile from you.

The stream proceeded to you two feeding each other bites of the meal, asking each other if it was good, and just enjoying yourselves for a bit longer before Quackity deemed it was time to end.

"Chat !! Thank you so much for tuning in and watching this.. actually coordinated cooking stream. I had so much fun and well, I ate yummy food. I'm happy." He laughed, thanking a few more gifters before doing his signature Bye, and ending stream.

He hurried over to your side, pulling you into a hug. "Thank you so much. I truly had fun. And they definitely loved you, but not nearly as much as I do."

You chuckled at his words, giving him a small kiss before cupping his face. "I had a lot of fun too. Thank you for always being so nice to me." You paused, observing how cute he looked with his chef hat still on. "I think I like Chef Alex." You reached over and fixed his hat a bit.

"Yeah? Should I keep it on?" He teased, coming a bit closer. You couldn't help the warmth that spread over your cheeks at how blunt he was.

"Yes, but you need to help me clean this up. Maybe after we finish the food, hm? C'mon. Don't think I forgot our deal."

He whined, already feeling too lazy, but he quickly followed after you as you two sat down to actually eat. Still wearing the silly attire he'd bought for the stream, far too unbothered to change just yet.

Through a mouthful he asked, "Cuddles and a nap after we're done?"

You smiled and nodded, to which he gave a silent cheer. That was enough motivation to get you both up and cleaning after finishing the meal.

—

Wrapped in each other's arms again. He couldn't seem to get enough of it. You were once again scrolling through Twitter, this time scrolling through his indirects, wanting to see what people were saying about the stream.

He'd ask you to stop to read certain ones he found funny, and even 'aww'd at the ones he found cute, mainly those talking about how cute you two looked.

Surely enough, there was already edits using the clips of him cooking, and you'd openly admitted to him that he looked "so fucking good." To which he responded by cuddling closer, if even humanly possible.

Quackity found the numerous clips of you two feeding each other to be the best part of the tweets. You two rewatched, saved, liked as many as you could before he became tired.

And with that, he was pulling you close, and leaving small kisses anywhere he could on your face. Eventually, his chest slowly rose and fell as he entered a deep slumber. You smiled, glad to see he was finally getting the rest he deserved.

"Goodnight, Alex." You whispered, leaving a small kiss on his cheek before closing your eyes as well.

#alex quackity #quackity #quackity x you #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #gender neutral reader #quackity brainrot #quackity scenario #streamer #quackity headcannons #quackity imagines #chef quackity #cooking stream #quackity fluff #quackity my beloved #revealing lovers #leave some requests !!! I am accepting requests #look at me posting a few days apart wooo #quackity <3

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 7

Summer

Chapters: Six | Seven

Master List

Warnings: Fluff, Fluff and more Fluff

Word Count: ~2.74k

Inspiration: Don't Go - Exo

A/N: And with this chapter, I conclude this series. Thank you for all the love you all gave my baby project!

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall, @badbitxhbuckybarnes , @sweet-assh0le

‘Why am I nervous? We've done much more than just kiss. For fucks sake! I'm the mother of his child.’

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down before pushing the cart from behind your truck towards the large glass doors of the café. You had offered to take today’s batch of bread and pastries to Levi’s to snag a chance to see him, much to Mikasa’s annoyance.

“Oi, brat! You’re late.”, Levi remarked without looking up from his laptop when the bell above the door rang with your entrance, expecting her to have finally arrived.

“Levi, I’m so sorry! I made an impromptu decision to come here instead of Mikasa and -”, you emerged from behind the lofty stack of boxes.

Your hair was up in a messy bun, you were panting from hauling the weight and the resultant perspiration made you glow. Your continual rambling about why you were late, instantly gave him a feeling of Déjà vu, hurling him eight years back in time to the morning when he first laid his eyes on you.  Mirroring that day, he couldn’t focus on anything you were saying, gawking at you with unblinking eyes given how stupefied he was by the sight before his eyes and the sound of your voice.

“Levi? Are you listening?”, you waved your hand in front of his face, disrupting the mental movie playing in his head.

“Huh? Oh, y-yeah. Hi.” he shook his head vigorously and blinked a few times to bring himself back to the present.

Both a blushing mess, you stood by the entrance to the cafe, smiling at each other like two smitten high-schoolers.

“Are you finally back together?”, a shriek from the opposite end of the seating area made your ears ring.

The cacophony was loud enough that Erwin’s head immediately peaked out of his office; his face riddled with confusion. Both your necks snapped towards the source - Hange was running in your direction with the brightest grin on their face. Every head in the room was turned towards you. Eren and other new members of staff at the café, Armin, Jean, Sasha and Connie were slack jawed with their gaping eyes fixed on you after being subjected to this abrupt and unnecessary announcement. One look from Levi sent them scrambling back to work.

“Fucking four-eyes.” he mumbled as they came closer.

“I knew it! You lovebirds couldn’t stay apart for long!”, they squealed with joy enveloping you both in an spontaneous group hug, not giving Levi an opportunity to flinch away.

“Shhh! Calm down, Hange! We’re not back together. Yet.”, you tugged on their hands trying to free yourself from their clasp.

Levi's eyes met and stayed on yours when you uttered the last word, the way his heart fluttered at the sound of it clearly reflecting on his face.

Yet.

“But you were together last night. You have both put in way too much effort in your appearances today. And the color on Short-stack's cheeks can be spotted from Mars! What am I missing here?”, they observed, unaware of the heat rising within their two friends thinking about their final moments together at the Ackerman home yesterday.

Always the perceptive one, Hange. They weren’t entirely wrong. You did spend forty minutes in your closet hunting for the one floral lemon-yellow dress that Levi loved seeing you in; piling on deodorant while simultaneously cursing the hot summer. You picked your reflection in the mirror apart for way too long, fiddling with the necklace he bought you ages ago while rehearsing what you would say to him.

By the looks of it, he did too. He looked oh-so handsome today. Granted, he always did. But today was different. He wore your favorite navy-blue button-down shirt with slate grey slacks, sleeves folded to reveal his toned fore arms, and the top two buttons left open to aid with the sweltering heat; or was it because he knew that it made you weak in the knees when he wore his shirts that way? And his cheeks and ears were definitely a brighter shade of pink than the raspberry compote on the cheesecake you brought.

He stood pinching the bridge of his nose, his breathing starting to speed up. You figured it was his attempt at suppressing the strong urge to smack the grin right off Hange’s face.

“Hange, I promise, I’ll give you all the details later. But for now, Levi and I have things to discuss.”, you pulled him away before he could act on his impulse.

Taking a seat at the table by the large bay window, kissed by the morning sun, you watched the city slowly rise awake with your cheek resting on the palm of your hand. Levi, who was walking back from the kitchen with a cup of tea for himself and a caramel latte for you, stopped in his tracks to mentally frame this image. It was as if you were a different person than who he met over the last two days.

There were no signs of the anxious but adoring mother from yesterday nor the bewildered, pained ex-wife from the day before; you were the same clumsy, moody, garrulous, as well as kind, selfless and mesmerizing woman he fell madly in love with when you walked in through the doors of this very place eight years ago. How could one person flood his heart with a barrage of different emotions this way?

You acknowledged him with a soft ‘hi’ accompanied by a smile when he sat down on the chair opposite to you, nervous about the forthcoming conversation. You stole occasional glances at each other while sipping your beverages, hesitating to be the one to say the first word.

“Do you hate me?”, he asked out of the blue, his gaze locked on his cup.

“No! Why would you think that?”

“Uh- you obviously had a chance to think about what I said to you after going home last night. Why would you possibly want to still see me?”

“Well, I’m here, aren't I? I want to work on us if you’re willing to try as well, Levi. I want to see where this takes us.”, you smiled, placing your hand on his.

"Me too."

.

.

Four months later

The day of Suki and Furlan's wedding was finally here. The venue was set, guests had arrived and you were busy helping the bride get ready for her special day, having spent all morning with her, Isabel and the other bridesmaids in the bridal suite, chatting away in excitement and anticipation for the day ahead.

“Honestly speaking, Suki, I’d have a hard time keeping my hands off you if I were Furlan”, you teased while draping the veil into her hair, causing her to bury her face into her palms.

“You’re one to talk! Levi has been looking for reasons to see you all morning. I had to turn him away thrice already. I'm pretty sure he is going to murder me after the wedding is over.”, Isabel shot back with a smirk.

The last four months had been nothing short of a whirlwind. After that morning at the cafe, having breakfast with Levi turned into a routine. He brought Luna along on most days, and the three of you spent time chatting and admiring the toddler’s antics over tea and scones while sitting at your usual table by the bay window. Sometimes you’d have her accompany you to the patisserie to give Levi a much-deserved break.

Everyone there was enamored with the little firecracker. Her Uncle Miche had always been her favorite because the gentle giant ferried her around the large kitchen on his shoulders. Bertholdt and Reiner would happily comply to all the orders their mini boss belted out. Annie, although a little awkward around her, listened intently to her endless stories; Mikasa secretly pampered her with numerous treats even after several warnings from you, and Nanaba would fuss over her all the time and try to keep the little one all to herself, earning protests from the others.

The evenings varied between taking Luna to the park or the pier, or just spending time indoors at your place or his. You even celebrated her fourth birthday two weeks ago. All your friends and family, along with some little friends the birthday girl had made at the park were invited. You spent a beautiful evening in the backyard of your house around a bonfire, with a delectable meal and wonderful company.

Levi especially made sure you knew that you were being wooed by taking you out on date nights every now-and-then to the finest of restaurants, walks on the beach, to the drive-in theater a few miles outside your town, or star gazing from your favorite spot up the nearby hill. You both were working through your differences and had barely had any disagreements during the time spent together. Things were slowly falling in place; in fact, this newly re-built relationship with him felt much stronger than ever before.

The flashback ended when the wedding planner knocked on the door indicating it was time for the ceremony to begin. You, Isabel, and the other bridesmaids ushered Suki to her designated spot, making sure her dress, hair, make up and flowers looked perfect.

.

.

Standing at the altar by Furlan’s side as his best man, Levi was relieved that he would finally be seeing you soon after being apart all morning. Lately, the two of you spent most of your time together; and this sudden separation had him feeling restless.

On cue, the two harpists seated on either side of the rows began to play heavenly tune of ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perry, a prompt for the bride’s party to start making their way towards the altar. He watched patiently as bridesmaids accompanied by groomsmen walked down the aisle, waiting for you to finally appear. He almost forgot to breathe when your form eventually entered the nave, walking a short distance behind Isabel and one of Furlan’s friends.

You wore the emerald gown from your encounter with him at the store four months ago, and looked a million times more beautiful this morning. Your usually open hair was tied into an elegant loose braid with some curly strands framing your face. The sun rays falling on your silhouette from the towering stained-glass windows of the church made you look like an angel descending solely upon him. He finally began breathing again when you smiled at him and mouthed “breathe”, after taking your position at the altar.

Levi only peeled his eyes away from you when Luna’s giggles reverberated off the stone walls as she waddled down the aisle, scattering petals of baby pink roses, about the same shade has her chubby cheeks, on the ivory carpet. You wiped a stray tear rolling down your face as you both proudly watched her play the part of a flower girl with utmost perfection. Upon making it to the end, she ran to you and buried her face in your gown, suddenly feeling shy from the cheers and applause she received from the smitten guests.

You instantly scooped her up and held her close, letting her nuzzle into the crook of your neck, cooing sweet words of encouragement into her ears. Levi was so taken by this divine scene before him that he failed to notice the bride's much awaited walk down the aisle; surprised to directly find Suki standing at the altar, facing Furlan with her lips curved into the widest smile before his attention found you and Luna again.

He lost track of how long he was marveling at his two perfect girls for, until he felt an elbow harshly crash into his ribs, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“Is this revenge for your wedding?”, Furlan frowned.

Levi blankly stared at him, having no clue what he was talking about

“Ring, Levi!”, the fuming groom growled.

Oh, right. He pursed his lips in embarrassment melting under the scrutiny of the baffled guests while he handed over the ring that was in the safety of his blazer’s pocket. His eyes darted towards an alarmed Suki and silently apologized to her. Then his gaze moved back to you, an impish smirk on your face as you stared back at him, knowing exactly what was going on in his mind.

Fuck! Furlan was not going to let this go for a long time.

Luna had lost interest in the festivities midway through the nuptials and had fallen asleep in your arms. After the ceremony, when everyone began to make their way outside the chapel, Levi swiftly moved over to walk beside you and offered to carry the snoozing toddler. You groaned after her weight left your body, stretching your sore shoulders and aching back .

“Stop that. You have no idea how hard it is to control myself from jumping your bones, especially when you look this gorgeous.”, Levi whispered in your ear, snaking an arm around your waist.

You glanced around awkwardly making sure his words did not fall on any prying ears and gave him a quick smack on the shoulder, trying to suppress the heat creeping up your neck.

.

.

Time skip – Evening

The wedding reception was underway. You sat at a table sipping lemonade, watching the newlyweds grooving to the beats of music being played by DJ Zeke. Levi swapped his usual glass of Macallan for a cup of ginger lemon tea; His reason being that his throat was sore from carrying out best man duties. But you knew he was just being supportive of your goal to stay off alcohol.

Erwin and Hange sat by the bar, socializing with Furlan’s Boss, Mr. Pyxis while Luna was busy playing duck-duck-goose with some new toddler friends she made at the venue. Levi needed to be physically restrained from ambushing Isabel who he had discovered slow dancing with the same groomsman that walked alongside her at the ceremony. Miche and Nanaba were spotted in a rare public embrace, dancing leisurely to the slow music; and your army of helpers consisting of Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Sasha, Connie, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie took the lead on setting up tables as yours and Levi’s patisserie and café were the official caterers for the evening.

The choice of DJ Zeke's next track brought a sparkle to your eyes. Your smile spread from ear to ear when ‘Fly me to the Moon' by Frank Sinatra emanated from the speakers. You sang along and began swaying cheerfully in your seat to the melody.

“Remember, Levi? This was the song we had our first dance to at our wedding.” you reminisced; a nostalgic smile spread across your face.

“How can I forget?”, he asked.

His eyes were unfocused, lost in memories of his own. He remembered how ethereal you looked in your white wedding dress. How your diamond jewelry shimmered under the spotlight, how you whispered honeyed words into his ears when he felt exceptionally uncomfortable dancing in public, how warm your hands felt wrapped around his body, how your breath tickled his neck. He’d give anything just to go back and relive that moment.

You gaze was still lost among people enjoying themselves on the dance floor when a stretched-out hand entered your line of vision. Your eyes followed it to land on Levi’s face. A quirk in your eyebrows wordlessly asked him what this action meant.

“Let's dance.”, he said.

“You, Levi Ackerman, are willingly asking me to dance? Did someone spike your tea?” You smirked, earning an eye roll from him.

“Oi, brat! Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

“May I have this dance with you, my love?”

You accepted and the pair of you headed towards the dance floor. He gently pulled you close to him and firmly held on to your hand. His other hand wrapped firmly around your waist and you rested yours on his shoulder. You both moved to the slow rhythm in perfect harmony, as you drowned in those gorgeous blue-grey eyes. It felt like the world around you had dissolved and it was just the two of you and the music.

“You look nice today. I see you bought the same gray suit you hated with a fiery passion.”, you teased.

“How could I not after you said you liked it?”

You looked over his shoulder to Suki and Furlan flashing you a wide grin from across the dance floor. And so did Hange, Miche and Nanaba from over that the bar. Erwin gently raised his drink in your direction. The heat from the from the sudden metaphorical spot light you stood under was cooled by the kiss Levi planted on your cheek.

“Did I tell you how lucky I feel to have you?”, he whispered into your ear as while brushing strands of hair off your face.

“I could stand to hear it more often.”, You hid your blush by resting your forehead on his shoulder, feeling too shy to keep his gaze.

“It's true. You’re the most beautiful woman is this room tonight, scratch that, you’ll be the most beautiful woman anywhere, any day; and I get the honor of calling you mine.” he cooed, drawing gentle circles on your back with his fingers.

