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heliads · 2 years ago

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Can I pretty please request Carlos Sainz x reader where she’s rly shy and gets worried that maybe he wants someone more outgoing but he tells her he loves her any way she is? Your writing is amazing 🫶🏻

anon i love you wholeheartedly please let me speak on carlos

masterlist

You are not who you are supposed to be. There are qualifications for being the girlfriend of a Formula One driver, you’re sure of it, probably even a style guide somewhere if you only bothered to look it up. Perfect hair. Clean makeup. Pretty, but doesn’t try too hard. Willing to give up their whole life to follow one man on mad jaunts across the planet. Wherever your guidebook is, though, you must have lost it long ago, because you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, and worst of all, it’s starting to show.

You never should have gotten into this position in the first place. That isn’t to say that you hate it, far from it; dating Carlos Sainz is the best thing that ever happened to you, making you the happiest wrong person at the right time to ever exist. In every other universe, he’s probably seeing models or actresses, but here, he has you, and you’re willing to fight off every multiversal version of you just to keep everything as it is right now.

Your butterfly effect was quite stunning, actually. You ended up getting tickets to a Grand Prix through last minute cancellations. They were great, came with paddock passes and all that, and while you were lingering through Ferrari hospitality, Carlos happened to drop by to visit a friend and he noticed you while you were in line to get some water. He’s got the confidence of, well, a world class athlete, an adrenaline junkie, a professional race car driver, and so he introduced himself.

Sometimes, it’s just as easy as that. A father’s cousin’s roommate buys two tickets to a Grand Prix, then a stranger’s roommate’s brother gets sick, and suddenly you’re touching down off a plane overseas and walking through the door of paddock hospitality. You wear red, and you are seen. Just like that.

It took one more weekend before either of you knew that you wanted what you had to last for good. He texted you, followed you on Instagram and blew his cover of seeming cool by accidentally liking a post of yours from six years ago. And, when he saw you again, he knew that he wanted the spark between you to be something more, something like a bonfire.

Coincidence may have supported you thus far, but you don’t trust it not to abandon you. At the end of the day, you are you, you are Y/N L/N, and you are so far removed from Carlos’ world that it stuns you to think that you were even in his orbit so long as to meet him. If there are powers that be somewhere in the universe, they’re either playing a cruel joke or messing around to give you a helping hand.

Hopefully, it’ll be the latter, but truly who knows at this point. As if it wasn’t surreal enough to introduce Carlos to your friends and family as Carlos Sainz, Formula One driver. As if it doesn’t blow your minds that people have started making Instagram accounts just dedicated to posting photos of you and your boyfriend whenever you’re seen out together.

The problem lies in the insanity of it all. You are not from this sort of life, you weren’t born into a silver spoon dynasty and you barely know how to interact with any of them now. You get along with the other WAGs as best you can; Heidi’s lovely, sure, and you were friendly with Charlotte until she disappeared, but sometimes it feels like it’s just you and your boyfriend against the world. Of any ally to pick, Carlos would be your top choice each and every time, but still. The fact remains that he will go out and race and leave you to your own devices, and you lack the extroverted impulses to social climb with everyone else.

This, then, is the main concern. You can pick out whatever designer clothes you want, goodness knows Carlos has offered to buy you anything already, and you can get your nails and hair done before each and every race, but that doesn’t change the fact that you, at your core, are never going to enjoy the paparazzi circus whenever you have to brave it.

It’s just not your scene, that’s all. You’re on the quieter side, happy to spend time with a few key friends but increasingly nervous in large crowds. Formula One is all large crowds, as you’ve discovered; thousands of fans, hundreds of engineers and team members, plus drivers and girlfriends and best friends. So many eyes, all on you. So many voices all shouting over each other.

You love Carlos, though, and you love him wholeheartedly, so you gather up your courage and go to race weekends when you can. Every time Carlos sees you in the crowd, he smiles so widely his friends tease him for weeks, and he runs to you first after every podium and strong finish. You want to be there for your boyfriend, truly you do, you just wonder if all of this should come easier to you than it does.

Also, you wonder if Carlos wishes the same thing. He has been nothing but perfect to you, so the spirals of guilt currently tangling their way through your insides are purely of your own creation, but what if he truly does think like that? Carlos must see the other WAGs, how they shine and sparkle with attention instead of feeling the urge to run. Wouldn’t he want that? Wouldn’t he get frustrated that you can’t be like the rest?

Thousands of girls in the world, and he picks you. You don’t know if it’s sweet or genuinely frightening. He wanted you out of everyone, yes, but he could replace you in a snap, swapping you out like some useless part on his car. There is nothing about you that cannot be replicated in any other girl. Even Charles did it, in a way, got himself a new girlfriend that’s a dead ringer for Charlotte. Carlos has no reason to keep you except for something he knows and you don’t.

The guessing will drive you mad, maybe, but you’ll lose your sanity long before that just trying to keep up with everything in his fast-paced life. You’ve been to prior F1 races, obviously, it’s how you met Carlos in the first place and it’s also how you kept him, but this upcoming weekend is different, this is Barcelona. Carlos is the center of attention at his home race, and every step he takes, a new storm of people is flooding in to ask him for autographs, selfies, anything to remind them that he’s real and right before their eyes.

Carlos doesn’t ask for a whole lot, and he certainly didn’t force you to come to this race, but you saw the hope in his dark eyes when he brought it up oh-so-casually at a dinner last week. You had assured him that you would go there to cheer him on along with the rest of his home crowd, and Carlos had been delighted for the rest of the evening.

You are happy to go, truly, but it’s taking everything in you to keep your smile up in front of the reporters and crowds and fans, and it’s just the first day. All you’re handling right now is qualifying, not even the actual race. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers that it’s only going to get worse from here on out, but when Carlos looks back at you as you wind through the paddock, you just smile and tell him you’re glad to be there with him. You’re here for him, after all, and Carlos is busy enough with race stuff that he won’t want to hear your complaints.

That’s what you keep repeating to yourself throughout the entirety of that day. Carlos qualifies well and is properly pleased about it, as he should be. The possibility of a podium or perhaps even a win for his home race has been one of his top goals for the season, and he’s as close as he can get to it right now. He earnestly talks about it the whole drive back to your hotel, but once you’re back in the safety and peace of the room, the conversation abruptly switches back to you.

Carlos sheds his jacket at the door, watches you flop down onto the bed with a smile on his face, then asks you pointedly, “And how are you doing, amor?”

You smile back at him, the expression trained to perfection after being tested so many times today. “Great! Glad that everything’s going so well for you. I’ll be cheering for P1 tomorrow.”

In truth, you’re tired more than anything. People kept coming up to you all day, assuming that taking a selfie with Carlos’ girlfriend was at least half as good as getting to see him. They gave you all manner of gifts and things to give to him, extracting promises that you’d tell him dozens of different people wished him well. You knew you’d get a lot more attention when you started dating Carlos, but the lack of personal space and privacy at the races is truly unlike anything you’d experienced before.

Carlos has been dating you long enough to pick up on this, apparently, because he furrows his brow and sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “I’ll be glad to see you tomorrow, but do you want to tell me what is really on your mind? Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know you, no?”

You sigh, covering your face with one of your arms. Carlos deflects from this attempt to hide by gently pulling your arm away, pressing a kiss to your forehead to make up for it. “Talk to me, cariño.”

You look sorrowfully at him, but when it becomes clear that Carlos won’t let you go until you confess, you give in. “It’s just a lot, I guess. The people and the cameras and everything.”

Carlos frowns. “I can get them to go away, you know that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You look away. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to hear it. All of the other girlfriends have no problem with it, just me. I thought you’d want me to be more outgoing, so I tried, I really did, it’s just hard for me, I don’t know why.”

When you dare to risk a glance up at Carlos, you’re surprised to notice that he looks genuinely hurt. “Sweetheart, you didn’t think that I would actually be unhappy about that? I just want you to be happy. Don’t think about me.”

You let out a low breath. “I know, it’s just– I want to be like the rest, really. I don’t want this to be a reason–”

You cut yourself off, distracted by Carlos’ hands still wrapped around yours. Carlos picks up on the obviously dropped subject, though, and looks at you with fresh concern. “You don’t want it to be a reason for what?”

“That you would break up with me,” you whisper.

That’s it, then. That’s the truth. If you can’t live with Carlos’ lifestyle, why wouldn’t he leave you for someone who could? It makes perfect sense to you, but judging by Carlos’ expression, that logic couldn’t be further from his mind.

“No, Y/N,” he says, “That’s not right at all. I don’t want to break up with you, like, ever. Not because of this. I don’t want someone else, I want you. I love you, querida. I love the girl who showed up out of nowhere and made me forget about every other woman in the world. I love the girl who shows up to my home race even though it stresses her out because she wants to be there for me. I love you, Y/N. No one else. Just you.”

And, well, in the face of such passionate declarations, who could stand firm in their own self-pity? Certainly not you. You smile and let him kiss you again and again until you can’t see straight, and after that it is better, it is all better. Hearing it straight from Carlos is better than trying to guess at it. It lets your worries finally sink off into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just what he wants. Just what you want.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #formula one oneshot #f1 carlos #f1 carlos imagines #f1 carlos x reader #f1 carlos oneshot

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thatsdemko · 2 years ago

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the right man - l.norris & c.leclerc

the other man (part one)

masterlist

pairings: Charles leclerc x reader & lando norris x reader (I know I didn’t do this right)

warnings: mentions of alcohol + Charles being a slight dick + nsfw mentions

a/n: here is part two 😁😁this will be put in both categories of the guys in my masterlist!

you’re forced with a horrible decision to make after an awful drunk incident. it’s your own fault, and you deserve all the consequences that come to it. even if that means losing lando.

it didn’t take long for news to spread that you were seen leaving the Ferrari motorhome. cameras religiously sat outside awaiting for Charles or Carlos. so when you thought the coast was clear, all it took was one flash of a camera to signal others and there became a swarm of flashes.

your face was front and center, Charles behind you closing the door. it was on every social media page, news paper, formula 1 gossip, etc. you couldn’t out run it.

lando was asleep when max hit him in the face with a freshly printed newspaper, “you’re not going to like this.” he says sitting down in the chair across from lando’s bed.

he’s not fully awake, but the picture of you in a quadrant hoodie and Charles behind you takes a hold of his vision. sitting up right, he searches to turn on the light to get a better look at the headlines, and when it comes into focus he wishes he didn’t see it.

