#I really like the table I’m at right now!
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TITLE: do you still think about me?
PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
SUMMARY: Okay, so you had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on Bakugou when you were both in high school. He was kind of your first love, if you believe in those kinds of things. But you got over it. It's fine.
You see Bakugou sometimes at hangouts, at get-togethers. He's in your orbit, or you're in his, because of your mutual friends. You're all adults now, so it's fine. It's a little weird, but fine.
You're supposed to be on vacation, at a place that's hours away from Musutafu. You're not sure what you've done to deserve it, but Bakugou's here too. And instead of both of you pretending the other doesn't exist, as usual, he's talking to you. He's everywhere. It's fine.
(It's not fine.)
TAGS: pro hero Bakugou Katsuki, aged-up characters, friends to lovers (being generous with that friends label lol), fluff, pining, eventual smut
The ryokan’s lobby is bustling, voices a soft buzz echoing through the space. Some guests are like you, waiting for check-in, and other guests are partaking in the complimentary drinks and snack bar. It all calls to mind vacations you went on with your family, growing up.
Sighing, you sink into an armchair, letting the fatigue from a long trip on a train and subsequent car ride sink in, shed off.
“Here,” Rie says, setting a cup of tea and a cookie on the table in front of you. She sits in the chair across from you. “You’re grumpy because you haven’t had any sugar today. Eat these. There’s more up front, at the snack bar.”
“Thanks mom,” you say, and she leans forward to flick you on the forehead. You wince.
“Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you can get away with your sass. Especially while we’re on vacation,” she tells you, then lifts her own cup of tea to her lips. You scrunch your face up at her.
Her eyes flick past you, and she blinks rapidly. You recognize that expression—up to no good.
“Oh hey,” she says, affecting a casual tone. “Look who just walked in.”
Rie waits for you to look, but you’re not so easily led around. You narrow your eyes at her. She raises a brow at you. A moment passes.
Your curiosity’s too strong. You turn and regret it.
It’s Bakugou. Bakugou Katsuki. What the hell is he doing here?
You immediately swing back around, scowling deeply. You can feel your ears getting warm.
She gives you a Cheshire grin, finger gunning you. “It’s your first love.”
“Rie, I will leave.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, right. And miss out on the massages we booked? The onsen? I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” you say darkly.
She snickers, tilts her head at you. “You don’t want to say hi?”
“Not really, no,” you say. “And if you call him over, I’ll kill you. Hanta will be sad, but he’ll get over it.”
Rie laughs. “I don’t know about that. He is dating me, after all.”
“I’ve known him longer. He’ll forgive me.”
The two of you switch over your attention to an approaching receptionist.
“Thank you so much for waiting,” he says. “Your room is ready now. Please follow our staff. We’ll take care of your bags.”
You let them take your luggage, too distracted by staying out of Bakugou’s line of sight to pay attention to the small talk the receptionist’s making. Thankfully Rie’s chatting cheerfully with him, leaving you to your task.
As you enter a hallway leading off the lobby area, you catch a last glimpse of Bakugou. He’s speaking to a staff member at the front desk area, presumably checking in. He’s alone. You wonder if anyone will be joining him, or if he’s here by himself.
Shaking your head, you push away those thoughts. It’s none of your business. This ryokan’s rather large, and it’s popular with tourists and locals alike. You doubt you’ll see him again during your stay.
You stare doubtfully at the email Sero forwarded you, then look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed.
“Hanta, this is a luxury onsen ryokan. And you want me to go with Rie? Why aren’t you going?”
Sero claps his hands together in front of his face. “Please? The agency denied my time off request because we’re so busy. You gotta know how busy we are, even holed up in your office.”
You frown at him. “The agency denied you? That’s crazy. You haven’t taken time off the whole year.”
“I know, right? Anyway, Rie doesn’t want to go alone, and the reservation at this place is only valid for so long. Cancelling’s not an option.”
You frown. “If they denied you, they’ll probably deny me too, Hanta.”
“Noooo, it doesn’t hurt to put in the request! Plus, you haven’t gone on vacation in years. Treat yourself! This can be my months-in-advance birthday gift to you.”
You try one last time. “Are you sure Rie even wants to go with me? I know you want this to be a surprise, but maybe you should ask her if there’s anyone else she’d want to go on a trip with.”
Sero gives you a look, as if you’d just said something unbelievably stupid. “I’m not even going to respond to that.”
You snort, smiling. “Alright, alright. Thanks, Hanta. I’ll take all the pictures of Rie and send them to you if the agency does grant me the time off.”
Sero slings an arm around your shoulders. “Thanks, bud.”
“I miss Hanta,” Rie says, collapsing on her back onto the bed.
You push both of your bags to the side, to be unpacked later. The entire far wall of your room’s lounge area is glass, with a door leading out to the outdoor area and open-air bath, and you give in to your urge to step outside onto the wood, deck-like floor.
The bath rises from the floor to your right, rectangular, spacious. The staff member told the both of you it’s fed from the onsen, and the steam it’s giving off dissipates into the cool spring air. The bath and deck are built to overlook a large pond with koi swimming in it, giving the impression that where the deck ends the water begins. The far side of the pond is lined with trees and shrubbery. Wooden partitions on either side of this area enclose the space, giving it a sense of privacy.
It’s absolutely gorgeous. And it’s so quiet here. Aside from the ambient water sounds from the onsen on the property, birdsong from the nearby forested area, there’s little to interrupt this emerging feeling of serenity.
“You saw him literally before we left,” you say. “Rie, come out here and look at this view. I call dibs on using the bath first.”
“You could be more sympathetic. We haven’t been able to see each other much this month,” she grumbles, but she comes out to join you anyway.
“Okay, you can use the bath first,” you tell her.
She grins at you, bumping her shoulder against yours. “Thanks, friend.”
“The things I do.” You don’t really mind. You have the entire long weekend to enjoy this place. The peace and quiet are already doing wonders for the tension in your shoulders.
A twinge of guilt passes you in a wave. After the staff member who’d escorted you to your room had given you both a short tour of the space, it really hit you how expensive this all was.
“Rie, you really should’ve come here with Hanta,” you tell her, frowning. “He should’ve pushed for the time off or adjusted the reservation. This is way too nice of an experience to pass up.”
Rie snorts.
“Don’t stress,” she says. “You think he didn’t try all that? It was either keep the reservation with someone else or lose out on a lot of money. I wanted you to come, so don’t overthink, silly.”
You lean your arm against hers. “Thanks, Rie. I’ll get you and Hanta something nice for your birthdays.”
She hums, and the two of you lapse into silence, appreciating the birdsong, the late afternoon sun gilding the pond, the surrounding trees in warmth.
“So, what’s up with you and Bakugou?” Rie asks. “I thought you worked out all those feelings for him back in high school.”
And there goes all that peace. You groan, turning and heading back inside, grabbing your bag and starting to unpack your clothes. Rie follows you, sprawling out onto your bed this time to be as annoying as possible.
“I did,” you say, because not answering would result in incessant pestering. Better to nip this conversation in the bud so it doesn’t come back up again while you’re on this trip. You tell her, “We’re cool. You know that. You go to the same get-togethers.”
Since graduating from UA, you’d kept in touch with Sero, who you’d met because he’d been the hero you’d been assigned to for the management course’s third year project. You became good friends, as Sero’s one of those good boys, best boys, genuinely kind and fun to talk to.
Through your friendship with him, you’d met some of his friends—Kaminari, Kirishima. Mina, Sato. Bakugou.
While you’d befriended the others pretty easily, Bakugou was a different story. And it wasn’t necessarily his fault. He’d chilled out considerably by your third year.
It was because of your cringey, super obvious crush on him during your first year.
You were so painfully obvious about it, everyone in your class knew. It didn’t take long for kids in the other courses to take notice. When Bakugou entered a room you were in, you would freeze and forget what you were saying. You’d sneak glances at him, and your entire body would warm up if your eyes met. Even thinking about it now, as an adult, makes you want to die a little.
Thankfully, whether it was because he chose to willfully ignore you or because he just never found out, your crush ran its course. It helped a lot that you began interacting with Bakugou within social circles because of Sero; it humanized him, made him real to you. The fantasy of a crush can’t survive knowing someone, getting to know them, you found.
Still, probably because of that history, you never got close to Bakugou, while at UA and after. You were too embarrassed, and now you’re just not super interested. If you don’t count this past year, since graduation, you’ve seen him only a handful of times, always in passing and never one-on-one.
But if you do count this year, specifically the past six months, you’ve seen him a lot.
At a get-together at Mina’s place. At Todoroki Shouto’s birthday a couple months back. At a dinner with Rie, Sero, Kirishima, and Mina a few weeks ago. You figure he’s had some free time open up, to accept the hangout invites that he once left unresponded to in the group chat. It’d make sense, since he’s at this ryokan when everyone knows he’s a workaholic.
You’re happy for him. Work-life balance is super important. And you guys aren’t getting any younger.
“No, you guys are weird together,” Rie says.
You throw a pillow at her. To your annoyance, she catches it easily.
“What do you mean by weird?” you ask.
“I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. He always looks like he’s bitten into a lemon when he sees you.”
You roll your eyes. “Great. Can we stop talking about Bakugou now?”
“Last question, I swear.”
“Last question for the entire trip about him,” you say, narrowing your eyes at her.
She sighs, as if this is a huge burden on her. “Deal. I was just thinking—what did you even see in him when we were teenagers?”
“Okay, but why are you thinking about this at all,” you say.
“Just answer the question.”
“It’s not that deep,” you say, shrugging. “I liked his face.”
“Really?” Rie’s expression, disgruntled and appalled, makes you laugh.
“Don’t act like he’s not objectively really attractive. He’s handsome, be real.”
“Maybe to some people,” she relents. “But his personality cancels it out, carry the two.”
“He’s mellowed out so much over the years,” you say. You feel a little odd, finding yourself defending him. “He’s sweet, when he wants to be. Remember how he got Mina that bracelet she wanted so badly, for her birthday? Or how he picked up those special oranges for Hanta when he went on that one mission?”
Rie looks at you for a long moment. As your words settle into the silence, you begin to feel self-conscious. But it’s not like what you’d said isn’t true. Rie knows this.
Just as you open your mouth to no doubt incriminate yourself further, she leans back on the bed and closes her eyes. “I guess you’re right. You done folding those clothes? I’m hungry. Let’s get dinner. Hanta says it’s kaiseki.”
Dinner is absolutely delicious. Your server tells you and Rie that the chef’s designed the menu to feature ingredients native to the region, ingredients in season. Everything’s fresh, and even dishes you aren’t normally particularly fond of have you cleaning your plate. You feel spoiled.
You take lots of pictures. Of the dishes, of Rie. You send them to Sero.
Hanta: The food looks great! My girl looks even better!!! Send more pics pls
Rie’s pleased when you show her the messages. After fussing over her appearance, she makes you take a picture of her in your room’s outdoor bath, hair elegantly twisted up and off her shoulders, the ambient lighting softly illuminating her face.
“I’m going to take a walk, see what that little bamboo garden looks like at night,” you tell her. She waves at you with one hand, tapping away at her phone, no doubt sending messages to Sero.
“Don’t drop your phone in the water,” you say, and she makes an impatient sound, shooing you.
Smiling, you leave her to it.
Now that it’s nighttime, the ryokan is quieter, more subdued. It’s easy enough to find the bamboo garden. The paths are brightly illuminated, the walkways clear and easy to take. Maybe because it’s the evening, but you encounter few people. Most are partaking in the onsen, unwinding after a long day, you guess. You plan to do so yourself, but you stumble across a dimly lit sitting area overlooking a small pond and waterfall. It’s pretty, and you can’t resist lingering. Taking a seat on a bench, you let your mind empty as you watch the glimmer of moonlight on the water.
“Hey,” a voice says behind you, and you startle, turning.
Bakugou’s standing there, looking uncharacteristically soft and undone in the onsen’s yukata. His hair is a little damp, spikes fallen.
Seeing him in traditional wear takes you aback; you’ve only ever seen him in casual clothes—jeans, shirts, sweats. His hero suit, all sleek lines. The yukata’s a good look on him.
“Oh hey, Bakugou,” you say, then hesitate, feeling awkward. What to say? Should you pretend this is the first you’ve seen of him here?
While you flounder a little, Bakugou walks over to sit in a chair nearby, facing the water. You’re bewildered at this turn of events. You’re surprised he stopped to say hello, let alone sit and have a conversation with you.
“Saw you and Soy Sauce Face’s girlfriend at dinner,” he says. “You on vacation?”
Blinking, relieved, you reply, “Sort of. Long story short, Hanta was supposed to come out here with Rie, but work denied his time off. So I’m the replacement Hanta.”
Bakugou looks at you. His eyes narrow. You shift in your seat, feeling a little bit like a bug under a microscope. Did you say something weird?
“What about you?” you ask, trying to lift the focus off of you. “You here on vacation?”
“...Yeah. For the weekend,” he says, looking back at the pond, exhaling sharply.
For someone on vacation, he doesn’t look too happy about it, you note.
“Us too,” you tell him. “What do you think of the ryokan? I haven’t gotten the chance to explore yet, but what I’ve seen is gorgeous. Did you just use the public onsen?”
“It’s alright,” Bakugou grumbles, and you blink, face scrunching up in incredulity.
“You must have really high standards to say that, sir,” you say, and he snorts. An expression you can’t quite make out in the low light crosses his face, fades. He really is a handsome bastard, you find yourself thinking.
He says something you don’t quite catch.
“Sorry?” you say. Internally, you scold yourself for your idle thoughts. Another part of you argues back that there’s no harm in looking.
“How’d you know I used the onsen?” he repeats, looking a little annoyed.
“Oh,” you say, surprised. Without thinking, you lean forward, reaching out to touch his hair.
Bakugou turns his head sharply; he grabs your wrist on what seems like instinct, halting you. You freeze, mortified.
“I’m sorry!” you say hastily. He drops your hand immediately, like you’re contaminated. You draw back. Flustered, you continue, “It’s just—your hair’s still a little wet. I took a guess. Sorry again, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
You were treating him like he’s Hanta, or Rie, as if you’re close friends. Jeez.
“Forget it,” he says gruffly.
There’s a long stretch of silence, and you begin to think of excuses to make to escape.
Just as you open your mouth with one, he says, “What’re you doing tomorrow?”
“I—I think Rie wanted to check out the town’s morning market, and the temple nearby,” you say. “She likes to sleep in, so we’ll probably do that after my morning run. The staff said there’s a scenic walking trail through the forest, so I’ll probably check it out.”
You force your mouth closed before the rambling continues. Wait, you should ask him the same, right? To be polite?
But before you can say anything, Bakugou grunts, then stands.
“Go back to your room,” he tells you. “It’s getting late.”
With that, he leaves. You sit there for a long moment, staring after him.
“Hey, welcome back,” Rie says from her bed, covered from nose to toes in a blanket. Her eyelids droop in a way that tells you she’s minutes from sleep. “You were gone for a while.”
“Yeah, sorry,” you say, closing the door behind you. Woodenly, you begin to gather clothes to change into. “I’m going to take a quick shower, okay? Go ahead and sleep; don’t wait up for me.”
“Mmkay,” she says, eyes already closed.
You move around as quietly as you can, getting ready for bed.
All the while, you can’t help but think about the conversation you just had. About Bakugou.
For the past couple months, at gatherings with mutual friends, it’s been like this when you talk to each other. Awkward, with a strange underlying tension. You’re not sure if it’s your fault, or his, but. You wish you could be normal around him. It’s only like this with him.
As you climb into bed, getting settled, the memory of him in his yukata flashes across your closed eyelids. The moonlight on his face, cooling the red of his eyes. His hand around your wrist.
Fuck.
Notes: Hello friends! This fic is a very belated birthday fic for our guy, my little muse 🧡 This is intended to be a twoshot, and I hope to have that second part up next weekend. Please look forward to it!
A couple notes, as there are some specifically Japanese items referenced in this fic:
A ryokan is a Japanese-style inn! Onsen are hot springs. So an onsen ryokan is an inn that features hot springs on the property. Here, here, and here are videos you can enjoy of people visiting some.
Kaiseki is a multi-course, traditional Japanese dinner. Some of the videos I linked above show the kinds of kaiseki offered!
Thank you for reading! Hugs and kisses 💕 Until part two!
#happy birthday bakugou loml#i know i have been Not Posting recently but please enjoy this meal!!!!#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki x you#bakugo katsuki x you#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bnha#jess scribbles#fic: dystam?
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somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this isn’t how it should be.
your living room is dimly lit, illuminated only by the tv in front of you, and the moon is glowing a pearlescent blue. flimsy strings of moonlight spill over your floorboards, reflecting off the windows, and whatever you’re doing isn’t what you should be doing. you shouldn’t be awake this late, shouldn’t be gorging on sweets before bed, shouldn’t be having a rendezvous with an enemy — shouldn’t be watching movies with your ex of ten years.
most of all, you shouldn’t be feeling nearly this content.
getō is seated right beside you, legs comfortably spread, popping a macaron into his mouth. chewing it slowly, savouring the flavour — or lack thereof, you suppose. he can’t taste much, anymore; one too many curses digested. or so he says.
this time, he brought pastries with him. expensive ones, you can tell, just from the package alone — a soft pastel pink box, wrapped up in silk, golden letters etched into the front. mont blancs, macarons, two slices of strawberry shortcake. carefully picked, suited to your tastes.
(you aren’t actually too fond of sweets, anymore, but how is he to know? he hasn’t seen you in years.)
”would you like me to make us some tea?”
when you turn your gaze towards him, getō’s wearing a smile. laid-back, the slightest upward curl, tilting his head in a manner you’re far too used to. eyes shining with something keen. somehow, it feels difficult to tear your gaze away from his.
but you manage, turning forward, grasping control over your sleepy vocal cords. ”no, i’m good.”
a low hum. he’s still looking at you. ”coffee?”
”the sweets are more than enough.”
this time, a smile, one you can’t see but still somehow sense. a little bit amused. geto gazes at you with a knowing look, watches you glance at the box of pastries on your coffee table — studying you under the monochrome flicker of the tv-screen.
”understood,” he finally quips, leaning back into the leather couch, exhaling a little breath. ”eat as much as you’d like. i bought them for you, you know.”
you nod, nibbling at a macaron. not glancing his way.
being alone with him still feels a little awkward. a little tense, to be curled up on the same couch, watching the same movie, just like your old sleepovers in high school. there’s an elephant in the room that neither of you have addressed — not since he first showed up, just a couple weeks ago, waltzing up to your apartment with a plastic bag of dvds after a decade of estrangement. wearing heavy robes, and a familiar smile. asking to be let in.
and despite every single circumstance telling you not to, you did just that. you’ve yet to refuse.