“You’re awfully talkative today!”, you lifted your head again to reveal a contagious coy smile spread across your lips.

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve always been talkative.”,

“Come with me.”, he moved you off his chest and tugged at your hand.

“Where?”, you asked in utter confusion, and a bit of annoyance at the wonderful moment being ruined, just to receive silence in response.

Levi quickly glanced over to find Luna munching on garlic bread sticks with Erwin and Hange, as he guided you away from the venue and towards the lake nearby. The ripples in the water gleamed under the moonlight, resembling liquid silver. Warm yellow light from the lamps on either side of a wooden dock dimly illuminated the path that led to a gorgeous gazebo that stood at the end, its ceiling sprinkled with fairy lights that defined the intricate floral carvings in the wood. You stood in the center of the structure and slowly spun around, marveling at the work of whose ever brilliant hands built it.

“Levi, this is stunning!”, you said gazing in all directions, running your fingers over the sophisticated engravings.

“Yes, it is.”, Levi agreed, his eyes not on the architecture, but instead on the human embodiment of radiant sunny day that stood by his side.

Not remotely expecting anything to outshine the sight before you, your vision was captured by an extravagant display of red, green, and gold against the dark blanket of the night’s sky. You jumped when the sound of the first soaring explosion caught you off guard. An arm slid across your waist and a kiss was placed on your temple. You were enamored by the shattering sparks of the fireworks, eliciting frequent oohs and aahs, until a voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“Marry me.”

It took you a few seconds to fully register what you just heard. But when you did, overwhelming feelings of joy rendered you speechless; fingers absentmindedly running over the carved railing of the gazebo, stunned orbs darting between the brilliant sky and the love of your life.

This time Levi had to remind you to breathe.

Your eyes and lips both turned into wide Os, and you slapped your hands to cover your gaping mouth when he slowly lowered himself to kneel before you, opening a little black box containing the same gorgeous ruby ring from all those years ago, which he sneaked out of your nightstand during one of his visits.

“I know that you said you wanted to take this slow. But the last four months with you have been the most precious of my life, where I got a glimpse of what having a perfect family would be like. I learnt the hard way, what I lost when I lost you and you gave me a second chance at finding happiness when you decided to come back. I promise to love and protect you every single day for the rest of my life, and even after. You complete me, love, and you complete our family. So, will you do me the honor of being Mrs. Ackerman, again?”

“Levi...”, your trembling voice was barely audible.

“Yes.”, you breathed, letting the floodgates finally open when he slid the ring on your finger.

He got back on his feet and engulfed you into the tightest embrace as you wept joyous tears into his shoulders.

“I love you so much!”

“I love you too!”, moving to look into your eyes, he cupped your face with warm hands.

And finally, his lips found yours.

It felt... like home;

Like laying in a cozy bed after a long day of work, like the warm chocolate sauce on a cold scoop of ice-cream, like wearing a fuzzy sweater on a crisp autumn evening, like walking barefoot on the beach at sunset, like taking a cool shower on a blazing summer afternoon, like everything you ever needed.

After being torn apart from the one person who made your life perfect, you were finally back in the soothing confines of his strong arms, resting against his able chest, ready to fall apart; all while the fireworks in the sky mirrored the fireworks in your hearts.

“Mama! Papa!”

You were awoken from this surreal euphoria by the most beautiful squeal you had ever heard. Both your heads turned towards the source of it – a tiny figure running towards you with all her might while all your near and dear ones including the newlyweds watched from a distance, cheering merrily.

“They knew?”, you gasped, sobbing and sniffling from the joyous tears.

“Yeah, pretty much everyone but you knew.”

Luna flew into Levi’s open arms when he bent down to receive her. The three of you merged into one blob of a positively smothering family hug, only pulling away to pepper each other with more kisses. Levi held his two girls close. His sun and moon were now back together in the sky of his life. He looked into Luna’s crescent shaped eyes and whispered,

“Moon beam, Mama’s coming home.”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x fem!reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman headcanons #domestic levi #dad!levi #aot fic

[watchmegetobsessed]

Eunoia - Harry Styles

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a piece filled with just fluffy, domestic moments through a relationship, and that’s when i created Flora in my mind. wrote it with an OC bc i had very specific traits and stuff in my mind about her and it didn’t feel right to write it with y/n but feel free to read however you’d like it! but i think Flora is a delightful girl, she is a teacher and a free spirit, i think you’ll like her!

pairing: Harry x OC (Floortje ‘Flora’ Hoven)

word count: 9.5k

masterlist

Eunoia (n.) Beautiful thinking: a well mind.

Harry is always looking forward to times when his days aren’t filled from morning to midnight, traveling all around the world, meeting dozens of new people at various new meetings. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the buzz his life comes with, but one can drive this lifestyle only for a while before getting tired. He now appreciates his calm periods, when he is not living out of his suitcase, he has the time to drop by a café and enjoy his morning coffee sitting down instead of grabbing it in a go-to cup and chugging it down in his car. When he can just take a walk when the weather is nice enough and his favorite is when he has the time to just look at things without a rush and appreciate them.

He has built up a habit of going to the same coffee place since he got off tour and jumped right into his well-deserved months off filled with meditation, resting and focusing on himself after giving so much for the world. It’s just two corners down his place, falling perfectly into his way to the gym and now he even has a favorite table in the corner, because it gives him a great view of the place but the vines hanging from the ceiling masks his presence enough that people don’t often notice him there, providing some privacy for his morning coffee.

It was his third day here when he first noticed her. She was sitting at the table by the window, near the door, deep in a book, another pile waiting for her on the free seat next to her as she intensely made notes of her reading. She had her wild, curly hair in a puffy bun on the top of her head, clearly just thrown into it haphazardly when she started working. Her ivory frame glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose and thy seemed a bit too big for her face, but they overall fit perfectly with her knitted sweater and dungarees. And Harry couldn’t look over the fact that she had little sunflowers painted on her nails. That instantly made him smile as he adorned her from afar.

As the days passed and Harry spent almost all his morning at the same spot, he started seeing or more like noticing her more often. She always sat at the same table and Harry figured it was because of the natural lighting coming through the windows that came in handy, because she was always either reading and making notes, or doing something crafty, mostly origami, he noticed. She often had her laptop open with tutorials on different origami works that she was trying to make herself, not always succeeding, but she got it right most of the time, a triumphant smile plastering across her face every time she finished a piece, her dimples digging deep into her round cheeks. Harry couldn’t stop herself from smiling whenever she held up the finished work and adorned what she just created. He often wondered what happened to the little creations afterwards, but she just usually shoved them into her backpack before leaving.

By the fifth or sixth time he has seen her, he already knew her order. Vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Large sized, of course, so she has something to sip on while she typed away on her laptop or finished reading another book.

Harry caught himself looking for her on mornings when he didn’t see her, which were usually Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, but one Wednesday, when he had an early meeting for a change with his team, he arrived before 8 am into the place and for his biggest surprise, there she was, sitting at her usual table, drinking the same drink as always. Later, Harry found himself coming earlier on those days just to find her there yet again and he figured her work schedule must start earlier on those days.

As the days went by Harry started to play with the thought of walking up to her. He wondered if she has noticed him as well, but it seemed like even if she did, his presence didn’t impress or bother her at all which just irked his curiosity about her even more. But every time he thought about finally talking to her, he decided against it, feeling like he would just be an intruder in her morning sessions. Until one day, the chance was handed to him on a silver plate.

She is doing origami once again on this particular day, making little cranes, one after the other, using different colored papers to make them form out a mess rainbow on her table. It’s a quiet morning, only a few more people sitting around at place. It’s been quite windy the past couple of days and today seems to be the worst, the trees are being tossed around by the howling winds outside, but it just makes it even cozier to sit inside in the warmth, enjoying a nice hot drink.

Harry finds himself watching her intently as her delicate fingers work on the paper, one crane following the other, she is starting to have a whole army of them.

An older man walks into the café and as he opens the door wide, the wind is quick to run into the place, knocking over everything that’s not heavy enough to stay still and the paper cranes are the first ones to start flying off the table.

“No! Darn it!” she gasps, her hands grabbing after them, saving just a few, but most end up on the floor, somersaulting away from her table. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and come to her rescue, lending her a pair of helping hands as she gathers her creations. “Oh, thank you!” she breathes out softly, her eyes meeting his and for his biggest surprise… she doesn’t seem to be stunned or even surprised by him, as if she doesn’t know who he is.

Maybe she doesn’t, it’s a possibility, he tells himself, smiling at her as he collects the cranes from the floor.

“Guess they wanted to be free,” he jokes, setting them on the table with the rest.

“It wasn’t my brightest idea to do it on such a windy day near the door,” she chuckles, looking over the bunch she’s been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“May I ask why you need so many paper cranes?” Harry inquires, leaving out the part that he’s been watching her do her origami for weeks now.

“Oh, I want to make decorations out of them, hang them up in my classroom. I’m a teacher,” she adds smiling.

That’s the most fitting job he could ever imagine for her, she is definitely the cool and adored teacher every kid is obsessed with.

“Wow, and how many do you need?” he asks, the stack of paper at the edge of the table looks quite a lot and he wonders if she wants to use them all for the cranes.

“Well, as many as I can make before my fingers fall off,” she jokes. Harry notices her freckles from up close that have been hidden behind her glasses until now. Her hair is in two space buns today and she is wearing a striped shirt with light-washed jeans and colorful sneakers. The sunflowers are gone from her nails, replaced by tiny daisies, but Harry likes them just as much as the previous flowers. They fit her well.

“Do you… I would love to help, if you want,” he finds himself offering, not even thinking about the question before it slips his mouth.

“You sure?” she asks, seemingly surprised but she definitely doesn’t find it weird that he just offered to help her.

“Yeah. Looks really calming and I haven’t made one in so long. Want to see if I still remember the steps,” he smiles.

“Take a seat then,” she nods, returning his smile. Harry goes back to his table to grab his stuff and join her.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself as he takes the empty chair at her table, holding out his hand for her that she gladly takes.

“Floortje, but everyone just calls me Flora,” she smiles.

“Never heard that name, what’s the origin of it?”

“It’s Dutch. My dad is Dutch, he came up with the name as well and my mother liked it. It means little flower, nothing grandiose,” she chuckles, reaching for another paper to start her next crane.

“Do you have a Dutch last name as well?” he asks, but then realizes she might not feel comfortable sharing her full name just yet. “You don’t have to tell me your last name though, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” she chuckles. “It’s Hoven, which is Dutch, but you pronounce it pretty much the same as you’d if it was a simple English word, just with a softer V in the middle,” she explains, her fingers working easily and fast on the thin paper, the crane is already starting to form. Harry reaches for a paper himself and tries to recollect his memory of the steps.

“Were you born in the Netherlands too?”

“Yes, I was born in Eindhoven, but we moved here when I was five. But my Dutch is still just fine, luckily. My dad refused to talk to me in English when we moved, he said he won’t have his daughter forget her mother tongue just because he is getting paid more here,” she explains with a soft chuckle as she finishes up the crane, putting it to the pile.

“I always envied bilingual people. Must be great to speak two languages that easily,” Harry wonders, eyes fixed on the paper as he is trying his best with the crane. It’s slowly coming together, though it’s not as pretty as Flora’s.

“It’s not that fun when I suddenly forget a word in one of the languages and then spend twenty minutes trying to remember when I know for a fact I know the words, it’s just stuck on my tongue.”

Harry laughs, finishing up his creation, holding it up and Flora looks at it as well. It’s a little crooked and one of its wings is longer than the other, but overall, it’s a decent first one.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, putting it to the others.

“What are you talking about? It looks great!” she smiles, taking it into her hand, looking at it from all angles, smiling widely as she places it back to its peers. “It’s a nice one, and after all, it’s not your job to make cranes, so you’re fine,” she jokes.

Harry reaches for another paper as he thinks about if she knows him. Does she know what his job really is? Not that he expects everyone to know him, but she seems his age and it’s been quite impossible for him to meet someone close in age to him and not know a thing about him.

“Yeah, origami is definitely not my job,” he hums and then adds: “You… know what my job is?”

Flora glances up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I know you or not?” she smirks, tilting her head to the side, and it’s already a giveaway that she is very much aware of who she is sitting at a table with.

“I know, it was lame,” he huffs awkwardly.

“No, it was alright. And to answer your question, I do know what your job is, Harry Styles,” she replies.

“Sorry for asking around about it, you just seemed so casual and unbothered when you saw me, I thought you have no idea who I am.”

“I’m a teacher, my job is to treat everyone the same, I take equality very seriously. I don’t want my kids to think I put any of them above the rest, but I do the same outside of school too. Or do you want me to gasp and stutter now that you are sitting here?” she teases him making him laugh.

“That’s not needed at all.”

They work on their cranes in a comfortable silence and just as Harry thought, it’s quite relaxing, his thoughts slowly clear out, only focusing on the little birds he is creating. Then he glances up at Flora and suddenly his thoughts are filled with her once again. Now is his chance with her, he doesn’t want to leave this café without at least asking for her number even when he knows that he will surely see her around, just like always.

“Can I ask you something?” he speaks up as they both keep folding the colorful papers.

“Of course.”

“I hope I won’t sound creepy or something, but I’ve seen you around a lot and noticed how much you read. Is that just your hobby or…?”

“First of all it’s not creepy that you have noticed me, it’s flattering, because I have noticed you as well,” she smiles, paying him a quick glance.

“Really? I had a feeling you haven’t even seen me.”

“I did, but I thought you come here for the same reason as I do; to have some peace for yourself.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry nods.

“But to answer your question, I’m working on my second degree.”

“Oh, what’s that about?”

“Special education, speech therapy to be exact,” she tells him and Harry is even more stunned by her. Education is already a field not many can handle and then there is Flora, who didn’t just take up on it, she jumped right into it, pursuing a second degree in special education, a hard and challenging part of this job.

“Any particular reason why you chose it?”

“I have a younger brother, he is ten years younger than me, so he was already born here, but he was taught Dutch too. However, it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me to speak two languages at the same time and he has developed some speech errors. Nothing major, but it was enough for him to be bullied in school. I saw his face every day when he came home and lied to our parents that everything is fine but then he cried to me in my room when they weren’t around. I don’t want any other kids to go through that, I’d love to be the one to not just help them come over their speech errors but also make sure they are treated the same way as everyone else.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed that he stopped working on his crane, he is now staring at her in awe, completely stunned by her. The more he learns about her the more he thinks she is a literal angel sent from above and that he can’t let her slip from his hands.

Flora looks up at him and finds him staring, a blush appearing on her full cheeks.

“Sorry for staring, but I just… this is so beautiful. Your passion about education is just one of a kind, truly. And the way how you made it your whole career and everything, I’m just… blown away,” he admits.

“Well, you made a career out of your passion too, didn’t you?” she chuckles softly.

“I did, but your story is just a little more touching,” he smirks. “Flora, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been meaning to come up to you for a while and now that we officially met, I just—I would love to take you out on a date and get to know you better.”

She blushes again and Harry notes how well the pinky shade fits her even if she probably wishes she could control it more.

“That would be lovely,” she smiles shyly and grabbing a crane from her pile she grabs a pen from her bag and writes her number to the wing of it before handing it over to Harry.

He loves that she could have easily just typed it into his phone, yet she chose to do it this way. He smiles down at the crane and puts it into his bag, securing it as if it was his biggest treasure.

When Flora opens her door for Harry she is still wearing her apron that’s filled with tulips, a pair of simple jeans underneath it with a bright yellow shirt. Harry smiles as he leans down and greets her with a soft kiss. Ever since their first kiss he has been obsessed with stealing one whenever he has the chance. Their first one was nothing grandiose, such a simple and mundane moment but for him, it was perfect. They were visiting a gallery, he chose the exhibition hoping she’ll be a fan of it since the theme was botany, all paintings connected to flowers, gardens and plants and he was right. Flora was stunned, fascinated by each painting as they stopped at one after the other, taking their time to adore the works. They were looking at a painted garden filled with colorful wildflowers around a small cottage in the distance. Flora’s eyes wandered over all the tiny details as Harry stood close to her. She then leaned closer to point out her favorite flower and once they realized just how close their faces were, he just easily closed the gap and kissed her softly, surrounded with art, but he was convinced she was his favorite masterpiece he has ever seen.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a little late, dinner is not ready yet,” she huffs letting him inside. “Had to stay at the school a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry. Can I help with anything?” he asks following her into the kitchen, putting the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge to keep it cool until dinner.