“ Y/N Y/L/N CAUGHT LEAVING WRONG MOTORHOME read more on page 4.”

“what the,” he’s flipping every page until he gets to the page with a picture of you and Charles. you’re wearing his quadrant hoodie and grey sweatpants. Charles is behind you, hand on the door of the motorhome, his hair is tussled, and eyes slightly puffy but he can’t tell. the pictures in black and white don’t do justice to the ones in color max was pulling up on his phone.

“didn’t she tell you she was getting a drink with the other girlfriends last night? there’s no pictures of her at the bar. she must’ve went straight to him.” max swipes through the pictures of you heading to the motor home, the caption reading you were only there for no less than fifteen minutes, but it still doesn’t settle well with lando.

“there’s got to be a reason she went to see him, right?” lando looks up from the photos, he can’t stop staring at Charles and comparing himself to him. what did he have that he didn’t? sure, maybe a couple of titles, him being your summer crush, and maybe his looks. but none of that falls even close to the love lando has given and shown you. Charles treated you like shit three summers ago, you knew that and hell he knew that.

“I think you should talk to her.”

and that’s what’s led you to where you were. sat at breakfast with untouched toast, scrambled eggs, and a coffee that were all now unappetizing after lando dropped the news.

“I saw the pictures.” he doesn’t given any context clue, just sits right down in front of you. your eyes pick up from your phone to him. his hair is a mess, bags under his eyes, and the shirt he’s wearing his wrinkled.

“what pictures?” you ask leaning back into your seat, arms crossed watching him raise an eyebrow in challenge.

“you seriously don’t know? the ones of you with Charles last night? ring a bell now?” he scoffs watching your eyes widen, you can feel the pit of your stomach drop as you push the food in front of you away.

“lando, I went to see him and I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.” you swallow the lump in your throat watching him adjust in the seat. he’s uncomfortable because he doesn’t want to ask how you feel, he knows you still like Charles.

every girl still has some sort of love for their summer crush, and he knew despite your promises that you have moved on, Charles leclerc still crept into your mind.

“you can either keep chasing him or realize you have someone who loves you unconditionally. I want an answer by Sunday after the race.”

—

you’re not at the paddock and Charles doesn’t need to ask why. the disgusted glare lando gives him is enough to know everything.

he’s humiliated because it’s not what it looks like. you weren’t there with him for long and nothing happened. the newspapers and social media gossip were only trying to taint the narrative and make you both look like bad people.

“do you think I can talk to lando?” Charles asks, he’s standing in front of the mclaren garage, and to his surprise you’re not there. he shouldn’t have been surprised, the glare lando gave him was enough to know you probably weren’t around anymore.

“he’s not in the mood to talk. especially to you.”

“I just want to talk about last night. you have to let me explain—“

lando’s laugh cuts him off, he comes from behind one of the trainers in his full suit prepared for practice, “explain what? I already know what happened.”

“do you?” Charles challenges, his hand grabs a hold of lando’s arm to stop him from getting in the car so he can say one more thing, “because whatever you think happened didn’t.”

lando yanks his arm from his grip and just pulls on his helmet getting in the car. he wants nothing to do with the Ferrari driver, and quite frankly he doesn’t want to hear it. he’s made up his mind and he’s just hoping you have to.

—

you’re doing your best to avoid the public today, which meant laying in your hotel bed and ordering room service while watching whatever show you could find on the television.

it’s boring not being at the paddock, you want to be with lando, you want to show him you love him and that all of this about Charles was in the past. but you’re not sure lando would even want you there, you’re not even sure lando even wants you in general anymore.

you hear a faint knock, assuming it’s room service, you threw the covers off your body and quickly went to open the door to see Charles standing there.

you swallow the lump in your throat, pushing the door open more and allowing him inside. luckily, no paparazzi was allowed in the hotel, so you were safe from anyone taking pictures or suspecting a thing.

“what happened last night shouldn’t have happened—“

“nothing did happen.” you cut him off, he scoffs in response shaking his head. all of it was a blurry memory to you. the pictures did no justice for your memory, so you’re hoping Charles can jog it.

“really?” he moves forward causing you to take a step back, body being met by the edge of the bed you allow yourself to sit down, “so you’re okay that I don’t care you’re with lando? because what you and I did was summers ago means nothing. I had no feelings for you then.”

you’re not sure why, but the words hurt. they stung because part of you did want him to care. he was the best way to end your summer before going to college. he took something to special of yours that you felt he deserved to have, and maybe he shouldn’t have gotten it. not with how he was acting today.

“then? so what are you saying? you have feelings for me now?” your question stuns him, he didn’t realize what he had said until you’re asking him back.

he licks his lips trying to find words, but he can’t. all he can think about is that final night with you before you left.

“are you sure you want this?” he asks, his grip on your bare ass tightens, you wince at the pain but just nod, your eyes are so full of youth and excitement, he’s eager for a taste.

“you’re the only one I want to do this with.”

you’re staring at him long and hard, you can tell he’s mentally fighting what to say, but you don’t have time. lando gave you until Saturday to figure out who you want, and if Charles can’t make that decision you will.

“I like you Charles, but I don’t think you’re the right man for me.” you can’t look him in the eyes while you say it, your eyes are fixated on the carpet and his tan colored high top sneakers he’s wearing.

“lando most certainly isn’t either. not after what you told me yesterday.”

you sigh, your body collapsing against the bed, “Charles, what would you do?” you ask, and he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. he looks down at you, eyes staring up at the ceiling and hair sprawled across the messy sheets. to him, you look cute and maybe that tells him his true feelings.

“I would pick lando. he clearly loves you and he gives you much more than I think any other man could give.” you know that’s not true, Charles was the perfect boyfriend to Charlotte and it always made you jealous despite your perfectly happy relationship.

“I want what you and Charlotte had.” you whisper hoping he didn’t hear you, but he does. he props his body against his elbow laying on his side, “I promise you don’t. you have something we never had.”

you look over at him and see the sincerity in his eyes, “we fought a lot and at times I don’t even think we actually loved each other. I know you love lando and I know for a fact he loves you.” he brushes the couple strands of hair that were across your face out of your way, “he’s the right man.”

and he’s right, when he leaves the room he catches lando in the lobby, he tells him the choice has been made. when the Brit makes his way into your room he’s greeted to you at the door, smile on your face and he knows.

he knows you chose him.

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brandogenius · 1 year ago

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hiiiii! could you write julien x reader where basically is ex to lovers? 😭 like maybe reader is also on the public eye and the fans reactions to it? it could be a headcanon or a blurb, whatever it’s better for you!

thank u !!! pls !!!

this is such a cute request i have so many ideas for this one!

‼️RPF‼️

(NOT PROOFRED)

MINI FIC? - julien x reader - ex to lovers.

Request: “could you write julien x reader where basically is ex to lovers? 😭 like maybe reader is also on the public eye and the fans reactions to it?”

Word count: 1,749

(please let me know if you would like a part two! this was quite fun to write! )

everyone knew of you and juliens past. five years ago in 2018 the two of you were a pair. boygenius was starting to blow up and you were by juliens side ever since. julien wasn’t shy in letting everyone know that you were her girlfriend. dedicating some songs to you and posting photo dumps that include you in some of her instagram posts.

you weren’t as known as much as julien in the music scene. a small indie and pop writer. you had accumulated your own small handful of fans. majority of them boygenius fans, there in support to hype up their favourite musicians girlfriend.

you were seen on tour with the boys. promoting the release of their debut ep ‘boygenius’ you were just as excited as the trio. you couldn’t have been more prouder of your girlfriend.

until something changed. 2020 had come around and fans had noticed the lack in content with the both of you. you stopped appearing in juliens photo dumps. you unfollowed julien on twitter. julien took your tag off her posts. it was a devastating time for the fans. it didn’t take many people long to figure out what this all meant.

of course you have a handful of fans who respected what was going on. choosing to mind their own business and support both of you separately. however, with every bunch of food and respectful fans, you had the ones who didn’t understand what boundaries meant. screaming in your comments section or directly going as far as @ julien on twitter asking what happened between the two of you.

both of you have been keeping quiet about it until an interview was published, julien was promoting the upcoming release for her album when the interviewer dropped a question over the computer screen.

“i’m sure the fans are dying to know what happened between you and your girlfriend- or should i say ex at this point?” julien sat in front of the computer, an eyebrow raised as she watched the interviewer stare back at the musician. julien never in the slightest could imagine what audacity the interviewer had in that moment to ask that.

“well you see-“ julien fiddled with her headphones, readjusting them onto her head. she could see the interviewer sat there notebook in hand with pen firmly placed on the paper, ready to write down what she had to say.

“- there’s nothing i want to say on this matter. you’re interviewing me for my album right? why don’t we ask questions in relation to music, rather than my personal and private business”

the interviewer, taken a back quickly spluttered as quiet apology and composted themselves. going back to pre selected questions to ask in relation to music.

the question left julien in a sour mood for the rest of the day. the interview was quickly published. julien didn’t really want to check it out. having some small hope that the interviewer would be kind enough to edit it and take out that part but unfortunately not.

she knew it would stir up another wave of questions and panic amongst both fandoms. even if you were staying on the low side for now, keeping out of the public eye, she couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty - feeling a bit bad for dragging you back into this mess of chaos that occurred just only weeks ago.

you ok the other hand were a bit more composed. less hot headed julien. you simply ignored everything to do with the shorter musician. what happened- simple happened. it’s in the past you can’t change it anymore. you just need to go ahead and think of the future.

you continued to post on social media, posting tiktoks and tweeting. working on promoting your newest song virtually on home. most of the fans had moved on. coming to terms with the fact the two of you will most likely never interact again.