(satoru would hate you, if he knew.)
so he’s there, right beside you, and you don’t talk about it. not his choice, not your work, not anything except the movie playing on the screen in front of you. this time, it’s one he’s seen before — beautiful, he called it, and for once you think it might be a romance; if the kiss between the main actors is anything to go by.
you wonder if that’s why he says it.
”say, do you hate me?”
you still. freezing in place, for a moment, discontent but not surprised. he’s always been like this; breaking the illusion of peace before you can find any solace in it.
you bite back a groan, and shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye — but he isn’t looking at you. only at the tv, at the two men, holding hands and standing on a bridge in the rain, watching the stars twinkle in the sky. and you sigh, turning your head to look at him fully, parting your lips. your voice comes out frustrated.
”do you really want to have this conversation now?”
”when else?” he chuckles, meeting your gaze with one brow raised. amber eyes gleaming with mirth, and something else, something less practiced. ”you don’t have to answer. i’m just curious.”
you gulp down the last of the macaron, licking your lips for any leftover crumbs — unaware of how his eyes follow the movement. ”are you?”
a hum buzzes in the back of his throat, a tiny rasp. you wonder if he’s tired. ”i hadn’t expected this, you know.” he taps at his knee with the pads of his fingers, rhythmic and controlled. ”i thought it was just wishful thinking… that you’d let me come this close.”
you feel his gaze on you. it’s heavy, heavy like lead, like a loaded gun. you feel it dissect you from afar, and can’t find it in you to reach for another pastry.
”… would you have preferred being kicked out?”
”not at all.” a little grin plays at his lips, something in his voice betraying the face he’s making. ”are you avoiding the question?”
another sigh. you’re painfully aware of how resigned it sounds, spilling out into the open air, already filling with a sense of dread; any leftover nostalgia bursting at the seams. you want to tell him so many things, but every thread inside your mind feels all tangled up.
and, as always, getō beats you to the punch.
”that’s fine, too.” a brief pause, a twitch of his pinkie. he closes his eyes, a flutter of his lashes, and inhales a breath. ”— because i’ll keep waiting.”
for a second, you consider not taking the bait.
… then you’re giving in. because that’s what you always do, whenever he’s involved. you watch him in the dark, pale skin enveloped by moonlight, raven hair spilling across the headrest. he looks beautiful, just resting his eyes.
”… for what?” you whisper, and his answer comes without a hitch to his breath.
”for you to love me again.”
…
getō tilts his head, opening his eyes, a golden brown dragging you into their depths. he looks expectant, selfishly awaiting a response, and you’re tired.
(unbeknownst to you, he resists the urge to intertwine his fingers with yours, to trace every ridge and dip of your knuckles with his thumb. to squeeze your palm like a promise, something concrete.)
when your mind has managed to untangle itself, something in your gaze turns sharp. frustrated, impatient, disappointed, looking at him with a raised brow. ”you really are stupid, aren’t you?”
as fast as it came, your gaze returns to the screen in front of you. monochrome, flickering, two beautiful men. one of them is holding a gun to the other’s temple, and the victim looks appeased. the movie’s almost over.
(how very like him, to find such violence beautiful.)
quietly, you swallow down the bile building up in the back of your throat. a decade of bitter flavours. clenching your teeth, nails digging into the couch beneath you, leather on your cold fingertips. it’s a little peeled.
you wonder why you even bother being honest, when he never quite seems to return the favour.
but the room is dimly lit, and the moon is big and bright, and your ex of ten years is sitting right next to you. in your apartment, on your couch, watching a movie on your tv. when he could, should be anywhere else. he’s with you, and he pulls the words out of your throat without trying. puppeteering your heartbeat.
”… as if i ever stopped.”
silence.
you hear a gunshot ring out. low, muffled, a crackle of static. one of the men falls down to the ground, and you can’t tell who's who. the actors are forgettable, but the soundtrack is pretty. it rings in your ears like a lullaby.
getō says your name.
it sounds the same as you remember. honeyed syllables, spilling from his parted lips, silky and sweet. he says your name like he’s asking to marry you, and you can hear the smile he’s struggling to repress.
”will you look at me?”
it’s less of a question, and more of a demand. you wonder why he even bothers asking — but you’ve never really understood the way his brain works. never understood why a burglar would bother asking the shopkeeper for permission before reaching for the register, when they’ll be leaving with the money either way.
and you’re paralyzed, stuck in place on the couch, gaze glued to the screen in front of you. but you aren’t watching, not really, just looking. and you don’t want to see what kind of face he’s making. so you whisper;
”.. no.”
”no?” he mimics, something like a coo on the tip of his tongue, lightly amused. as always, you can feel his gaze, travelling down your face like a trickle of honey. ”and why is that, my dear?”
you bite down on your lip.
a long, long moment passes, and neither of you say a word. he’s looking at you, and you’re looking down at your lap, at your clenched fists. a little meek. it’s quiet, the calm before the storm, and you know exactly what’s going to happen — because it’s already set in stone.
”because you’re going to kiss me,” you exhale, finally, resignation on your breath. ”and i’m going to let you.”
…
for a second, you wonder if his silence means he understands. if he can hear the desperate plea in your voice, if he can translate it correctly.
but his fingertips graze the lines of your jaw, his palm sneaks under your chin, and he keeps you in place. turning your head to meet his gaze, his amber eyes, dripping with something hungry; something pleading.
this time, he doesn’t ask for permission. he leans forward until there’s no space between you, tips your head back, and kisses you with bated breath — as softly as he can manage, which is still too intense for your liking. still brimming with desperation, something carnal, like he wants to pour his everything into the kiss but knows he shouldn’t. he tastes like tobacco.
and it’s over.
you know it is, because your senses are flooded with him, him, him. nothing but him, the strands of his raven hair ghosting your skin, his greedy tongue licking along your teeth, large palms resting on your spine and the back of your head. you’re pliant, surrendering yourself to his touch. he’s cradling you like he loves you, and you feel like you’ve done something awful, because you have.
because you’ve let him come so close, again, invited him inside — inside of your home, your ribcage. and he won’t bother making a home for himself there, because it’s already waiting for him, untouched, between your fourth and fifth ribs.
you never bothered to get rid of it.
(that’s your sin.)
getō hums, muffled by your lips. he sounds pleased. he sounds like he’s been waiting for this for decades, and you suppose that he has. he murmurs praise that you do nothing but swallow down.
everything feels too perfect, too normal, and it’s too much, too much, too much. your lips pressed together, your chests pressed together, your noses meeting in a tender touch. you choke down the noise that threatens to push past your lips, and he kisses you like a starved man. like he’s trying to drown in you.
he only pulls away once he realizes that you’re crying, and by then it’s too late. his widening eyes don’t matter, your cold hands don’t matter, the tremble of your erratic heartbeat has never mattered less. he looks at you with remorse, and it doesn’t matter.
(he’s yours, again, and you’re his.
you can’t stop crying.)
”… i’m sorry.”
in the background, you hear the sound of gentle whispers, an ending scene. the men are talking to each other, speaking softly, and your eyes burn with tears. geto catches one of them with his forefinger, and leans forward to plant a kiss against your nose. chaste, this time. still mumbling apologies.
it doesn’t matter, because a tiny sob still breaks past your throat — and you know the sound must hurt him.
you hate that. you hate that you always hurt him, hate that you care, hate that you feel nothing but guilt when he’s around. you hate the movie still playing to your left, hate that he doesn’t hate it, hate that he loves you. hate that you love him, that you probably always will.
you hate that you blink up at him with glassy eyes, swallow down a shaky breath, and kiss him again. hate that it’s still the only thing you know how to do well.
he doesn’t pull away, only biting back a noise of surprise — but he makes sure to kiss you gently, as if you’re made of porcelain, slow and tender, cradling you closer still. he wipes away your tears with his thumb, one after another, and you hate yourself because everything feels so deliriously right.
somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that what you’re playing is a losing game.
(he’s yours, and you’re his. it’s already set in stone.)
#geto suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#geto x reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#geto angst#suguru geto x you#geto suguru x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x gender neutral reader#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader#suguru x reader#suguru x you#suguru x y/n#getou suguru x reader#getou suguru x you#getou suguru x y/n
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Bon Appétit~
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Alastor x Female!Reader
| Warnings: 18+ content. MDNI!! ooc Alastor, established relationship(kinda), quick smut with no plot, biting, blood, cunnilingus, fingering, hair tugging etc |
Hello, I’m Nym! This is my first time posting my writing ever!
This horny little community has me so inspired I couldn’t help but write something small. (4,666 words to be exact ;3 tried to get the funny devil number).
Also fair warning I wrote this a bit intoxicated so I apologize if it’s poorly written. But I hope you heathens enjoy it nonetheless <3
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Alastor retired to his tower as soon as the sky turned to a dark burgundy. He sat on his bench in front of his radio equipment. Fountain pen in hand and eagerly doodling away with a calm smile. Coat retired to its stand and his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Finding these late nights to be rare moments when he could allow himself to relax.
Though both his pen and music paused as he heard the trap door rustle behind him. “Hm?” Amused, he set his pen down and sits up from the bench. Coming around to the hatch he stood right beside it. A deep inhale taken as his grin grew recognizing the familiar smell of you. Bending at his hips as one hand swiftly opened the door. The other hand held out to offer assistance to his surprise guest.
The sudden opening of the hatch earned a gasp from you. Nearly losing your grip on the metal bars that you climbed up. You blinked at the hand offered to you before smiling and accepting the help eagerly.
“Now what do I owe this pleasure?” His usual cheery showman tone buzzed in your ears. With ease, he helped pull you up through the trap door, kicking it closed after. His eyes curiously noted the wicker basket you held in your other arm. “Well no wonder you had difficulty coming in!”
You chuckled nervously as he immediately points out the basket you brought. But what else did you expect? It’s Alastor, perceptive as ever. “The climb wasn’t so hard but by the time I had reached the door I was pretty tired…” you admitted with a glance running up his unusually relaxed form. His grin somehow managed to only make your own smile increase. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important. I couldn't sleep and thought I could just drop in and say hello!" You watched as one of his brows rose, earning an audible swallow from you. "Well, actually, I haven’t seen much of you today... or this week really. So I was honestly getting a bit curious about what you've been up to.” You wiggled the basket to him before setting it down on a small side table. “This is my apology for bargin’ on in.”
“Like always I appreciate your honesty, dear.” He folded his arms behind his back as he followed you to the table. With your back turned to him he took the time to slowly look you up and down. Noting the sweet white nightgown you wore that ended right above your knees. Your hair was tied back in a loose bun and you were wearing your slippers. All of this told him you really were in bed before deciding to come to him. His thoughts hesitated when he watched you open the basket. Pulling out a glass decanter of whisky and two matching cups to go with it.
You turned to face him, jumping slightly when you realized he had moved so close to you. With a laugh you waved him off. “Why don’t you put on some tunes for us, yeah?”
A staticky hum left him as he watched you for a few more seconds. He’d nod softly before spinning on his heels to do as you requested. One hand manually turning the music back on while the other subtly snapped behind his back. The music loud enough to just barely cover the sound of the hatch door locking.
He leaned against the desk of his radio station and watched you again. His grin soft as he couldn’t help but relax even more with the jazz on. “So! You really don’t have anything you wanted to talk about? Truly just stopping by to see what I’m doing ?” He pushed, teasingly.
You poured each other a glass before approaching him with his. He nodded in thanks as he took it from you. “Ha ha! No...” You stood in front of him with both hands nervously around your cup. His pointed questioning had you avoiding eye contact as you downed the small drink in one gulp. Fighting to not contort your face from the bitter taste.
He couldn’t help but laugh into his glass as he brought it up to his lips. “Really?” You caught his piercing gaze that was sent over the cup, before you watched him take a sip. “Because a nice glass of rye, jazz and sweet company.” He stares into his glass before flicking his gaze down to you again. “I really can’t help but feel like you’re trying to sweeten me up~”
The look he sent down had heat quickly washing over your body. Feeling the warmth settle on your cheeks and between your hips. He was teasing you but he didn’t seem upset by your presence. That thought seemed to encourage you, though you definitely needed another drink before you spilled your guts.
A nervous smile being sent to him as you put your finger up. “One- one moment.” You quickly approached the decanter where you left it on the side table. Your cup was filled with just a shot as you quickly knocked it back.
He finished his own drink before mindlessly setting the empty cup on the desk behind him. His smile stretched into a wide grin as he watched you desperately try to gain some liquid courage. He could easily help you right now, as he had an assumption on what this was about. There was no denying the odd connection the two of you had developed during your time here. Unfortunately, he was thoroughly enjoying watching you squirm and he was a very patient man when it came to torture.
Which is exactly what this felt like to you, torture. Staring into the empty cup for only a moment longer before leaving it on the table with the basket. You took rushed steps back up to Alastor as you shot your gaze up to meet his.
“Go on, darling, speak your mind.” He encouraged you with a shit eating grin. Your embarrassment and nervousness began to twist and settle in your stomach.
“I…” you slowly started, watching him tilt his head. Your gaze quickly shot to the side as the rest of your words came out rushed. “I would like to touch you-“
His brows shot to his hairline as he stiffened. He knew your intentions were along these lines. However, the sudden bluntness still caught him off guard.
A nauseating silence settled between the two of you, save for the jazz that still played in the background. You began regretting saying anything as your mouth opened to try and form words. You wanted to take it back with every fiber of your being. Eyes still glued to anywhere that wasn’t him. “I-uh wait no. I don’t mean like that- well I wouldn’t mind but- what I mean is- look you don’t have to say anything I know it’s a strong no and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but I just needed to be honest-“
Alastors eyes never left you as he watched your reactions carefully. You never could lie to him and when you did it was never for long and never done well. So he knew your intentions were pure and your words were genuine. Usually, he wouldn’t even bother thinking it over. It never seemed of any interest to him in all his prior years of living and death. However, with you? He found himself weighing his options. Because he also wanted to touch you. He wanted to invade your personal space more than he would usually. You were different to him, it was apparent since day one.
“Alright.” he watched you snap your gaze up to him so suddenly he could’ve sworn he heard your neck crack. Shock written over your features as he pushed himself off from leaning against the desk.
“Wait, what?” You asked stunned as your eyes followed his movements. His body shifted slightly to the bench right beside him, smoothly lowering to sit.
“I’m giving you permission, my dear.” After making himself comfortable he motioned you to come closer. Obediently, you shuffled slowly up to him as he spoke again. “Although we will need to discuss terms first.”
You stopped a foot from his seated form. “Terms?” You questioned half listening. You were more focused on greedily taking in his relaxed state. Shamelessly appreciating the sight of him, no doubt thanks to the two drinks. Your eyes were on his lap, scanning down his exposed forearms and stopping on his large hands that ended with sharp red tips.
“Yes, darling, terms.” He noticed your eyes on other parts of him. Slightly bothered you weren't focused on what he was saying. His hand you were staring at quickly snapped at you and gestured to look up at him. “You didn’t think I’d give you such an honor without getting something in return, did you?” His words were laced with venomous mockery.
With your eyes now held with his you hesitated to speak. Feeling your cheeks start to burn more. “I didn’t.. expect to get to at all, so…” your words were so quiet and uncertain. His ears flicked atop his head as he tried to hear you clearly over the music.
“Speak up, dear, you must use your words properly if we are going to do this.” He leaned back into the bench as he glanced you up and down. Allowing you to deliciously simmer in your own embarrassment. “My terms are rather simple. If I allow you to touch me-“ he placed a hand against his chest. “Then it’s only fair I get to touch you too, right my dear?” Dramatically his hand flicked from his chest to gesture to you. Palm being held out for you to accept. “Deal?”
You swallowed dryly as you stared at his large hand. “You want to touch me?” Eyes flicking between his black palm and his red half-lidded gaze. “And we get like.. free roam? Touch.. anywhere?” The mere thought of having his hands on you had you pressing your thighs together. In this moment, you would let him do anything he wanted to you without hesitation. What you were really worried about was his comfort. If you were to upset him by making him uncomfortable, you’d want to die, again.
A static heavy chuckle was forced from him. The fingers on his outstretched hand flexed impatiently. “I wouldn’t say it’s a want from me.” He lied. “Rather so, curiosity? Yes, let's call it curiosity.” Even now he was going to ensure he had the upper hand. “But if you don't want me touching you and you’d rather just chinning*..” his offered hand curled his fingers in and then withdrew to his lap. “No skin off my nose, dear.”
Physically witnessing his hand draw back had panic rising in you. Like this rare opportunity was about to be lost forever. He watched amused as your eyes widened and you stumbled forward slightly with the force in which you spoke. “NO-“ you both cringed at the sudden rise in volume. “No- I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want you to- it’s quite the opposite actually..”
He watched you shuffle closer until your knees hit his. Again, he noticed your gaze lingered on other parts of him rather than his eyes. “Then spill. What do you want?”
You chewed nervously on your bottom lip. “I.. I want your touch on me, Alastor. More than my want to touch you. You’d turn Hell into Heaven if I could only have your attention on me..” His smile widened when you finally raised your eyes to meet his again. “But I’m worried about upsetting you, Alastor. Having permission to freely touch you seems…too good to be true? And to hear you intend to touch me as well? Whether it’s a want or just curiosity I could care less. Fuck, Al, I’ll feed that curiosity however you want.”
A genuine and loud laugh rumbled from his chest. “Oh ho! what a desperate and pathetic display you are giving me.” He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes on you. “What can I say? I suppose I’m feeling rather charitable tonight.” Slowly he leaned forward, his hands sliding down his thighs. His fingers gently wrap around your wrists. Watching carefully for any resistance to his touch. “And I promise, Mon Cher, I’ll let you know if I don’t like something. So you needn’t worry about upsetting me.” Truthfully, he’d be quick to wrench your hands away from any area he didn’t like. “You’ll do the same for me, right?”
With a sneaky smirk he brought your hands to his face. Gently grazing his lips across your knuckles. You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine as you watched him breathlessly. To his surprise though you shook your head no. “I won’t need to.”
A sadistic glint shined in his ruby eyes as he smirked against your hands. The gentle kindness he planned on showing you began to slip. “Oh? Is that so?” A sudden yank of your wrists had you falling into his chest. His warm hands glided down from your wrists to help guide your knees on either side of him. He fussed with your positioning until he was satisfied with your thighs straddling his lap. Taking a gleeful glance at your flustered expression and rigid body. “You sound so certain. What if I wanted to eat you whole? What would you say then?”
He leaned back into the bench as he observed you intently. Heat settled over your entire body as you stiffly fidgeted on top of him. Embarrassed, you didn’t want to rest your full weight on him. But his hands had a firm grip on your hips, pressing you down ever so slightly to keep you in place.