“No, it’s fine. I just need about fifteen minutes to finish up the veggies,” she smiles at him and tiptoeing she steals a quick kiss. Harry hasn’t been the only one obsessed with kisses. “Make yourself home.”

Harry leaves to use the bathroom quickly and on his way back he finds himself wandering into her bedroom. He has been in her home just a few times before, only spending short minutes here when he was picking her up but now he has time to actually look around, hoping she won’t mind him snooping around.

Her whole place is just as colorful as she is always, each piece of furniture a different style and color, yet fitting so well when you see it as a whole. The quilted patchwork blanket over her bed is definitely homemade, each patch has a different flower on it while the left lower corner has Floortje embroidered into it. Harry wonders if it was made by a friend or family member, either way, it’s surely a special piece.

Her dresser is cluttered with rings, perfumes and endless amount of hair ties. She has complained before that her hair stretches her elastics out so fast, she keeps buying new ones every month. The little armchair in the corner is covered with a few of her used clothes, ones she’ll wear once more before putting them into the laundry basket.

As he walks over to her nightstand that’s filled with books, at least seven piled on each other, his eyes stop over something that makes his heart flutter.

A crooked little paper crane is sitting on the edge of the nightstand, the one he made the first time they talked, to be exact. Harry takes the bird and looks at it in awe, surprised that she kept it to herself. However he doesn’t find it odd, not even a little bit, since he has also kept the one she wrote her phone number onto, it’s sitting on his desk in his study.

“Found something interesting?” Flora walks in and Harry’s head whips towards her, feeling like he was just caught. But the warm smile on her lips is a telltale sign that she doesn’t mind him looking around.

“You kept it,” he states matter-of-factly, holding up the paper bird.

“Of course I did,” she nods, walking closer. “It’s a special one.”

“Thought you treat everyone and everything the same,” he teases smiling as he puts the crane back, his hands finding her waist.

“I guess there are a few exceptions,” she smirks slyly, her hands running up on his arms until they reach the base of his neck.

“Am I an exception?” The corners of his mouth curl up as he places the bird back on her nightstand and circle his arms around her waist.

“Did I say that?” she teases him. “I think I called your work a special one.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, pretending to be hurt at her words, but he can’t push the growing smile back from his lips. They’ve been seeing each other for only over a month, but it was enough time to make him completely hooked on her. He is amazed by her in every possible way, feeling like he could never get enough of the ray of sunshine that Flora is. His favorite thing is that she makes him feel so normal, just an average guy dating a girl he met at a café. Not once did she treat him any different because of what he is and it’s just the feeling Harry has been looking for for such a long time.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she smiles, pecking his lips before peeling his arms off of her frame, taking his hand as she pulls him out of the bedroom, however they surely end up in there again sometime after dinner, but with way less clothes on.

Harry watches as Flora plays with the bubbles in front of her, picking some foam up into her hair, watching it move around on her wet palm before blowing on it gently, her delicate fingers poking at the small bubbles that escaped from it. His hands are caressing her sides under the warm water that was once hot when they first got into it about an hour ago.

It’s been a lazy Sunday, Flora arrived early in the morning and went plant shopping. Her home has always been filled with plants and Harry has grown a liking to all the greenery, wanted some more in his house as well and Flora was more than happy to help him pick out the ones that are the easiest to take care of. Then they cooked lunch together, watched a movie and cleaned up the mess they made in the kitchen before running the bath. Harry has been loving these domestic days, lounging around his or her home, wearing comfy clothes and not caring about much of the outside words, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Remind me to buy peanut butter the next time I’m going grocery shopping,” she speaks up, leaning further back against his chest while Harry rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist under the layer of bubbles.

“What do you need it for?” he hums, nudging her hair with his nose, her curls ticking his face, but he doesn’t mint it.

“I want to make cupcakes for the kids next week.”

“What for? Is there gonna be a special occasion?”

“No, they’ve just been super nice lately, we set up some new rules in the classroom and they’ve been really good following them.” Harry hums, loving how she is so eager to treat her students, he is convinced she is easily the best teacher he has ever came across.

“So peanut butter, huh? I think I need some too. Been dying to eat a good burger with some peanut butter.”

“I cannot believe you put peanut butter into your burgers,” she chuckles, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Don’t bash it when you haven’t even tried!” he defends himself, kissing her cheek softly.

“The Aztecs would be so disappointed,” she sighs turning back forward, so she doesn’t see the puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“The Aztecs?”

“Yeah, they technically invented peanut butter,” she nods, as if it was common knowledge.

“Do I want to know why you know this about the history of peanut butter?” he chuckles softly.

“Well I had this kid last year who was obsessed with it and I started looking up fun facts for him for mornings when he looked a little moody. Then the others started enjoying it too so it became our morning thing that I told them a fun fact about anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me one then!” he asks smirking, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay, um…” she thinks to herself. “Do you know what the Olympic rings stand for?”

“I do not,” he shakes his head.

“The five rings stand for the five inhabited continents of the world, united by Olympism.”

“Sounds logical,” Harry nods. “Tell me another one,” he asks.

“Are you going to make me tell you all my fun facts?” she chuckles, turning a little so she can look into his beautiful green eyes.

“Maybe. I like it when you talk like this,” he smirks playfully.

“Like what?”

“Like… smart. I love how you know all these little things about the world and teach it to not just the kids but to me as well.”

“You don’t think I’m a smartass?”

“Why would I?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I used to be picked on in middle school because I liked to learn, more than what was required.”

“That doesn’t make you a smartass, baby. You don’t go around, correcting every tiny mistake around you. You use your knowledge to educate, like you should.”

Flora smiles softly at him, his words bringing the sense of reassurance she’s been seeking for so long. She pecks his lips shortly before turning back forward.

“Do you know how many days a billion seconds make up?” she asks, smiling to herself.

“I don’t.”

“11 574 days. That’s a little over 31 years.”

“So I haven’t lived a billion seconds in my life just yet,” Harry states, doing the quick math.

“No, you haven’t,” she smiles, mostly at the fact that he didn’t just listen to her little fun fact, but also thought about it a bit deeper.

They stay in the bath until the water gets cold and Harry keeps asking for fun facts and Flora gladly tells him whatever comes to her mind.

Harry finishes up the fresh salad, filled with Flora’s favorites: cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and corn with some kale, baby spinach and garlic dressing. He even sprinkled some sesame seeds on top, now he is pretty proud of his work, it looks like something influencers would snap in an aesthetic photo to their Instagram feed.

His bare feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to Flora’s bedroom where she is still curled up on her chair in front of her computer, her hair in a mess on top of her head, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. She hasn’t moved much from the spot in hours, intensely working on her thesis that should be finalized within the next two weeks. She has been gradually working on it over the last few months, in no mean she is behind, but she’s been extra nervous about making it as good as she wanted it when she started and Harry has been nothing but supporting about it, knowing how much it means to her. So he’s been her moral support, making sure she eats, gets some rest and doesn’t get herself too worked up about her research. She appreciates his efforts and though she often feels bad for neglecting him lately, he made sure to assure her, he’ll be right here when she is finally done with it.

Harry walks around the mountain of books on the floor she has piled up from the library these past two weeks as he walks up behind her while her fingers type away on her computer so fast he can barely believe she even understands what she’s typing.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, leaning down he kisses her cheek, holding the bowl of salad in front of her, drabbing her attention, making her gaze move from the screen to the food in front of her.

“Oh, hey! Is this for me?” she asks with a soft smile, lifting her head so she can look at him. Even with the circles under her eyes, the messy hair and worn out t-shirt that she’s wearing, he thinks she is the most wonderful creature he has ever seen.

“Yeah. Come take a break, yea?”

She doesn’t protest, just saves the file before moving away from the desk to the bed along with Harry. She props herself up against the headboard, a tired moan escaping her lips as her spine rests against the pillows under her back. Harry hands her the salad and she digs right into it, only just now realizing that she’s been feeling hungry for the past two hours, but ignored it entirely.

“How much do you have left?” Harry asks nodding towards the computer.

“I’m finishing up the last part, then I just have to write the abstract and then…” she explains, popping a tomato in her mouth. “It’s just gonna be the formatting. I think I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“That’s great,” he smiles proudly. He has always admired how hardworking she’s been when it came to school and her profession. He could never imagine himself do the same, especially because he didn’t even finish high school. He used to feel a little self-conscious about it when they first started dating, afraid that she might think less of him because he didn’t finish his education properly, even though it was never something that bothered him. But Flora assured him that it makes absolutely no difference in her opinion about him.

“It’s not about the papers or how many schools you’ve finished. It’s about how you see the world and if you are willing to learn when it changes around you. And I think you are perfect in that department, your curiosity and openness makes you an excellent learner,” she told him without even thinking about it.

Harry lies on his side next to her, one hand propping his head up while the other one wanders to her thigh, massaging it gently. She hums to herself, enjoying the food he made and he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He loves taking care of her, especially because most of the times it’s her that takes care of him. Cooking for him after a long day at the studio, putting his laundry away while he is in an online meeting or writing him a list for when he goes grocery shopping, Flora has been watching out for him through these little things, but now it’s finally his turn to give it all back.

He’s been thinking about asking her to move in with him for a few weeks now, he just hasn’t been brave enough to bring it up, thinking that she might find it too early for such a big step, seeing that the two of them have been dating for a little over nine months. He’s been playing with the thought of coming home to her every single day, waking up next to her in the mornings, watch her form his home more to her liking, creating a space for the both of them, making it a home not just for him but her as well.

As she finishes up her salad, completely oblivious to what Harry is thinking about, he decides to bring it up once she is done with her thesis, not wanting to bother her in any possible way until she is finished.

“Mm, this was lifesaving, thank you,” she sighs, leaning over she kisses him softly as her appreciation for the sweet gesture. “I’ll finish up this one paragraph I’m in the middle of and then we could watch a movie. But strictly without subs, because I’m done with words for today,” she jokes, making him laugh as he takes the empty bowl from her hands.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen and find something to watch while you finish.”

“Thank you.” As they both get up from the bed, she pulls him down for another kiss, Harry’s free hand finding the small of her back right away. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips, his heart fluttering in his chest at the words he has heard before, but it never fails to stun him.

“I love you too. Now go, finish it so we can cuddle,” he smiles, smacking her bum gently before they let go of each other.

“Ja, pappa. Dat klinkt fantastisch. Ik zal het hem vragen. Ja.” Yes, dad. That sounds fantastic. I’ll ask him. Yes.

Harry listens to Flora talk to her father on the phone as she applies her lip balm, the one she uses every night before going to bed. He loves it when she talks in Dutch, many tend to criticize the language, but not Harry. Or maybe it’s just because he only hears Flora talk it and he loves everything she does.

“Ja, dat is goed. Dank je. Tot ziens, pappa, ik hou van je!” Yes, that’s great. Thank you. See you soon, dad, love you!

She ends the call and switches the light off in the bathroom that’s been not just Harry’s but hers since she officially moved in with him just last week. Harry finally built up the courage to ask her opinion about the possibility of living together in the near future once she was free from the worries of her research and thesis. For his biggest surprise, she was on the exact same page as him, definitely a fan of the idea. So three weeks later they started slowly moving all her stuff over to his until her apartment completely emptied out. Now all her belongings are splattered across Harry’s home, they haven’t found the perfect place for everything just yet, but it’s slowly starting to feel like home for the both of them.

“Dad called, asked if we would go over for dinner this weekend,” she tells him, moving around the bedroom as she takes her little hoop earrings off, placing them in the shell she uses as a jewelry holder on top of the dresser. She is wearing a pair of yellow sweatpants with one of Harry’s shirts, nothing underneath them, just how Harry loves it.

“It’s cute how you always tell me it was your dad, but he is the only one you speak Dutch with,” he chuckles lowly as she climbs to bed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

“It comes so naturally, I don’t even realize I’m switching languages,” she admits smiling.

“Dinner sounds lovely,” he nods, getting back to what she was talking about before.

“Arnold is bringing his girlfriend too,” she smirks, her eyes sparkling from excitement.

“Your brother has a girlfriend now?” he hums, eyebrows rising at the new information.

“It’s the girl I saw him with at his basketball game last month. They made it official like two weeks ago.”

“And he is already bringing her home? He is not beating around the bush,” he chuckles. “Is it going to be the first time the girl meets your parents?”

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be exciting,” she nods, cuddling to his side.

Flora is playing with the little cross pendant on Harry’s chest and he is watching her delicate fingers flipping it over, her fingertips tickling his chest a little in the process.

“When we have kids, will you also teach them Dutch?” he suddenly questions, the words just blurting out of his mouth. Flora lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks into his curious eyes. She stays silent, but a small smile is tugging on her lips for sure.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little nervous. It’s the first time he is bringing having kids up, but he definitely has been thinking about it, especially since she has moved in. They haven’t been dating for that long, but Harry is one hundred percent sure he is in the long run with her.

“I just… love how you said when and not if.”

“Well, it’s a question of when for me. What about you?”

“Same goes for me,” she smiles warmly. “And yes, I do want my children to speak Dutch. It’s important to my family and me as well. How does that sit with you?”

“Totally fine. In fact, I always envied kids growing up who were taught another language so early in their childhood. Would love that for my kids as well.”

“Dan is het geregeld,” she smiles widely at him.

“What’s that mean?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“I said that, then it’s settled. We’ll have some cute, bilingual babies,” she chuckles, half jokingly, half seriously.

Today has just been one of those days that were doomed from the moment Harry opened his eyes. He has been overwhelmed with stress lately, working on new music, but his studio sessions haven’t been as successful as he wanted them. He is also flying out to LA for two weeks in just a couple of days and he has to miss Flora’s mom’s birthday this weekend, which has been torturing him with guilt ever since he found out he can’t push his trip back.

This morning it felt like the universe just plotted against him. He slipped in the shower, broke a glass in the kitchen and successfully ripped one of his favorite jeans when he was getting dressed. He had a one way ticket cranky city, turning Harry into a moody little child. It didn’t take him long until he started a fight with Flora over the smallest, most ridiculous thing. It started with how Flora misplaced a bowl in the cabinet and took him two moments longer to find it than usual, then they ended up disputing about every little thing about each other they’ve been finding annoying, but neither of them voiced their feelings about them.

Flora, on the other hand, was not in the mood to argue with Harry so early on a Tuesday morning and she chose to just walk away and let him stew in his own anger. Harry knew the moment he heard the front door shut that she was mad at him: she didn’t kiss him goodbye like she does every day before she leaves.

He took a cold shower to cool him down and clear his head, get his thoughts straight so he can apologize like she deserves. Getting into his car he drives to the florist he usually goes to when he needs flowers for whatever occasions. The old lady greets him with a warm smile and upon describing what he envisioned, she immediately knows what to create for him this time. The result is a giant, colorful bouquet that reminds him of Flora in every possible means.

Driving down to her school he is met with an extreme amount of nostalgia even though it’s not even the school he went to as a kid, but it still brings back some memories.

The security guard immediately stops him when he walks into the building, but once he has explained him the situation, the old guy gladly tells him which classroom is hers so he can go and surprise her. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways as it is the middle of the second period, all students are locked up in their classrooms, lucky for Harry, because he surely can’t deal with teenage girls recognizing him right now. Holding the flowers in one hand he stops when he finds room 414 and he can hear Flora’s voice coming from inside, enthusiastically explaining something about penguins and it makes Harry smile.

Even with such a horrible morning behind her, she is still giving one hundred for her students. He brings up his hand and softly knocks on the door, interrupting her speech.