2020-2023 passes as quickly. both of you are doing your own thing. you are topping the charts with your album and singles. fans have definitely moved on but always remember. new fans are introduced to you and learn the basics. your past with boygenius member julien baker. the time you won your first award. your first world tour.

it’s the first few months of 2023. february is welcomed with longer days and a spree of award shows. your schedule was booked and busy for this month. you had a lot of interviews to attend in relation to your record you dropped in January. it was one of your proudest works to date. working hard on the album since your last one released in 2021. this was filled with songs you’ve written over the years that didn’t make it. lyric sheets that were shoved into your folder, uncovered and refurbished with better lyrics, tweaked and changed to suit your aesthetic.

one of your tracks - track 7 was one that got the most attention. 3M on youtube, billboard no1 charts. it was a bit odd since it wasn’t even your title track. fans heard it and went wild. theorising over the poetic lyrics.

it was an old song. one you wrote about julien. one about heartbreak and the feeling of yearning. you didn’t name anyone but somehow fans chose to believe it was about the boygenius member and they were right.

today was the billboard music awards. all different kinds of celebrities made their way through the red carpet. photographers and paparazzi shouting and wanting to get their direction

the boys came first. julien walking alongside lucy and phoebe. the boys stood in front of the backdrop, posing for photos. the blinding white light filling juliens vision. the sound of various amount of clicks were just enough to distract her from her own rambling thoughts for a quick moment. you were going to preform the newest song at the awards tonight. it would’ve been the first time the two of you seen each other since 2020.

a small nudge to the side by lucy had julien shaken out of her thoughts. the trio walking off to another background for another round of photoshoots.

not so long after. fans tuned into watching the livestream. you made your way onto the red carpet. fans instantly made a realisation. without knowing, you and julien were matching outfits. julien with a black and white suit. you walked into the photo zone with a black and white dress.

posing for the photos seemed weird. fans taking to twitter to discuss and theorise what the connection was. was it a coincidence? was it on purpose? you finish up with the interviews and photo zone and quickly head into the venue.

you took your seat at the table, you seemed to be the only one there so far so you didn’t seem phased. glancing up you raise your eyebrows in surprise seeing a familiar head oh platinum hair

just your luck that the all too familiar trio is sitting at the same table as you. you smiled as phoebe took a seat beside you. lucy and julien across from you.

fans would be in the building too. mainly up in the higher sections. you wouldn’t be surprised if you see all the fan pages posting about this later on. you knew you had to act professional and calm.

you jumped slightly as a hand tapped your arm. phone stared at you with a mix of concern and amusement. “huh?” “i asked how have you been?”

“oh- pretty good you know” you shrugged, a small smile playing on your lip. “making music and stuff” you took out your phone to distract yourself from the burning gaze of juliens eyes on you. like a second nature you can just tell. you chose to ignore it for now.

the billboards ran pretty smoothly. you won two awards and quickly went backstage to get ready for your performance. you felt a hand wrap around your wrist as you turned back.

“can we talk?” you turned around to stare at the smaller girl in front of you. julien stood there looking at you with a frown on her face. you glanced at the stage with a small sigh “you know i have to go on stage soon- can it wait?” you really didn’t want to talk to her- not when you’re about to preform a song.. essentially about her.

“after? please” juliens words were quiet. hesitent almost. you sighed to yourself, taking interest in the wall behind julien as you nodded. “fine - yeah. after” julien let go off your hand as she nodded. standing back as she ducked her head to walk away.

preforming for the first time in a while was a bit weird. you were so used to preforming on a web camera or pre recorded for saturday night shows, preforming to a crowd of a good couple thousand people was a bit nerve racking.

your eyes found juliens as you searched the crowd. locking eye contact you didn’t dare break it neither did julien. watching the shorter musician give a thumbs up and a positive smile made you feel calm. it made you feel more better you were able to preform the song without any worries.

finishing the song you took a deep breath and quickly thanked everyone before walking off the stage. you needed a minute to yourself to calm down before returning to the table. you sat in the backstage area, clutching a bottle of water in your shaky hands as you scrolled through social media.

“that was pretty epic” you looked up at the familiar voice. a small smile spreading across your face as you looked up. julien sat down across from you, fiddling with her rings anxiously. “you think so?” you chuckled.

“it was awesome! it’s your new song right? congrats on number one” julien leaned back in the chair. in the moment it felt right. it felt like how it used to. like nothing has changed since then.

“what did you want to talk about?” you tilted your head, being the first to break the conversation to the one both were too anxious to start.

fans broke twitter that very night. during the interval, videos spread across twitter like wildfire. you and julien walking back out onto the floor, hand in hand with smiles across your faces.

new theories started to arise. what happened? is that why julien left the table? what did you talk about?

#pom writes #julien baker au #julien baker x reader #julien baker one shot #julien baker fluff #julien baker x singer!reader #julien baker fanfic #julien baker x fem!reader #boygenius au #boygenius fanfic #boygenius one shot #boygenius x reader

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houseofwomn · 9 months ago

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Sempervirens

If all else fails, write some letters.

emily rose

teen | wc: 1.1k | cw: mentions of grief

a/n: first drabble of 2024. sorry it took so long. hope you enjoy ♡ banner credits from airidescence

It’s been ten years and I still don’t know where to put all this grief.

Uncle Tommy suggested I see a shrink, so I told him to fuck off. I promised him I’d write these stupid letters instead. Journaling, mindfulness, yoga - all that does nothing for me. This shit better work. Anyways. Here’s a list of things you never got to see.

I stopped playing soccer after a broken ankle - it was gnarly. I remember crying in the hospital all night.

My grades got somewhat better. I graduated high school. Somehow became the youngest person in the city to make the Homicide Division. It’s shit work. The captain is a bit of an ass. Tommy met her at a few holiday parties and it did not go well.

By the way, Tommy misses you too. A few weeks ago, we looked through the attic and found a bunch of old photo albums and VHS tapes. We spent all day looking through them. There was a picture of us sitting on your old couch - the black leather one with all the cigarette butts in the cup holders.

My head hurts writing this. We still have nothing for you. No evidence, no lead. Not any fingerprints. The files don’t have anything. I’m pissed. There has to be something. It’s been ten years without you and all that I have left are some old photos and beat-up jackets.

You need justice. I need answers.

We miss you so much. I’m going to stop writing before I throw up.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 09/10/19

* * * *

I had a fluffernutter sandwich this morning and thought of you.

Don’t know why I love it so much. I probably have a dozen cavities. I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter - so much has happened.

I quit the NYPD, how shocking. I found so much - probably enough to fire every cop in my precinct - but HR turned on me. Dead rats in my lockers. Side eyes from everyone. So I left. I spent two weeks on my ass, bartending at the Drunk Tank until Tommy made me chat with an old friend of his. Mafalda. I think you knew her too. It’s better here, if not way more chaotic. We have a computer guy named Luke, he’s pretty awkward. A bit pretentious. Terrible cook, too. But he lost his mom around the same time I lost you. There’s a forensic analyst named Ruby who stops by. She’s sweet, always reminding me I can talk to her if I need to. We went out for drinks last night and I honestly can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.

Also, I got rid of that stupid couch you loved. It was all ripped up and probably full of mold. Uncle Tommy and I spent a whole day looking for a new couch. I landed on this velvet green one with some fancy fringe at the bottom. Very bougie, I know.

You know, it’s annoying funny how people enter your life and insist on staying there. His name is Trystan Thorne and you’d love him. Uncle Tommy does, but I think it’s cause he buys him fancy donuts every morning. I wish you could meet him. I barged into his penthouse, beat his ass, and now we’re partners. Isn’t that weird? He’s infuriating, but it’s nice to have him around. Don’t tell him I said that. I told him some stories about you today and it felt so good to talk about everything.

Finally, some good news. We might have something for you. Some mafia leader named Big V. I told Tommy and Mafalda about her and they both think there’s a chance she did it. I hate that it’s taken so long to come up with just one possible lead. But I’d do anything to know what happened to you.

I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more. I miss you so fucking much. Here’s to fifteen years without you.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 10/08/23

* * * *

It’s been only a few months since my last letter and so much has happened. Trystan was put on trial for a murder he didn’t commit. We had to fly half the team to Drakovia as a hail mary. Ended up playing a lawyer for a few minutes. it was weird.

I messed up so many times. Trystan and I fought over something we both knew the answer to. Sebastyan...Fuck. Vasili is dead. Every time I remember that look in his eye, I want to throw up.

Fuck.

It’s three am and Trystan is sleeping right next to me. He always listens to me talk about you. I keep imagining all the dinners and talks we could’ve had, just the three of us. You could’ve told him all your stupid jokes - like the one about eating a clock.

Tomorrow is my twenty-ninth birthday. Tommy told me he had something planned. I bet you ten bucks it’ll be a party at the Drunk Tank. I remember growing up, you guys would spend the entire night decorating the apartment with balloons. I hope Tommy isn’t doing that this year.

You’re here everywhere I go. I was doing laundry earlier and saw one of Tommy’s button-downs that used to be yours. It still smelled like you. I make coffee just the way you did - black. I have your small, round nose.

I hate that your life was taken from me. But I will find you at the end of mine. I love you, Dad. Come visit me sometime? Please.

Always living, Emily Rose 3/31/24

* * * * I’ve missed writing. I wrote this all in a day after I found the most devastating YouTube comment and just had to write something. Also, if you didn’t notice the start of the 2nd letter is a little reference to this fic. Anyway - there’s definitely more writing coming from me soon...Hope you enjoyed this angst xx

Click here for the masterlist of all my works so far! Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @stars-are-within-me@shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin @calisomnia @kyra75 @icarusfallsforever @inlocusmads @tessa-liam

@dutifullynuttywitch @juudaimes-true-form @plathski @cnvrsecupid @im-the-galactic-starfish (let me know if anyone else would like to be added to my perma tag!)

#crimes of passion #choices #playchoices #choices crimes of passion #crimes of passion 2 #emily rose #trystan thorne #choices stories you play #choices cop #choices game #crimes of passion choices

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cryley · 2 years ago

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Petrichor - Part 5

matty healy x reader (fluff) word count: 2.3k warnings: mention of cigarettes A/N: (moved from @cryley-fics where it was originally posted) Hey besties! ♡ AHH it's the last chapter! I had so much fun writing this fic and I hope you all enjoyed it. Will I continue this series with a sequel? Who knows ♡ ▹ masterlist ▹ part 1 ▹ part 2 ▹ part 3 ▹ part 4 ▹ part 5

“Sorry about the slight mess.”