Sweaty hands hesitantly came to rest on his chest, fingers gently crawling up to the top of his shoulders. “What would I say?” your words slipped from your lips like a whisper. Your desire and need for him outweighed your nerves drastically. His hands squeezed the flesh at your hips when he felt you finally relax into him. Entranced, he watched a soft smile settle on your face before you spoke. “Bon Appétit.”
Chest heaving, nostrils flaring and eyes like a hungry animal. With those words, something snapped in him. It quite literally took everything in him in that moment to not simply swallow you whole right then and there.
His jaw clenched as a loud static began to swarm around the two of you. He felt his mouth water as he swallowed, having to clear the excess saliva that pooled around his tongue. Savor her, he repeated in his head, you must savor your meal. The buzzing static overtook the music completely until it disappeared with a loud pop, earning a flinch from you. His mouth opened with a purr “Merci.”.
Your breath hitched as he leaned down to close the space between you two. His warm lips ghosted across your own, so close yet so far. Every coherent thought you once had was muddled and drowned. The unexpected intimacy that Alastor was giving you had your heart hammering against your ribs. In that moment you decided firmly, you’d completely give in to him and this desire.
One hand of his shifted from your hip and up your side. Talons trailing up until his fingers laced in your hair, pulling the tie that held it up. As you felt your hair fall freely you tried to close the space between you completely. Lips hungrily wanting to capture his.
He was quick, however, as the hand that remained at the back of your head tightened its grip. Fingers firmly tugging at the roots to guide your head back. A desperate whine leaving you as he forced your lips away from his. “What happened to both of us getting to touch? Or is kissing off limits?” You asked half joking as he dipped his head to place a soft kiss under your jaw. His lips settled comfortably on your now exposed throat as he inhaled deeply.
“You are touching, mon cher. A lot more than anyone else has.” He reminded you with a smirk against your flesh. You felt his lips part as warm breath ghosted the vulnerable skin of your throat. Your fingers trailed further up from his shoulders and up the back of his neck. You shuddered against him as his warm tongue licked a wet strip up. “I wonder, do you taste as delicious as you smell?”
“Al-“ you let out a sharp yelp as you feel a hot stinging pain begin to bloom on your shoulder. Instinctively, with your fingers in his hair, you tried to yank his head away much like he did to you. But he refused to be removed from his tasty meal. He let a low growl out with his lips still suctioned to you, a warning. You hadn’t expected him to literally taste you but it was foolish of you to expect anything less from a cannibal.
Your thoughts began to fog as you felt him suck the blood from your wound. His cock twitched beneath you as if the blood he drank from you went straight to his groin. Any previous intentions on partaking on your end of the deal was long gone. You couldn’t care less about where your hands were. The only thing that mattered now was that his hands remained on you.
You bit your lip trying to hold in the small yelps in pain as he attacked the wound he made. Prodding and poking trying to coerce as much blood as he could without literally tearing a chunk from you.
Desperately, needing more than just his feasting mouth, you rolled your hips against his. You stuttered your movements as he sunk his teeth deeper into you in response. Another whimper left your parted lips as his name tumbled out like a prayer. “Alastor-“
He sighed through his nose, having to will himself to release your tasty flesh. Slowly blinking his eyes open as he lifted up with a suctioned pop. Leaning back to take in the beautiful sight of your bloody and bruised shoulder. He watches closely as beads of red quickly begin to pool and drip over your collar bone. Bleeding into the pure white of your nightgown.
“Beautiful, Mon Cher, absolutely beautiful.” His lips parted to show a bloody grin. His eyes were glazed over as if the taste of you was more intoxicating than the drink he had a moment ago. “You did so good.” You felt his grip in your hair loosen as his fingers brushed through. With his now free hand he began to smear the blood on your shoulder, earning a wince from you. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” His hand cupped your cheek and you could feel your blood sticking your flesh to his, like glue. He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb as he brought his face close to yours again. “Do you want a taste?”
Before you could even begin frantically nodding, he already captured your lips in his. Pulling back just enough to use his thumb to wrench your mouth open. You gave him no resistance as he dove back in. His tongue eagerly exploring the entirety of your mouth. Spreading the taste of your own blood.
He swallowed a muffled moan as both hands slipped to your hips. Fingers digging into clothed flesh as he grinded you into him. “See?” His lips parted from yours with a pink tinged dribble of saliva connecting you to him. “Delicious, aren’t you?”
Quickly, you licked the bloody spittle on his lips. “If I say yes will you-“ a moan interrupted your sentence as his hands continued to grind you against his hardened cock. “-f-fuck please just fucking touch me-“
“I am touching you, mon cher.” His hands slowed to grind on him at an agonizing pace. The friction slick as you fully drenched your panties and began to seep into the front of his pants. “Remember, use your words.”
“Alastor, p-please-“ your words trembled as you tried to retain some sense of composure. But the teasing feeling of him beneath his pants was going to drive you insane. With a shaky breath you leaned away from him. One hand grasping the hem of your nightgown and yanking it up to your chest. Your other hand sliding fingers under the hem of your underwear to pull them down ever so slightly. His gaze shooting down immediately to take in the erotic sight of your pubic hair barely poking out. “Please just eat me already.”
“How could I say no when you’re pleading so sweetly?” In a blink of an eye he had his hands holding you against him. With a chuckle he stood from the bench, his hands cupping your ass to carry you with him. Your own hands quickly grab his shoulders to keep yourself from falling.
You’re swung around as you hear crashing behind you. Alastors shadow-y tendrils quickly swiping his desk clear in order to make space for you. A gasp leaving you as your back is dropped onto the hard surface with a thud. His hands holding your legs at his hips by the pits of your knees. His taller frame towering over you as you lay sprawled under him.
The grin that spread across his face had you squirming. His warm hands pull you by your legs until your ass is completely off the desk. With only your upper half resting against the hardwood, your stomach does flips, feeling like you’ll fall. But his hold on you is firm as he lowers to his knees. Effortlessly, your legs are settled over his shoulders. You’re practically panting in anticipation as you feel him chuckle against your inner thighs. “Nervous, dear? You’re shaking.”
“Shut up-“ A groan is ripped through clenched teeth as he sinks his teeth into the plump flesh of your right thigh. Hissing, you latch your hand into his hair. He gave no reaction to your grip as he enjoys lapping at the new wound. One of his hands sliding up to give your ass a good squeeze.
You hadn’t realized you were clenching your eyes closed until they flew open. Your back arching off the desk as your breathing hitched. The feeling of his warm tongue running up your clothed slit had you feeling sparks. The blood on his tongue seeped into the already damp fabric, adding another stain to you. “F-Fuck- Jesus Christ-“ he ran his tongue up again slowly, ending with a nice flick to your clit.
“Careful, if you moan other men’s names I’ll become rather jealous.” He hummed against your left thigh as he weaseled a hand between your legs. Sharp talons grabbing hold of the fabric of your underwear and tearing it enough to freely expose his meal.
It was a struggle keeping your eyes opened as you leaned your head forward. Freezing, as you were met with Alastors gaze sent over your exposed sex. He was watching you intently as he brought his face closer to your aching core. “I-I think I’d like to see you jealous.”
“I’m sure you would, you naughty thing.” Finally, without anything blocking his touch, you felt him lap his wet muscle up between your folds. A wispy moan leaves your lips as you remove your hand from his hair. Fingers reaching back to ground yourself against whatever you could on his desk.
The taste of you saturated over his taste buds as a pleased groan rumbled in his chest. His hands wrap around your upper thighs in order to hold you in place. His eyes flicked up trying to see what he could of your reactions. He gave up rather quickly though, losing himself to you fully now.
The juxtaposition of his agonizing teasing now being replaced with determined hunger was almost overstimulating. You couldn’t stop the shake in your legs as he twisted his tongue inside of you. The unnatural length of it reached further than you expected.
His name tumbled from your lips so sweetly it only made him crave your taste more. Fingers digging into your hips as he pressed his face deeper into you. Suffocating himself on your scent as his tongue twisted and flicked inside. When his nose pressed against your clit he felt your walls clench. A cheeky smirk forming against your lower lips. A shudder ran down your spine when you felt his tongue slip out from you. But you didn’t feel empty for long as he easily slipped a finger into you, a second quickly following. You felt yourself forgetting how to breathe as he ruthlessly pumped his fingers into your heat. Erotic squelching filled the small space of his radio room. You hadn’t realized until now that the music was off, ensuring he could hear every sound your body offered him.
His tongue lazily licked your juice from his lips as his eyes flickered between wanting to peer at your face and wanting to watch your sweet pussy taking his fingers so well. “Good girl. Such a good girl, my dear.” You were a moaning mess, unable to respond any other way to his praises.
Your entire body tensed as he brought his lips back to your needy cunt. His mouth suctioned around your sensitive clit. Tongue swiping and flicking, assaulting the bundle of nerves. His fingers stopped their pumping as he pressed as deep into you as he could, fingers bending and focusing on a specific spot. He hummed casually as if he wasn’t making you see stars.
Your body lurched forward as both hands flew to grip his hair. “F-FUCK- A-Ah fuck.” He felt your walls clench around his fingers, cock twitching knowing he had you on that cliff. “So close- please p-please-“
“Hm? Wanting to cum already?” His tone was patronizing as he lifted his mouth from you. A whiny sound coming from you as that build up dimmed slightly, keeping you just before that edge. “I’ll allow it. Only if you’re a good girl and say my name as you cum, understand?”
“Y-Yes- just please-please please-“ Another pleased hum rumbled from him as he lowered back to your sopping heat. His lips suctioned around your clit once more, continuing to stimulate both spots. It only took a moment longer and you finally reached your peak. “ALASTOR-“ A pathetic mewl ripped from your throat as it crashed over you in waves. Every muscle in your body tensed, walls clenching and twitching around his fingers as he helped you through your orgasm. His mouth popping off of you as he wore a wide smirk, lips and chin glistening from the mixture of you and his own saliva.
His fingers didn’t stop massaging your walls until he felt your body relax. Only then did he slip his digits out to greedily lick them clean. His tongue finds its way back to the bite on your thigh. Lapping at the wound while it was still weeping blood. “Thank you for such a delicious meal, my dear.” He would purr as you were still trying to catch your breath. Shifting he moved your legs off from his shoulders in order to stand back up. His warm hands wrapping your legs around his waist as he stepped forward leaning into you. He helps lift you up just enough to scooch you fully on the desk once more. Your eyes lazily watch him loom back over you as you try to sit up on your elbows. His smile devious as he slips his red talons under his suspenders, slowly slinking them off of his shoulders as he purred down to you. “What do you say, darling, are you ready for dessert?”
And you then knew that your night was far from over…
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*Chinning: 20s slang meaning ‘talking’.
#alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#alastor x reader#alastor smut#alastor x you#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel smut#alastor x reader smut
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First Date
Summary: Harry and YN are set up on a date.
2019
Jonny had separately nagged YN and Harry to let him set them up on a date. Harry’s argument was that he was in the middle of writing his second album, and wanted to be on his own after his last break up. YN’s protest was that she was a single working Mum who didn’t have the time, and added “nobody wants to date a single mum”.
After what felt like months of constant begging, Harry and YN both gave in to their friend and agreed to go on a date. Jonny had arranged for them to meet at a small quiet restaurant on the outskirts of London, knowing Harry would want to stay under the radar.
YN had been nervous all day. She had messaged Jonny several times to try and cancel but he insisted that it was just nerves and she should give it a chance. Harry felt mixed emotions, part of him was nervous, he was meeting someone new but the other part of him was excited because he knew Jonny wouldn’t set him up with just anyone.
Harry arrived at the restaurant first, being fifteen minutes early. He was shown to their table which he was grateful was tucked into a corner away from other tables. He knew that was down to Jonny’s request. Wanting to calm his nervous, Harry ordered a bottle of wine for them, hoping YN liked it too.
He had just taken a small sip from his glass, when he saw the waiter walking towards him with a woman following behind. Harry stood from his chair, ready to greet her. “Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you”. Harry spoke first, bringing YN in for a hug.
“Jonny and his persuasive ways huh?”. YN joked, causing Harry to smile knowing Jonny must have nagged YN as much as he had nagged him.
Harry pulled YN’s chair out for her to sit before taking his place back in her own. “I ordered wine, I can get you something else if you’d prefer”.
“No…wine is perfect, thank you”. YN smiled with appreciation, showing her little dimples. “I like your tattoos”. She complimented as she noticed them on his arm, that was exposed due to his short sleeved shirt.
Harry glanced down as he looked at his arm, smiling slightly at the mixture of ink that covered his skin. “Uh thanks…I have too many to count”. He giggled. “Do you have any?”. He gestured to his tattoos.
YN hesitated before explaining. “I have one…on my wrist”. She turned her hand over to reveal the delicate ink on her right wrist. “It’s my son’s name”. YN watched for a change in Harry’s response or how he may end the date now.
But what surprised YN was Harry’s genuine grin as he looked down at her wrist. “What’s his name?”. His question was genuine, YN could tell by how he looked at her directly in the eye which a soft look.
“Jacob”. YN smiled as she thought about her favourite person. The little boy who saved her in more ways than he would ever know. “He’s five and a real sweetheart.”. Harry noticed how YN’s whole face lit up as she spoke about him. “Does me having a son not bother you?”. YN couldn’t help but ask.
Harry frowned at her question before shaking his head. “Of course not…I don’t date people based on if they’re a parent, or if they have a certain job or x amount of money in the bank…I date people for them.”.
“I’m sorry…I couldn’t help but ask, I’m not used to people being so understanding when it comes to Jacob”. YN apologised, hoping she hadn’t ruined the date before it had started properly.
“Hey…it’s fine, you can be yourself tonight…there’s no judgement from me.” Harry reassured her, knowing how it felt for someone not to get to know you and having a false opinion.
“Thank you…that really means a lot”. YN smiled before taking a sip from her glass, needing to treat her dry throat.
“So tell me about you and Jacob…I can see he’s your life and I want to know more”. The sentence caused a spark in YN’s chest at how interested Harry was in not only her but the one person who mattered the most.
Harry and YN had talked, laughed and smiled all evening. YN couldn’t remember the last time she felt like herself and was able to be just YN and not just a Mum. Harry wondered how he hadn’t met YN sooner because for once someone didn’t want to speak to him because he was Harry Styles, he could see that YN was genuinely interested in getting to know him as just Harry.
Harry had learnt that YN was in university studying business when she fell pregnant but had to drop out before graduating. But now owned her own florist in London. He noticed that she hasn’t mentioned her family apart from Jacob, but decided it was best to leave it that way for now. She didn’t ask one question related to the band or his music, she asked questions about his family, where he grew up, his childhood memories and all the little things that built up who he is today.
After they had finished their meals and nicely argued about how the bill was going to be paid, they found themselves walking through a quieter part of town, still chatting and giggling like two teenagers. They wanted to blame the wine but deep down they both knew it was from the excitement of each other.
Harry had arranged for a taxi to drop them both back home. They were both supposed to realise that YN didn’t live far from Harry’s Hampstead house. He walked YN up to her door to make sure she was home safe. They both stood staring at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence. Smirks covering their smiles.
“I had a really nice time tonight”. Harry broke first, meaning what he had said.
“Me too!”. YN felt shy for the first time all evening.
“Can I see you again?”. Harry was bold, he hadn’t felt like this after a date before and he wasn’t willing to lose his chance.
YN smiled, she felt special and chosen for once and inside she was screaming with happiness. Harry really wanted to see her again. “I’d love that”.
They quickly swapped numbers and Harry was eager to arrange to see YN again. Before making his way back to the taxi that was waiting patiently, he leaned in to hug YN goodbye. It was like neither of them wanted to let go but the feeling of Harry’s lips leaving a peck on her cheek is what caused YN to jump around in happiness once she closed the door behind her that night.
#harry styles x reader#harry styles#harry styles x y/n#harrystyles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fanfic#harry styles series#harry styles writing#one direction#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x oc#harry x reader#harry x yn#harry x y/n#harry x you#harry styles fic#harry styles series masterlist#harry styles masterlist#harry styles imagines#harry styles imagine#louis tomlinson#niall horan#zayn malik#liam payne#harry 1d#one direction imagine#one direction fanfiction#harry edward styles#dadrry
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are you warm enough? ꨄ oscar piastri
oscar piastri x reader
warnings: reader has the flu, sad!reader over being sick [945 words]
request: Could I ask for a 💗 with Oscar and "Are you warm enough?" prompt?
note: oscar is def the type to take care of a sick partner?? i dont make the rules but it's true! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!
It was inevitable it was going to hit you. It had struck through your entire workplace, through all your study groups. One by one, person by person, they were taken down. By a measly thing like the flu. You knew it was going to take you out, and you were going to hate every second of it.
Selfishly, you were hoping it would strike you the week Oscar was gone, not wanting to waste any of the short time that you did have with him by being confined to bed with a sickness that wouldn’t go away. Unluckily, just hours before his plane was scheduled to touchdown in Melbourne, you felt the tickle begin to climb in the back of your throat.
By the time Oscar’s bags were tossed through the front door of your apartment, you were curled up on the couch, a heated blanket over you while a half-empty cup of tea remained on the coffee table in front of you. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed, your stomach was aching. You couldn’t keep any food down, and it felt like the apartment had hit negative temperatures in the few hours between waking up with a scratchy throat, and Oscar coming through the door.
“Honey, I’m home,” he singsonged, walking around the corner and stopping dead in his tracks when he observed your state.
You had told him about all the people who were getting sick at work, at school, about how you had been diligent about making sure you were washing your hands and keeping away from them. How you had told him how you didn’t want to ruin the little time the two of you were finally going to be able to spend together, so you were being extra careful.
Oscar felt the sympathy wash over him as he observed you peak out from underneath the blanket, a look of sadness etched around your face.
“Osc… you shouldn’t come close to me. I don’t want to get you sick, too,” you said.
Ignoring your words, Oscar moved closer to the couch before sitting down beside your sock-covered feet. He gently maneuvered them so they were placed over your lap, rubbing soothing circles on your now-exposed ankle.
“I’ll suffer if I have to. Can’t make you take care of yourself when you look like you might freeze to death if I even move this blanket.”
Just from the blanket simply touching his leg, he could feel the heat emitting off of it, the number ‘6’ displayed on the power screen, indicating it was at the highest level the blanket could reach.
“Do you want me to make you another tea? Maybe go pick up some soup? I can give my mum a call, see if she can make any and drop it off? Does that sound good?”
Your only response was a nod of your head at every question he threw at you, you weren’t one to ask for help when you were sick, always able to simply take care of yourself. But the idea of getting off the couch, moving from the warmth of the blanket to go and make yourself a tea, or dig through the cupboards to find a can of soup… it just didn’t sound worth it, at all.