“Come in!” she calls out and Harry opens the door, popping his head inside first, then holding up the bouquet of flowers, making the kids start chattering in excitement at his arrival while Flora is staring at him shocked.

“Miss Hoven, do you have a moment for me, please?” he asks with a shy but charming smile. She quickly gains back control over her features before turning to her class.

“Please start working on task two and five, I’ll be right back,” she orders, but the chatter doesn’t die down so she raises her voice at them. “This is not how we act when we have guests, guys!”

The kids are quick to quiet themselves, eyes curiously switching between their teacher and the intruder at the door.

“Miss Hoven, is this your husband?” one of the kids, a little blond boy asks.

“No, Michael, he is not. Harry is my boyfriend,” she answers calmly, heading towards the door.

“Wait, I know him!” a girl exclaims gasping. “He sings the watermelon song!”

“Lilian, no discussion now. Do the tasks!” Flora tells her before walking out, but keeping the door open so she can hear what’s happening inside. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide when she finally looks at Harry again. “What’s—What’s this?”

“These are for you,” he clears his throat, handing her the bouquet. “And I came here to apologize for being such an arsehole this morning. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been crankier lately and I took it all out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Flora’s eyes soften on him as she takes one of his hands with her free one, giving it a squeeze.

“I said some nasty stuff too, so I guess I’m sorry too,” she sighs, her anger and frustration from earlier now long gone.

“I brought that out of you, so I’ll take the blame,” Harry chuckles softly. “But the point is that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you are forgiven. You were even before you came here,” she assures him smiling warmly. “Why don’t we order something tonight and just get lazy on the couch?”

“You said you have some tests to go through.”

“That can wait. You’re leaving in two days so I want to spend time with you.”

“So we won’t get our tests back tomorrow?” they both hear a muffled voice coming from inside and Flora chuckles shaking her head as she opens the door wider and steps inside. A small group of kids run back to their seats, but not fast enough to not get caught.

“Lilian, would you mind telling me why you left your seat without permission?” Flora questions the girl who just rolls her lips into her mouth, pretending like she hasn’t even moved all along. Flora sighs stepping outside once again. “I gotta go now, but thank you for this. They look beautiful,” she tells Harry.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leaning down he kisses her quickly, feeling like he is breaking rules even though he is not a student or a teacher here.

“I love you too,” she smiles back before walking back inside and shutting the door. Harry stays for a minute, just out of curiosity to hear if the kids ask her some more questions about him.

“Miss Hoven?” a girl calls out and Harry bets it’s the same nosy girl who recognized him.

“Yes, Lilian?”

“You have a nice boyfriend,” she exclaims, earning a soft chuckle from Flora.

“Well thank you, Lilian, but let’s get back to our new unit. Let’s see the tasks you had to solve!”

The splashing sound of vomit arriving to the toilet hits Harry’s ears once again as he is rushing up the stairs with a glass of water and the Emetrol his hands that he dug the kitchen cabinets through for. Arriving to the master bathroom he finds Flora just where he left a few minutes ago, kneeling in front of the toilet, arms on the rim as she is taking a deep breath, hoping to calm her stomach and stop throwing up finally.

“Oh baby, here. Found you some Emetrol, this should help,” he coos gently, sitting down to the marble floor next to her he places the water beside him as he pours some of the liquid medicine into the cap for her. She lifts her head, skin pale as the wall, the dark circles under her eyes make his stomach churn, he hates to see her in this condition and wishes he could just help her.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her shaking hand takes the cup and she downs the medicine before taking a few sips from the water. “Harry, I’m so sorry for ruining our date,” she sighs in defeat.

“Oh shush. Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” he shakes his head, putting the Emetrol aside before he towers above her to redo her hair so it doesn’t fall to her face. Today marks their one year anniversary and though they only planned to go out for a nice dinner, nothing extra, Flora still feels bad they had to cancel on their reservation when she started throwing up this afternoon. She’s been feeling nauseous ever since she ate that leftover casserole for lunch. She had a feeling she should have just gotten rid of it, but she hated wasting food so ate it. Big mistake.

Harry’s fingers delicately work on her curls, piling them on the top of her heat before he secures the bun with professional movements using the elastic he tends to wear on his wrists, just because Flora always loses hers. He likes to keep one on him as well. His long haired days trained him well, her hair is neatly kept out of her face as she frowns, feeling her stomach churning again.

“Can I do anything else for you, baby?” he gently asks, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but she feels alright. She probably just has to get rid of the bad food.

“Can you please get me a wet washcloth?” she asks faintly. Sitting to her butt she leans against the wall beside her with her eyes closed.

Harry nods and he is on his feet in a blink of an eye, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and wetting it in some cool water. He kneels in front of her and starts gently tapping it against her cheeks, forehead and neck, wiping off the thin layer of sweat.

“This is not how I planned to spend our anniversary,” she groans with a frown, making him chuckle.

“We agreed, the anniversary is postponed. Don’t even think about it.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you, even bought a new dress.” She pouts her lips at him, eyes opening narrowly, glistening from the tears that watered them while she was throwing up.

“You always look nice, baby,” he softly tells her, letting her take the washcloth before she places it over her forehead.

“Even now? After you saw me throw up four times? We have very different versions for the word nice, H,” she jokes with a soft chuckle and Harry is thankful to see her smile, even if it’s still very faint and tired.

“Even now, baby,” he nods smirking and he is not lying. Though the situation is saddening, Harry still enjoys taking care of her, being the one she can rely on even on her worst days.

They sit on the bathroom floor as the medicine slowly works and she finally gets rid of the urge to throw up. Then Harry scoops her up and undressing the both of them, he helps her take a nice shower before dressing her in clean clothes, tossing their dirty ones into the laundry basket, noting to do them sometime in the morning.

When Flora is settled under the cover, head comfortably sinking into the pillow, she immediately feels her eyes closing, the strenuous afternoon has successfully sucked all her energy right out of her body. Harry brings her another big glass of water for the night and just to be sure, puts a trashcan next to her side, if things go south again. When he gets under the covers she is already half asleep, but she hums when his fingertips dance down the side of her face.

He allows himself to shamelessly admire her as she finally falls completely asleep, her lips parted as she slightly snores, but she looks so peaceful, the painful frown he saw on her face all afternoon is now gone from her beautiful face. He hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around how an entire year has passed with such a wonderful creature by his side. As their anniversary was coming up, he caught himself thinking about what the future is holding for them more often. There were so many things they needed to experience together, so much to see and do as partners and Harry couldn’t wait for it all to come.

As he lies in the bed next to her, a smile tugs on his pink lips at the thought of the possibility of spending the rest of his life with Flora. His future has never seemed brighter than in that moment.

“This is harder than I thought,” Flora admits, focusing on the instrument on her lap, trying to figure out if she is holding down the accords the right way, but a moment later Harry’s hand covers hers on the neck of the guitar and he fixes her fingers on the strings until they are in the right position.

“Like this. Try it now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on her shoulders as she is standing between his legs, back leant against his chest. Flora has been begging him to teach him a few accords on the guitar and today finally brought the moment Harry would turn into her master.

The two of them are sitting on the bed, Harry only in his underwear while Flora is in one of his hoodies with only her panties covering the lower parts of her body. Harry came back from a week-long trip to New York and they haven’t left the bed too much since he set his feet inside the house, only emerging from the bedroom to fulfill their other physical needs.

Flora’s fingers strum against the strings and the instrument comes to life, giving her a clear accord finally, bringing a triumphant smile to her lips.

“You are a natural talent, baby,” he smirks, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before kissing into her neck.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying!” she warns her playfully, playing the chord again, loving how she can create such a beautiful sound with the instrument.

“Mm, you’re coming for my career?”

“Oh, surely. I think I would make an excellent rockstar,” she nods confidently, making him laugh.

“You are so not the rockstar type. More like the chill indie singer who dances barefoot on stage.”

“Yeah, but I could spice it up a little and make it rockstar-y,” she explains and glances back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you think I would look hot in one of your stage costumes? Sparkly suit and all?”

“Oh I know you’d look amazing,” he nods eagerly. He has spent quite some time imagining her girl in one of his suits and he quite liked the thought. Flora chuckles as he puts the guitar aside before she turns around and straddles him, her knees on each of his sides.

“Yeah? I would need a better name, mine is not too fitting for a star,” she explains. “Easy for you, your name is basically the most perfect name for a rockstar.”

“You think so?” he cocks an eyebrow at her, his palms coming to cup her bum as he tilts his head backwards since this position makes her the taller one for a change.

“Harry Styles? Oh please, it’s like Anne knew she would give birth to a legend,” she scoffs making him laugh.

“I’ve been told it’s a nice one,” he shrugs smugly. “I think it’s the surname.”

“It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“What if you had the same? Flora Styles? Sounds pretty badass,” he suggests and at first, she doesn’t even realize the hidden meaning behind his words, tasting the name so obliviously.

“Flora Styles? You might be right, the surname sounds very cool,” she agrees and it amazes him how easily it went over her head.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her hand reaching for the guitar once again, but Harry stops her, taking it between his as he blindly finds her ring finger that is now ringless.

“Do you like it enough to actually take it?” he questions, hoping she would get the hint now where this is heading. She blinks at him a little puzzled but it’s until she realizes that his fingers are fidgeting with her ring finger, more specifically where a ring would sit on it, his fingertips gently caressing the skin around it.

“Harry?” she gasps with wide eyes as she just watches his grin grow wider. “This is not… Are you--?”

“What?” he chuckles, feeling entertained how she lost all her smug confidence all of a sudden. “What’s it that you’re trying to say?”

“No, what is it that you are trying to say?!” she snaps back, still in shock about what he just implied. “Was this your sneaky way of… proposing?” she asks, whispering the last word as if it was a curse word.

“Why do you act like we have a forbidden love and marriage cannot be even mentioned?” he chuckles at her.

“Because I was shocked! Not that bad now though, you haven’t pulled out a ring so I guess it was just a cruel joke.” She narrows her eyes at him, kissing his smug grin shortly, but Harry is definitely not done with her just yet.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about it, baby,” he warns her before gently pushing her off her lap to get off the bed. Flora’s eyes widen as she follows him walk to his suitcase that’s still lying on the floor next to his dresser, waiting to be unpacked. He digs under his clothes before pulling out a small velvety box, making her gasp immediately. Harry gets back on bed as he holds out the box in front of her on his palm, not opening it just yet.

“Did you buy that in New York just this week?” she asks with her mouth hung open.

“I didn’t. I’ve had it for about a month, I just took it with myself because I was afraid you’d find it,” he chuckles as he plays around with it between his fingers. “Have been planning on it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so then I just decided to wait for the right moment and go with the flow,” he explains.

“And this is the right moment?” she questions, her heart beating in her throat as her gaze is switching between Harry’s green eyes and the box in his hand.

“Felt like it, yeah,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Silence settles between them as they both just wrap their heads around the weight of the moment. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, a little afraid it’s too early. They’ve been dating a little over two years now, marriages have been tied way earlier in a relationship before, but Harry feared Flora would feel it too rushed just yet, however the question is out there now. Or is it?

“Well, are you gonna ask it?” she questions and as Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, he is met with that playful challenge in them that he adores so much.

“I just asked,” he mutters.

“No, you asked if I would take your name. That’s not a proposal,” she reminds him and he realizes she is right. He never actually asked the big question.

So he finally pops the lid open revealing the vintage diamond ring he bought a month ago when he was just out and about. The moment his eyes laid on the jewelry, he knew it’s the one he’d like to see on your finger and bought it right away.

“Floortje Hoven, will you marry me?” he simply asks, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks as he smiles widely at his lover.

“I will,” she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she watches him take the ring out of the box and carefully put it on her once empty ring finger. Still holding her hand, he brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the ring before leaning in he connects his lips with hers.

-

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

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[ecoamerica]

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[things-we-cant-say]

pretty little liar

Pairing: Ten x Female!Reader

Summary: In order to get your annoying ex off your back, you tell a little white lie that takes an unexpected turn.

Genre: College!AU

Warnings: Smutty smut, dirty dancing

Word Count: 4,867

A/N: Unable to withstand Ten’s power any longer, I had to start writing about him…or a version of him anyway. Hope someone out there enjoys my first dip into the ~imagines~ pond. ☺️

The party was in full swing by the time you and your best friend Amy arrived, the music so loud it could be heard down the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t broken it up yet but hey, the night was still young. Ducking through the arched doorway with Amy hot on your heels, you let her guide you into the foyer where you both stopped to take in the scene. The place was packed with people dancing, drinking and laughing—everyone apparently having a great time. Which was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was blow off a little steam and pretend you hadn’t spent the day fantasizing about committing the perfect murder.

You enjoyed school for the most part and you enjoyed your classes, but really you couldn’t wait for it all to just be over. Two extra years and your master’s degree in linguistics was almost within your grasp. You still weren’t one hundred percent what you planned to do with it (teaching was definitely out) but either way you were ready to dive into the real world. To no longer be stressed out about exams and papers and boring ass professors that constantly seemed to have a stain on their tie.

And to get far, far away from your stupid ex, Adam.

“Uh oh you have murder face,” Amy said as she peeped around to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shrugged. “Just in my head I guess.”

Amy hummed. “I get it. That’s why we are here though! To get fucked up and do something we regret in the morning.”

You laughed. “Guess we’re Uber-ing home.”

She grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to a table loaded with different types of alcohol. The guy ‘tending bar’ as it were winked as you two approached. “What can I get you for?”

“Something with alcohol but where we can’t taste the alcohol!” Amy exclaimed happily. “Oh! And if you’ve got any little umbrellas I’d like one of those too.”

He did finger guns and proceeded to cook something up in two red cups, sticking in two pink umbrellas when he was done. You and Amy took your drinks and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. The tequila wasn’t as strong as with a single shot but you could still detect it just not enough to make you stop drinking. Unlike Amy you didn’t plan to get completely fucked up but you weren’t going to say no to a nice buzz.

Cups in hand you migrated onto the dance floor and fell in with everyone else, bopping to the beat and scream chatting over the loud music.

“I really needed this!” Amy yelled. “Statistics is kicking my cute little ass!”

“I know what you mean!” You shouted. “But hey! Soon we’ll be done and actual jobs will be kicking our cute little asses!”

Laughing, Amy bounced up and down, sending her blonde hair flying. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Or is it…he who shall not be named?”

With a sigh you took a big sip of your strawberry margarita. “Yeah. He keeps fucking calling me and leaving me these stupid ass messages, apologizing and shit. I’ve blocked him but he just uses someone else’s phone.”

Amy’s eyes stretched wide. “That’s like stalker behavior! Or maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”

You snorted. “Sorry for having sex with his ex in the backseat of my car? As far as I am concerned he can take his ‘sorrys’ and shove them so far up his ass they come out his mouth as safaris!”

Amy choked a little on her drink, hitting you hard on the arm in admonishment after she stopped coughing. “I hate you! I could have died!”

Her words made you smirk. “But did you? No but for real, fuck Adam. Fuck Adam and anyone who even looks like Adam!”

“Woo!” Amy threw both hands up into the air, yelping as liquid sloshed down onto her head. “Oh shit! Drink emergency I’ll be right back!”

Before you could say anything, she turned and hurried back towards the drink table. Alone in the middle of a dancing crowd, you didn’t know whether you should slink over to a corner or just keep dancing. That last thing you wanted was some random dude trying to groove with you. Of course if you decided to hold up the wall nothing would stop some random dude from trying to hit on you either. At a bit of a loss you drained the rest of your drink and did a I don’t really know anyone two step, hoping Amy would return soon.

The tequila settled nice and warm in your stomach, making you feel more at ease. Most of the people at the party were from your school but not ones you associated with on like, a daily basis. Sure you recognized a few faces from the library or cafeteria but there was no one you’d had more than a surface conversation with.

And then your eyes landed on him. Ten.