I locked the door behind us and placed my bags on the couch.

My place was small, but it was mine. I was proud of myself for getting a place of my own even if it was just a small 1 bedroom apartment.

Matty chuckled as he looked around, “What mess? You should see how the studio back home gets when we’re all in there.”

“Well I typically try to keep everything as tidy as possible, but I’ve been busy with work lately.”

He scanned the artwork that littered my walls. I tend to impulse purchase every piece of art I enjoy before forgetting I don’t have wall space to display the art, so my decor style looks a bit maximalist. He was silent as he walked through my living room as if it were some sort of museum. I watched him as his feet were almost rhythmic until he stopped in front of a particular piece.

“Oh, uhm.” I started to become a bit embarrassed, “I used to photograph shows a while ago while in college.”

He looked back at me with a smile. I froze a bit as my mind seemingly zoomed out to view my tiny apartment in a wide-angle lens. Matty Healy standing in my living room. Me standing awkwardly in my kitchen. Matty looking at a photo of himself on stage. A photo that I took and hung up in my living room.

“When was this?” He turned back to the photo.

“I’m pretty sure it was 2015.” I moved a bit closer to him and the photo.

In the print, Matty stood center stage in front of the classic neon box. The lights hit him so perfectly that I didn’t have to do much editing for this shot. Only a bit of his features were visible as it was mostly a silhouette.

“This is pretty good. Do you still photograph shows?”

“I mostly do portraits now.” I moved next to him, “I think I’d like to revisit shows again, but for now I’m enjoying my current projects.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that he wasn’t staring at the photo anymore. His eyes were planted on me. I tried my hardest to pretend I didn’t notice.

There were little moments when he looked like he was interested in me, but I knew that wasn’t the case. I was probably just reading things wrong and didn’t want to make a fool of myself. I tried to ignore things the best I could to keep myself from getting delusional or excited about what I knew wasn’t possible. Matty Healy, a famous musician, could have any model he ever wanted, interested in me? Even him asking me on a date in London was probably just him being nice in a friendship kind of way. Returning the favour for me showing him a cool record store and keeping him company while he’s bored on tour.

“So, uh, I’m going to shower while we’re here if that’s okay.” I turned to transition to my bedroom door, “I’ll only be a bit, but there should be drinks in the fridge, and feel free to peek through my vinyls or tv.”

He gave a thumbs-up accompanied with a smile.

I did the same with a chuckle before closing my bedroom door behind me. I sat on my bed silently for a minute just to try to process the last day and a half. His footsteps echoed as he was slowly walking around and stopping every once in a while.

I later emerged from my bathroom now fully feeling clean. I pulled on a long-sleeve dress I quickly picked out. It wasn’t too formal, but definitely nicer than my typical jeans.

I could hear through my door that a Cure album was lightly playing. He must have taken me up on the idea to search through my vinyl.

I light knock tapped on my door just as I sat down at my vanity.

“You can come in.”

My door opened to reveal Matty, now in just his white undershirt.

“Hey, can I possibly also shower really quick?”

“Definitely!” I nodded and stood up to go fetch him some towels from my linen closet.

He smiled as I handed him the towels, “Thank you. I didn’t get the chance to this morning and I probably smell horrendous.”

He didn’t smell horrendous at all. Somehow he still smelled perfect.

I giggled to play along, “You can use any of the bottles in the shower. I don’t know if they’ll work great for your curls, but they’ll manage.”

I continued back to my vanity to start my makeup ritual as I listened to the sound of the shower mixed with the Cure lightly in the background. Every once in a while, I thought I could hear Matty lightly singing something, but couldn’t be too sure of what he was singing or if I was just imagining things.

I pulled on my shoes and jewelry as my last step of getting ready as I heard the door slowly open.

“You look nice.”

My eyes couldn’t help but pan up and down in awe as he re-entered my bedroom now shirtless and damp. I could feel my heart thump through my chest.

“Thank you.” I leaned against my wall.

He looked into my eyes for a long moment before his voice cracked a bit.

“So, I’ve been wanting to do something, but have been a bit hesitant to just out of misunderstanding and time and place and all that nonsense.” he walked a bit closer to me until he was close enough to touch.

His eyes looked less tired but deep in thought. I wish I could peer inside his mind.

He stepped one step closer, “I don’t want you to think that you’re just another fan I pull onto stage or that I’m doing anything purely to add a number to an imaginary list I have hidden somewhere to create some high score.”

I allowed my eyes to meet his. All of my thoughts spilled out of my brain and onto my floor. Was I wrong this whole time?

He was incredibly close to me. He still had a slight smell of sweet tobacco lingering on his skin. His longing eyes shifted down. My eyes did a similar switch from staring into his deep brown eyes to moving my gaze down to his smooth lips.

Before I could question what he meant, his lips pressed into mine. The kiss was soft like his lips. I could feel my heart speed up with every second that went by. His hand found its way to my hip as he shifted his body closer to mine, gently pushing me closer to my bedroom wall.

I was waiting for this.

I smiled into the kiss and his mirrored soon after. I didn’t want this to end.

His other hand moved up to cup the side of my jaw as he resumed the kiss, deepening it even more. The taste of tobacco lingered on his lips. I could sense that he was trying his hardest to keep the kiss soft and sweet, but the grip of his hand on my waist was telling me he wanted more.

I took that as a sign to softly bite down on his bottom lip. An unexpected, and probably unintentional, moan escaped him. I smiled into the kiss again.

His breathing became a bit shaky as my hands moved from his waist up to his neck and then up to tug lightly at his curls. Our lips moved perfectly in sync. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Without removing his lips from mine, he pulled me away from the wall and over to the edge of my bed. Our kiss broke for only a second as he sat on the edge and softly pulled me onto him. I gladly followed his directions, causing my dress to bunch up from placing my legs on either side of his lap.

My hands settled into comfortable spots on his bare chest while his settled on my hips. He returned the light nibble I teased him with before. I returned the unintentional slight moan. I wanted nothing more than this.

The kiss continued for some time before he broke it to rest his forehead on mine.

“As much as I want to continue this, we’re going to be late for dinner.” he smirked, “Also, I wouldn’t want to move too quickly and spoil what I had planned for our date in London.”

I chuckled and kissed the tip of his nose.

This caused him to smile a bit bigger than he expected. Sometimes I could catch him off guard enough for him to give a goofy smile instead of the kind of smile he probably practiced in the mirror. While both genuine, the unrehearsed one made me feel more accomplished in a way. Like I made him smile so much that he forgot about his whole act of trying to look handsome. As if anything he did made him look less handsome.

With a quick peck, I reluctantly maneuvered off of his lap. I straightened my dress in the mirror as he pulled his sweater back over his head.

“You look beautiful Y/N.”

His arms slid around me from behind as he placed his head on my shoulder. I smiled as I looked in the mirror at the both of us. We looked good together.

“You look beautiful too, Matty.”

He craned his neck around to kiss my cheek before letting go. I moved to the living room to turn off my record player and put away the record.

“Good choice by the way.”

Matty appeared in my doorway, “Thank you. It was hard to choose from your collection. All good choices.”

I grabbed my jacket from the coat rack and slid it on over my dress, “Ready to go?”

“One second.” His gaze was back on me as he moved next to me.

He smirked and leaned down to place a peck on my lips.

“Okay, now I’m ready.”

I playfully rolled my eyes as we exited my apartment. I wasn’t going to complain at all about the spontaneous kisses, but how he got them was very cheeky and he knew it. I often stole some extra glances while with him. I wanted to take in every single moment and remember everything. I never wanted to forget how he cocked his head to the side as he smiled. The way his lips curled up ever so slightly as he chuckled, forming small smile lines in the crease of his cheeks. I didn’t want to forget the way his hair smelled of shampoo with the lingering hint of cigarette smoke in the morning. The way his curls draped over his forehead and that some of them were speckled grey.

“Y/N, are you coming?” Matty waved at me from the street, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I nodded and joined him in my car. We had to drive back to the venue to meet the boys for dinner. I wasn’t sure where we were going yet, but I assumed it was going to be a nice place due to the boys talking about what they were going to order this morning.

“So,” my fingers drummed on my steering wheel, “When do I have to request off work for London?”

He scrolled through the calendar on his phone, “I’ll fly you out on December 31st. Be prepared to stay for around a week, I’d assume.”

“A week? I don’t know if I can take that much time off work, Matty.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can cover your paycheck.”

“Matty - “

“Don’t worry about it Y/N!” He playfully threw his arms in the air.

I smiled even though I was a little embarrassed about not being able to pay for my flight or felt insecure about taking that much time away from work. I’m sure he wasn’t used to having someone like me in his life. He surrounded himself with successful musicians and models that could pay their own way I’m sure.

I was interrupted by Matty’s hand placed on my thigh, “You’re in your head again Y/N.”

I was surprised that he was able to tell when I was distracted or in my head about things. I think he knows from experience.

Sooner than I had expected, I parked my car on the road near the buses. I dreaded him and the rest of the boys leaving tonight after dinner. Yeah, Matty promised to fly me out to London to see him again, but for some reason, I feared that he would change his mind in the time between now and the end of the year. What if he met someone else while on the rest of the tour? What if I don’t hear from him after he leaves?

“I’m excited to show you around my city.” He smiled over at me in my passenger seat.

I couldn’t help but to smile. His reassuring words made some of my worries go away.

“Me too. You haven’t even left and I’m excited to get to see you again.”

His hand gave a light squeeze of my thigh.

My eyes gazed forward out of the windscreen, “Promise you won’t change your mind?”

His eyes changed and his smile dropped its shape. The side of my face was met with his cupped hand.

His lips were my favourite part of him. They pressed against mine. Soft and passionate. Longing and sweet. I could sit here in the front seat of my car for hours with my lips against his. Our mouths moved slowly in unison. It was a sweet kiss where neither of us were wanting dominance. It just was.

“I promise, Y/N.”

#fluff #matty healy #matty healy fic #the 1975 #matty healy x reader #petrichor #matty fic #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 fic #my fics #ry.exe

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the-hobgoblins · 8 months ago

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“Imagine that? Reckless is my middle name, innit,” Oz overheard Rue say, from where he was lurking out of sight and eavesdropping.