“I don’t want to bug your mum, if you pass me my phone I’ll just order some soup here. I can get you something too, real food. But you may not want to eat near me, I haven’t really been able to keep anything down either,” the sniffles after every few words had Oscar grimacing.
“Oh hush, mum always has leftover soup. Someone’s always sick around there, she’d be more than happy to drop it off. Let me go make you a cup of tea, and I’ll be right back.”
It didn’t take him long to tinker around the kitchen, throwing your favourite teabag into the mug and heating up the kettle; texting his mum in the process to inquire about any recent soups she may have made. Unsurprisingly, dad had been sick just days before, excess of his favourite soup in a Tupperware container in the freezer. Nicole had promised to get it thawed up and dropped off before sunset, a message of ‘get well soon, honey’ likely to be written in black ink on the lid.
Holding the warm cup of tea in front of your face, he gestured for you to sit up, a groan emitting from your body as you did so. Gently placing the cup into your hands, he sat down next to you, a small frown marring his face.
“Are you warm enough, baby? I can go pull down a few more blankets from the cupboards? Or turn the heating up?”
Shaking your head, you placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of you, before snuggling up into his side.
“Can you just hold me? You’re always so warm, and I just want to be snuggled up with you, right now,” you said.
The arm that was pressed between your two bodies moved out of the grasp, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders before pulling you in closer to his body.
“I’ll hold you whenever you want me to, even if you’re going to have to be the one to explain to the team why I have the flu next week.”
The only response you gave him was a shrug of your shoulders. You had already grappled with the fact you were probably going to get him sick, if you had to explain to the team why one of their prized driver’s was now sick… then so be it.
y'all... i didnt realize how popular oscar was until this celebration i have SO many requests for him lol. i hope everyone loves this, and as always, thank you for celebrating with me!!
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x you#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri fanfic#f1 one shot#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 one shot#formula 1 blurb#oscar piastri blurb#blurb#writing#fluff#pierregazly's 1.5k celebration
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2 on (c.s)
master list
chris sturniolo x reader
warnings: smut/smoking/swearing
preview: you’ve been stressing out about everything lately. you and your best friend Chris decided to hang out. he has an idea to help you with your stress. later on, you wake up to see videos and photos on your phone from the night before leaving you flustered.
a/n: LIKES, COMMENTS, AND REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED! was obsessed with this song in middle school with no idea wtf it was talking about. now, i want to feel like this song all the time 💀 i wrote this because i saw someone on here say they would want to have high sex with Chris so i took it into my own hands to write the fantasy out. - L 🤍
it was a Saturday night as you laid there in bed scratching your head in frustration. you were currently in college, your work has been piling up having you stressed. you stare at your computer with an irritated look as you look at the new assignments that have been added. “more?!” you groan. you shut your computer as you look at the ceiling and sigh, “how the fuck am i suppose to get through this?” you whisper to yourself. school was not your strong suit.
when you lay there in your thoughts, you hear your phone ring. you pick it up speaking, “hey Chris.” “hey Y/n. what you up to right now?” he says. you let out a sigh, “busy with assignments. these teachers are piling it on me.” you say. “oh so you’re busy right now?” he asks. you look at your closed computer as you sigh, “not really. i just had given up.” you hear him let out a soft chuckle, “well i wanted to hang out if you’re down.” he says.
“i could use a breather.” you say looking at the clock on your wall, “i could stop by for a bit. maybe i’ll make you do my work.” you say jokingly. “absolutely not Y/n.” he says making you laugh. “i was just joking. i’ll be there in a bit.” you say getting up from your bed. “alright i’ll see you.” he says before hanging up.
you throw on a jacket and some sweatpants before picking up your car keys and head over to Chris’ house. when you arrive, you get out your car and look at yourself in your car window. even if you were just hanging out, didn’t mean you couldn’t look cute. you then head over to his front door and ring the door bell. Chris opens the door immediately greeting you with a smile, “hey come in.” he says opening the door more to let you in. you walk in as he closes the door behind you.
you collapsed on the couch, laying your head back on the pillow as he sits on the couch across from you. “what’s wrong y/n?” he asks concerned, looking at you. you let out a sigh before speaking, “i don’t know if i can keep up with all the assignments. the only reason why i’m in college is because i want to make my parents proud. not because i want to in general.” his eyes stay on you, “well you need to give yourself breaks you know that right?” he says with a soft chuckle. you look up at him as you give a blank stare, “i don’t think i have time for that.” you say. he shrugs, “hey i mean you’re here now.” he says with a slight smile.
you roll your eyes before speaking, “yeah i’m here as my assignments are at home piled up. waiting for me to complete them.” he lets out a scoff with a smile, “well, you can’t just force to overwork yourself.” he says getting up. “where are you going?” you ask with curiosity. “to go get something.” he replies walking to the hallway. you sat there as you look at your hands. eventually, he comes back with a bag. “what’s that?” you say seeing him sit back down in front of him.
“something that’ll help you relax.” he says pulling out another bag that had chunks of weed in it. your eyes widen a bit staring at it, “since when do you smoke?” you ask. he smiles a bit at your question, “doesn’t matter.” he says opening the grinder that was on the table. he puts some pieces in it before shutting it and twisting it, making the pieces loose. “well i’m curious because why haven’t i noticed.” you ask with a laugh. “that scent is so strong.” he was focused on the grinder for a few minutes as he opens it, placing it on the table. you sit there as you watch him place the weed into some paper. he rolls it perfectly. you could tell he did this often. he looks at you with a smirk, “do you want me to help make the stress go away?” he asks.
you look into his eyes confused a bit. what do you mean he helps you? wouldn’t it be the weed helping? you thought. “uh i don’t know i’ve never done this before.” you say fixing your posture. “do you trust me?” he asks in a low tone. his eyes did not move from your as he plays with the joint in his hand. you gulp as you nod, “yes i trust you.” he grins as he places the joint in between his lips and lights it up. he inhales as he stands up and steps in front of you. he places a hand under your chin, lifting it to look up at him. your head was lined up with his crotch perfectly. you look up at him and stare at him. his hand held onto your jaw as his lips came inches closer from yours. you open your mouth slightly as he blows the smoke into your mouth.
he stays close to your lips as you inhale. he watches your face closely as you let out the smoke lightly. a grin appears from his mouth. you look into his eyes and at his lips. the scent that came from his mouth, caused by the weed, was intoxicating. he stands back up straight, still looking down at you before passing the joint to you. you take it as he goes and sits back down across from you, repeating the same actions again, making himself his own. you sat there taking hits as you let it cloud your mind. it really was helping everything ease. after he was done, he lights it up and starts doing the same as you. he sat there, leaned back, taking hits.
it was silent the whole time as you sat there in your now cleared mind. you felt your eyes start to get heavy. you tap your joint on the ash tray as you felt Chris’ eyes on you intensely. you look up at him as he’s leaned back with his eyes also heavy. it was extremely attractive. the way he licked his lips slightly as he kept eye contact. you felt a knot in your stomach. “is it helping?” he asks with a slight rasp in his low voice. “yeah it really is.” you say quietly. you felt yourself overheating. “are you okay?” he asks.
“y-yeah! i’m great.” you stutter out slightly. he lets out a soft laugh as he puts out his joint. you do the same before taking off your hoodie. mid way doing it, you forgot you had no shirt under. Chris stares at you with his heavy clouded eyes as his jaw clenches. “i forgot i didn’t have a shirt.” you say quietly. a sly smile appears from him as he speaks, “i don’t mind.” you look into his eyes again as you stared at him eagerly. “why don’t you come here?” he says with his arms out on each side of him, on the top of the couch, leaned back. you gulp as you stand up walking over to him. he sits up placing his hands on your hips as he pulls you down onto his lap.
he looks at your tits as they sat perfectly in your bra. he then gets closer to them as he leaves soft wet kisses on them. you felt your stomach have the same knot when he does so. “you’re so beautiful.” he lets out looking up at you as he continues kissing up from your tits to the side of your neck. your breathing started to get hitched as you shift slightly on top of him. his hands were rubbing the sides of your body as he then started to suck on your neck. your heavy eyes gave in shut as you threw your head back slightly, letting out a quiet moan. you felt him get hard beneath you.
he chuckles a bit in the crook of your neck, “you like that?” he says pulling away, looking at the marks he left on your skin. you weakly open your heavy eyes and look at him as you nod. “do you want me to help you more get rid of the stress?” you answer with no hesitation, “yes please Chris.” he smirks before carrying you, leading you into his room. he lays you on the bed as he hungrily attaches his lips back onto your chest as he trails down his kisses down to your lower stomach. he was taking his time admiring your body. he then tugs down your sweatpants, throwing them onto the floor. his kisses still trailed down your body as he starts to kiss in between your thighs. you looked down at him as you feel yourself start to get wet.
he then places a kiss on top of your clothed core as his eyes looked up at you. you bit your lip softly as you felt yourself flinch a bit from the action. he then moves his eyes back down to what he was doing as he pulls down your now soaked panties. you felt the cold air hit your aching core. he licks his lips looking at your plump cunt. he immediately shoves his face in between your legs as you gasp softly from the sudden action. “C-Chris.” you stutter out. you shut your eyes and tangled your hand in his hair. it’s like his tongue knew what to do so well.
he knew what parts would make you go crazy. he swirled his tongue on your clit as you grip onto his hair, pushing your hips up, burying his face more into you. you could feel his slight stubble on his face as he eats you out. “fuck Chris. your tongue feels so good.” you moan out. he smirks a bit as he pulls himself away. your pussy ached at the action.
you look at him with your clouded eyes as he does the same licking his lips. “sit up.” he demands. you do as he says as his eyes still admire your body. “take it off.” he says pointing at your bra. without breaking eye contact, you put your hands behind your back as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall off your chest. he grins as he takes in the sight from the slight bounce your tits made from being released. “you’re perfect.” he says taking off his shirt. you trail your eyes from his eyes, down to his body. he pulls down his sweats as he reveals a hard imprint in his boxers. you sit yourself on the edge of the bed as he gets his crotch closer to you in front of your face.
he grabs your phone as you look up at him. “i want to be able to capture this. maybe next time you’re stressed, you can look back at these.” he says looking down at you through the camera. you pull down his boxers as his dick springs up from being released. you gulp staring at the veiny cock. his tip was oozing pre cum as you licked your lips. he takes his cock into his hand, “stick your tongue out.” he demands. you do as he says as he slaps it lightly on your tongue, taking a picture. you see a slight smirk appear on his face as you suddenly push your mouth onto him. he groans at the sudden action as he watches as you sucked him off. he places his free hand on your cheek as he speaks, “you’re so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” your eyes were looking up into his as he continues to watch. you picked up the pace as you pushed him deeper down your throat. he wraps your hair around his hand as he grips it, suddenly thrusting in your mouth causing you to gag.
he takes a picture of you gagging on his dick as tears rolled down your cheeks. he moans lowly, “you take it so good.” after a bit, he eventually pulls you away from his cock as he lays you down. he automatically lines himself up in front of your entrance as he takes another photo. he then pushes into you slowly as he began to stretch you out. “oh fuck.” he lets out. he takes another picture as his cock is partially hidden inside your core. your folds hugged his length perfectly. he puts down your phone as he began to slam himself into you, spreading your legs apart. you scream from pleasure with your eyes shut.
“fuck y/n. you feel so good.” he moans with the same raspy voice. it only made you more turned on. he puts his hand down to your clit as he moved his thumb in a circular motion on it. you moan loudly, “y-yes Chris keep doing that.” “you like that huh? you aren’t thinking about anything else hm?” he says thrusting into you deeply. “n-no. only you.” you moan softly. he smirks continuously thrusting. you were kept moaning repeatedly as he hit your g spot constantly. you couldn’t take it anymore. you arch your back as you moan out, releasing all over his cock.
“that’s it baby. cum all over this dick.” he says as he grunts gripping onto your legs that were on his shoulders. you laid there as you watched him get closer to his high. he suddenly pulls out quickly as he shoots his warm liquid all over your stomach.
*time skip*
you start to wake up as you flutter your eyes open slowly. you let out a stretch as you looked around. you forgot you spent the night with Chris because he didn’t want you driving home. you turn your head to see him laid on his stomach shirtless snoring. you laugh quietly at him. you realized you didn’t have clothes on, your mind instantly flooded with what happened last night. you pick up your phone as you unlocked it, going to your camera roll.
the photos that Chris took popped up as your eyes widen and your cheeks turned red. you put your phone onto your chest as you looked up at the ceiling, remembering what he said, “maybe next time you’re stressed, you can look back at these.” you gulp at the moment that replayed in your head.
a/n: i hope you enjoyed this! i’m really appreciating the support from a lot of you guys. it really brightens up my day! - L 🤍
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Based on this ask
You've been married to President Snow for 25 years now and have 4 children between the ages of 20 & 9. When your 15 year old daughter wants to go on her first date, Coriolanus isn't taking it well. He's an overprotective girl dad.
Takes place in the Anti-Hero Universe
Your daughter, Demeter, was a total daddy's girl. She was spoiled and had Coriolanus wrapped around her little finger. Just like her 3 brothers, your daughter was the spitting image of her father. Platinum blonde curls, cerulean blue eyes, mile long legs, and a prominent nose.
Your daughter inherited your smile and your demeanor. You saw so much of your younger self in your daughter. More so than in your other children.
So, of course, Coriolanus had strict rules for his princess when it came to boys. Well, really it was only one rule. No dating until enrolling in the University.
Meaning Demeter couldn't date until she graduated from the Academy- at 18. But, you're sure that when that time comes a new rule change will come into effect- making her age of dating pushed up by a couple of years.
Demi was a bright girl in her first year at the Academy; she was adhering to her dad’s rule until one day she wasn't.
You, Coriolanus, your first born Cassian, his longtime girlfriend Phoebe (who you stopped the president from poisoning a few times since he couldn't stand the flippant girl), Demeter, and your other sons Caspian and Caelestis were gathered around the large, ornate dining table in the presidential palace for dinner. Despite being kept busy as the President, your husband was very adamant that the family ate together every night. Hell, the family ate breakfast together every morning too- in the sunroom.
Minus Cassian's girlfriend since Coriolanus did not let her live in the Presidential Palace. He's still pouting over the last poisoning attempt that you thwarted. One day, you're certain you won't be able to stop him and he'll succeed.
“Seneca Crane asked me to the Yule Ball and I said yes!” Demeter blurted out, an overjoyed smile on her youthful face, as the Avox served the first course.
You could hear a pin drop. Even the Avox paused in their motions of serving the tomato bisque to watch, wide-eyed, President Snow's reaction. Oh boy, everyone knows the one rule your husband had for your daughter. And Demeter announcing that she was asked out and said yes broke that one rule.
Even if it's for the Yule Ball, the rule of no dating is still being broken. Attending a ball or gala with a boy is considered a date. Or at least it is in the Capitol.
“I’m sorry, Demi, but you'll have to tell the young Mister Crane that you won't be attending the Yule Ball with him.” Coriolanus calmly, but cooly, told your daughter. Then he snapped his fingers and motioned for the Avox to continue serving the soup to the family.
Everyone’s eyes fluttered between Coriolanus and Demeter. Yours included. Would she accept her father's order or would she push back.
You knew exactly what she'd do. Hell, it was the exact same thing you did when your own guardian, your older half-brother, forbid you to see Private Snow anymore. You pushed back and picked Coryo; you're sure that Demi’s going to push back and pick Senaca Crane.
And you're right.
“Daddy, all of my friends are going to the Yule Ball. Everyone's going! And I'm going too, with Seneca Crane, whether you like it or not!” Demeter shrieked, only to loudly push her chair away from the table and storm out of the dining room.
“Demeter Juniper, come right back to the dining room! You haven't been properly dismissed yet!” The President orders in a loud, authoritative tone.
But your daughter didn't come back. In fact, you think she stormed off to her room. Not that you blame her.
You knew that Coryo would let her be; that he wouldn't chase after her. Demeter had him wrapped around her finger. She was daddy's little princess. The President would never make a scene by leaving the dining room to chase after her; he’d wait til after dinner to have a word with her.
Hell, this isn't the first time something like this has happened and it won't be the last.
The President took a deep, calming breath while motioning the Avox over. Once the Avox appeared at his side, he told the Avox, “Have a maid wheel a trolley full of all the supper courses to Demi’s room.”
Of course your husband was having the full course meal sent up to your daughter. Even tho she stormed off during dinner, Coriolanus didn't want her going hungry. He loves his children too much to ever let any of them go hungry.
The Avox nodded and took off to get your daughter's meal sent up to her.
“Now, let's go back to our soup.” The President said, causing everyone to pick up their spoons and begin to eat their tomato bisque.
“Mister President, maybe you should let Demeter go to the Yule Ball with Seneca. It could be the beginning of a sweet relationship.” The teal haired girl sitting next to Cassian has the idiotic nerve to tell your husband.
“Phoebe…” Cassian hissed warningly at his girlfriend while giving her a swift kick under the table.
“Yes, well, my son took you to the Yule Ball his sophomore year of the Academy and you've been a barnacle on the Snow family for years.” Your husband curtly told Phoebe, causing Cassian to cringe in embarrassment. “But unlike my sons, I have stricter rules for my daughter.” Coriolanus explained while pristinely bringing his soup spoon to his mouth.
“Phoebe, perhaps you should just enjoy the tomato bisque and not worry about how my husband and I raise our daughter or, in fact, any of our children.” You told the teal haired girl with a pointed fake smile while placing a supportive hand on your husband's under the table, on his lap.
Phoebe’s eyes went wide, but she silently nodded and went back to her soup. In fact, after your remark, everyone began to engage in light conversation while tentatively sipping on soup.
Coryo squeezed your hand, that was on his- on his lap, only to lean over slightly to tell you, “After dinner I'm going to talk with Demi; explain to her why she's not allowed to attend the ball with Seneca Crane.”
“Don’t be too strict, Coryo. Remember, she's young and likes Seneca.” You knowingly advised your husband.
“Hmph.” Coriolanus huffed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I know she's young. She's 15, my darling, and that's why I need to be strict on her about the subject of dating and boys.”
“Honey, my brother told me it was either you or them; I picked you. Demeter's all you in looks, but all me in personality. So, just don't push her too hard on this.”
“I know, my darling rose. I know.” Coriolanus sighed right as a maid came in to clear out the soup bowls.
As the maid left the dining room with a trolley full of empty soup bowls the Avox appeared with the main course. Time to carry on with dinner. They'll be time to deal with your daughter's dating drama later.
Demeter Snow was sitting on her bedroom floor, back against her bed, while thumbing thru fashion magazines. Since her Auntie Tigris was the most popular stylist and fashion icon Tigris, she was looking thru magazines to get ideas for her Yule Ball dress. A dress that her auntie would no doubt make for her.