Ten was a…different sort of person altogether. He was the kinda guy CW shows thought actually existed in college, except he was very real. And very much fucking gorgeous in that unattainable way CW shows also loved. However, that sort of did him a disservice because as far as you knew, he was just a decent guy who happened to be able to do some pretty awesome things.

For example, he was an amazing dancer. The kinda dancer that just freaking mesmerized you when he moved. Had you wondering how in the hell had he taught his body to do that shit? One minute he was in total sync with everyone else and the next he was performing his solo and blowing your mind. He’d done some show a few months ago with a friend and you’d nearly flipped out of your chair watching him work. The body rolls, the attitude, the way he’d just commanded the stage…whew. Was it possible to be a fan of someone who wasn’t famous?

Then there was his art; things he designed himself or drew from memory. Art class was essentially where you’d sorta came to be acquaintances with him. You weren’t exactly good at drawing but you liked it enough that you wanted to improve, plus it helped you de-stress after particularly hard days. Ten on the other hand excelled and just like with dancing, it was interesting to watch his process. He’d described himself as a sensory artist so he wasn’t always as concerned with the end product as the professor sometimes wanted him to be. From your eye though he’d yet to create anything that wasn’t remarkable. In fact, more than once you’d wanted to ask him to design a tattoo for you, but felt it would be kinda weird. He had no idea what you were into after all. So far your conversations with him had consisted of colors and that one time he’d asked to borrow one of your brushes.

You were pretty sure he’d sold something to an art gallery.

Anyway so Ten could dance and he could draw and he could sing and he was fluent in several languages; as far as you knew the only thing he was kind of shit at was cooking. But who hadn’t set a class kitchen on fire once or twice? Or three times…

If he were an asshole—well people would probably still crush on him—you’d count that as a major flaw and want to keep your distance. But the kicker was that he could do cool things and he was nice. Dorky even especially when it came to cute animals. Was always posting pictures of himself at the animal shelter playing with the kittens and the puppies, or just acting like an idiot with friends. Yet it was that confidence that made him seem untouchable, and also made him sexy as fuck. More than once you’d fantasized about biting his Adam’s apple.

Heh.

Shaking your head, you fanned lightly at your face with both hands. Maybe stepping outside for some fresh air would be a good idea.

“Y/N!” Amy nearly tripped over her pretty sandals in her hurry to get back to you. “Weewoo weewoo weewoo!”

“Um…”

She grabbed your shoulder. “It’s a police siren! We have a code red situation here, I repeat a code red! Adam just walked in!”

“What?” You blinked and immediately looked towards the doorway, brows narrowing when you saw she was right.

Standing there in a white t-shirt in his formerly handsome glory was your ex-boyfriend, Adam. Once upon a time you’d thought the world of him; thought he was the kinda guy you could probably marry someday. The kinda guy you’d introduced your family to. Turns out he was the kind of guy that hooked up with his ex in your car repeatedly until finally being caught in the act. Sure it had been gratifying to make him and her walk home half naked but it had done nothing to quell the pain left behind. Thankfully though your pain quickly turned to anger and now you usually focused on not murdering him when he popped up. There was a lot you could forgive but cheating was firmly in the do not cross zone. Everything you’d felt for him evaporated the moment you saw him with her.

And he’d promised he was over her. Lying piece of shit, you thought to yourself.

“What the hell is he doing here?! Does he even know anyone here?” you asked with a frown.

“I dunno!” your friend said slowly. “It’s possible, big campus and all. Do you want me to help you climb out of the bathroom window?”

“Yeah my boobs aren’t fitting through one of those skinny ass windows,” you replied wryly. “Though to be honest I’m almost willing to risk it. C’mon let’s—”

It was too late. Adam spotted you like an arrow searching for its target, eyes registering shock and then elation. He reached you in three quick strides, opening his arms for a hug that he was damned crazy to expect. “Y/N. Wow you—you look amazing. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

You huffed. “I’m not. I told you we’re over Adam. Or does me blocking your calls not get the message across?”

He exhaled deeply. “Look I know I messed up but I’m sorry. Classes were just really tough and—and Lucy and I would reminisce about old times…”

“Do I look like I give a shit? You cheated on me and we’re over.” The lie came so easily. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah!” Amy poked him in the chest. “She’s moved on so suck it!”

Adam arched a brow. “You’ve moved on?” He sounded skeptical and that made your blood boil. “Since when? And with who?”

You’d once heard that Hippocrates came up with the saying drastic times call for drastic measures though it wasn’t something you’d be willing to bet money on. However, standing there with your ex eying you like he just knew you were lying brought a whole new meaning to the idiom. You would one hundred percent be damned before giving him the satisfaction of gloating.

Tequila’s kicking in…

Without missing a beat, you put a hand on your hip and motioned to Ten. “Him. I’m seeing him.”

Amy made a sound like a cat having its tail stepped on while Adam gaped at you. “What? I—no. No way. You’re totally lying. I’ve seen the people he’s dated and you’re not his type at all.”

This bitch.

Twirling on your black heels, you strolled across the room to where Ten sat in an arm chair, chatting with a few of his friends. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you straddled his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward as fuck—I’m so sorry—but if you just play along I will owe you big time. I’ll give you anything. You need a kidney? You can have a kidney.”

Ten’s friends had gone mute and as you sat back to gauge his reaction—or to possibly be thrown off of him—you bit your full bottom lip. His dark eyes were watching you calculatingly, his own lips pursed together like you were a riddle he needed to solve. Up close he was utterly breathtaking, all smooth skin and silky black hair that fell artfully across his forehead. He smelled incredible.

And then he spoke.

“There you are baby,” he said wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”

That was when you figured you owed him your first born but it was fine. “Well, you found me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He chuckled. “You’re worth waiting for.”

His friends still looked confused though they didn’t have time to voice their opinions. Adam stalked over seconds later like a man on a mission. “So it’s true? You and Y/N are together?”

Ten tilted his head to the side and you saw the moment the lightbulb went off for him. “Yeah we’re together.”

Adam huffed. “Since when? For how long? Where did you two meet?”

Ten smirked. “Are you taking a survey or something?” He brushed his lips across your jaw, making you shiver. “The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. Let’s dance, Y/N.”

“I would love to,” you replied with a smile. You were also grateful he’d remembered your name.

You climbed off of his lap and took his hand, sending Adam a you thought look before pulling Ten out into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was beating a mile a minute but you felt too giddy to pay much attention to it. Plus, you knew Adam was watching you like a hawk and you didn’t want to let on how nervous you actually were. If he found out you were lying he’d never leave you alone and consider you pathetic to boot. Besides the nice buzz that was finally creeping down your spine told you everything would be fine. How could it not be?

Ten’s hands settled low on your hips and he gave you a little tug, pulling your back to his chest. You fit rather perfectly with him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Picking a rhythm in the song that thumped with bass, you began to move together. You rolled your ass against him and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, focusing on his breath as it ghosted across your neck. A silver of light wouldn’t have been able to get between you.

Normally you wouldn’t have dared to do something like this with a near stranger but your desire to make your ex suffer was bigger than your nerves. Besides Ten appeared to be all in on the ruse; his body twisting and curving in sync with yours, fingers on his right hand sliding up between your breasts to wrap lightly on your throat. His teeth nipped at your earlobe and you gasped. Reached around to his side to clasp his shirt for an anchor. You heard him chuckle and suddenly you were spun away from him only to be reeled back in, this time face to face.

The room felt like it was two hundred degrees. You weren’t exactly wearing much—a slinky black dress with tiny ties at the hem—but even that seemed too much. Without missing a beat though you and Ten continued to grind with one another, his thigh just barely pushed between your own. Every time you swayed forward to meet him the denim of his jeans rubbed deliciously against you, sending sparks sprinting through your veins. Both of his hands were on your ass as if helping to guide you, and as you met his gaze you couldn’t help but bite your lip at what you saw there. Desire, lust, hunger—no one had ever looked at you like that before. Like they could just devour you and still not have enough of you.

It made you feel powerful.

You grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers giving his hair a little tug. He hissed and lowered his head so that he could mouth at your bare shoulder, hands squeezing your ass so hard it nearly hurt. You weren’t sure when you started to get wet—maybe it was the moment you sat on his lap or he decided to play along with your dumb stunt—but you could tell it now. Your panties were sticking to you, your skin was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think straight. Honestly however you didn’t want to think at all, especially not if it meant not being in Ten’s orbit.

“Ten,” you whispered into the skin under his jaw.

He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. You plastered your hand to his chest and pulled it down, nails catching on the thin material of his shirt until they were brushing along the zipper on his jeans. You gave him a quick squeeze—he was hard and straining—and he cursed loudly. Between one second and the next he was dragging you down a dimly light hallway, past kissing couples and one guy passed out drunk in the doorway of someone’s room. He swung you both into the first vacant room he came to; a lavish bathroom at the very back of the house. The door was closed with a swift thump and the lock clicked shut.

You licked your lips as he crowded you back into the counter, looking down at you with a tiny smirk. That part of your brain that yammered on about bad decisions was surprisingly quiet, so you figured it was beyond okay to pull him down for a kiss. As with most of the stuff he did, Ten was a damn good kisser. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue playful and coaxing. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to kiss you for a long time. Until it grew deep and sensual. Until you were both panting with the need for air but neither wanting to let go of the moment.

With a gasp you tilted backwards a bit, your knees suddenly weak. “Fuck me,” you said absently.

“Can I?” Ten asked, chest heaving. “Can I fuck you?”

“God yes,” you replied, already pulling your dress up until it hitched around your waist.

Ten hooked his thumbs onto the band of your pink panties and slid them down your legs, laying them next to the sink. He looked you over with that same eye he used for his art but you could tell he liked what he saw. You grabbed his hand and brought it between your legs, spreading them wider for him. Two of his fingers slipped inside of you without any resistance to find you damp and aching, already so hot for him. He started a lazy rhythm—in and out, in and out—like he was in no hurry at all. Like he wasn’t driving you crazy all the way down to the tips of your toes.

He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he touched you, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That rang true for both of you. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever really be friends with Ten, let alone about to hook up with him. It was like you’d stumbled into some alternate universe.

Bringing his free hand up to your cheek, he smoothed his thumb across your lips, pressing lightly until you let him in. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and gave it a little nip, smiling when he smirked. When he deemed it wet enough, he pressed it to your clit and you moaned, your hips stuttering upward with a will of their own. He began a firm massage, working your clit this way and that, fingers still thrusting in their maddening motion. Of course he’d be great with his hands. Of course he’d be able to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Pressure started to build low in your stomach. “I—I’m…”

“Turn around.” Ten took a step back and made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick between them like he wanted to savor every drop.

You whimpered but did as he requested, your eyes finding his in the wide silver mirror. You watched as he unzipped his pants and pushed them along with his dark colored briefs down to the floor. You hadn’t seen him pull out a condom but he had one; ripping open the packaging with his perfectly straight teeth before rolling it onto his hard cock. It was a delicious looking thing you had to admit, long and thick with a slight curve. If you’d had the time you would have gladly went to your knees for him.

A low breath shuddered out of Ten’s lungs as he pushed inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so strongly you were bound to have a few bruises later. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

It had been a while since Adam and nobody after him until now.

When he assumed you’d adjusted to the size of him, he pulled nearly out before driving back inside of you. You moaned and pushed back to meet his thrusts, feeling the pleasure shattering through you. Your breasts bounced as he moved and he reached a hand forward, tugging down the top of your dress so that he could cup one. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and pinched, bending over you so that he could bite down onto the tender skin of your shoulder. The motion sent him even deeper and you both groaned at the feeling.

“Te—Ten,” you stammered, losing your train of thought when he rolled his hips liked he did on the dance floor. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”

The picture you made in the mirror was a very erotic one; you could see every single expression on Ten’s handsome face. The utter enjoyment he was obviously finding in fucking you was written all over it; there was nowhere for it to hide. His head was tipped back, eyes fluttering closed only to pop back open so that he could watch himself shove into you over and over again. He had you up on your tip toes, nose just an inch from the mirror itself. He was always sexy but tonight that word took on a whole new meaning.

All you could do was try to give as good as you got.

You slapped a hand onto the sink to steady yourself and clenched around him, reveling in the low whine that escaped his throat. It kinda sounded like your name.

And then he was pulling all the way out, dick bouncing as he stumbled backwards. You blinked in confusion. “Wh--what’s wrong?”

Ten ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon. I want you to ride me.”

He sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and you straddled him without a second thought, sinking down onto his dick with a full body shudder. With your dress around your waist and your breasts jiggling in his face as you bounced up and down on his cock, he traced his tongue around your nipple before lightly biting down. You tangled your fingers in his hair and panted out his name, letting out a squeak when his palm connected with your ass for a hard slap. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned you backwards a bit as he drove into you repeatedly, eyes watching how well your pussy took him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone. “Gorgeous—you feel so good.” He bit you again, this time on the side of your neck. “So good.”

With one hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, you rose up and let yourself come down hard over and over again, feeling him pound so deep it was almost criminal. Had the music not been so loud you knew exactly what you would have heard; the sound of skin hitting skin as Ten fucked you like he owned you. Just for tonight, maybe he did.

You weren’t sure how long it went on but when you came it still managed to take you by surprise. Your body lit up like a Christmas tree from the inside out and you cried out Ten’s name, clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. He muttered a drawn out fuuuuck and pinched your clit with this thumb and forefinger, making you jerk so hard you nearly tumbled off his lap.

“Ah! Ten!” You shouted as he kept it up. “I—no—oh god—”

Your pussy tightened around him again and he shivered, thrusts growing erratic as he came with a grunt. You trembled through a second orgasm almost in disbelief—usually the only thing that could get you off twice in a row was hidden under your bed in a shoe box.

Seconds later you flopped against him, attempting to catch your breath. He was still rolling his hips just a tiny bit, making all the too sensitive areas ping.

“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, wrapping both arms around your waist. “That was…”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah…” Chancing a look at him, you admired the way strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was glistening, shirt sticking to his chest. He smelled like hints of your perfume and you smelled like hints of his cologne. It was all so intimate.

Reluctantly you sat back and gazed at him, wondering if things were about to get awkward. But Ten just smiled and ducked his head a little, a barely there blush creeping up into his already flushed cheeks. It was so adorable you couldn’t have resisted kissing him if you tried. From the way he melted into you, he’d had the same idea.

After a few minutes of just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours, you forced yourself up off of him. Your legs shook; you had to grab the counter to keep from tripping in your heels. You could already tell you’d still feel him tomorrow and the thought made you kinda dizzy, but in a good way. Blinking at your reflection—your hair was a dark mess—you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the love bites that adorned your skin. They stood out stark red and purple like a bruise.

Ten remained slouched on the toilet for a couple of moments before removing the condom and tossing it into the trash. He dabbed at his dick with a handful of toilet paper, and then pulled up his underwear and jeans. “So…can I ask you something?”

You fixed your dress. “Sure.”

“Who was that guy?” he inquired with a grin. “The one you obviously wanted to get away from.”

Oh shit you’d forgotten all about Adam! “Oh he—he’s my dumb ex. He jumped stupid at me and I—I wanted to show him that he’s an idiot. That I’m totally over him. I—I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

He laughed as he patted down his hair. “No complaints from my end. I think he got the message though.” Reaching behind you he handed you your panties. “Don’t wanna forget these.”

It was ridiculous to be embarrassed considering what you’d both just done, but you couldn’t help it. You took them from him and pulled them on, keeping your eyes on the ground. “Thanks… Look Ten—”

“I’m hungry,” he said interrupting you. “Have you ever had grilled dried pollack?”

“Um yeah once I think,” you replied uncertainly. “It was pretty tasty.”

Ten motioned behind him. “I know a place that makes it if you wanted to go. And…maybe afterwards we could just hang out. Talk.”

That sounded amazing. “I’d love to. But…”

He picked up on your meaning. “Y/N I sit next to you in all of our art classes. I make conversation with you for no reason. Do you really think I of all people forget my brushes? Honestly I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but you’ve always seemed…disinterested.”

You were dumbstruck by his admission. “Me?! That’s just my face! You’re the unattainable ingénue or whatever!”