Of course, he’d heard all about Gryffindor House—where Maeko had faced scrutiny from her peers who did not believe she belonged with them, until Katie came along.

Oz peered into the room from his hiding place, watching the hedge witch and auror captain continue to converse, circling round each other with magnetic push and pull—a little song and dance that Oz knew well. It was rather beautiful, really. Oz thought Paxton might have said something about their auras tangling.

Rue paced the length of the small space like a caged animal, restless, tossing a small sphere of flame between her hands like a ball. Even from here, Oz could see the way her eyes seemed to gleam like emeralds in a cave illuminated by the torchfire of a wandering explorer as Katie sent her mind spinning with terrifying possibilities. She hummed, pondering their predicament, then said, “The Free Trader haunts are out, I reckon. There’s heat on us—our safehouse got shaken down a beat ago, word is some a your Comrades in Arms are trackin’ ambient spikes and unsanctioned magic signatures all over England.”

Katie made a thoughtful noise as she processed this information, one hand scratching through the scruffy, loose curls at the crown of her head. After a moment, she asked, “I don’t suppose your coven has friends elsewhere on this island? Scotland…Ireland?”

Rue gave a snort and her cheeky reply was lost to the sudden rush of dread that washed through Oz. He knew exactly what fate would befall anyone who dared to trespass in that territory unannounced, who tried conducting magical business without attaining the right permission from the right people—the right person. His palms itched.

Ah, shite…

By the time Oz had settled enough to peek into the room again, Rue and Katie had been blessedly, momentarily sidetracked by Katie’s pet salamander Chickadee seemingly launching itself from its napping place in the ash of the fireplace at the ball of flame between Rue’s hands, and she was cooing and laughing in adoration over the tittering fire sprite as it crawled along her arms and nestled down the front of her shirt, with Katie jumping up to snap photos with her phone.

It was enough of a distraction that Oz hoped they’d forget about the trap they were walking into with this foolhardy revenge mission. But soon enough, the two women settled on the couch, angled toward each other, with Rue stroking Chickadee as he snoozed atop her chest. Picking up the thread of thought, Katie mused, “The Department’s got boots on the ground in Scotland, and I can’t risk this getting traced back to me…”

“Ireland it is, then,” Rue replied decisively, almost gleefully, and Oz swallowed.

Katie again opened the journal Rue had brought and studied a few pages, muttering to herself. Then she reached out to pop the cap off the whiskey bottle and took a long swig before passing it off to Rue, scurrying over to the chalkboard to scribble out complex symbols and equations, deep in her own thoughts.

The board was half-full by the time Katie turned, dusting her forehead and hairline with chalk from her fingers as she said, “Your girl was thinking in terms of huge power reserves—spirit magic, combined with the unstable source you all use—the ambient. We’d need a boost like that to contain the bitch’s spirit in a vessel, and…” She drew a small diagram on the chalkboard with exes and dashed lines and arrows, like a football coach mapping a play. “…we would also need a way to stabilize all the ambient magic in a small, contained area, so that when we actually get her in the damn thing, matter doesn’t collapse in on itself and combust and—"

Rue mimicked the sound of an explosion with her mouth, and even summoned a little miniature mushroom cloud in the air for further illustration.

Katie grinned, gesturing with the chalk. “—exactly. Not the kind of mess that would look good on you, darlin’…”

Rue snickered in response, and then added, “Might be there’s a local coven could negotiate some extra ambient with…?”

Double, triple shite…

And that’s when Oz finally stepped into the room, resigned in what he knew he had to do—but really not wanting to do it. “I know who ya need ta talk to, if it’s Ireland ya need ta go…”

Katie raised a curious brow at him, too deep into her scheming to be annoyed that he’d deliberately disobeyed her request to stay out of their way, today. And Rue, who was used to the way things were run in a safehouse, was not startled whatsoever by Oz showing up unannounced.

Their eyes met, impish blue against smoldering green, and all Oz could think was, I chose you, that day, over my own blood. And Mae won’t ever forget it. His heart throbbed in his chest; that was the last time Oz had seen or spoken to Maeko, that day after Halloween at the FTB safehouse. When he’d put himself in front of her wand to protect some hedges that he barely knew.

Oz hadn’t been able to get that wail of betrayal that Maeko had shrieked at him out of his head these long weeks. He’d disappointed her, and she’d abandoned him in the company of hedges—just like his father had done.

So they’d chosen their sides, both shown their true colors when their backs were up against a wall. And though he ached without Maeko’s company every single day, looking back, Oz didn’t think he would have made a different choice. Self-sacrifice was the way he was wired.

But now, as he’d resigned himself to willingly jump into harm’s way yet again, but on a whole different scale, Oz did feel regret that he wouldn’t get to see Maeko one last time. Because he knew, deep down, that when Morrigan got her hands on him again, he likely wouldn’t be coming back.

He looked over at Katie and gave her a sad, wincing smile, holding up his palms to flash HELLO and GOODBYE. “…an’ I know how ta get ya that power boost, too.”

@katiethxrne @outterridge

Katie had almost forgotten how refreshing it was to be around folk who didn't attend Hogwarts. There were a handful within the Department who attended other legacy institutions such as Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. Thus, they didn't exactly follow House Politics and also knew nothing of Katie during her years at Hogwarts.

It was nice to not be immediately spotted as the Gryffindor with more detentions than sense and could avoid the scrutiny of her previous reputation. It made it easier for Rue to simply trust that Katie knew what she was doing (she did), without being questioned of her intelligence or ability for having not been a Ravenclaw or Slytherin (the Hat offered Slytherin - she didn't look good in green). So as Katie clocked Rue's questions and comments, she wasn't expected to look up from the notebook in hand to answer, as if Katie had to try and multitask - her brain was hardwired to move fast, and she got bored if she had to do things one at a time, it's why class at Hogwarts was numbing.

"Gryffindor - brave, bold, and exceedingly reckless."

Ashworth could see through the veneer Katie had positioned around her and challenged her in those early days of mentorship to keep her mind sharp and moving, her hands working, her mouth on a constant stream. Three tasks at once, fighting and painting runes, brewing and plotting an attack on the blackboard, and paperwork while also writing alchemy papers and keeping a conversation going. All things that mattered in the field, in the laboratories, all the things that had moved Katie from lowly lab rat to dangerous Captain.

So, as she flicked through Yvonne's work, her fingers still making signs, and occasionally stopping to paint a rune in the air between herself and Rue, Katie could listen to how the Hedges worked and figure out their magic.

"...molecular manipulation, a regular scanning at work; it's too bad I never saw it in action. I'll bet it was something - energy and magic manipulation on this kind of level with a brain rivaling my own," Katie closed the journal with a smile, "I would have been terrified of her abilities."

Spirits - goddamn, it always came back to the dead with Katie, didn't it? Always came back around to those who fuck around with the River Styx, and Katie had dipped her toes in and was yanked out fasted than a tick on a July Tuesday. Blood Magic. Spirit Magic. Necromancy. Blood bonds. Katie knew this magic; she'd dabbled, studied, and knifed it in the cradle of a few dark magicians in her career. But Voodoo was a different breed.

"Anyone can be killed - no one is immortal, and Spirit Work is delicate but also incredibly strange. There are tales of souls being bottled into jars, genies in lamps using their magic to grant wishes to muggles, of trapping spirits in gems and locking them into caverns until their final resting place is forgotten and they are kept on the mortal plane." Katie could think of no worse fate than an eternity trapped in anonymity, used like a battery cell, fated to never truly die until the heat death of the universe or until the main character of a manga needs your power to reach their goals for Love and Friendship.

"Voodoo Smoodoo," Katie crowned, kicking up her feet, "I can trap a soul better than these swamp fucks - cut them off from the sacrificial lambs they used as a battery, and they'll cook."

Dimensional pockets, Genie Lamps, soul renting, and Spirit Trapping—it wasn't easy magical working, but then again, Katie hated being bored.

"We just need a place where we can't get... interrupted."

#p: katie #p: rue #better have conviction #december 2020 #katie's flat

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holyfruitsnax · 2 years ago

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Hidden In Plain Sight

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Guns, Angst-ish?, Fluff, Smut (Later Chapters), Possible bad writing? Def not proofread.

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective!Reader

Summary: The Hollands have built their empire for years and now a young detective wants to take them down. In a world where Tom figured it would be kill or be killed, He’ll soon find that maybe, just maybe...She can be convinced.

Y/N: Your Name Y/L/N: Your Last Name

The sound of your gun clinking in its holster echoed throughout the room as your eyes scanned for any clues they could find. “Man, are we sure this is the right place? I mean... I trust your judgement y/l/n but...this place looks like it’s been abandoned for a while.” Hugh furrowed his brows shining his flashlight while gesturing to the ragged furniture and family photos seeming to be left behind. “That’s what they want us to think Greene.” You sighed giving your partner a glance before shining your light in another direction. “Called the landlord. This place was owned by a Mrs. Gertrude Lightwood.” you couldn’t help the concerned look on your face. “Sure, most of this is hers...but she’s been in a nursing home for years. Do you honestly think this is her mess?” you kicked a few old beer bottles around for emphasis. Hugh’s head dropped shaking a little, “No...No I suppose not...” His British accent thick with the same concern shown on your own face.

“You think it’s them?” Hugh leaned against the kitchen countertop, asking a question he knew the answer to.

“I know it is.”

You’d only been a detective for a short amount of time, but you’d surely proven yourself with a knack for research. At the ripe age of 20, you’d solved your first case just about all on your own. The department paired you up with Hugh since the beginning of your career, now the slightly portly old man seemed like the only family you had since moving to London. The current case? Thought to be a band of misfit teens, turned out to be a link to one of the largest mafia’s London has to offer. The Hollands, their power is deep seeded in SouthWest London. No one dared to touch a part of their case, that is until now. Hugh figured you’d gone mad when you offered to take them head on, but he’d help none the less.