The young blonde’s dog-earing a page in the magazine whenever a knock followed by her door cracking open and her father's head popping in with a simple, “Demi, it's dad. I'd like to talk.”, sounded out in the air.
“Come in “ Demeter flatly said while going back to thumbing thru her magazine.
Coriolanus walked into the room, only to frown whenever he saw the untouched food trolley near the door. “Princess, why didn't you eat?” He asked while making his way over to his daughter.
“I'm not hungry.” Demeter shrugged, flipping the page of her magazine.
The President pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a low sigh before sitting down on the floor next to his only daughter. Turning to the platinum blonde girl, he sternly told her, “Demi, don't starve yourself in protest. I refuse to have any of my children go hungry, so I order you to eat your dinner once we're done talking.”
“Fine.” Demi sighed.
Coriolanus snatched the fashion magazine right out of his daughter's hands while telling her, “I don't know why you're looking at dresses for because you're not going to the Yule Ball with Seneca Crane.”
“Why not? Everyone else is going with a date. Why can't I go with a date, dad?”
“Princess, you're not like everyone else. You're the president's daughter; you're not going to the ball with a date because it's just not proper.”
“Not proper my ass.” Demi mutters under her breath.
“Excuse me, young lady, but such language is not permitted in this house.” Coriolanus scolded his favorite child. He was appalled by her actions right now. He expected her to accept his word as law, but it seems that you're right about her. She's pushing back, much like you did as a teenager.
“And you know my rules, no dating until you're 18 and have graduated the Academy. That includes balls and galas, Demeter Juniper.”
“Everyone in the districts is right about you, dad. You're such a tyrant. A damn dictator.” Demeter hatefully spat out, taking the President aback. He never thought that his little princess would say such hurtful things to him, but she did.
Blinking, Coriolanus stood up. The President’s shoulders were shaking with a mix of hurt and anger as he told his daughter, “Since I'm such a tyrant; a dictator, you're grounded, Demeter Juniper Snow, and you're not attending any balls or galas this year. Alone or with a date.”
“That's not fair!” Demeter whined as he dad went over to the door.
“Life isn't fair, princess. Maybe your mom and I have been sheltering you too much, but you don't always get things your way in life.” The president told his daughter before leaving her room.
Your husband was in a sulking mood all night while in the family room with you and the children. He didn't seem like himself and when you asked what was wrong he just waved you off; said everything was fine.
You knew otherwise.
Everything wasn't fine. Your husband was hurting and you have an idea why. Your daughter and him had words; something was said that cut him down.
Wanting to get to the bottom of things, you excused yourself with the intention of checking on Demeter. On seeing if she wanted to come down and join the family. Your husband just nodded while nursing his glass of bourbon whiskey. Your younger sons didn't say a word, being too engrossed in their chess match, while your first born son just kept his nose in his book.
So, that's how you found yourself sitting on your daughters bed, holding her while she picked at her strawberry shortcake and complained about how unfair her dad was being.
“I understand you feel like it's unfair, but your dad has his reasons for his rules. And lashing out on him, saying that the districts are right about him being a tyrant and a dictator, wasn't right, Demeter.” You firmly tell your daughter.
No wonder Coryo's sulking. You can't imagine how badly your daughter’s words have hurt your husband. Coriolanus truly believes that his pro-Capitol and strict District political policies have made Panem thrive. And, honestly, after the bullshit you experienced in the Districts during your youth, well, you side wholeheartedly with the Capitol.
With your husband.
“But-” Your daughter began to protest, only for you to cut her off with a motherly, “No buts, Demi. What you said to your dad hurt him. He only wants to keep you safe.”
As your daughter put her half-eaten dessert plate on the trolley, you told her, “Your father works hard not just to keep us safe, but to keep the Capitol and all of Panem safe. For you to say such hateful things to him isn't called for.”
“Everyone else gets to go to balls and galas with dates; I just want to be able to go too.”
“I know, honey, but it's not that simple. You’re the president's daughter; people might try to take advantage of you for that.”
“Mom, Seneca Crane's really nice. He wouldn't try to take advantage of me.” Demeter told you with such conviction. She truly believes that Seneca was just a nice guy that liked her for her.
Sighing, you told Demeter, “I’ll talk to your dad about letting you go to the Yule Ball with Seneca. But, you need to go down to the family room and apologize to him.”
“Okay.” Your daughter nodded, accepting your terms.
Later that night, you're in your large master bedroom with your husband. You're wearing one of your silky nightgowns while sitting at your vanity, doing your nightly beauty regime. Coryo's lounging on the bed you share, dressed in a pair of silky red pajamas. His platinum curls are in their natural state and he's got gold gel patches on under his eyes to prevent bags. His face is also lathered in facial creams, to keep his skin hydrated and wrinkle free during the night.
You and Coryo are in your early 40’s, have been married for 25 years now, and have 4 children- one who's 20, one who’s 15, and the others that're 11 and 9. And after all of that life experience you still find each other as handsome and beautiful as ever. Even lathered up in your nightly beauty and skincare regimens.
“Now, I've got no doubt that Seneca Crane's a nice boy- after all I knew his aunt and she had a personality to die for, but I'm not letting Demi go to that dance with him.” Coryo told you, watching you with sharp eyes, as he sat against the king-size velvet headboard.
“I thought you said that Arachne was a bitch that got a broken bottle to the throat cause she was teasing her tribute with it?” You asked, brow raised, as you finished applying your body lotion.
“I did say that.” Coryo nodded. Running a hand over his beard (which he began sporting after receiving a scar along his jaw from an attempted mine uprising during a business trip in 12 that occurred about 15 years ago), he sighed, “Maybe if it was Heavensbee’s son I'd reconsider, but a Crane?”
You picked up your silver brush and began to brush your hair. “Coryo, I know how you feel about this, but we need to trust her judgment on this.”
“But-” Coryo began, only for you to cut him off with, “No buts, Coryo. Maybe we need to let her go to the Yule Ball with Seneca. Give her a tiny bit of leeway; show her that we trust her.”
“Fine…” Coryo relented with a defeated sigh. Pointing a finger at you, he declared, “But I’m giving him one hell of a shovel talk when that boy comes to pick her up for the Yule Ball.”
And your husband was true to his word. President Coriolanus Snow gave Senaca Crane the shovel talk of all shovel talks. In fact, Seneca was so nervous after that talk that he barely even looked at Demeter. In fact, after the Yule Ball he never talked to her again; made excuses to not be around her, etc.
Safe to say that President Coriolanus Snow scared away his daughter's first potential boyfriend. It could've been worse. At least he didn't poison the boy.
So, after the Yule Ball and the failed date with Seneca Crane, Demeter Snow went back to worrying about her studies and fashion. She didn't bring up the topic of dating again, much to her dad’s relief.
But in 3 years time President Snow would have to deal with his daughter falling for her tribute, but that's a story for another day.
Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @meetmeatyourworst @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress
#coriolanus snow#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#coriolanus snow x reader#thg#coryo snow#tbosas fanfiction#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus fanfiction#young president snow#president coriolanus snow#coryo snow x reader#coryo x reader#coryo snow x you#coryo snow fanfiction#coriolanus fic#coriolanus x you#coriolanus imagine#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow x you#coryo x you#tom blyth fanfiction#tom blyth#coriolanus snow x female!reader#tbosas fic#thg fanfiction
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TF141 Meeting Soap’s Little Sister (a.k.a. You)
CoD ML
The task force didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. They already have to deal with Soap’s husky antics, which can already be too much to handle. Multiply that by two and no one, especially Simon, wants to deal with that.
But they certainly wouldn’t mind the company of the woman in the doorway.
Why on earth didn’t Soap warn them?
For John, it’s the sweater paws. For a second they make him selfishly want to dress you in one of his sweaters.
For Simon, it’s the way you shyly hide behind your brother, a habit you still have at your big age. Normally he loathes shows of fragility, but yours is endearing to him. For the first time in a very long while, it kindles something in him.
For Kyle, it’s your eyes. He simply can’t look away even though he’s aware it makes you uncomfortable.
“Lads, meet my sister, Y/N.” The adoration Soap has for you is plain to see in the gentle smile that plays out on his lips, proud to be your brother and amused you’ve barely changed from your younger days. Why else would you look at him, lowkey terrified of the strangers he’s brought into your home. “It’s awright, hen. They’re good men, even the big bawbag with the skull mask. Go oan an’ introduce yerself.”
Clutching your brother’s sleeve, relieved he’s home and glad for his protection, you introduce yourself. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”
And in that moment, without so much as trying, you have your brother’s unit wrapped around your finger.
So much so that Simon removes his balaclava before he even crosses the threshold. Unbeknownst to you, it’s extremely rare to see the man without his mask and always leads to the unit members exchanging surprised glances.
“What’s this, LT?” your brother asks, badly faking disbelief.
“Proper etiquette. Plus, I can’t eat with the thing on.”
“Oh, so you do eat. I thought ghosts didn’t have ta.”
“Johnny…”
“Just messing with ye, Ghost.”
“Ghost?” you ask.
“It’s my callsign, miss. I- I mean, Y/N.” He keeps his distance, but tries to make himself as small as possible to seem less intimidating. “We ain’t on duty now, so’s just Simon.”
“I see.”
Throughout the night, your brother’s comrades try to win your favour. Kyle offers to help set the table, teaming up with John who beats him to it by lifting the stack of plates in your hands. “Can’t have the lady of the house do everything, can we?”
“But-“
“Please, Y/N, allow me.” His features soften, though there’s a strange glint in his eyes you can’t name. Nevertheless, it sharpens further into sterness as John turns around and starts speaking like you’d imagine he does out in the field. “Gaz, get over here. We have to help our hostess out.”
“You… you really don’t…”
“It’s the least we can do,” Kyle reassures you, shown up at your side at the first word of the captain. “We’ll try to do it neatly.”
“Oi, Gaz, stop being cheeky and get moving.”
“Yes, sir.” Kyle sighs. “He makes it sound like we’re on a battlefield. Fortunately, this is less severe, innit?”
“It might be if there aren’t glasses between now and ten seconds,” John mutters, circling around you two to put the last plates down and move on to cutlery.
“Ever the perfectionist. Where do you keep them?” Kyle asks.
You point at a cupboard. “Right there.”
“Okay. Y/N, we’ll do a proper job. Promise.” And with that, he’s off to help set the table.
While cooking, you observe Simon dawdling around the kitchen. Or, rather, as you discover when you lift your head to check what’s going on, he’s forced to thanks to Johnny.
“Och, just offer yer help. Ah dinnae ken, chop some veggies. Also, she’s into video games- Y/N!” Johnny slaps Simon on the shoulder, feigning ignorance. “Can this wee bawbag help ye with anything?”
“Stop calling me that,” Simon grumbles through gritted teeth.
“Do you cook?”
“He-“ Soap opens his mouth to answer for his friend yet finds himself cut short.
“Haud yer wheest, John. I was nae asking you, I was asking Simon.” Holding out your spatula as a threat to your brother, you turn to the gentle giant.
Simon looks at you through his lashes, but quickly averts his gaze when your eyes meet. “I dabble. Try to put proper grub on the table sometimes.”
“Help me do the same?”
“Uh… sure.”
“Lovely!”
“Have fun, LT.” Johnny offers you both a cheeky grin, then turns on his heel to return to the others.
And so Simon finds himself cooking alongside you. Truth be told, you partially did it to save him from his brothers in arms. Regardless of how well he knows them and the amount of time he’s spent with them, their extroverted personalities still wear him out. His silence is telling, different from the intimidating version he dropped the moment you opened the door. You’ve seen how his eyes glaze over, occupied with dreams you can only guess at. Occasionally he’ll nod and make a noise to make the others think he’s listening.
Nevertheless, it’s still surprising Simon tries to start a conversation.
A conversation that goes in all sorts of, mostly nerdy, directions. So soon you find yourself listening to elaborate explanations of the lore of various FromSoftware games, a topic Simon passionately enlightens you on.
He stops mid-sentence when you chuckle. “What?”
“You have a nice voice.”
“Oh… uh… thanks.”
“Jesus, Y/N, you’re some kind of miracle worker.” Gaz walks into the kitchen to grab another beer from the fridge. “How’d you get Ghost to talk?”
Simon glowers at his companion, but stands down when you gesture for him to remain calm. “Sometimes you simply need the right person, a genuine heart that listens. Now, boys, let’s eat.”
“Food?” Johnny calls from the couch.
“My days, what are ye? A husky?” you call, only partially truly annoyed.
Dinner is an amiable affair. The men (yes, even Soap) censor themselves, finding it inappropriate to start effin and blindin in your company. All the same, they include you in the conversation however possible and fall silent when they notice you want to chime in. Unbeknownst to you all, Johnny is especially vigilant none of the other men makes an advance towards you. Sure, you’re a grown woman. Nonetheless, to him, you’ll always be the wee bairn he held as a four-year-old boy, the barely grown girl who couldn’t stop crying when he was deployed for the first time.
You’re his little sister, the only girl he’d gift the moon if he could.
That being said, though, should you end up with any member of the unit, he dearly hopes it’s Simon. So it’s actually quite reassuring for him to see you two get along as well as you do.
“Two peas in a pod,” Soap mumbles, the words muffled by beer and the clinking of cutlery.
The lads gesture for you to remain seated while they clear the table and do the dishes.
“‘S alright, Y/N. Leave it to us,” John says when you try to get up from your chair.
“You really don’t-“
“No, no. Please.” The bear-like hand on your shoulder is gentle though strong, persuasive in its conviction for you to remain seated. “A small favour, really, to repay your kindness.”
The table cleared, John and Simon excuse themselves for a quick smoke. In the meanwhile, Johnny and Kyle wash the dishes.
For dessert, you sit the men down with coffee and tea to enjoy with a scone.
Kyle falls a little more for you when you show you’re full of contrasts. Shy on the surface yet so fierce when defying your brother. “I was doing fine, crocheting my time away without puppy antics.”
“I’m nae like a dog.” Your brother stops mid-bite to protest.
“Johnny, yer a bloody husky.”
“Well, at least I’m one that did nae get shot.”
“Oh, haud yer wheesht, like you ever will. Just enjoy yer scone and tea. Wait!” You hasten to the fridge to retrieve a jar of orange marmelade. “Here, have this.”
“Homemade?”
“‘Course. It’s not like I’ve forgotten how you dislike store bought.”
“Thanks, sis.”
“Thank you for coming back in one piece, bro.” You turn to the men, who all sit up, alert. “And thank you for bringing my brother home.”
John has to restrain himself and not give into the urge to plop you in his lap. To make sure he won’t, he tucks his hands between his legs when you brush past him to retake your seat across the table.
Simon is good at hiding his emotions, but definitely wouldn’t mind it if you leaned on him and talked some more about video gaming. He loves the way your whole expression brightens when you do and would like nothing better than for you to be his player number two.
Stories and small talk, with the occasional silence to appreciate being alive and well, fills the kitchen as the arms of the clock creep closer to midnight.
At some point you stifle a yawn. Unfortunately, not before your brother catches you doing so. Johnny looks at the clock then back at you. “Alright, lads, it’s been great. However, despite her stubborn arse refusing to admit it, Y/N’s getting tired. Now being the great big brother I am,” the harsh slap on the upper arm does little to make him pipe down, “I think it’s time I show all of you the door.”
John, Kyle, and Simon get up without so much as a word of protest. After all, it’s bad etiquette to wear your hostess out nor does it help your chances with her.
You expected only a handshake as a farewell. Nevertheless, it’s hard to refuse the open invitation for a hug John gives you. His embrace is warm and gentle, testing out the waters to see what you will and won’t allow. His chest rises and falls with a satisfied sigh when you let him rest his head on top of yours. To be honest, it’s nice and comforting, the way he rubs some heat into your arms. “Goodnight, love. Thank you for the splendid evening.”
Kyle’s hug is more casual, like you’re a dear friend he’ll see again in the short run.
“Can I get a hug from you too?” you ask the man standing by the door, who has his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. For a moment Simon seems about to step forward. Yet, for whatever reason, he remains where he stands.
“I don’t think-“
“Please?”
How can he say no now? His mind short-circuits when you wrap your arms around his waist. His hands hover in the air for a moment before he places them lightly on your shoulders. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N.”
“Had fun?”
“I did.”
“Glad to hear it. Also,” you lean back to look at him, “keep the mask off. You’re not a lieutenant here, not Ghost.”
An amused hum escapes Simon, though later in the car he’d have to keep denying Kyle’s allegations he saw him smile. “Copy.”
“Go oan, I won’t keep you any longer.”
“Y/N?”
“Hm?”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Simon.”
You watch the men clamber into John’s car. They’re all staying the night at his place before heading off home.
“You like him, don’t ye?”
“Who?”
“Ghost.”
“I don’t know him.” Johnny gives you a quizzical look. “Simon, though, perhaps. He’s a good man.”
“He is.”
The only man who has his blessing to court you.
Who he hopes will truly be family one day.
His future brother-in-law.
#CoD x Reader#Soap McTavish#John Price#Ghost x Reader#Simon Riley x Reader#John McTavish#John Soap McTavish#Kyle Gaz Garrick#Captain John Price#Simon Ghost Riley#CoD MW Ghost#Ghost CoD#CoD Ghost
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Thank u for doing requests ! What about giiving kisses on mob boss Nico’s scars (if any)?🥹🥹
This is so sweet oh my god I’m gonna cry. (This also somehow turned into a smut scene at the end so happy first smut scene of mob boss Nico!)
Thank you so much for requesting! I hope I did it justice!
————————————————————————-
It wasn’t a big dead, not really. Just an off-handed remark Jack had made after Nico chirped him for getting a bad haircut.
“You should spend more time worrying about that lip of yours than my haircut.” He’d yapped, motioning to the recently split lip Nico had gotten. “Eventually your girl’s not gonna wanna kiss it better.”
It had healed just fine and yeah for a bit there you’d avoided the raw wound, but now that it’s just a sliver of a scar it’s fine, right?
Nico can’t help it. He’s picking at it, smears of shaving cream still splattered across his jaw and cheeks. He picks at it until the skin of his lip is red and raw, and it hurts so badly he has to stop.
In a frantic spiral he’s suddenly spotting all the little marks on his face. Every scar left over from teenage acne to fist fights to hitting his head on the coffee table as a child, Nico feels manic as he takes them all in.
Maybe he shouldn’t have shaved. Maybe he should’ve let his beard grow out, creep up his cheeks and down his neck to hide all the ugly marks.
Down and down and down the rabbit hole he goes. Wiping the shaving cream off with a towel, Nico spots the ugly mark on his collar bone from where he’d been nicked with a knife. The one on his abdomen from where he’d been kicked with steel toe boots.