Ten chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh please the only thing standing between me and being a serious cat dad is having an apartment that allows animals. However, this conversation is pointless. You owe me and I’m collecting…if that’s okay?”

You huffed but couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s perfect.”

The walk from the bathroom to the living room had everyone staring with a few people letting out loud whistles. Adam had disappeared but Amy was there to give you a big thumbs up. You promised to call her later and then let Ten pull you outside into the warm night air, your fingers happily entwined with his.

#wayv ten #ten imagines #wayv smut #ten scenarios #ten x reader #ten smut #nct scenarios #ten oneshot #wayv imagines #woc reader #wayv ten imagines #ten lee #wayv au #nct au

[sopxhiea]

Rules

Alfie Solomons X Friends with Benefits!Reader

Summary: She’s known as a dancer in a high end club but he’s known her for not so long. She decides the rules, he goes along with them but sometimes, he’s the one making the rules.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

It’s late. 

Late enough to hear the dogs howling in the groggy streets of London as the black sky decorated the horizon. The room was quiet, only the sound of breathing filling the hollow walls of the apartment. The silence wasn’t unusual and it was more than welcomed. The owner wasn’t home, a familiar body was standing in the spacious entrance.

You weren’t home yet.

Feeling the soft material of the lacy undergarment residing around your upper thighs, you looked around to see who was still in the club. It was close to the weekend which meant that it was getting busier than usual. Men were mostly drunk or intoxicated by the movements of the ladies around. There was no one to entertain in the club anymore so you moved towards the interior rooms to get ready to leave.

The space was decorated with mirrors, make up clutter right in front of them as some of the girls packed the last of their garments to leave. The sun would approach soon, sunlight beaming through the groggy city but you hoped to make it home before then. Slowly gathering your stuff and stuffing them all in your bag, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

The club wasn’t the usual, much like you.

It was a place for rich lads, some aristocracy and the kind of men that had to be served in private rooms because of how high they were up in the pyramid scheme. Most of the work you did was talking, some dancing here and there and you were done. Nothing ever got physical since it wasn’t a brothel, but a place for fine entertainment.

The make-up was off, your natural skin color glowing under the countless bulbs that decorated the mirror. The club was mostly empty now, car sounds no longer audible. It was dead silent outside, the hour when the city would be asleep and you’d walk home on your own. It was a treat to say the least.

The cold weather attacked your skin a bit too quickly as you made your way down the street. Your flat wasn’t too far from the club, just perfect distance for a night walk. It was dangerous in the streets, especially for a lady like yourself but you had a gun hidden in your bag and a long needle that held your bun together and you knew your way around both of those tools.

The night seemed quiet as you walked, no sounds of chatter but a few drunken lads from a couple blocks away. You hugged your coat a little tighter and realized that you were less tired than usual.

-----

The inside of the house was quiet, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked through the corridor. Your dresses were on the floor, a couple mugs here and there sitting on the piles of books. He saw a nightgown and your knickers on the floor and decided that you had gone to the club a little later than usual. As far as he was concerned, everything was normal.

The sound of keys jiggling outside the door made him turn towards the entrance and before he knew it, you pushed the door open with a gun in your hand that was pointed at him. Your breathing was even and the gun in your hand didn’t shake in the slightest.

He greeted you with a smile.

You lowered the gun down in a swift motion when you realized who it was. He was wearing his usual smile, broad as he walked towards you with dense eyes. He was wearing the usual attire but his prayer shawl was missing and you realized it was past saturday.

There he was, the handsome stranger.

He wasn’t so much of a stranger really, not since he’d made you chant his name until the sun was down and you had to go to work. He knew the way your body responded, what you liked in the bedroom and just how to kiss you to make you beg. 

He didn’t know anything about your family, where you’d spent your childhood or the way you’d silently pray each time you saw a shadow. Alfie didn’t know what meals you cooked, how you liked your tea or anything past your occupation and name and where you lived. 

He didn’t need to. 

And he wasn’t allowed to.

“What the fuck happened to sayin’ ‘ello, pet?” he said with an amused face that you didn’t mirror. You were still a bit tired from work and he never came over afterhours.

Those were the rules.

He was allowed to come anytime before your work and never after you’d just arrived home. He would usually call before and let you know. He wasn’t allowed to buy you things or take you out, even though he’d stayed over a couple times before. You knew limited information and about him and he the same, and he wasn’t allowed to break any of the rules.

“Sorry. I’m just a little..” you spoke with a soft tone and he could hear the tiredness seeping from your limbs as he took a look at you.

You looked tired but beautiful nevertheless.

Your figure was a bit slumped, the kind of tiredness that came from working too hard and not because he was the one tiring you out. You weren’t wearing any make-up or fancy clothes, it was his favorite version of you. He didn’t like all the make-up you had to wear for the club or the fancy lingerie but he had no say in any of the things you did. You had made that painfully clear for him.

“Ya’ alright?” he asked while walking towards you, voice a little concerned at your state but you were a bit too tired to care.

And you wanted to hug him, really badly.

Alfie was very rough around the edges, far too rude at first sight for any lady but it would take a split second to realize that he wasn’t rude at all, that was just the way he was. He brushed shoulders with gangsters, people of the underworld who had to do dirty things to get food on their table. He had blood in his hands and for a man of his kind, he was a gentle one.

You immediately leaned a bit closer when his hand came into contact with your shoulder.

“Fine.” you nodded, little bits of your hair framing your face and Alfie leaned in even closer, standing right in front of you with his hand on your hip.

“Do you want anythi-” you started speaking in a softer voice than normal and Alfie felt himself melt a little but his eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Nah,’m fine, pet.” he said, in a low whisper. He was very gentle at that moment, almost like in a daze.

He had met you in a very unusual way.

You had crashed into him, face on his chest one day when you were out buying groceries. The flowers in your hand were crushed when you bumped into him and he had no time to apologize before you’d started screaming at him for being so careless. He’d listened you shout while thinking about how lovely you were and then asked you out for tea that very same day.

You had said yes and then somehow ended up on his bed. You’d left without saying goodbye but then bumped into him a couple weeks later. He had talked charmingly the whole time and then it happened again, again and then once more before you established some rules so that he didn’t think this was more than a stress relief situation.

“What are you-” you started talking again with his face closer to yours but he interrupted you soon, speaking softly against your irritated face.

“I had a fuckin’ job, right, jus’ around the fuckin’ corner so I figured..” he spoke but trailed off with a smile and you finished it for him.

“So you figured you’d have a quick fuck-” your smile was less evident as you looked at him while speaking.

“A visit, lass. A fuckin’ visit is what ‘m here for, innit.” he said, interrupting you once more and he saw your blood boil which only aroused him.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” your voice was stern as you looked up at the man. He was twice your size yet you did all the ordering around.

He didn’t mind.

He had been with his share of women, mostly in brothels but he’d usually leave out that part. He loved women, that was a given but he had never grown fond of one before. You had seem like the polar opposite of him when you’d first met and all that did was to draw him even further. He didn’t like the warmth that spread through his chest when he saw you, it made him feel young and defenseless again.

“Sorry, pet.” he said, face even closer to yours now. You knew what he was here for but it didn’t fit the rules, you had no problem sending him home.

“You came here for what?” you spoke against his lips, not kissing him just yet but simply teasing. He was a sucker for that.

He smiled when your fingers caressed his cheek and your lips almost touched his. He wasn’t here for a fuck this time, he had simply dropped off. He had business around the corner with a butcher’s shop that was causing him some trouble and realized that you’d be home soon.

He also wanted to ask you a question but that would come later.

“To see ya’.” he said, simple as that while your lips ghosted over his. Your eyes were locked into his and he didn’t seem to be lying from the way his face relaxed.

“Hm.” you said, humming before you leaned closer to plan your lips on his.

The kiss was slow, not the usual teeth against teeth you had with him. His hands were on your waist while yours resided on his chest and cheek. He was savoring the moment since this was rare with you, very rare. You wanted some relief on most days and that’s when you’d see him, not when you wanted a hug or a small chat.

But you weren’t complaining in the slightest.

You broke the kiss, a bit hesitant at first while staring at his lips. He was searching for your eyes when you parted but you wouldn’t look with the fear of him catching something in there. You slowly walked away from him, taking your long coat off and throwing it on the sofa. The house was a mess but that was the usual. All you and Alfie did was fuck anyway so the only place he would be concerned with was the bed.

You sat down on the chair in the corner of the room and looked at him, standing near the entrance with his broad form. He was here for something, you could tell but he wasn’t so keen on giving it to you. It wasn’t like you were dying to know but Alfie was not someone who’d usually ask for anything, let alone anything from you.

All he would ask was a fuck and that was the arrangement.

“You’re gonna talk?” you said, watching as he made his way to the corner you were sitting on and sat on the sofa next to you.

He didn’t speak for a while. His hand tugged at his beard while he looked at you, lost in thought. He wasn’t really looking at you but through you, which was unusual considering he was one of the first people to ever see you for who you were. You didn’t like to think about it, he was good in bed and that’s all you were concerned with.

“Ya’ hear what’s goin’ on in these fuckin’ streets?” he asked, head motioning outside for a split second before he directed all his attention to you again.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you spoke, not a care in the world as he looked at you. “Seeing as I arrive home at this hour, no.” you said, eyes searching for his for a second before finding them.

He seemed uneasy.

“There is a fuckin’ war, yeah, a dangerous one, lass and it ain’t gonna look pretty for ya’ when they realize ya’ fuckin’ know me.” he said, measuring each and every word.

You didn’t know why he cared.

In your eyes, you were just a woman he fucked. There were no strings, no seeing each other romantically or any kind of involvement. You weren’t his, not by any means and he wasn’t yours. You’d speak to him if you saw him outside but there was no other involvement other than being with each other for stress relief. For all you knew, he was still making regular visits to the brothel.

But he wasn’t.

He had stopped right after he had first met you. He still had his needs but you were more than capable of taking care of him if he were to knock on your door. He knew the rules, was very well aware of the lines you’d drawn for him but he’d still protect you. Not because you were his fuckbuddy but because he genuinely cared about your wellbeing, even if that wasn’t allowed.

You smiled at him at first, almost felt like he was mocking you. Why did he care? You tilted your head to the side and spoke with an amused voice as he looked at you with concern in his eyes, not something you were used to seeing. He still listened as you spoke. “Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

He shook his head with an amused chuckle. You really had no idea. The Italians didn’t know of you yet but if they followed Alfie enough times, they could easily make out the equation. He looked at your still form for a moment and spoke, saying what he’d been wanting to say since he arrived and you saw the weight being lifted off his shoulders.

“I can fuckin’ protect ya’, pet, if ya’ come live near me, that is.” he said, word by word and he saw your face change.

It was absurd.

“No.” you said, not even taking a minute to think about it as you looked at him. Before he said anything else, you spoke up again with a shaking head. You were still seated, less angry than he’d expect you to be. “I can’t move away from work and I don’t even know how to find another apartment at this time.” you spoke, voicing all your concerns.

He was a gangster and knew the ropes better than you so you opted on trusting him. If it turned out to be a mistake, you would blame it all on him but you didn’t want to get killed because you’d been fucking some bloke. Except that he wasn’t some bloke and he had his own gang.

“I got that figured ou’, I did, yeah.” he spoke to you while leaning back on the sofa. You looked at him with a curious expression. He was amused at it for a second before speaking up again, hand tugging at his beard. “I got ya’ a fuckin’ place of yer own, near where I fuckin’ live, pet...” he said and watched your eyes burn.

Who did he think he was?

The rules were clear and your blood was boiling because this man was breaking every one of them. He wouldn’t care if you were dead, you had thought but the more he spoke, the more you changed your mind. He had already taken care of everything without even asking you and he heard you scoff while his words still filled your ear.

“I’ll have one of the lads to fuckin’ drive you..” he said, done with what he was saying and you snapped back immediately.

“You’ll have someone drive me in the evening and pick me up at 4 in the morning from a gentlemen’s club?” you spoke, eyes stern as they bore into his.

He just nodded.

You scoffed once more and got up, hand on your hip as you paced through the room. He just watched. He could see the questions forming as you looked at him every now and then as you paced. There was a look of panic in your eyes as you walked through the corridors and realized that he was probably right at having you move, you could easily be killed. Even if you weren’t seeing him, it was common for someone to be killed just because they were living in a dangerous area.

“Will they kill me?” you said, and spoke once more before he could answer. “If I don’t move, I mean..... Will I die?” you said, eyes wide with confusion and panic.

So he spoke up almost immediately, not liking your frantic eyes as he was used to seeing your calm features after a good fuck. “I won’t have that fuckin’ happen-”

“But If I refuse to move?” you said, waiting for him to properly answer the question with hand on your hip. He knew you were measuring all the possibilities.

“I ain’t gonna lie to ya’, pet, ‘s very possible, it ‘s.” he said while looking at you. He was still sitting in front of you.

He watched you nod.

This didn’t change anything in your eyes. It wouldn’t mean that you were dependent on him or that he would have any power over you. You’d just be protected and the chances of you getting killed because of him would decrease. You measured it all in your mind and realized that it was probably for the best.

“Fine.”

------

His movements were fast, feral almost as his skin came into contact with yours every other second. The bed creaked, not too loud while your panting filled the room. Hands holding onto him by the shoulders, you let out a shaky exhale when he adjusted the angle. His hair was messy as it fell on his forehead, moving each time he thrusted into you.

“Fuck.” you whispered against his lips when he started moving faster, hand on his back and neck while his remained on your waist.

He groaned against your neck with each movement, holding your legs up on his knees in the process. A thin layer of sweat was apparent on your skin even though it was freezing outside. You watched him lift his head, facial expression covered in bliss while the morning light hit his face.

It had been a week since you’d moved into the apartment and 4 of those days had been spent with you and him testing the new bed. You had gotten a new one for yourself and he’d joked about how you’d have to break into it so that it was comfortable and you had given him one look and there you were, four days later with your legs wrapped around him.

Your back arched off the bed the faster he became and he was soon becoming erratic, gasping for air and you felt your body slowly tense and give in. Your hands dug into his back as he moved, reaching his climax soon after. He stayed like that for a while while you regained your breath, feeling your body grow tired with each passing hour. You swallowed as he slid out of you and collapsed next to you on the bed.

The rules were still in place.

You stared at the ceiling while he stared at you while laying on his stomach next to you. Your hair was messy, the tie no longer holding it together and tangles here and there. He watched your heaving chest, breath a little lost as you locked your lips. 

And then you turned to him.

His eyes had already been on you but you hadn’t realized. He was staring, not gawking but looking with some sort of softness in his gaze. You didn’t smile as you inspected him and the way he was looking at you. You didn’t do the same to him, feeling yourself grow a bit too uneasy at the feeling of being watched.

And if you looked for too long, you were afraid you’d get lost.

Slowly lifting your body off of the mattress and sitting next to him, you came to realize that most of your lower body had gotten sore in between days of tidying and arranging the new flat and Alfie not wasting a second to get you alone so that he could spend the rest of the day tiring you out even further. 

He watched your hair fall across your back when you got up, messy from the events that had just taken place. You were not wearing anything so you grabbed your cardigan and wrapped it around your body when you got up. The whole time, he just watched as you moved around your new space.

It already felt like home.

He’d spent most of the days either helping you out or making sure that the lads didn’t damage any of the furniture or simply making you pant on the bed. It had been wonderful if he was honest, he wasn’t as angry and there was no feeling of uneasiness in his chest. He still saw dangerous man from day to day but knowing that you’d be home before you left for work, telling the lads how to put the sofa made him feel look forward to the time he’d get to see you.

He didn’t think much of it, or so he convinced himself that he didn’t.

“Alfie.” you said, you had been speaking to him but he was in his head so he hadn’t heard.

“Huh, what, luv?” he said, lifting himself off of the mattress and sitting on the soft material instead.

“You want tea?” you said, licking your lips while standing next to the door’s frame with nothing but a cardigan on. 