“Well...Let’s get going before the sun comes up. No telling if or when they’ll come back.” The white haired man clapped a large hand upon your shoulder. “I could go for Greggs right about now.” He smiled wide making you smile in return. The two of you walked out of the old townhouse and heading into the car. “I think they know we’re onto them.” you stated while bucking up. Hugh nodded “Probably. You don’t keep up with something like this for so long if you aren’t good at hiding it. No one even knows what these people look like, only guesses.” He pointed out and took off towards their favorite breakfast place. “Hey..That’s not bad..” you smirked jotting down something on your little notepad using a cute pen with a duck at the top Hugh had gotten you a year ago. “What?” Hugh’s eyes darted over confused “Oh don’t start with this shi-”

“I’m just saying!” you laughed, pleased with his reaction. “What if they’re not hidden...or better yet.” you winked. “Hidden in plain sight?”

“You’re due for the looney bin any day now y/n!” Hugh laughed parking in front of Greggs, you only chuckled and shrugged back. The little breakfast shop was full, but it is eight am on a Wednesday morning. your detective side was still in high gear, making sure to memorize every face you could since the stake out house hadn’t been very far away. Over at a table buried away in a corner sat a group of young men. A tall blonde with striking blue eyes, a shorter curly red head and a grumpy looking brunette. What a group. Hugh Ordered for you both, opting to chat with the cook rather than join your speculation. you took a seat at a table not too far but not too close to the group of men, scrolling through your phone to seem as though you were minding her business. That is until you locked eyes with a chestnut brown pair.

“Psst!” a sharp kick to the shin pulled Tom from fiddling with the many golden rings adorning his fingers. “Ow! That hurt asshole.” Tom hissed reaching down to rub where Harry had abused him. “Cops.” Haz stated quietly as to not draw attention their way, which was always a difficult feat seeing that Tom ultimately looked like a mob boss. “We’re fine, just keep your cool. Try not to be an idiot and they’ll move along.” Tom hummed clasping his hands together so he could rest his chin atop his bruised knuckles. His eyes found you sat at a table playing on your phone, He couldn’t quite tell your age but, he knew you were young, around his age maybe? He didn’t recognize you though. Tom couldn’t help but swoon at the way your hair framed your tired face perfectly, eyes holding a bit of dark color beneath them. He must’ve been staring too long, seeing that your eyes flicked up just in time to meet his own. Boy was Tom enthralled, but the interaction was short lived as his brother and best friend tugged him out of the shop.

“What was that about?” Hugh muffled out through a bite of his breakfast sandwich. “I....I don’t know..” you for once felt stuck so, you opted to eat your breakfast instead of talking. “Those boys sure did look flashy.” Hugh pointed over towards the table the group had previously been sat. You nodded giving a content hum “Maybe, but we can’t just jump to conclusions. Maybe they’re just rich.” Hugh snorted a little at your sudden halt on the whole ‘It could be anyone’ idea. “Why don’t we rest up, you give me a call if you catch anything new and I’ll do the same? Sound good?” He slapped his cap back atop his head crumpling up a food wrapper. “Good to me.” you confirmed standing up from your seat to say goodbye to Hugh before walking the short distance back to your apartment.

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The day had gone by and shifted London into darkness, but lights and music still boomed on for the drinkers, dancers, and all of the above to enjoy. Tom would be one of them if he wasn’t getting his ass chewed out. “You mean to tell me after being told police were on their way to your hideout, you chose to go eat breakfast in the middle of fucking town?!” Dom yelled down at the three boys. “Yeah well we were hungr- I’m sorry.” Harry’s head hung in shame, Haz stood tall and calm whilst Tom’s face begin to turn red. “You’re the one who can’t handle his own fucking dirty work! It’s your guy we’re after, why didn’t you go and sit in an old run down house that smelled like mothballs for hours to watch some guy’s house? Oh RIGHT because you’re the boss of course!” He laughed deep in his chest. The rest of the family backed away but kept watching, Dom and Tom are like dynamite together it just takes one to be the match that strikes the others fuse.

“Correct! I am the boss, so you will listen to me or you’ll suffer just the same as that man will when I get my hands on him.” Dom growled, gripping Tom by his white button up. “I can’t believe you’re the one I’m passing this shit down to..” He puffed letting Tom go due to Nikki’s pleas. Tom’s courage faltered at his father’s insult, it felt like a low blow. “Yeah...Whatever..” He huffed back fixing his jacket. Dom lit a cigar sitting next to his wife waiting for the explosion. “Now Tom, why don’t you take off your shoes and have a seat. You know your father didn’t mean that- He just gets that way.” She smiled patting the couch. Tom felt a heavy, sickly, almost guilty heat rise to his chest. He’d have to deal with that feeling the only way he knew how, to cover it up with something else. “You know what. I’m sick of being treated second hand by him, I’m sure everyone else does too!“ He seethed beginning to push insults towards Dom. Rage was like an illness to Tom, so easy to fall back to. Before Dom could shout anything back Tom grabbed the nearest lamp and tossed it against the wall with a loud crash. “I’m- I’M FUCKING GETTING OUT OF HERE, FUCK THIS HOUSE, AND FUCK YOU DOM” Tom shouted. He didn’t hear footsteps following him, so he didn’t look back.

The thumping of his heart in his ears had been replaced by music with thick bass. Making his way into his family’s bar Tom found a table with ease. “Woahhhh...Rough night?” Skips, the main bar tender around the places laughed only to shut down the second he met Tom’s killer gaze. “I’ll just...Leave this here.” Skips practically yelped setting down a bottle of whiskey while he ran off to get a glass and ice. Tom popped the top off the bottle of expensive whiskey downing a few chugs before slamming it down on the table again. His outburst was starting to become hard not to notice but if you wanted to keep your eyes, you’d act like you didn’t even if you did.

That is unless that someone is you. You’d found your way into the bar confident there would be evidence of anything from the Holland in there, it is their side of town after all. Deciding to blend in a bit and to purely have some fun you joined in on the dance floor scooting through the crowd trying to get to the bar. Suddenly a large man in a suit stood before you. “Uh..excuse me if I could just slip-” “My friend asked for you at his table.” The large man oddly enough was the sweetest person you’d met all night. “Uhm..” You turned your head in the direction the man pointed in and froze. The guy from Greggs this morning. “Thank you!” you smiled calmly, making your way over to the brunette. Your eyes couldn’t help but drop as he leaned forward and unbuttoned his shirt enough to expose his toned chest while sending you a smirk.

“Hello Darling! I thought I recognized you~” Tom teased, obviously a bit buzzed from chugging whiskey. “Yeah, breakfast this morning..um. I didn’t catch your name however-” “Tom.” He spoke immediately taking two glasses pouring whiskey for them both and slid a coke your way. “Nice to meet you Tom, I’m not much of a drinker.” You cleared your throat a little. “Well for tonight, maybe you should?” He nodded pushing your glass closer towards you. Why the hell not? “Okay, Tom. What exactly..” “Your name Darling.” He smiled sipping at his own drink. “Y/n.” You swirled your cup around a little before drinking half of it to ease your nerves. Why was this guy messing with your nerves? “Pretty~” Tom’s voice deepened and his eyes darked while raking over your figure. You’d chosen a tight red dress that showed just enough cleavage for most, but not enough for Tom

Tom watched as you finished your first drink and drank a little coke while he poured you both another. Thirty minutes became an hour, an hour became two and before you knew it you and Tom were on the dancefloor together. His firm hands gripped tightly at your hips keeping you close in the dancing crowd as the two of you grinded together. “You’re fun!” You drunkenly laughed wrapping your arms around Tom’s neck. “That’s what I like to hear Darling!” He grinned dipping his head down so his nose brushed yours. Your mouth fell open slightly and everything seemed to slow down. What were you doing. “There is of course...” Tom slid a hand up your body grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger, the cooling effect of his rings against your warm skin made you shiver. “Something else I’d love to hear you say as well.” He tisked leading you towards the back of the bar. “And what’s that?” You raise a brow, tilting your head making Tom pull his bottom lip between his teeth. The next thing you knew you were in a private area and Tom pulled two red curtains shut before turning back to face you. “Daddy.”

#tom holland #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland #Angst #Detective #fem reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #mob!tom #tom holland fanfiction

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sacredsorceress · 4 years ago

Text

Who’s She? || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x doctor!reader

summary: when sam gets injured during a mission and isn’t able to go to a hospital, bucky brings him and natasha to his own home to get cared for by his girlfriend, y/n, who he’s been keeping a secret.

a/n: this is my first time writing for bucky! reblogs and replies are super appreciated! also here i'm going to pretend that bucky didn’t get snapped so you started dating during the blip and natasha didn’t die

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of blood, sam getting shot, fluff

masterlist || request

“Shit.”

He followed the sound of the gunshot to another open room within the warehouse. He watched as the group they had been fighting fled the building, hopping into their trucks and speeding away before he even had the chance to process what was happening in front of him never mind go after them. When the group dispersed out of the room he finally saw what all the commotion had been about- Sam was lying on the floor with Natasha kneeling above him at his side.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, jogging towards where the two of them were in the center of the large, open room.

Natasha looked up, her hands feeling around Sam’s shoulder, blood coating her hands.

“There’s no exit wound.” She told him finally, standing up. “We have to get him out of here.”

Bucky watched as Sam groaned, still lying on the ground, with his hand putting pressure on his shoulder.

“So, what?” Bucky asked her. “We take him to a hospital?”

Nat shook her head. “We weren’t supposed to be here. If we take him to a hospital now... they’ll find out.” She turned back to Sam. “Feel good enough to walk?” She asked him.

“I don’t know.” Sam said. “How far are we going?”

Natasha shrugged, placing her fist underneath her chin, assessing the situation.

“Well,” She told him. “We can’t go to a hospital... but I could try my best in the back of the van.”

At that, Sam pushed himself up onto his elbows with a look of fear in his eyes as he turned to look between Natasha and Bucky.

“You’re joking right?” He grimaced. “There’s nothing else we can do?”

Watching the situation play out before him, Bucky swore to himself knowing what he was about to do and partly regretting the decision before he even made it. As much as Sam could piss him off, he knew better than to let him suffer under Nat attempting to stitch him up. He couldn’t let him go through that when there was a better way.

“Shit.” Bucky shook his head, reaching his hand out to Sam to pull him up. “Fine. I know somewhere we can go.”

Natasha and Sam looked at each other, quirking their eyebrows, questioning how Bucky of all people would know somewhere to go in a situation like this. Not in a position to argue, however, Sam took his hand, standing to his feet.