Something ugly and ashamed rises in his chest, threatens to choke him. He scrambles out of the bathroom, haphazardly shutting off the light as he rushes to the closet. In his haste to cover himself he misses you already lying in bed. It’s not until he’s yanked on a hoodie and sweatpants, finally able to breathe easy, does he notice you watching him with bewilderment.
“You ok boss?” You ask him, slightly amused.
Nico runs a hand through his hair, feels like throwing up. What if you saw all of them? Like really saw them? Sat in front of him and saw all those ugly spots at once, all his ugly spots?
“Fine,” he mumbles, climbing into his side of bed. He feels stiff and awkward, ignoring your gaze as he reaches to shut off the bedside lamp.
You make a confused noise in the dark and Nico blinks until his eyes adjust. Then he’s lying back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers ache to reach for you, to touch your skin. But he’s terrified of you touching his skin and suddenly deciding you don’t want to anymore.
Stupid fucking Jack and his big mouth.
The sheets shuffle, the mattress moving with your weight. “Nico?” A hand pats down the duvet, then slithers across the blanket until it’s resting over his chest.
“Hm?”
“Baby you’re on the edge of the bed.”
“M’just hot.”
“Maybe it’s the winter clothes you just put on?”
Nico hesitates, scrambles for an excuse. “Not feeling well either. Don’t want to get you sick.”
“You ate three plates of pasta, Schoa. I don’t think that’s contagious.”
Clearing his throat, Nico pathetically shrugs. Something’s welled up in his esophagus, is choking him and he wants you to reach over and make it better.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong or am I gonna have to piss you off first?”
He closes his eyes, feels the weight of your hand on him. That feeling chokes him again, makes him panic until he’s spiting out his worst fears to you.
“Do you still want to kiss me?”
Nico expects you to laugh, to kick at his leg and tell him he’s being ridiculous. But he thinks the pathetic whimper of his words has given away how dire this topic is to him.
“Oh baby,” you breathe out, “I want to kiss you all the time.” You sound sincere, like you’re thinking about kissing him right now. It makes his face hot, embarrassed and insecure for some reason.
His silence is thick, hanging in the air so heavily you have to sit up in bed and crawl over him. Nico can’t help it, his hands moving on their own to find your hips as you push the blankets back and straddle his thighs.
“Nothing could ever make me not want you.” You whisper. In the dark he finds your eyes, the moonlight coming through the window gleaming in them. They look shiny and blurry, warped by the night- no by him. Because he’s got tears in his waterline.
“You didn’t want to kiss my lip,” he mumbles like a child, “when it was hurt.”
You stroke through his hair, press your palm to his cheek. “Because I didn’t want to hurt you, not because I didn’t want to kiss you.”
“What if next time it’s worse? What if the cut is bigger and then the scar is and it doesn’t get better?”
“What-Nico where is this coming from? Did something happen?”
He’s silent, embarrassed again. “Jack said if my scars get any worse you won’t want to kiss them better anymore.”
“Oh Nico baby,” you huff in disbelief. “Have you ever noticed that Jack doesn’t even have someone to kiss his scars better? Who does he think he is?”
You’re right, but he doesn’t feel better. So he just shrugs, makes some weird noise of protest in his chest because he’s scared and hurt.
“Can I please turn the light on?”
Nico leans into your palm, heart thumping loudly in his chest but he mutters his consent. The lamp flicks on and at first he’s blinded. But then you come into view, one of his shirts on your shoulders and you’re pretty hair frizzy on top of your head.
You look so beautiful over him.
“Oh my god, what has Jack done to you?” You ask softly, stroking your thumb under his droopy eyes that are still wet with unshed tears.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles.
Your fingers trace his face, over the soft skin of his freshly shaved cheeks and the slope of his nose. Your thumb outlines his lips, your eyes following its movement with such adoration in them it makes his heart ache.
“You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen,” you say with earnest, stroking the scar on his lip. “No cut or bruise or scar is ever going to change that.”
“Yeah?”
You lean down, ghost your lips over his. “Yeah Nico,” you promise, sealing it with a kiss. He runs his hands up your back, holds you as you trail kisses over the little marks of his face.
Nimble fingers dip beneath his hoodie, touch the warm skin of his stomach. “Can I take this off my love?”
Sluggish, Nico nods. He sits up enough to help you wiggle it off of him, falling back into the pillows as you throw the hoodie to the side.
You sit back, admiring the skin of his chest and abs with your hands and lidded eyes. “All I see when I look at you, is the brave and strong man that I love.”
Sliding down his body, you mouth at his collarbone with soft and needy lips. Nico sighs contently, lets your breath tickle his skin and grows warm at the way you touch him so sweetly.
Sometimes he wonders how you can treat him so softly, how you can take him in those soft hands and turn him into a puddle.
“Baby,” he whines, unsure of what he’s even calling for. All he knows is that he loves you and you’re making him feel so good.
“Let me love on you,” you request, word pressing into the column of his throat. “Let me show you how beautiful and sexy you are Nico.”
He tangles his fingers in your hair, shudders as pleasure nips at his belly and blood rushes to his cock.
“Fuck, yes, please.”
You’re slow and diligent, finding any and every place on him that is marred or changed and showering it in kisses and loving touches. He’s sweating and panting when you get to the edge of his pants, peeling the band down to reveal more and more of the scar there.
“This one’s my favorite,” you say so quietly he almost doesn’t hear you.
“Huh?”
He lifts his head, brain foggy with lust. You peer up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking sultry over the planes of his body. Lips hovering over the mark that trails down the v of his hips and the top of his thigh.
“My favorite,” you mumble into his skin, kissing at the point of his hip. Then you’re pulling his sweats down even more, innocent eyes watching him hiss when his cock jumps free, red and hard against his abdomen.
“Why?”
Your lips curl up, wicked as you bite into the inside of his thigh just enough to make him twitch. “Because I get to see it every time I’m down here.”
Nico’s brain short circuits, shuts down when you bite into his skin again and it feels so good he might come untouched. He doesn’t want to though, not that he needs to tell you that.
You nose at his cock, mouth wet and hot against the base of him and his bones turn to jelly. He falls back into the mattress, widening his legs for you to get closer.
Grounding himself with fingers in your hair, Nico whimpers when you drag the flat of your tongue up his length, gentle fingers wrapping around his girth.
“Baby,” Nico whines again, and you’re already kissing at the thick head of his cock, all teasing flicks of the tongue and lips sticky with precum.
“I know pretty boy,” you assure, sweet and loving. Nico moans, ears growing hot at the pet name. “So pretty, from those big eyes of yours all the way down to your pretty cock, huh?”
His hips buck up, eyes rolling back and he twitches in your hand. Jesus Christ, now he knows why you love when he talks you through sex. The rawness of your words, the truth in your tone, how utterly sweet you sound saying such filthy things.
“Make me cum,” he begs, tugging on your hair encouragingly. “Please just -fuck!”
You swallow him down easy, fitting his cock into your warm mouth just how he taught you. Like it’s habit now, to have his cock dripping into the back of your throat while your tongue licks at the underside of him.
Nico’s so worked up and sensitive he’s already throbbing and threatening to blow his load. That fire licks at the base of his spine, curls his toes and has him blubbering nonsense. You bob your head, drooling down his length and cupping his balls in your palm.
You’re so soft and warm, so loving in everything you do. Nico thinks it might kill him one day, how much you love him. But that would be a hell of a way to go.
His cock throbs, twitching in the hollow of your cheeks and you stroke a free hand over that favorite scar of yours. That’s at it takes and he’s seeing stars, coming so hard on your tongue it twists painfully at the pit of his stomach.
Dropping his hands from you, heavy like his bones are made of lead, Nico fights to catch his breath. Your merciful on him, easy and gentle as you kiss your way back up his torso and to his mouth.
Nico doesn’t peel his eyes open until you’re messily mouthing at his parted lips. Your tongue tastes like him, breath hot and he groans into your mouth as he kisses you back.
“I lied,” you pant when you part from the kiss. “This one’s my favorite actually,” and your pecking a kiss to the scar on his lips.
“Baby you just sucked the soul out of me,” Nico croaks, wrapping his arms around you and pinning you into his sweaty chest. “I can’t take anymore compliments.”
You giggle, touching your nose to his. “It’s the truth this time, I love that one. It’s the first thing I see every morning, the first thing I see after you kiss me.”
Nico hums, smacks a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Yeah? Do you think that’s pretty too?” He goads, smirking when you blush and roll your eyes. “Pretty like my cock? Or pretty like my eyes?”
Laughing, you wiggle in his hold to try and get away. “Oh shut up!”
“Noooo keep telling me how pretty I am, boss please?”
#him and i#him and I blurb#nico hischier#mob boss Nico#mob boss Nico hischier#nico hischer x reader#nico hischier smut#requested
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I can offer you an idea of yandere alastor.. What would it be like if alastor as a child knew the reader... Like I imagine alastor as a child not knowing how to act properly like a human, and the reader as a good best friend helping him seems more human (and not because the child reader is scared of him) ... Actually, what would happen?
FROM THE START
[wait a sec! you should probably read the other chapters as well]
— teaching your new best friend, alastor, to be a human. slowly, but surely.
the first day of kindergarten. it was a little scary, but seeing all the kids who felt the exact same— it made you feel a bit better. none of the kids stood out though. except for one little boy, one who was hiding behind his mother’s dress, begging her to not leave him.
“momma, don’t leave me here” he frowned.his mother laughed before she pushed him towards the door. “come now, alastor. you’ll make some friends, trust me dear.” to this, you took it as an opportunity to make a new friend. you walked up to the little boy, waving excitedly. “hi!! what’s your name?” you asked. his mother pushed him towards you, encouraging him to talk. “ehh… my name is alastor.” he said quietly. “cool, i’m s/o! come with me, i wanna play house!” you pulled him inside by the hand, near a table with many children’s toys.
“you can be the papa, and i’ll be the mama, okay?” you looked at him as he nodded. “okay! go far away like you’re coming home from work!” you said, placing him where you wanted. he nodded, getting into his little role, before walking near your little set. “honey, i’m home!” he called out to you in his squeaky voice. you grinned to him. “welcome home, dear! dinner is ready, we’re having tea and cookies.” you pulled a seat for him, before he shook his head.
“don’t do that. my momma says that men should pull the seats for their wives.” he pushed the seat back before pulling it out for you, and offering it to you. you giggled, seating happily and taking one empty teacup. “soo, how was work?” you asked. as he sat down, he thought for a moment. “work was alright. my boss was a big jerk though.” he said. “aww, but you can handle it right, dear?” you asked, taking a sip from your empty cup. he blushed a bit at your words as he nodded. “i can!”
as he spoke, you got up and grabbed all the trinkets on the table. “okay! dinner is done! i’ll go wash the dishes, and you take care of the baby!” you said, making a mess with the plastic toys. he looked nervous looking around. “baby? what baby?” you looked around, spotting something. “ooh! use the blankie, that can be our baby!” he nodded, grabbing the blanket, and bunching it up to mimic a baby.
“okay, i’m done!” you declared, walking back to alastor. “our little baby’s soo cute” you smiled. “um… yes, really cute…” he nodded. “what’s it’s name..?” he asked. “i like the name ellyce! but, it kinda doesn’t fit… what about emilia?” you asked to which he nodded. “um, yeah. it’s a really pretty name.” he smiled.
“hey, um… would you want to be my friend..?” he asked quite anxiously. “yeah! you can be my best friend!” you said, hugging him. and from your hug, came a wide smile from him. “haha, alright..!” he nodded in agreement, the tension in his shoulders falling.
“it was really nice to meet you, alastor!” you grinned. and, though it felt good at first— it was your last chance for a way out of this hell.
#filler chapter 😔#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#hasbin alastor#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor hc#alastor headcanons#human alastor#alastor the radio demon
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do you write for nanami? if you do, i have a req :3
au where hes still with us (sniffles) and being a sorcerer is more of an on-the-side thing, and he's like an overworked office middle class guy whos also a wizard on the lowkey. sometimes he works so much he even forgets his birthday. but you didn't. ohhh no you did not. you're at home patiently waiting for him, and all you want is to spoil him for the night because he deserves it!! he deserves to just be taken care of, given the care he needs, maybe a little overstim in the process, but it's all with good intentions... (right?)
SORRY THIS IS SO LONG OMG 😭😭
anyway...... requesting a sub!nanami x softdom!female!reader with a little overstim <3 (out here exposing my service dom fantasies)
idk if you do emoji anons, but if you do can i be 🎱 anon? tysm!! i love your works and i hope your have a lovely day/night :) <333
So taking care of nanami on his birthday? Consider it done. Also welcome 🎱 anon, I’m happy about all my new anons ^^
Dom!reader x sub!nanami
Warning: blow job (reader giving), teasing, marking - hickeys, fluff, use of pet names
Hands moving across the table, reaching for the dirty porcelain. The sound of plates being stacked could be heard, and you swiftly placed the dishes on the counter. Nanami tried to help, carrying the cake over to the refrigerator, though you stopped him. “Let me do it, it’s your birthday today! You are forbidden from working.” You declared, snatching whatever he was holding away and putting it in its rightful place yourself. “My birthday isn’t that important, just let me help.” He was such a gentleman, but you still stayed stubborn. Today was his birthday, yet he still went to work, he even did overtime. That’s not acceptable, at least now you should lift some burden off his shoulder.
Right, that was your plan. To take care of him, make him feel loved and happy. Also most importantly, not let him do any chores. Even if it doesn’t look like that, he also has to rest. You really adored him which is why you wished he’d take care of himself some more, and have a mesmerising birthday of course. So why did he look so troubled? You told him not to help. Instead of relaxing he looks uncomfortable or awkward. Just sitting there, watching you do it all. Seems like this part failed a little.. then it’s time to move onto the next one.
Still determined to make him enjoy himself, you brought him to your shared bedroom after watching a movie. “Could you please sit down, my dear?” You asked him, while slowly stripping your clothes. Until you were only in your undergarments. In the meantime the Blondie sat down, a slightly hesitant look on his face. He wasn’t sure what to do, since you’ve been taking everything upon yourself the entire time. His hands wandered to his belt, gaze never leaving your body. Before he could get rid of his belt, he felt your hands on top of his, stopping him gently. “Leave it all to me, alright?”
Nanami felt really embarrassed now. What was he, a kid? Why would he need help undressing himself? Despite his inner turmoil, he still let you do whatever you wanted. It looked like you planned all of this just for him, thus he’ll try to play along. The last thing he’d want is to inconvenient you. Slowly you pulled his belt out, then your fingers wandered up to his collar. He felt a slight tug as you pulled on his tie, untying the knot. Then you gently, and carefully unbuttoned his deep blue shirt. You were only focused on him, and nothing else, pupils glancing at his face every now and then. A smile spread across your features when you saw him furrowing his brows. “You can take off those glasses now.” You whispered, one hand reaching for his cheeks, caressing him while the other still held his dress shirt. His own hand moved upwards and took them off, placing them on the nightstand.
“Such beautiful eyes, don’t hide them from me all the time, hehe.” “I’m not hiding anything from you.” You sure hoped that was the case, considering how he thinks most of the stuff happening at work isn’t worth mentioning. Now that that was out of the picture, you resumed your previous antics, opening one button after another. Soon it revealed his muscular body, and you couldn’t help but stare. You have always loved everything about him, from the head to toes. Yet right now you were sure his torso was your favourite. How beautiful his skin was, as well as the little, barely visible scars from battles; or his firm chest with those cute nipples.
You moved your face closer to his, hands on his pecs now as you kissed him, locking your lips with his. His lips were soft and you were like in a trance when you kissed him. Before he got to enjoy it you pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. It was way too short for him, but he didn’t complain, he could never get mad at you. Afterwards you started kissing his neck. So carefully and tender, that it felt like a feather brushing over his skin, it was almost ticklish. His breath sharpened by a notch when you started groping his chest, squeezing that place with your fingers. In between kisses and smooches, you made sure to whisper into his ear, showering him with compliments. “I’m so glad to have you, my handsome and beautiful boy.” This continued for a bit, and soon his entire collarbone area was covered by red spots. Some hickeys were on his torso too. “You look gorgeous right now.” you commented on those trails of marks you left behind, before fumbling with the zipper of his pants.
You didn’t strip him entirely naked, only enough that you get to touch him wherever. Pulling his pants and underwear down a little to free his cock. He groaned a little when you wrapped your hand around his shaft, rubbing the part that is connected to his pelvis. “Y/n, darling.. don’t tease today.” Immediately your attention wandered to him again, shushing him with your finger as you said, “don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything, I’ll make you feel good today.” A light chuckle, then you played with his tip. The adoration you had for him was genuine, and visible in your eyes.
The way you looked so confident and eager to make him feel good was so adorable in his eyes, and he just can’t help himself but fall even more. Sighting a little before it turned into a breathy moan, “uhh,..huh.” Your delicate fingers were touching all the right places, and soon he was fully erect. One of his hands was clutching the sheets, while the other reached out to your hair, stroking it gently. This surprised you a little, but it wasn’t too bad so you let him be. Then you moved lower, until your lips were inches away from his dick. You let your saliva drool down, afterwards you licked his tip as a tease. “Hmm- i told you not to tease.” “Oh? Guess i forgot that then~” an adorable giggle followed, coming from you. He was truly lucky to have you here with him.
While he was still admiring the relationship you two have build, you took him into your mouth and sucked. Trying your best to avoid any teeth and using your tongue to roll it over his tip. “Ughh- haa..” his grip on your hair tightened. Normally you’d push his hand away, though today was a special occasion. Sweet moans and the occasional gasp spilled from his lips, eyes now clenched shut. Sometimes he’d bite his bottom lip too, to try and keep his voice down. You just continued taking more of him, using your hand to jerk off the rest that didn’t fit. “Darling.” He called out to you, but stopped mid sentence to compose himself. It was getting harder and harder to speak, or to think.
He could feel every fever of his being pulsing, his heart pounding like crazy. The blood rushed to his face and abdomen, making the rest of his limps go numb. Strength was leaving his legs and arms slowly, all while more and more pleasure flourished within him. How his body convulsed every time you licked his tip, or when the inside of your mouth clenched down on him. It felt warm and soft, so good he could feel himself getting closer to the edge.