“Hm.” he said, nodding as he got up to put his pants on. He didn’t dress himself any further even though it was cold outside, he felt warm after laying on the bed with you.

He walked towards the kitchen to see you waiting for the water to boil. You looked at him when he appeared on the door and you gave him a gentle smile which he returned with a warmer heart. He walked next to you while you poured the water in the tea cups and his hand met your hip, squeezing gently.

This was not something you usually did.

In the last week, the lines had become blurred. It was hard to tell what he was to you. He had found you an apartment and had even picked you up in the morning when you were done. You had joked around with him during the ride and he’d even made jokes to make you smile, he had succeeded, too.

You shuddered a little when his lips met the space between your ear. He knew your body like the back of his hand, no matter how much you’d want to deny it. You kept your eyes on the water that was pouring out to the cups but his lips had your attention.

“Alfie, I’m gonna burn myself.” you said, in a breathy voice and he stopped with a smile. You didn’t even see his lips soften but you knew he was smiling.

After putting the tray on the table that resided in the middle of the living room, you sat on the soft chair you had brought from your previous place. He sat on the sofa on the opposite corner while waiting for the tea to cool down. He wanted to say something, it was hanging at the back of his mouth but he couldn’t get the words to come out.

And you so took it upon yourself to make him.

“If you wanna say something, just say it.” you said, almost a whisper but he had heard since the rooms were silent. You wore an annoyed expression that he often saw but it only amused him further.

He wanted to ask you if you’d work today and he already knew the answer.

He didn’t like it, the sticky feeling in his stomach each time you would go to work. He had no say in what you did, either for work or on the daily and he knew that but it only stirred him further. There was the fear of you getting hurt but he knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

And then, there was the other issue that wouldn’t leave his mind.

Other men got to see you in fancy lingerie, things that didn’t cover you up all the way and it made him mad. He didn’t quite know why, just that he was annoyed with the whole thing. He wouldn’t say it but you’d see the relief on his face when you’d be back from work or when he’d come to pick you up. He had been fucking you a little more carefully lately, ever since you’d moved in closer to him. He was almost tender, painfully soft with you when you’d let him show you a good time. It wasn’t the animalistic, rough Alfie you were used to but there was complaint, only curiosity.

He didn’t speak, just hand tugging at his beard and you knew he’d wait until the day was over and you’d be back from work to see him still in the same position. “You’ve been in me, Alfie, I won’t get mad.” you spoke, almost sensing the reason for his hesitation and his eyes locked into yours when you were done speaking. 

He figured he’d trust your word.

“Yer goin’ to work?” he asked and saw your features change.

You knew why he was asking but that didn’t change anything.

You had a vague idea as to why he had been more gentle with you lately, why he kissed you deeper than usual and why he insisted on giving you hickeys even though you’d told him not to on numerous occasions. He was more touchy, almost always around with the excuse of ‘making sure you were settled in’. You were just a girl but you weren’t stupid.

And this wasn’t something you could allow.

Men got jealous, they got protective and thought they had some sort of power over you the moment you’d become ‘ their girl’. You hated that anyway, being someone’s girl and knowing how dangerous Alfie’s line of business could be, you didn’t see sense in pursuing the possibility of anything happening with the man. You shook your head and he watched you lick your lips before you spoke.

“Yes, I am.” you said nonchalantly, as if you were trying to tell him that no matter how much he’d ask, you still wouldn’t want it. “You don’t need to pick me up.” you said, expressionless as he looked at your standing yet somehow small form. You hugged the cardigan tighter as he spoke, he watched you put some things into space. Things he’d knocked out of its place when he had been feverishly kissing you.

“I fuckin’ will, though.” he said, eyes stern as he looked at your face. You were a little taken aback but no evident sign of surprise.

“You don’t have to.” you said again, agitated with his need to make sure you were alright when all you needed him for was a quick fuck.

It didn’t work like this, not with you so you wouldn’t entertain the chance of being with him.

“I want to, lass, yeah, so I fuckin’ will.” he said one last time before getting up to walk towards you.

He would be jealous, you told yourself. He wouldn’t like the fact that other people were able to see you in such little clothing, you thought and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate the little dances you would give. Sure, he was a good fuck but he was also a cruel gangster and the balance seemed almost even.

Almost.

You walked away the moment his breath his your face and made your way to the bedroom to tidy up. There were clothes on the floor and books everywhere, you grabbed one and put it on the shelf and he was right behind you when you turned back.

“Alfie, move.” you said, not able to penetrate through his large form as he blocked your way.

“Tell me.” he said, finger under your chin as he lifted your face so you were looking at him.

“Tell you what?”

“Why?” his voice was a whisper as he looked at your small form, chin still between his fingers as his eyes bored into yours.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the question as he looked at your face, Why what? you thought. The question had so many ways of ending and yet, only one question popped into your mind.

Why were you still going to work? Why, when he was the one keeping your bed warm?

You didn’t answer, you didn’t know if there was an answer. It would not work, he would be a jealous man, jealous of the other ones that got to see you in work and it would get unbearable like it always would with any relationship you had. You didn’t say anything and walked away, he just watched.

He left soon after that, not a word or a forehead kiss like he’d usually give you. He wasn’t hurt or broken by anything, he was just waiting for you to make up your mind. The words had stirred something in you, he had seen that when you had looked at him. He just needed an answer now.

Laying on the bed as you watched the street lights dance on the ceiling, you realized you had the answer.

But it would put you in a lot of danger.

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

A/n: Hi!! This was something that had been in drafts for a while now so i wanted to post it at last. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you’d like another chapter!!

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons scenario #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons series #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x shelby!reader #peaky blinders #alfie solomons peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders scene #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fiction #tom hardy x reader

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Kevin Lomax

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Kevin met when he was still a little new to the courtroom. He was fresh out of law school, had a few cases under his belt, and was out celebrating his latest victory with a few friends when he just so happened to spot you in the crowd.

- The minute he saw you, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. He thought you were gorgeous and he had to stop himself from staring as his friends patted him on the back and stroked his ego.

- Your eyes might have met from across the room a few times and you might have taken turns looking over at each other throughout your time spent sitting at the bar but nothing of value happens until you’re a drink or two in.

- It’s a little later in the night when he finally approaches you. You’re standing/sitting at the bar and he comes up behind you, asking if he can buy you a drink and doing so before introducing himself.

- The two of you sit and talk for a bit, blatantly flirting with each other the entire time. He mentions his victory and you congratulate him, asking if his friends mind that he’s sitting there with you instead of celebrating with them. He merely smiles and tells you that “frankly”, he doesn’t give a damn.

- It isn’t long before he asks you if he can take you out sometime and like any rational person, you agree and spend the rest of the night feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

- For your first date, he takes you to a nice little restaurant for dinner. If you weren’t aware already, he’s incredibly charismatic so you find yourself falling for him more and more the longer you sit there with each other.

- You share your first kiss later that night as you’re walking back to his car. You have to pass a crosswalk and while you’re standing there waiting for the little light to let you go, he just leans down and kisses you.

- By the time he’s pulling away, the signs already telling you to go, so he takes your hand and walks you across the street, a handsome smile evident on his face as you try to fight back your own.

- It’s safe to say that the lawyer won you over.

- Kevin legitimately never leaves you the fuck alone when the two of you are together. He’s constantly touching and kissing you to his hearts content. He lives to have his hands on you so expect a ton of Pda.

- Handholding. He usually has to lead you places; whether out of a courtroom or through a crowded bar, so it’s useful habit of his.

- Lots of hugs; oftentimes hugs from behind.

- Him biting your ear. He likes playful, teasing affection that makes you giggle so he does a lot of stupid stuff like that.

- Cheek kisses.

- Neck and back kisses.

- Quick, passionate and somewhat rough kisses. He likes stealing your breath away.

- Lots of making out and …other things.

- Most of the time, he’ll just use a shorter version of your name to address you but the occasional “baby” will slip from his lips from time to time as well.

- Oftentimes, you’ll wind up going to bed alone but whenever he arrives home, he’ll fall into bed behind you and pull you into his arms.

- Falling asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home or be done with his “quick” work problems. You’re going to be interrupted by business a lot; particularly after he goes to New York.

- The best thing you can do is find a couple hobbies and know how to keep yourself busy if you’re going to be in a relationship with Kevin. He’s a busy man and you’re going to be spending a lot of time on your own.

- He knows about all your hobbies and likes listening to you talking about them or showing him what you’ve done. He loves seeing you all excited over something.

- He never does anything without your permission. He needs to know that you approve of something before he finalizes anything. 

 - Being spoiled. He does everything he can for you; he wants you to be as happy as possible.

- After your relationship became more serious; or after you got married, he practically insisted that you quit your job. He didn’t like the thought of you working when he made enough to support you both and he liked coming home to you after a long day so it was only a matter of time.

- Being in the audience of his trials whenever you can.  

- Helping him calm down and loosen up after tough cases.

- He tries not to talk to you about the details of cases most of the time; especially if he feels guilty over defending a certain person. Regardless, you can almost always tell when somethings wrong and immediately start to try and cheer him up.

- He likes messing with you every now and again; usually before he has good news to tell you. He’s a good actor and he uses his skills to psych you out.

- For a man who can be so serious at times, he can also be quite playful, constantly teasing and making you laugh.

- Celebrating with him after he’s won a case. He’ll usually pick you up and spin you around in his arms.

- Walking through the city together and sharing some street food.

- Going to the bar and dabbling in some dirty dancing.

- Going to nice restaurants after he gets a little more of that coin.

- Cheap takeout and a night in. Sometimes it’s just nice to relax on the couch together; usually with your legs in his lap while you watch television.

- Ice skating dates and other fun little things.

- When you lived in Florida, the two of you would cruise around town at night, listening to the radio and occasionally parking to makeout or walk around a certain area.

- Testing out his people reading skills and being amazed by how easy it is for him to dissect a person by their clothes and facial expressions.

- Packing him lunches or having dinner ready for him to come home to.

- Considering the types of people he’s represented in court, he’s probably made a few enemies around town, meaning that some people will just dislike you by default; though oftentimes it’s also out of envy.

- Telling him how proud you are of him. He knows that he’s a good lawyer but it’s nice to hear you say it sometimes too.

- Straightening out his jacket, tie or hair for him. He takes a particular comfort in you fussing over him and giving him motivational talks during breaks or before trials.

- Going to work parties and get togethers with him.

- Getting close to his coworkers wives and spending days with them; all while having a bad feeling settle in your gut.

- Getting targeted by Milton later on.

- His mother usually comes to spend time with you whenever he’s really hung up at work. You appreciate the company, especially when you start getting the same weird feelings as her; though you might chalk up your fear to her religious paranoia getting in your head.

- He tries to be as understanding as he can when you’re upset but he’s not the greatest at it. He’ll usually try to find a reasoning behind why you could be feeling so upset and try to calm you down that way which doesn’t do much good. But at least he tries, right?

- Kevin’s got a bit of a vanity problem but that's sort of a good thing for you because it means that he doesn't think you’d cheat on him; meaning he isn't gonna freak out when other guys so much as look at you. With that being said: I do think he’d occasionally take issue with you being all alone with men/male friends or people he knows wants to fuck you; even if he’s aware it’s irrational.

- Kevin’s not the most protective person in the world but he definitely does everything in his power to comfort you and make sure that you’re safe and happy.

- He’s a lawyer so of course he’s going to be good at arguing with you. The two of you don’t fight all the time but when you do, he’s going to be a bit of a jerk, following you around the house and trying to “win”.

- Because of the way he fights, more often than not, you’ll just have to take a step back and ignore him before you lose it. He doesn’t like the silent treatment and will sometimes spitefully use it himself or ask if you’re “done ignoring him” every time you can’t manage to avoid him.

- Once he thinks a fights gone on long enough, he’ll carefully choose his words and make his apology, telling you that you know he didn’t mean to upset you and so on and so forth. He’d expect you to do the same if you were in the wrong.

- He doesn’t say it constantly but he’ll tell you he loves you every now and again; usually when he’s really reminded of it.

- He’s got the ring already picked out, honey. It’s only a matter of time before you’re picking out a dress and a color for the walls in the nursery.

#kevin lomax imagine #kevin lomax headcanons #kevin lomax headcanon #kevin lomax imagines #the devils advocate imagine #the devils advocate imagines #the devils advocate headcanons #the devils advocate headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 5

Summary:  As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl’s indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé’s demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it’s too late.

Ships: Logince (Logan x Roman)  Moxiety (Virgil x Patton)

Content Warnings: arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst

Chapter Warnings: mentions of physical and emotional abuse, murder planning

Word Count: 2490

Read on AO3: here!

Cowritten with @ironwoman359 masterlist

False masterlist

Roman was not used to feeling small.

He was used to standing out, being loud, and carrying his shoulders with a confidence worthy of the title he held and the company he was expected to keep. Wherever he went, he knew he could always hold his head high.

Staring at his reflection now, he had to fight the urge to duck his head. His face was, quite simply, a mess. The cut from Lord Howard’s ring was small enough that Roman didn’t feel the need to bandage it, but the wound was slightly swollen, and his cheek was a truly shocking shade of purple.

Swallowing, Roman picked up a small compact that had been left on his vanity. He wasn’t in the habit of applying makeup, but when the supplies for doing so had appeared in his room overnight, the message he was being sent was quite clear. He wasn’t even sure whether he was sickened or relieved by the act, at this point. In some ways, it felt like another mark of ownership; the earl wanted him as perfect and pristine as ever, no matter what happened. But on the other hand, Roman wasn’t sure if he could stand to walk about the estate with the mark on full display like a brand.

Roman winced as he gingerly applied the powder to his face. It didn’t completely erase the injury’s appearance, but if he added some blush to the other cheek and styled his hair so it hung lower than usual, obscuring the bruise from the side...it was almost enough.

It would have to do for now.

Taking a deep breath, Roman exited his room and quickly made his way through the halls. He’d told Patton that he didn’t feel well this morning (which was not entirely untrue), and so he wasn’t expecting anyone to wonder where he was. After a few turns, he found himself standing before a door that he had never actually gone through before: the door to Logan’s office.

The office’s large door glistened with fresh wood polish and gave a pleasant, welcoming smell, though the scent actually only succeeded in making Roman’s nerves worse. He knew Logan would be on the other side, working on managing this set of numbers or that pile of letters even this early in the morning. Lightly touching the bruise across his cheek he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It had to be Logan- no one else. He trusted Patton with everything he had, but there was no telling how the loyal attendant would react. He knew Patton cared about him, but as kind and caring as he was, he was hardly a good actor. And Virgil was far from a snitch, but he was so wary of any sign of trouble that Roman didn’t want to burden him with this...at least not yet.

He had to be sure...he had to know he had even half a chance before letting the others in, and to have that chance, he needed Logan.

If Roman listened closely, he could hear him on the other side of the door, muttering softly to himself as he ran through whatever calculations he was scratching out with his favorite pen. Paper rustled every now and then and Roman could tell by the coolness of the hardwood floor just in front of the door that the window must be open. He stood a moment more, letting his mind’s eye follow the thought, picturing Logan’s long hair blowing softly across his shoulders as he sat hunched over his desk, glasses sitting just so on the bridge of his nose that Roman could probably reach forward and straighten them if he was quick enough.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he took a breath and knocked quickly, then without waiting for an answer, pushed the door open before he could lose his nerve.

Logan glanced up from his work, frowning slightly as Roman entered. His eyes widened when he saw Roman, and he stood so quickly that his chair screeched across the floor. Wincing at the sound, he smiled apologetically and gestured for Roman to take the seat in front of him.

“Roman, to what do I owe the pleasure this late in the evening?”

“I-” Roman’s throat ran dry, and his thoughts along with it. Logan was looking at him, worry etched across his brow and work forgotten, and Roman swallowed. “I need your help.”

“Certainly,” Logan said immediately. “How can I assist you?”