“So... where are we headed?”

It had been a half an hour long drive before Bucky finally pulled the car over to the side of the road outside of an apartment building. Natasha and Sam followed his lead as he walked inside, up the stairs and unlocked one of the doors with his set of keys.

Hearing the key turning in the lock and commotion outside your apartment door, you spun around from your seat on the couch watching as you boyfriend, Bucky walked in the door of your shared apartment.

“You were gone for so long you almost had me wor-”

Before you could finish your sentence you watched as none other than Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff made their way through the door of your apartment. Although you had never been introduced, you recognized them immediately as members of the famous group of Avengers and coworkers of your boyfriend.

You sprung up from your seat immediately upon seeing these unfamiliar familiar faces. That’s when you noticed the blood coating the upper half of Sam’s suit and Natasha’s hands. Your eyes shot open wide, turning to face Bucky.

“James?” You said his name slowly.

“He got shot. There was nowhere else we could go, Y/n.” He told you. “You can fix it right?”

You made your way around the couch, rushing to Sam’s side and guiding him to sit on the cushions, continuing your conversation with Bucky all the while.

“I work in the maternity ward, Buck.” You reminded him.

Sam’s mouth dropped and Natasha, still standing in the doorway watched the conversation playing out between you and Bucky, still unsure of who you were.

Sam angled his neck to face Bucky from his seat on the couch. “You took me to a gynecologist?”

“She’s a doctor!” Bucky shouted at Sam, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“A maternity doctor!” Sam shouted back. “Do I look like-”

“If you don't want her help then-”

“Stop it!” You shouted, breaking up the useless, unnecessary conversation between the two men. They both went silent at the sound of your raised voice, turning back to face you. “Buck, go get my kit from the bathroom, okay?”

He quickly nodded, heading out of the room. As he did, you turned to Natasha who was still standing in the doorway.

“We need to get this suit off. I can’t work through it.”

She nodded, making her way across the living room, kneeling in front of Sam. Pulling a knife out of the holster at the side of her leg, she began slicing through the shoulder of his suit so that the two of you could take it off without raising his arms, affecting the wound.

When Bucky strolled back into the room, carrying your kit in his hands, Sam turned to him while Natasha continued to slice at his suit.

“So... how come she gets to call you ‘Buck’ and I can't?” He asked.

You smiled as you opened the kit, pulled gloves over your hands and set up your materials at your side. Slipping the jacket off of his shoulders, Bucky replied.

“Because she’s my girlfriend.”

A silence hung in the room for a moment as Natasha and Sam took their time to process the words that had just come out of Bucky’s mouth. It was almost impossible for them to comprehend that he had a life outside of the business they got into or that he could care for someone in such a way. The idea of someone like Bucky living out a domestic life in his free time was unbelievable.

“Wait your... but you...” Sam stumbled through his words, turning to look between you and the grumpy, 106 year-old man he had gotten to know over the past few years. Finally he broke into a smile, chuckling. “No way.”

You laughed, grabbing a seat from your dining table and pulling it up to Sam, plopping yourself down in it. Pulling your tray of materials towards him, you smiled. “Yes way. Good to know he’s mentioned me.”

You looked over your shoulder and winked at your boyfriend who was leaning against the wall behind you, his arms crossed.

“I’m just protecting you, doll.” He smirked. “You know that.”

Natasha tore off the last piece of the suit, stepping away from Sam, sinking herself into a nearby armchair.

“Gross.” She commented at the sound of the pet name Bucky held for you.

Laughing at her comment, you leaned forward, a cotton swab with numbing jelly in your hand.

“I know, baby. I’m just messing with you.” You told your boyfriend before turning your attention back to Sam. When you noticed him eyeing you warily, you said. “You can trust me. I may work in the maternity ward, but I know what I’m doing.”

He then nodded and watched as you pressed the swab against his shoulder holding it in place. As you continued applying a light pressure, Sam finally took in your surroundings, now noticing the framed photos scattered along the walls and surfaces of you and Bucky, of Bucky and Steve from back in the day and of you and- who Sam assumed were- your friends. He didn’t know how he didn’t see all of them when he first came in, being able to realize that you and Bucky shared the space as a home.

“How did you even lock this down?” Sam asked, glancing up towards Bucky.

Natasha, kicking back in her seat laughed. “Rogers always said you were ‘quite the ladies’s man’ back in the good ol’ days, Barnes. Who knew you still had it in you?”

Rather than play into their game, Bucky rolled his eyes, sitting down on the coffee table, grumbling to himself.

Sam turned back towards you. “So what did it?”

You glanced at your wrist watch, pulling the swab off of Sam’s shoulder, tossing it to your side and instead picking up what Sam thought to have looked like a sort of tweezer as he watched.

“What do you mean?” You asked, a light smile playing on your lips.

You knew this conversation was making your boyfriend want to kick everyone out of your shared appointment and that the only thing stopping him was that you were currently taking a bullet out of one of their shoulders.

“Like what did it, you know?” Sam asked, laughing. “Was it the staring? It was the staring wasn't it? He stares all the god damn time. It pisses me right off.”

You grinned, continuing the conversation as you slipped the tweezer into Sam’s bullet wound, hoping to distract him. Once you pulled the bullet out successfully and dropped it onto the table besides you, you grabbed the materials to stitch the hole closed.

“He does stare a lot, doesn’t he?” You laughed. “You’re right though actually. I caught him staring at me at a bar and slipped him my number. I figured he was too nervous to ask for it. That was what? Two years ago now?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend.

"Yeah something like that." Bucky replied, nonchalantly.

He was trying to act casual in front of his friends. That night was two years and three months ago to the day and he knew it when you asked. Bucky Barnes wished he could forget about a lot of things in his extended lifetime, but until the day he dies he swore to himself he would never forget the night he met you. Seeing you sitting across the bar from him changed his life for the better and he never wanted that to end. So much so that little did you know that he had bought a ring for you six months ago with the help of his best friend and most trusted confidant, but until the right moment arises it continues to sit in his locked safe in your shared bedroom.

“God, man, I can’t believe you kept this a secret for that long!” Sam exclaimed before cringing as he watched you slip the needle into his skin. “And to think- I thought we were friends.”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes. “We’re coworkers.”

“You know what? That hurt.” Sam shook his head, pausing, before turning back to Natasha. “You’re pretty quiet. This antique has had a secret girlfriend for two years and you’ve got nothing to say?”

At his comment, Natasha stopped staring at the pictures on the wall, instead turning back to the group.

“Two years huh?” She asked. “That means Rogers knew didn’t he?”

Suddenly Bucky was very interested in staring at his hands as a silence washed over the room. You knew Steve leaving to travel back to the past a few months ago was still a sensitive subject for your boyfriend. Despite the fact that the other Avengers- or former Avengers- knew nothing of your existence, you had met Steve more times than you could count and you knew how important his friendship was to Bucky.

“Uh... yeah.” Bucky answered finally, clearing his throat.

Saving your boyfriend from the awkward conversation surrounding a touchy subject, you finished the last of your stitches on Sam, leaning back in your seat, pulling off your gloves and dropping the materials at your side.

“There!” You announced. “All done! Just try not to move that spot too much for the next few weeks, okay?”

“That’s easier said than done.” Sam said, smiling, glancing at his stitched up wound. “Not everyone just has a metal arm that can do the job for them.”

You laughed, maneuvering your way around the couch and into the kitchen to rinse the remainders of blood from your hands in the sink. As the warm water ran on top of your hands, you felt the unmistakable cold touch of vibranium wrap around your waist. As you scrubbed your hands in the sink, a hint of a smile gracing your face, you felt your boyfriend’s other hand tuck the piece of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear.

“Thanks for doing that. I know I put you in a weird spot.” He almost whispered, leaving a light kiss on your cheek.

You heard the sound of Sam laughing at something Natasha had just said in the other room and shrugged.

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck.” You said. “Honestly... I kind of liked it. Not that Sam was shot or anything obviously- that’s awful and it’s terrifying that if it were somewhere else he could’ve died- but it’s good to feel... I don’t know... needed like that.”

You turned off the faucet and the second you did, your boyfriend handed you the towel, unwrapping his arm from around your waist and stepping back to look at you.

“But you are needed?” He said, leaning on the countertop. “I wouldn’t be able to do any of this or anything without you.”

You shrugged again, drying your hands.

“I know, Bucky. That’s not...” You sighed. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t know... it just kind of feels... cool.”

“Cool?” He asked, quirking his eyebrows and grinning at you while he said it.

You groaned.

“Yes! It made me feel cool!” You said, throwing the rag on the counter. “You guys are legitimate superheroes. All of you live like you’re in some action movie most days so yeah- it made me feel kind of cool to be included. Maybe you don’t notice it after all this time, but it felt exciting to me.”

He flashed you a smile, pushing himself off of the counter to rest his hands on your waist.

“So, you like heroes, huh?” He asked, clearly teasing you.

Although he was flirting by attempting to tease you for what you had just said, he admittedly felt his heart fill a bit more knowing that you thought of him as a hero.

You smiled, pulling on the dog tags that hung around his neck, teasing him right back.

“No, but I do like 106-year-old grumpy old men who have me stitch up their superhero friends.”

“I’m not grumpy.” He pouted.

“The first step is acceptance, babe.” You fake pouted, stepping back from his arms and lightly tapping him on the cheek. “Now go ask your superhero friends if they want anything to drink.”

Just as you finished your sentence you heard a shout from the other room.

“I’ll have a water if you don’t mind!”

At the sound of his voice you and Bucky turned towards each other, eyes wide.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Bucky called from the kitchen back to Sam who was sat in the living room, separated by a wall.

“Thin walls!” Sam called.

“I’d hate to be your neighbors!” Natasha added.

As tough as your boyfriend was, you watched as he became flustered, knowing the others had just heard him flirting with you in the kitchen. You laughed, patting him on the shoulder before grabbing two waters from the fridge and making your way back into the living room, handing one to each of your uninvited guests. Bucky followed behind you as you plopped yourself back down on the couch watching a conversation between Natasha, Bucky and Sam unfold.