“Ahh.. keep going, just like that.. please.” Finally he finished his sentence, pleading with you with a meek voice. You didn’t plan on stopping anyway, instead you wanted to make him beg you to stop at the end of this session. Smirking to yourself as you kept doing your own thing, enjoying the noises he’d make. Did it really feel that good? Was what you would have liked to ask, but this is fine too. As long as your lovely boyfriend looks ecstatic and full of bliss, you were content too. Out of nowhere his grip righted by a lot, enough to make it hurt for you. He mumbled apologies while saying, “ah.. I’m clo-close.. haa, sorry., darling…”
What a lucky boy. If today was any other day you would have punished him. Fine, guess you were going to be especially merciful with him. You didn’t mind the slight sting his tug brought you, mouth and hands still working on bringing him over the edge. He let go of your hair in the last minute and clasped it over his mouth. A silent moan left him, then a repressed groan followed. “Nghhnmmm…!! Ahhh..ugh..” his voice was beautiful, you could listen to him all day. Even though his hand wasn’t in your hair anymore, you still didn’t move away. Letting him cum in your mouth, before you finally moved back. When your lips left his dick you made a wet slurping sound, then swallowed everything he offered to you. “Delicious~” you smiled innocently as if you didn’t just make him see heaven.
Suddenly he moved closer to you, sitting up and hands grabbing your cheeks now. “Nanami? Is something?” You wondered, but that curiosity soon got replaced by shock and a joyful feeling you haven’t felt for a while. He kissed your forehead, cupping your face with his hands as he whispered, “I’m glad i can spend my birthday with you.” All while smiling so tenderly, with a calmness and warmth that was unfamiliar to you. Only sometimes he’d get emotional enough to be like this, and whenever he did, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over again. “Happy birthday, nanami.”
#sub character#sub!character#dom reader#dom!reader#sub jjk#sub jujutsu kaisen#sub nanami#nanami kento#nanami x reader#jjk nanami#nanami smut#jujutsu nanami#nanami x you#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami fluff#nanami x y/n#🎱 anon
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Hey could you do this with Hector Fort where the reader is doing the TikTok prank on him where she serves a lot of food on his plate but only serves herself a little bit and she pretends there isn’t enough food for the both of them to see his reaction
Please and thank uuu
h. fort | prank!
no warnings just fluffy
you lay in your bed, casually scrolling through tiktok, stopping at a video of a girl pranking her boyfriend with putting more food on his plate than on hers. you chuckle. you have to do that with hector, even though you think he probably won’t even notice it because he’s so slow. he should be back from training in a few minutes, so you take out the food you had already made for him and put it in two different plates. one is bigger, the other literally tiny. he has to notice it now.
you put the tiniest bit of food on your plate, laughing about the thought of hectors reaction. either he won’t even notice it because he’s just dumb or he will and question you about it. when you finally hear the door creek open, hector gets in, immediately walking up to you. your back faces him, as you put the food on his plate. “i’m so hungry.” he kisses your shoulder. “you can sit down, i’ll bring you your plate.” he steals a kiss on your lips, before going to sit down on the dining table.
he looks so normal like he doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, you have to laugh so bad, but you got to hold it back. you walk to him, with both of your plates, sitting down next to him. “that looks so good, ma. thank you.” he kisses your cheek, before digging into his food. ugh, he’s so slow. “so.. how was training?” you ask, in hope for him to look at you and notice the minimal bit of food on your plate. “it was good, but i missed you.” he smiles, looking at you. his eyes go down to your plate. there you go!
“where’s the rest of your food?” he furrows his eyebrows. “what do you mean, that’s all i’m eating?” you shrug taking a little bit of your chicken with rice. “are you serious, you’re eating literal crumbs?” he laughs. “what? no, i’m just not really hungry. we also didn’t have enough.” you look down on your plate in order not to laugh in his face right now. “wait are you for real?” he repeats. “yeah, baby. i wanted to make sure you eat, you’re exhausted from practice.” he sighs, and switches your plates. “hector!!” you try taking back your plate but he holds it up, in order for you not to reach it. soon enough you give up, sitting back down. “eat up.” he tells you, pointing at the plate. “hector?” you smile. “hm?” he hums, glancing at you. “it was a prank.” you grin. “you’re unbelievable.” he shakes his head. you laugh, your eyes tearing up. “aww you were such a cute boyfriend though.” you tease him. “fuck off. what was i supposed to do? i was worried, you’re usually the fat one of us both.” you gasp, hitting his shoulder. “you cunt!” he laughs, kissing your cheek. “we do have more, by the way.” you get up, taking his plate. “thank god, i’m starving!” he let’s out a sigh, making you chuckle.
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Jealous Emilia after they get together plss I am beggingggg cook this for us plssssss 🙏🙏🙏
Not me rewriting this no less than four times and still hating it 😂 but it’s not going to get any better haha. This was hard to write because I actually don’t see Emilia as the jealous type. I kind of drew off a lot of her known insecurities and alluded to her kind of struggling with the “wag” role a bit so it’s not just her reacting poorly to Max being fawned over by a girl because I don’t think that would be true to her character. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!
✨Set in Jeddah 2024✨
And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you
If there’s one thing to be said for the Jeddah paddock, it’s pretty at sunset. You watch people moving through the paddock bathed in golden light. The ground looks like the yellow brick road. Even though it’s getting cooler now as it gets closer to qualifying, you still choose to sit inside Red Bull hospitality. You’re also sitting inside because Max said he wanted to hang out before quail. Even though he’s spent the last forty-five minutes talking to one of the hospitality guests.
Amy, something or other. She races GT cars in some series you’ve never heard of. You’re not sure what connections got her the invite to the garage but Max had been herded away by one of the media reps to take pictures with her so she must be someone’s daughter. They seem to have hit it off, you note. He’s in full maxplaining mode, bending down to the line of his own hand as he illustrates what looks like an apex. Amy isn’t even watching his hands, she’s watching Max. Hazel eyes just sparkling as she memorises every inch of him. Yeah, you know that look well enough.
And it’s not that you mind. He likes to talk racing, he likes racers. It’s not like you know what it feels like to driver a car at top speed, and more importantly you don’t want to know. The hot laps with Max were more than enough. You can’t be everything to him and you don’t need to be. You tell yourself you don’t want to be. It’s good he has other people to talk to, because it’s not like you can ever really understand his competitive streak. The man who knows nothing except how to win will not always be able to relate to the girl who has always been too afraid to lose.
No, it’s not bothering you that Max is talking to her. It’s bothering you that she has the most obvious crush on him since…no, actually, this is the most obvious crush ever. She’s played with her hair so many times you just know karma is going to make her bald someday. You hope you’re there somehow.
“Hey,”
You jump at the sound of Checo’s voice. He sits down at the end of the table, brandishing Kitkat, which he slides over to you.
“Max has made a new friend,” he says, nodding in Max’s direction.
You tear open the wrapper with far too much aggression. “So I see,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.
“She races, right?”
You nod, biting into the chocolate. “GT, apparently,”
“Lots in common,” Checo says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “You have to watch your back,”
You know he’s joking. You know that in no universe are you in competition with her. And yet, his words sink under your skin under your blood is curdling at the sight of Max laughing at something Amy says.
“I don’t have to watch anything,” you say with shrug, turning towards Checo. “If she can take him she can have him.” You push your hair over one shoulder and run your tongue over your teeth.
“Whoa,” Checo chuckles, throwing his hands up like he’s being faced with a hungry lion. You suppose since he has a wife, he knows the look well enough. “I was joking.” When you don’t react, he shakes his head. “It’s Max,”
You know what he means. It’s Max, not Chuck Leclerc. It’s Max, not Danny Ric. It’s Max, not Checo. But it’s Max. You don’t have to worry he’s going to lose his mind over the actresses or supermodels, but he sure seems to be respectfully admiring his female alter ego.
It’s like he can sense you thinking about him, it’s uncanny, really. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him walking towards your table with Amy in tow.
Fake smile, it’s fine, she’s just a fan.
Max introduces you, and you smile and shake her hand and ask her if she having a nice day, because you’re Max’s girlfriend, so you owe it to him to be polite. She has no such obligation, although you might be imagining her flinch when Max says the word girlfriend.
“I think it’s the best day of my life,” she says in answer to your question. The telltale flicker of her eyes in Max’s direction as they sit down almost making you roll yours.
Max doesn’t notice, he’s more interested in taking your Kitkat out of your hand and taking a bite. He bites it so that all four sticks have the end missing and you wear you’ve never been so disgusted by this man. For a second, you think Amy can have him.
“Amy races GT cars, like the ones we tested in Portugal,” he says to you now, his hand disappearing under the table to rest on your thigh and trace circles with his thumb like it’s a habit. “We are just talking about setting up a test for her with Verstappen com,”
Oh, great. So not only is she utterly bewitched by the ocean eyes, you’re making her dreams come true. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Ah,” is all you say, sharing a look with a smirking Checo.
“That would really be such a dream come true,” Amy says, and you almost laugh. “I’m a big fan of yours, I think it’s so cool that you’re involved with things outside formula one. You should come to a race sometime. I owe you paddock passes,”
You met him three hours ago, and he isn’t even the one who invited you. Do you owe him a blowjob as well, Amy?
“Yeah. Our schedule is a bit hectic but yeah, it would be good to fit that in soon,” Max says, turning to you. “Right?”
What am I? The secretary? Because in case you didn’t notice, she didn’t fucking invite me.
You just shrug.
“GT racing doesn’t exactly draw the influencer crowd,” you are definitely not imagining the way her eyes slide over to you before she looks back at Max to say, “it’s really good racing,”
You zone out right then and there. It’s like your brain short circuits from the energy it’s taking not to reach over, grab this girl by her stringy extensions, and rip. If she and Max keep talking, you don’t hear it. You don’t want to hear it. You notice Checo noticing your discomfort, even as he engages the other two in conversation. For all his quirks, Checo reads human behaviour much better than Max. Though you don’t need to be a body language expert to see how much this girl likes him.
She looking at him like she wants to eat him, hanging on unspoken words, fingers twitching on the table like she’s desperate to touch him. And he’s nodding along, because they’re so aligned that whatever she says he agrees with, and the maxplaining is one-handed now but no less enthusiastic, and you’re about to dig your nails into his skin because he is not going to have one hand almost up your skirt while another woman is flirting with him.
All these thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of one of the Red Bull media managers.
“Amy, we were hoping to get some pictures of you with the car, if you’re free?”
“Yeah, sure, one second,” she says, turning to Max. “Which way is the garage again?” Like she doesn’t have someone who clearly just came from the garage standing right next to her.
“Just through there, keep going straight,” Max says, pointing to the corridor with engineers walking in and out. You give the girl the benefit of the doubt that she’s not that stupid, just desperate.
Reluctantly, she gets to her feet. “So, I’ll give you a call to set up the test?”
“Yeah, sure,” Max says. “Or you can call Raymond. He’ll put your team in touch with the right people,”
“Okay, awesome,” she says, leaning down enough that you can see right down her shirt. “It was really great to meet you. And I meant it about the GT race,” and then, as if remembering she can’t be rude, she glances at Checo. “You guys, too,”
You wave her off, and your smile doesn’t even fall. Because it’s funny. It’s funny that a grown woman would behave like that in front of a man’s girlfriend. It’s funny that a woman gunning for sponsorship would behave like you does regular shifts in something called the “Champagne Room”.
And it’s absolutely hilarious that Max turns to you, without a care in the world, and says, “I’ve got such a headache. I stood up into the cupboard in the garage, it hurt so bad,”
You give him tight smile and pull out your phone to text Lily to see if she’s still with Alex or if she’s free for a catch up.
“What?” You hear Max say above you. You ignore him. “What? She the-“ You look up just in time to see that Checo is mouthing something to Max. “Jealous?”
“I’m not jealous,” you snap, leaning back in the your chair to glare at both of them. They give each a mocking grin. “Yeah, very funny,” this sets them off snickering like school kids. “Fuck both of you.”
You get up and stalk through the room and back towards the garage. You don’t even know what you’ll do when you get there since being Max’s girlfriend had put an end to you just wandering down the pitlane and allowed in any garage. Maybe you’ll just try and find GP. If Max doesn’t catch up to you first. You can hear him calling you.
“Leibling, wait,” he’s right behind you now, and you hear him almost stumbling as he leans forward to catch you by the wrist.
You shrug him off, but stop at the door to his driver room and push it open, jerking your head to order him inside. He may be a dick, but he still deserve for the whole team to know his business. He steps into the room, reaching for your waist but you move out of his way and leave him to close the door while you lean against the physio table on the other side of the room.
He sighs when he sees how you’re looking at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I mean, I did. Not at you. I didn’t think Checo was being serious,” he defends, and by the end of his sentence he’s fighting an incredulous smile and you squeeze the edge of the physio bench to stop yourself pulling your hair. Or his.
How can this guy understand complex tyre strategy but not basic human interaction?
“You didn’t think he was serious that I was annoyed by someone flirting with you in front of me?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow. “And that I wouldn’t be annoyed at you making fun of me for it?”
Max scoffs. “She wasn’t flirting with me,”
“Oh, please.” You let out a scoff of your own. “You didn’t notice me flirting with you for three years, do not pretend you’re an expert,”
“I noticed,” Max argues, “I just didn’t take it seriously,”
“Which is why you have no leg to stand on,”
“Right, because I was just supposed to believe that you suddenly-“
“It wasn’t exactly sudden-“
“For God’s sake,” Max groans, an expression of abject confusion twisting his face. “What are we even fighting about?”
“You enjoying Lella Lombardi over there slobber all over you, and enjoying it,” the exasperation gets worse when Max’s eyes widen like this is the first he’s hearing of this entire discussion.
“I’m- she- what?” He splutters, his head shaking in disbelief. “Is this one of those Tiktok pranks?”
“I get that she’s a pilot and that makes her automatically interesting, but until I hear otherwise, you’re still in a relationship,”
Max looks at you like you’ve grown a second head; shock, concern, and a good amount of unadulterated disgust. “You can’t think I was looking at her…like that,”
The way he says it, like he’s afraid to catch cooties, like it’s it’s inconceivable, like you didn’t still have bruises of your hips in the shape of his fingertips, takes all the fight out of you. Checo was right; it’s Max. It’s feels like someone’s let all the air out of a balloon. Your shoulders slump and you sigh.
“Because that would be crazy?” You lift yourself onto the physio bench as you speak. You’re not even really sure what you’re asking. “Max Verstappen, who likes only one thing on earth, that one thing being racing, attracted to another driver rather than his influencer accessory girlfriend?”
“Actually, I like two things,” he says with that boyish smirk that has been making your stomach do backflips for longer than you care to admit.
“Stop laughing at me,” you whine, fighting the urge to smile.
“I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that she upset you. I’m sorry that I upset you,” he says, taking a careful step closer to you, but he stops there. “Even if I don’t know what I did,”
He really has no idea. He is painfully, adorably clueless.
“Nothing,” you say, because you don’t know either. Sometimes it’s just inexplicably overwhelming being Max Verstappen’s girlfriend. “Just you being you, I guess,”
Max frowns at that. “I didn’t know being myself was so offensive,” he mumbles, and you instantly feel guilty. You of all people shouldn’t make him feel bad for how much space he takes up. You of all people know how much that bothers him.
“No, it’s not that. It’s not-“ you struggle for a way to explain it. Max takes the opportunity to cross the rest of the room and stand in front of you, his expression telling you he’s waiting for you to finish. “It’s not about who you are, but sometimes the way people act around you is just…and you’re so used to it, you don’t even…you just forget who you are sometimes, Max,”
He nods soberly. “Yeah. I do, and I’m sorry,” he says. He hooks his hands under your knees and pulls your legs apart and slots between them as he drags you to the edge of the bench so that you’re pressed against him, leaning back to look up at him. “But I never forget who you are, which is the most important bit,”
You can’t help but smile at him. He’s so simple. And not because he’s unintelligent, but because he’s guileless, because who he is has never scared him. He smiles back, and it’s unguarded and unbridled and you almost forgive that girl because you’ll be damned if you don’t have a crush on him, too.
“Was she really flirting with me?” He asks curiously, looking down as his hands find your and entwine your fingers.
“Oh, yeah,” you say, and he frowns, the wheels working in head as he tries to figure out how he didn’t notice. “Like me at your mum’s on Christmas Eve in 2020 level of obvious,”
“Well,” he says with a huff. “She just blew her chance at a test,”
“You don’t have to-“
“Wait, you were flirting with me at Christmas at my mum’s?”
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Only An Almost (VI)
Chapter 6: Hiding
Hello!! Here is a new chapter!
I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!
*************************************
Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU
Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!
Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.
Word Count : 2387
Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist
Andrew needed to talk to you.
After his conversation with Sam, there was no doubt left in his mind that he needed to tell you how he truly felt. This… situation, this… arrangement… it couldn’t go on. It was hurting him too much. Having you for a moment, and then being back to square one, holding himself back all the time, and this fool’s hope that you could feel the same if he waited…
He couldn’t keep on doing this. Another week and two nights with you had passed, and Andrew was now resolute. As he was knocking on your front door and then digging his hands in his pockets, he kept on repeating the words he had prepared beforehand. It was so much easier to write things down, he had sketched his speech this morning.
I know you don’t want a relationship at the moment, I understand that.
He knocked a second time as you weren’t opening the door.
But I’m not sure this… arrangement of ours is a good idea. I see you as more than just a friend. Way more than that. And I don’t think that I can keep on being casual with you.
At long last, the keys turned in the lock, and he stood a little straighter, taking a deep breath.
I get it that this is not the right time for you, and that’s alright. I’ll wait. I’ll wait all the time you need to have a proper date and a proper relationship with you. I’ll wait for you.
You opened the door.
I’ll wait for you, Y/N, if you want to give me a chance…
“Andy? Were we… had we something planned for today?”
“Hi! Erm… not exactly, but like… I haven’t seen you in a few days, I was getting worried you might have been eaten by some roaming spirit or the monster under your bed or something…”
He mentally slapped himself for such a weird and stupid joke.
You granted him an amused smile nonetheless, he was even ready to believe that you were struggling not to laugh.
“I’m alright, I’m just super busy with work.”
“You look tired.”
You looked exhausted, actually, with bags under your eyes, dishevelled hair…
“Thanks, I guess…”
He rolled his eyes.
“It’s not what I meant. You are always stunning. But you do look like you haven’t had a proper rest in a few days.”
“I have so many things to do…”
You heaved a sigh, and it was easy to see that you were buzzing with anxiety.
“Can I come in?” Andrew finally asked, but he was surprised when you hesitated.
“I have some work to do…”
“It’s Sunday afternoon, you’re not supposed to be working on Sunday.”
“Andy…”
“Do I really need to beg?”
He gave you a crooked smile, the ones he thought were almost cocky but behind which he badly hid that he was worried. You heaved a sigh and let him in.
“Tea?” you asked, although you were already grabbing the kettle by the time Andrew had rid himself of his coat.
“Thanks,” he smiled as he sat down by your table.
He waited until you were sitting with him before speaking again. He reckoned that you needed to be eased into the conversation he was aiming for, so he started with niceties.
“What has you so busy then?”
“Work. Important projects.”
“What kind?”
“Look, Andy… I appreciate the thought, but I don’t have time for this…”
“You can’t keep on working without taking a break… it’s Sunday.”