Sitting across from Logan now, Roman almost changed his mind. It seemed absurd to think that Logan would agree to what he had in mind...what if he had misjudged him? What if he had misinterpreted the withering looks Logan shot the earl when he thought no one was looking, what if he had placed too much faith in their budding friendship, and if Roman so much as breathed a word of his plan, Logan would be the first to warn Lord Howard?

“Roman? Are you alright?”

Logan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Roman looked up. Logan was sitting patiently, nothing but concern and quiet understanding marking his features, and Roman suddenly didn’t know why he should be worried at all. He could trust this man- he was sure of it.

“I need your help taking control away from Lord Howard.”

Logan binked once, then twice, fiddling with a pen that lay in front of his hands before setting it down firmly and leaning forward. No sound came from his mouth when he opened it at first, snapping it shut to blink a third time, slow and deliberate while he gathered his thoughts. “I’m sorry?”

“I- I need your help, please Logan.” Roman leaned forward as the other man straightened back up, his attention fully caught. “The earl has his fingers in far too many pies...and I’m not even sure he remembers what all the flavors are. If last week's meeting was anything to go by he disregards anything that doesn’t directly benefit him and only him and I’m sure land isn’t the only thing he’s notoriously stubborn with. Look at the way he treats his staff, expecting them up day and night to serve him and his entertainment of the day, extending that to you and all the responsibilities he shoves to the side in his confidence that you’ll pick up the slack. I haven’t even been here for very long but I know you hardly sleep for all the work you do in his stead. He expects everyone around him to be the perfect picture of their roles to mask the fact that he cannot play his own and I cannot continue this betrothal and eventual marriage in a state of constant anxiety and silence. He isn’t...he isn’t a good man Logan.”

Pursing his lips, Logan held up a hand. “Roman, I still don’t know that I understand what you want me-”

“He isn’t a good man, Logan,” Roman interrupted. “You must see that.”

“Yes, but Roman, he- I don’t know what you’re asking of me. He has more power than he knows what to do with, true, and he certainly abuses it, but I’m not certain what you expect me to be able to do about taking it away. I manage his finances and remind him of meetings; I hardly have the reach to do anything substantial.”

“For people like him, money is his power, and you’re the one that takes care of that. How many times does he actually ask you about anything official? Does he ever want full accounts of where anything goes? You sign documents for him of all things because he believes himself too important and you’re going to sit there and say you have no weight to throw?”

“But I-”

Seeing the doubt, Roman was quick to lean forward. “What if we could control the estate? Actually control it, and make smart decisions for it and know what’s going in and out of it? Surely you of all people would jump at the opportunity to make the changes you know need to be made here.”

“Roman.” Logan fixed him with a stern look, and Roman snapped his mouth shut. “It’s a nice thought in theory. I’ve spent many nights worrying over things that truly should not be my responsibility, and have done enough research to present to the earl a myriad of solutions to his problems, should he ever decide he actually wants to listen to my counsel. But for us to be in control of the estate, the earl would have to be deceased.”

Roman stared at him blankly.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Roman that is not-”

Taking a deep breath, Roman brought up a hand to wipe at his face, the flesh colored powder smearing his sleeve to reveal the dark purple and red underneath. This time it was Logan that snapped his mouth shut, with an audible click. Horror, anger and worry flashed across his face, and Roman winced.

“It’s going to get worse. I know it and so do you. This is how it starts, especially once he has someone who officially belongs to him, and especially when that someone doesn’t just lie down and take it. I won’t. And so it will keep getting worse, and he will never be accountable until one of us finally has an accident. I am not going to let that one of us be me.”

Logan regarded him sadly, sighing as he lowered his gaze. “What you’re suggesting is extremely risky. Even if we could do something after you marry him, the fact of the matter is that this is the Howard family’s estate. And I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that the earl isn’t exactly...interested in making you an official member of the family in any capacity. If he were to pass away, the estate wouldn’t be bequeathed to you. You’d still have no control, and might honestly end up with less if his other family members decide not to tolerate your presence.”

“That’s where you come in.” Roman smirked, and Logan’s head snapped up. “I need your help to forge the will.”

--- --- ---

“Well that’s-”

“Excuse me, what?”

Roman fidgeted with his sleeve as Logan attempted to sooth Patton and Virgil long enough to allow them to explain. After getting Logan to agree to help him, Roman had immediately requested that they bring Patton and Virgil into the scheme. Roman was certain he could trust them, and Logan seemed to agree. They certainly wouldn’t be able to pull their plan off with only two of them. Getting Patton and Virgil to see the necessity in it, though...well that was the first hurdle they were trying to clear.

“It seems like a drastic measure to take, even with the lord’s uh...mood as of late.” Patton squirmed on the haystack he was curled up on, pointedly ignoring the baffled expression Virgil threw him.

“A drastic measure? You think? This is treason, Patton! We’ll be hanged!” Virgil turned to glare at the two men across from him. “We will be hanged. There has to be a better way.’

“We will have the will forged and officiated before the wedding, and then arrange it to look like his death was natural. As long as we can figure out a way to do that it’s a fairly simple process.” Logan held his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture. “Even if we can’t find a way to make it look natural, I assure you Lord Howard has enough enemies grabbing at his various businesses and properties that it’d be anyone’s guess who tried killing him off. Half of them would end up paying investigators off just to avoid any public suspicion, it is almost guaranteed that no one would expect Roman to be the culprit.”

Virgil stared at him. “You’ve thought this through. Logan, why have you thought this through?”

Patton reached over and grabbed Virgil’s hand, rubbing soothing motions against his knuckles while humming softly. Virgil’s shoulders remained tense but he leaned against the attendant's shoulder, taking a shuddering breath as he raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“I think...” Patton said slowly. “I think that maybe while we have this opportunity we should take it. Not that I take any pride in using you Roman!” He was quick to assure. “But- I’ve seen the way he gets...and how he is getting. People like that only worsen with age, and I’d rather not see any of us hurt...more.”

Roman touched his cheek self-consciously, trying to subtly cover up the spot where he had wiped the make-up off, but of course fooling no one. Patton glanced away but Virgil’s gaze only hardened, squeezing the other man’s hand and swearing under his breath.

“I guess....I guess all of us here- everyone at the estate really- would benefit from him not being in charge. It’s still incredibly risky.” Here Virgil glared daggers at Logan and Roman specifically. “But I think with the right people...the right poison maybe, it could work.”

“Do you have a suggestion?” Logan asked curiously.

“Not me, but I know people that might. What are we thinking the time table will be for this?”

Roman perked up as they all looked at him. “Well...it might be a good idea to carry it out a good while after the wedding. If it happens immediately after, it would look a lot more suspicious than if we waited.”

Logan frowned.  “But Roman-”

“Logan, you know I’m right.” Roman startled a bit at the sheer amount of concern he saw in Logan’s eyes, but gave him a small smile as reassurance. “I’ll be fine until then.”

“Well,” Both of their heads snapped around to face Virgil again, neither acknowledging the slight pink in their cheeks. “If we’re waiting that long that’s plenty of time for me to get in contact with my guys and figure something out. Really it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Patton made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Um, exactly what kind of guys, Virgil?”

Virgil laughed outright. “Oh, total degenerates for sure! But they’re also both idiots, and that didn’t change when they set up their apothecary, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“So it’s set then? We’re doing this?” Roman couldn’t help the hopeful edge to his tone, and he immediately felt a stab of guilt.

What would his friends think of him now, so eager to take such a drastic measure? But a quick glance at their faces revealed only sympathy and determination, and he forced himself to breathe. There was a reason he’d come to these three specifically, and now he had to trust that he’d made the right call.

“Yes.” Logan said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, and Roman felt himself relax. “We are.”

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#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logince #moxiety #you dont own me #ydom

[stoneworldsimp]

the dying poet

senku x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of food/water deprivation, swearing

day seven.

fuck, fuck, FUCK!

it felt like you had been running for hours, trying to shake this wild animal off. you made sharp turns behind large bushes in hopes of losing it, you’d hold as still as possible behind large roots on the ground, but the animal kept finding you in one way or another.

“please go away,”you panted. “c’mon. you’ve been chasing me fucking forever, can’t you just give up?!”

you were tired; your legs were about to buckle in on themselves. dinner one night was suddenly ruined when you realized the fucker was watching you eat. in the beginning you thought it was only after your food, not you; you threw a random ration away from your camp in hopes to get it away from you. in hindsight, it only worked until you fell asleep.

you were lucky to wake up the next morning alive; your set up had been ripped to shreds, and footprints were on the ground around your body. it was painstakingly slow and nerve wracking to escape your position, but once you had everything you absolutely needed, you booked it.

sprinting for miles after miles proved to be very difficult for quite some time now.

the phone...it’s weighing me down. my bag of food isn’t even half as heavy as the phone.

looking down at the call button in your hand, you thought about tossing the phone. maybe i can fix it.. no, i don’t have any tools, the fucking animal chewed on them like dog bones. is there any way to put the wire back together...?

“FUCK my life!”

you took the phone off your back and threw it to you left, careful not to trip yourself in the process. immediately, you and your body felt the difference. with your new found energy, the run away was becoming easier, and helped you see a large cave just over the horizon. using the last of your energy, you took as large of steps as you can, and practically threw your body into the cave. the animal’s footsteps were nowhere to be heard, but you figured you didn’t want to take any chances and look behind you. you were finally breaking free from being chased, just a little deeper into this cave, and if i can find specific markings then i can backtrack—

a deep, loud rumble took you away from your thoughts. in no time, you were engulfed in dust and thick particles you didn’t know of.

the caved had closed in.

day one.

“i can do it.”

“are you sure? its a pretty perilous trip—“

“you should at least bring one other person with you—“

you sighed, exasperated that you had to defend your case once again. it had been days since the decision was made; you were going to make a trip to another part of the island in hopes to find extremely specific materials for one of senku’s projects... and it was far, far away.

quite frankly, you were the only one fit for the adventure. you were known to travel well on foot, had an exceptional sense of direction and you had a good eye for natural elements, as well as food; you also were unintentionally the least helpful when staying in the village. you didn’t have the crafting skills to successfully make glass or metal components for his experiments, and you never trusted your brain when helping senku with calculations and blueprints.

hearing senku and gen talk about this long trip to another part of the island was almost a dream come true. it was perfect for someone with your skillset, and kept you from being in the way of everybody else.

“it’ll be fine. c’mon, you guys have SOME faith in our traveler, right?”

you turned around, a smile on your face as you caught senku walking out of his lab. thank you, you mouthed.

once senku reached you and the group of villagers crowding near you, he spoke up again. “this trip is a straight shot from the bridge, the only problem would be that it’s going to take some time. possibly a month just to get there. but you,” he turned to face you,”have excellent outdoorsy-type skills that will make it really easy for you to spot what we need right away. everyone needs to stop worrying, because you’ll be there and back in no time. two months will pass like nothing.”

as the rest of the group walked away, mumbling their skepticisms, senku took your hand and tugged you back to the lab.

“what’re you taking me here for? oh wait,”you planted your feet at the front of the lab curtains, keeping the both of you from entering. “are you making me help you with your math again? because—”

“no, you’re pretty terrible at calculations,”he replied. “i have something for you.”

you puffed out your cheeks in embarrassment, but your expression completely changed once the curtain was opened.

on the table, there was a telephone. if was the size of a backpack, but it still had a speaker, a microphone, and a call button.

“i made it for you to take on the trip, in case you have any emergencies. i fully trust you in your own survival skills, but you never know if something extreme happens.”

you gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. as you walked closer to the table, you touched the outer fabric. you turned back to senku. “thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me. i’m only making something that’s essential to your travels.”

“even still,” you trailed off. “i appreciate it.”

you turned back around and beamed at senku. “i’m not going to call you until i get there. i want to make sure that no enemies try to tail me if they hear me, as much as i’d want to give in right away and hear your voice. something like that...”

“how corny.” senku smiled and pulled you close while you laughed. you jumped a bit when his hands made their way around your waist.

“a bit touchy today,” you asked, grabbing hold of his shoulders. “but i’m not complaining.”

“i’m stockpiling the feeling of you for the weeks to come. we’ve never spent this much time apart before; it’s only logical.”

“i guess you’re right.”

he kissed you, multiple times; each one was deeper than the last.

day eleven.

he brought me a flower every morning, because i always slept in later than him. he’d wake up at the asscrack of dawn, just to have more time to jot ideas down. i used to try and pull him back to sleep with me, but he was so overflowing with plans, i didn’t want to stop him.

you turned on your side.

i remember he went to explore with chrome really early one morning, and apparently they found some huge meadow with a bunch of plants. ever since then, he would bring me a different kind; it was always a single flower, too. they were different colors and shapes, and some were enormous and some were smaller than my finger. he never woke me up for it, though. he would just leave it for me when i woke up on my own. it was always a surprise, almost startling when i’d open my eyes. it was my own pick-me-up for the day, in a sense.. no matter what happened the night before, waking up to a new type of flower would put me in a good mood every time. it was better than a coffee in the morning.

i wonder if he’s looking at the flowers with chrome everyday while i’m gone. man, i still wake up hoping to see a new one in front of me.

sure, reminiscing was fun and felt good, but what’s the point? you had eaten all of your food approximately two days ago, you only had about a teaspoon of water left, and there was no getting out of there. the way you came in had been covered in a dam of rocks. you couldn’t even dig yourself out.

you furiously wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. “senku...why did i think i could go alone?”

day fifteen.

poke, poke—

something was touching you. no, someone was touching you. your head bobbed side to side, in an attempt to shake them off.

damn, that’s persistent.

opening your eyes, you woke up to senku smiling. he was knelt beside your form. “wake up, sleeping beauty! it’s been almost three hours.”

it’s only been three hours?!

you sat up way too fast, and felt lightheaded as you tried to ask,”but...why didn’t you.. wake me up earlier? did everybody...did everyone eat already?”

he laughed. “yeah, sorry. we all thought you were out doing something with chrome. but,” he turned around, to grab something behind him,”i saved some in case you got hungry when you came back.”

you took the food in a dizzy haze. was it even food? you didn’t care too much, it felt like you hadn’t eaten for a long time. any food at this point was good food.

you couldn’t even swallow the first bite. “do you- is there..any water?”

“what?” senku pulled away from you, a look of disbelief painted across his face. it was clear as day.

you hesitated, feeling more lightheaded than before. “w- water?”

“don’t you remember?” he asked. he turned away from you. “there hasn’t been any water in days.”

it’s been days.

your body jolted from its spot, and harsh reality hit you square in the face.

yes, right. you shakily rubbed your eyes to make sure they weren’t cemented shut.

in the cave, finished your food, no water to be found. making yourself walk around was no use, either; without the fuel, your body was essentially just a trembling mess.

you scowled at yourself; unsure of what to do, what to even think.

day eighteen.

you remembered how he kissed you. the first kisses the most; you always had to tell him to not look so terrified. you also had to remind him to not stand like a statue when you kissed. pretty soon, after some reassurance, he got comfortable. there was nothing but confidence in the way he caressed your face in his hands. usually he was the one to pull away; you were so mesmerized, it felt as if the world completely stopped.

they were always quick and out of the way in public. usually, it was on your forehead or your one of your cheeks. the deep kisses you felt when you two were alone were incomparable. soft lips remained on yours for what felt like centuries. he tasted sweet, in his own way—

wait, who?

you licked your lips slowly, trying to think.

it was no use; you couldn’t even remember what he looked like. you lolled your head to the side and stared at the outline of a rock a couple of feet away.

once i get out of here, i’ll kiss him. whoever it was. it won’t matter if it’s just us, or more people. i’ll kiss him forever.

maybe if i go to sleep.. i can see him again.

#dr stone #dr stone x reader #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #ishigami senku x reader #ishigami senku #senku ishigami #dr stone imagines #dr stone scenarios #senku ishigami fluff #aahhh this was a little half baked #I’ve been busy what can I say😔 #my semesters almost over and I have a placement test #final drivers test(yes I’m 20 and my ass can’t drive legally) #and another performance with my current schools ensemble #despite all of this. I hope u like what is basically my first attempt with angst! #at* not with ew