“Like you’re never working on Sundays.”
“I’m a musician, not an office employee. If I want to, I can decide not to work for an entire month, and no one is going to say a thing about it.”
“Touché…”
“Seriously, though… I’m just worried. Why don’t you take a small break with me, huh?”
“Andy, if you came to get laid, I’m not in the mood…”
“I didn’t…”
He frowned as he stared at you, offended by the thought. Your expression softened.
“Sorry. I’m a little on edge.”
“I haven’t heard from you in several days, I was just stopping by to check up on you.”
“I know… I’m sorry, that’s very nice of you, actually. I’m just so…”
“Stressed? Tired? On the verge of a nervous breakdown?”
“All of the above…”
Andrew drank a gulp of tea or two, before standing up in a jolt.
“Come on, go get changed.”
“What?”
“You need some fresh air. Some fresh air, and a nice walk. Come on. Get properly dressed, we’re leaving.”
“Andy…”
“You look like a zombie, you need a break.”
“I thought I was still stunning.”
“You are. Don’t ask me how you do it. Come on!”
You smiled, and seemed to hesitate one last time before getting up as well. You went to your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and he bent to meet you halfway.
“Thank you, Andy. Where are we going?”
“I’ll find a nice spot, I promise.”
How could Andrew bring up this conversation?
He kept his words light and playful during the short drive to the spot he knew you would like. Some quiet path winding through the Wicklow hills, one that you knew already, but didn’t go there often. It was an easy, peaceful walk. Perfect to focus on nature, and get out of your head. It would do you good.
You were finally starting to relax, and Andrew didn’t dare to bring up the subject he so desperately needed to discuss. Partly because he didn’t want to stress you out again, partly because he was too afraid.
You joked around and spoke of unimportant but lovely things while you walked, his fingers brushing yours every once in a while, blaming the uneven terrain for the ghostly touch. But he didn’t reach out, didn’t hold onto you. He didn’t dare to.
You had brought some snacks with you, prepared while Andrew was pestering you to hurry. He decided that he would talk to you while you took a break to eat them. Yes, that sounded good…
“How often do you come here?” you asked him after a short silence.
“To this spot you mean? I don’t know… Haven’t come in a few weeks, that’s for sure.”
You giggled, and he slowed down to walk next to you again.
“You and your long legs. Wait for us mortals, would you?”
“Only if you’re nice to me.”
“I’ll give you a snack.”
“Hmm… that could work.”
“Or actually, never mind that. Go ahead and play the lure. So the beasts will attack you and spare me.”
“The beasts? What beasts? The squirrels? A bird?”
“There are badgers everywhere around here.”
“True, but I’m too skinny for their taste, I’m sure.”
“A bite-size ankle.”
“Nothing but bone, I’m afraid. Not enough sustenance. They’ll have to get to you, eventually.”
“Naughty.”
You walked further along the quiet path, laughing and joking and talking nonsense. And this was nice, unbelievably nice. There was just something about you that made Andrew’s shoulders lighter, his world brighter.
Love. It’s love.
You took a turn, came to particularly nice spot, breaking free from the trees of the forest trail. There was a clear view of the hills from there, and the valleys below.
“This is so nice. You were right, I was cooked up at home, and then at the office… I needed this. I needed some time outside, to clear my head.”
The Wicklow hills rolled before you, in various shades of green, the bluish grey of a stream running between them. You sat down together on an old stone wall, and you shared your snack with him: some slices of apple and a few biscuits.
“It’s so nice out here. We had not done that in a while, had we?” you went on, before taking a bite at the piece of apple in your hand.
The fruits were sweet and sticky with juice and sugar. The flesh had turned a little brown, oxidized by the air. Andrew hummed in agreement as he took another piece.
“Yeah, a few months, I’d say.”
“Longer than that. I don’t think we’ve done this since you’ve been back.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
He saw your gaze softening with sadness, something close to melancholy.
“How do you do it?”
Andrew frowned in response, silently asking what you meant. You looked at the landscape again as you answered.
“The touring. The constant travelling. Always being away from home. How do you do it?”
Andrew shrugged.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I get to do what I love, I can’t complain about it, I reckon. I’m so lucky people across the world love my music, that… total strangers on another continent can find something to relate to in my songs… It’s more than I’ve ever hoped for concerning my career. I’m very grateful for that.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He couldn’t refrain a small smile at that. You were always so stubborn, never letting him get away with things. He loved that about you, it was endearing.
He set his gaze on the landscape too, tracked some clouds drifting in the blue sky. The weather was so lovely this afternoon… he wondered when it would turn to rain.
“It’s tough,” he admitted. “On one hand I’m unbearably lucky. I love travelling, I’m going to places I would never have dreamt of visiting. I meet amazing people. I get to perform my songs, and people come to see me. And I would lie if I pretended that I don’t love touring. But it’s… it’s hard to be away for so long. You live out of a suitcase. You don’t have a proper bed, not to mention your own. You never sleep twice in the same place, you’re always busy, always torn in a thousand directions at once… you’re never on your own, there are constantly at least five people in the same room as you. Sleeping in a bus is hell. You’re… exhausted, all the time. Stressed because of all the things to do, stressed about the schedule, the interviews, the nerves before a show… And I miss home. I miss my parents, and my brother. I miss my friends. I miss my house, and my dog, and my bees, and just… this. I miss this place. And I miss you…”
He heaved a sigh, forcing himself to look at you again, feeling your stare upon him.
“But in the end, I love it. There’s nothing as rewarding as hearing someone else singing something I have written. There’s nothing as exhilarating as being on stage, and performing and… It feels like I was born to do that. It just feels so right. It’s the same when I write music. It just feels right.”
Slowly, you nodded, a gentle smile on your lips.
“I understand. But it sounds lonely.”
“I’m literally never on my own, that’s an issue, actually… to me it is, at least.”
“But you’re not with your family. Can you say that you’re with the people who matter most to you?”
“Some of them are.”
“What about most of us?”
He granted you a sad smile.
“Yeah… yeah, I miss all of you.”
You looked away again, and he was surprised to catch a glimpse at tears in your eyes.
“I don’t think I could do it. Not just travelling but… just… how can you be with someone if you’re never here?”
It was his turn to look away to hide rising tears. His throat tightened, his heart dropped, his chest was collapsing…
Was that why you didn’t want to be with him? Why you kept him at arm’s length?
“It can be difficult,” he nodded.
“Is that why you broke up with your ex?”
“There were a bunch of reasons. But it was one of them, yeah.”
“I… I don’t think I could handle it. Waiting for you to come back…”
“I understand.”
“Don’t get me wrong, when I proposed our… arrangement… it wasn’t because it was you. I… I genuinely don’t want to date anyone at the moment. My job is a lot. And I… I’m a little lost these days. What I’m trying to say is that… I feel lonely, sometimes. But I can’t be in a relationship right now. But if I proposed for us to remain friends, it wasn’t because I was rejecting you specifically. Do you see what I mean?”
“I think so… but I… I mean like… my career means that… if you were in a position that allowed you time and space for a relationship, you would still not choose me, right? That’s what it means.”
“I…”
But you grew quiet, and he wasn’t stupid. His vision was blurred with tears: a mix of several shades of green, a splash of blue and some grey and white. A cloud was passing.
He had come all the way here with you to talk, and he had his answer.
“You’re… you’re still okay with what we agreed on, right?”
What could he answer?
No… no, it hurts more than anything I’ve ever experienced. But I can’t lose you for good. I’m not strong enough to survive it…
“Had I been anything else but a touring musician… would you have wanted to date me?” he asked, voice deeper than usual, unbearably fragile.
You didn’t say anything; he took your answer for a no.
He was being a fool…
“I can’t think like that, Andy.”
“Why not?”
“For the same reason you can’t stay for the entire night. That we can’t have pet names. That you can’t kiss me now.”
He blinked his tears away to look at you, frowning, silently encouraging you to keep going.
“I can’t let you break my heart, Andrew.”
His lips parted at your words, he tried to wrap his mind around their meaning, blinked a few times.
It was… It was him. He was the problem. Him, and his job. The same pattern it had always been, all over again, but with you this time around.
You cleared your throat, stood up in a hurry.
“Come on, let’s finish this hike!”
He looked at you as you started to walk away, but didn’t move a muscle.
You could have loved him, and he would still stand no chance at all…
#andrew hozier byrne#hozier#the hoziest#hozier x reader#hozier x you#hozier x fem!reader#hozier x y/n#hozier fanfiction#hozier series#series#fanfic#fanfiction#writing
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breathe in the feeling
ambiguously set after the first half of s7 | 867 words
Being in love with Buck wasn’t an option.
It can’t be an option.
Because if it was, Eddie might do something stupid, like kiss his best friend.
Which is—not an option.
Eddie’s done that song and dance before, and that ended badly—leaving and being left, divorce papers, blood on hot asphalt.
But the thing is, Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. It’s been over a month since Buck came out to him, and Eddie can’t stop thinking about how Buck is an option now.
Which isn’t even entirely true, because Buck is with Tommy—Buck is happy with Tommy—and Eddie feels like his entire world is collapsing in on itself.
He broke up with Marisol last week, something that up until this moment, he hadn’t told anyone, not even Christopher—which he knows he can only avoid for so long.
He’s not even sure why he’s telling Bobby, because now Bobby is staring at him quizzically and Eddie is feeling closer to a panic attack than he’s been in a long time.
“You broke up with Marisol,” Bobby repeats back to him, because he’s been waiting for Eddie to continue and Eddie has made a point out of staring at his hands and not saying anything as his brain spirals. “Do you want to talk about that?”
“No,” Eddie says, because he really doesn’t—but he sucks in a sharp breath and rips the band-aid off anyways, “I think I might be in love with Buck.”
Bobby doesn’t say anything for what feels like an eternity.
Eddie finally gives in and looks at him, Bobby’s face is a carefully crafted blank expression—he’s processing the information Eddie has given him, but he’s not going to give any reaction in the meantime.
Eddie resists dropping his head against the table and instead settles for staring at the dormant alarm bell on the wall and hoping for it to start ringing to save him from this situation.
“I see,” Bobby says finally, “that’s… that must be a lot for you to process.”
“Understatement of the century,” Eddie mumbles, allowing himself to drop his head into his hands—it’s not quite as satisfying as the thunk of his forehead against the table would be.
“So how long have you been… processing this?”
“I don’t know, a couple weeks, maybe—” —my whole life, possibly, he doesn’t say.
A hand lands on his shoulder, the touch is gentle and grounding, and Eddie is reminded of why he went to Bobby in the first place.
“Eddie,” Bobby says carefully, “there’s nothing wrong with it—being in love with Buck. If that is how you feel, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Eddie exhales slowly, because that’s the whole thing, isn’t it? “I know that—logically, I know that. I’ve never had a problem with—I guess it’s different, when it’s yourself. But it’s not like it’s even—I mean, Buck’s with Tommy—Buck’s happy with Tommy—and Tommy’s my friend too, so it is kind of wrong, in a way.”
“Buck being in a relationship with someone else doesn’t make your feelings for him invalid—or wrong. Sure, maybe it’s a little complicated since you consider them both friends. But whatever you’re feeling—you’re allowed to feel it.”
“But what am I supposed to do with it?” Eddie finally meets Bobby’s gaze, “I mean—I feel like I’m lying to Buck, somehow, by feeling this way—by not saying anything.”
“Maybe you don’t have to do anything with it, at least—not right away,” Bobby squeezes his shoulder before removing his hand, “maybe right now you just let yourself feel it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be honest with Buck, but I think maybe you should start by allowing yourself to be honest with you.”
Eddie stares at Bobby, completely and painfully aware of his own heart beating in his chest, it’s not a panic attack, but he knows it’s a warning sign.
He takes a moment to breathe slowly, the way Frank taught him. Bobby says nothing, waiting patiently
“I don’t know what that looks like.” Eddie says honestly.
Bobby offers him a kind smile, “That’s okay, you don’t have to have it all figured out, but maybe allow yourself the time to really think about it?”
“What if I lose him?” The words spill out of him unbidden.
“Eddie, if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that you and Buck have a way of finding each other, no matter the circumstance, the two of you will always fight to find each other again.”
Eddie blinks, and for a moment, all he sees is Buck, covered in Eddie’s own blood, begging for him to hold on.
He blinks again, and the memory fades, and it’s just Bobby sitting there in front of him, watching him carefully.
“Let yourself feel it, Eddie,” Bobby says gently, “and when you’re ready—talk to Buck.”
The bell rings then, because timing never seems to be on Eddie’s side.
Bobby sighs softly, “well, duty calls.”
Bobby stands to head towards the engine bay, but before Eddie can do the same, Bobby rests a hand on his shoulder again, “I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”
He lets the words settle over him for a moment—breathing slowly in and out—and then follows after his Captain.
#eddie diaz#bobby nash#911#911 fic#brotp: bobby & eddie#buddie#my fic#mine#abby writes#fanfic#i do have a potential follow up for this but this felt good enough to post standalone for now#special shoutout to winter who peer reviewed this for me <33 ily
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May we continue to love forever
bf!haechan
fluff, mentions of murder jokes
word count : 1,341
In moments like these where you let yourself delve into your thoughts. Staring out the window as the train began to start up again, slowly chugging down the rail road, you found yourself thinking of how you became so lucky to meet the guy that sat right next to you.
It was cliche, really. He ran into you when talking to his friends and proceeded to get lost in your eyes as he apologised. You two talked for hours after that first meeting, he left his friends just so he could go and get to know the girl he fell for.
His soft brown hair soon was dyed black and you fell for him all over again - even when you two had been dating for months at this point.
It was times when you least expected it, that you would fall in love with him all over again.
When the wind would be blowing your hair back, messing it up in the process but he would just stare loving at you and brush the hair behind your hair so it didn’t bother you so much.
You always thought about that moment. The way your heart fluttered and you felt your face heat up, it always brought a small smile to your face.
You felt a tap on your thigh, “Babe, this is our stop.” You looked towards Haechan and quickly stood up, following after him as he walks off the train.
“What would you do without me.” He spoke in a teasing manner, passing you your bag - which you had forgotten about completely.
“I would be perfectly fine without you.” It wasn’t a lie. It just so happened that whenever you were with him, you became so relaxed that you forgot things that you wouldn’t normally forget. You knew he would be there for you to pick up on the things you forgot.
“So why did you want to come here?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his puffer jackets pockets.
“It’s a surprise.” You smile at the boy and begin to walk in front of him to lead the way. He followed behind you, a love struck smile plastered onto his face despite the icy winds that had the both of you shivering even in the warmest jackets you had.
“Did we have to come down near the ocean on a day like this? I’m going to freeze to death.” He complains after a few minutes of walking in peacefully silence. It was a quiet area, but with the weather it was even more quiet. People chose to stay inside the warmth on days like this. Not the two of you though.
You were sure that Haechan would love to go back home now, but you were determined to show him the surprise. It would be worth it once you get there
“Don’t start complaining now, Hyuck, we will get there soon.”
“Gosh, why is there no people around-“ he paused and you heard his teeth chattering for a moment before he continued. “You’re taking me to a murder spot aren’t you? Is this why you were so eager? Is my death the surprise.”
You stopped walking and began to laugh at the boy. He stopped next to you, a lazy grin across his face.
“No Haechan, I don’t want to murder you, at least not here.”
“Why? I think this would be a lovely place to die.” You sigh at his words, beginning to walk again.
“Let’s not talk about such matters when I’m quite literally taking you to a place of pure happiness.”
“is it my grave-“
“Haechan!” You shouted, looking at him only to see him avoiding your gaze and laughing to himself.
The two of you arrive at a local restaurant. As you stepped inside, memories seemed to come back to Haechan. His eyes widened and he grabbed ahold of your jacket.
“No way… you found this place.”
“I didn’t. Mark said he had been here and I wanted to surprise you.”
Haechan stared in awe as he looked around the same restaurant that he had only seen in movies and dramas. The same restaurant that he for some reason was never able to find the address off.
As the two of you followed a waiter to a table, you felt Haechan grabbing ahold of your hand. He interlocked your fingers for a brief second, giving your hand a squeeze before letting go when the waiter looked back to speak to you.
The both of you sat down and looked at the menu. it was a quiet family owned restaurant that left Haechan in awe. He took in the beautiful layout and the romantic lighting the place had. Plus the heating in here made it a perfect moment for him.
He took off his jacket and looked towards you while you read the names of the dishes that you were interested in getting. You weren’t doing anything special in that moment, simply sitting there and reading a menu, and yet Haechan fell in love with you all over again.
He lifted his phone up, aiming the camera at you and quickly snapping a picture. The clicking sound caught your attention and you look up from the menu to see the boy giggling to himself as he looked at his phone.
“Did you really take a picture of me?” You say, placing the menu down on the table, unable to hide the smile slowly growing on your face.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He says, putting his hands up. “I just think you look very pretty right now.”
You blushed and quickly looked away from his eyes, picking the menu back up and telling him to pick a dish. He chuckles at you but never the less listens to what you said.
The both of you eat your meals rather quietly, simply enjoying the atmosphere and the gentle music that played in the background. The cloudy blue sky became darker as the night rolled in and the sun set.
“I want to stay here tonight.” Haechan says, sinking back into his chair. He looks over at you, staring into your eyes that were growing tired.
“I should book us a hotel room.” He says, picking up his phone.
You reach over the table and push his phone down a bit. “We don’t have any extra clothes on us.”
Haechan shrugs his shoulders. “We can always buy some tomorrow, or tonight quickly before stores start to close.”
You sigh and say, “You really don’t want to go back home?”
He shakes his head, reaching across the table to grab a hold of your hands. “I want to stay with you all night in a place as beautiful as this town.”
You chuckle at his words, “You’ve only really seen this store, what do you mean this town.”
“I’m sure the town is as beautiful as you are.” You want to laugh at his over the top flirting but you decide to delve into it. He loved complimenting you, even if it was in the more embarrassing way possible.
“and if it’s ugly?” You say, raising an eyebrow expectantly at him.
“then it’s because you’re too beautiful that everything else becomes ugly.”
You roll your eyes and stand up, ready to go pay for the meal. He leaps from the chair and almost trips you as he rushes past you to pay for it.
“You paid for the train tickets, I’ll pay for the meal and the hotel room.”
you couldn’t deny the offer and decided to let him pay for the meal.
As the two of you put your jackets on and stepped outside into the freezing cold air, you hear Haechan say in a light manner,
“You know, you should’ve lied when you said Mark found this place. It’s less romantic knowing he found it.”
You scoff out a laugh and shove the boy. “Shut up and get a hotel room, it’s too cold out here.”
#nct dream#nct dream imagine#nct imagines#nct#nct dream imagines#nct scenarios#nct fluff#nct haechan#haechan imagines#haechan imagine#haechan
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