While Bucky and Sam had a harmless argument about the mission they had just been on, you felt a soft pat on your arm and turned to see Nat facing you.

“About what you said in the kitchen-” She began.

Remembering what you had told Bucky in the kitchen minutes before about them being movie-like superheroes, you grew embarrassed.

“Oh God! I’m sorry. You really don’t have to mention it-” You said, cutting her off.

“No, seriously.” She told you. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have been able to fix him up like that. It was nice to have you there.”

As badly as you wanted to play it cool in front of her, you couldn’t help but smile. As embarrassing as you thought it was for them to hear everything you told your boyfriend in confidence, you meant every word you had said and it meant a lot for Natasha to acknowledge you in such a way.

“Thanks. That means a lot.” You smiled.

When you turned back in your seat, you noticed that the conversation between Sam and Bucky had ended and that they both were turned towards you and Natasha.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Y/n. I think I would have rather bled out then let her fix it.” Sam added and Natasha scoffed. “Hey, now that we know you exist we could use you! It’d be nice to have someone keep this robot in check.” He shrugged at your boyfriend.

Whether it was because he was genuinely enjoying himself or it was just because he was beside you, Bucky chuckled at Sam’s comment, stretching his arm over your shoulders as the two of you sat on the couch chatting with the two of them.

“I’d like that.” You laughed, leaning comfortably into your boyfriend. “Oh! Does that mean I can get a metal arm too-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, your boyfriend cut you off.

“Absolutely not.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Can you write one about Nanami where the reader is oblivious and they're really close to Gojo so he gets jealous often. Sometimes Gojo does things purposely to annoy him and one day he just lost his composure and accidentally admitted his feelings for you.

I hope u accept if you're not too busy. Thank you!!!

— a little push

— sometimes all nanami needs is a little push.

nanami kento x fem! reader

thank you for the request anon! i’m not sure if reader is oblivious enough but i hope you like it! there’s some thick pining here hur hur, i hope you like it! i never knew i needed an easily flustered and awkward nanami in my life also this is unedited as usual

check my bio for masterlist and my milestone event! (◕ᴗ◕✿)

“Do you mind?”

Nanami sighs, silently praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear the way his heart is absolutely panicking and beating wildly right now. You’d randomly pushed him inside the teachers’ office the moment he got back to the institute at work, and now he’s doomed to hide his feelings while you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, a shaky yet excited grin painted on your face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you wave your hands in front of you, although he can tell you’re not apologetic at all. Nanami clears his throat when you step backwards to give him space, unsure if he’s happy or sad about the distance. “I was just really excited to see you back.”

Your carefree, lighthearted voice, along with that little jump in your toes combined with your statement – you’re basically asking Nanami to shrivel up already.

The stoic man remains composed, though, only shifting to adjust his tie while he stares down at you. You’re still somewhat bouncing on your feet, teeth biting your lip – a habit you had when you want to say something but contemplating whether you should. Tilting away to hide the slight flush in his cheeks, Nanami sighs again, pretending to be tired.

The last thing he wants to admit that even though he is exhausted from work, is that you’d never bother him. In fact, having you bombard him like this makes him feel like he didn’t deal with special grade curse by himself all alone just an hour ago.

“If there’s something you want to say, I suggest you get it over with. I don’t want to stay overtime and wait until the blindfolded creep comes around.”

You giggle at his insult, hiding behind your cupped palms. Crap, Nanami looks away and focuses on the birds outside instead, suddenly finding them so interesting despite never paying attention to them before. Maybe that was the curse of crushes – it had people acting differently and in complete contrast with their behavior.

“About that,” you begin almost shyly now, and Nanami practically bursts when he sees you tapping both of your pointer fingers together, gaze tilted away from him.

It makes him wonder you’re nearly on the same skill to Gojo, yet still somehow look like a small, innocent being that makes him want to protect you from everything – even if you were more than capable of handling things yourself. Well, Nanami concludes to himself, maybe you’re really just that paradoxical that it makes sense why he can never think straight around you. Maybe he’s really not supposed to understand the complexity of his feelings when you were a phenomena to begin with already.

“You see…Satoru asked me out.”

Nanami stiffens at your statement for a split second before his head whips to you so fast. You’re observant – of course you are, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer – and you easily pick up in his sudden change of demeanor. Your brow raises at his abrupt reaction, to which Nanami conceals by flexing his neck and rolling his shoulders back.

“I am simply tired from work,” he haf-lies, “So, Satoru asked you out? Will you say yes?”

His words and tone are monotonous, almost bored even, but deep inside he’s so close to beating the crap out of his co-worker. Well, not really, Nanami isn’t a man of violence, but he’s jealous. Of course he is – he’s liked you ever since Principal Yaga hired you.

He’s never told Satoru about his little crush on you. He would be stupid to do such; Satoru would tease him to no end and maybe even be as childish to go as far as pushing him to you. Typical elementary shit, Nanami cringes to himself, watching as you look down at your feet with a pout. Now that confused him. He isn’t sure what your body language means at all, but patient as ever, Nanami only waits.

“Well,” you scratch your forehead, “I’m really flattered. I want to say yes because Satoru is a nice guy—”

“He is not. I do not respect him.”

You roll your eyes at the way his eyes darkens, “—but also I’m not sure if I should. I mean, Satoru doesn’t really date, you know? He’ll be with like one girl and be with another the next week. I just don’t want to…like, fall for that, I guess. Not that I won’t, because he’s totally not my type—”

“It’s just a yes or no,” Nanami cuts you off, his words coming out a lot harsher than he intends it to be. It’s not that he’s annoyed at your rambling, he actually finds it so adorable when you get so lost in your train of thoughts that your mind just travels from one place to another, and seeing how your eyes just leave farther from reality is something he’s always find such an attractive quirk, but not now – not when his infuriating co-worker is intending to mess with your feelings. “Do you want to go or not? Yes or no? It’s as simple as that.”

You blink back at him in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Nanami was a no-bullshit man who hit things right on the head, a huge contrast to your happy-go-lucky self, but he’s right.

It is that simple – and you’re complicating things all over again.

When you give him an answer, Nanami has to muster all his energy to not deflate. He’s tired – but now his exhaustion and even the heartbreak comes crashing down all over him that he’s immediately weighed down and overwhelmed – so much so that all he wants is to go home.

“Yes, I want to go.”

It’s his day off.

Like everything else in his life, Nanami plans everything down to the last minute of his day. His day off consisted of him having the privilege to sleep in until 8am, then breakfast with coffee from that great café a five minute walk away from his apartment, then he’ll be reading books in his study for two hours. Comes after that is lunch, and he’ll brows through some TV shows, pick up his clothes from the dry cleaning, get that special limited edition dinner of his favorite sushi, read books again and call it a day.

Simple, peaceful, no hassle – it’s the perfect day to relax.

Except it isn’t.

Because it’s your day off too, and you’re out on a date with Satoru. He still remembers how happy you looked then upon accepting the white haired man’s invitation, your nimble fingers wrapped around his sleeve as you shyly asked him to come with you.

He doesn’t know why you had to bring him, but he doesn’t question it, nonetheless. Nanami wants to see how Satoru would react, if there could be any indication from the man behind his blindfold that he had ill intentions. Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be any. Satoru only beamed and deflated into a chibi, enthusiastically nodding along with you while you planned your date together.

Nanami took it upon himself to leave.

With a silent scoff, Nanami placed his dinner down on the counter. Because it’s his day off – and mostly because he doesn’t feel like himself – Nanami went out to buy the limited edition sushi wearing a white shirt and some gray sweatpants, too forlorn and a little jealous to even bother dressing up.

It’s stupid, really. He’s been looking forward for this sushi for a long, long time, but now that he’s had it, he can’t even enjoy the taste. His mind keeps going back to you.

Were you having fun with Satoru? Were you enjoying your time? Was Satoru treating you well? What was Satoru’s intentions when it came with you? The last time Nanami checked, you and him got along really well and you’re mostly the one who whacks the taller man in the head upside down when he’s being stupid, almost like two peas in a pod, except you were the smarter one. He’d been so sure you’re nothing but friends and yet…it all lead to this.

Nanami pushes his sushi away. They no longer taste like anything, the texture like dried paper on his mouth. He wipes his lips with a napkin, staring longingly at well…nothing. His walls were plain and empty, and suddenly, Nanami can’t help but compare himself to Gojo.

You both planned to go to the local carnival. There’d be lots of foods and even parlor shops, ferris wheel rides and photo booths to create memories. Of course you and Satoru would go there; both of you enjoyed loud, bustling crowds, claiming there was something amazing about basking in the “lives of humans when ignorant of curses” while Nanami prefers his peace and silence.

Had you gone out on a date with him instead, Nanami can’t guarantee he’ll be any fun. He most definitely wouldn’t ask you to go to a carnival with him either. It was loud, cramped, crowded, and it’s too chaotic for him to ever enjoy your presence and enjoy it alone.

Nanami closes the sushi box, turns on the TV and lets is play on the background, a wet towel above his eyes to relax his tired eyes.

He hopes you’re having fun. He hopes Satoru is treating you well. Nanami just ignores the slight pain in his chest when he thinks of you, laughing and touching anyone but him, and he could picture it already. You’ve always been so open and welcoming to everyone, he knows you’ll have fun today, too.

That’s one of the things he finds most endearing about you – that your smile never fades and you never forget about the simple, little things in life to focus on to keep your sanity after facing curse after curse.

He’s fine, he tells himself. Satoru may be annoying, but he knows you could have fun with him, and you deserved to be happy more than anyone else.

Nanami is about to fall asleep on his couch when his phone vibrates on the coffee tables. Groaning, he flicks off the towel to his shoulders, grumbling about how Principal Yaga better be respecting his day off, but the last thing he expects to see is your contact name flashing on the screen. In the contact photo, you’re winking with a peace sign held above your head.

You look so utterly adorable Nanami just wants to kiss you. He remembers this photo was taken when Yuuji got bored and asked to play games on his phone. Upon finding that there was none – of course there was none – the strawberry-haired student opted for taking pictures of everyone instead. There’s one with Nobara growling, Megumi sipping his boba-tea with dead eyes as if he’s so done with the world, more than twenty pictures of Satoru flexing his muscles and posing like an idiot, and then there’s yours.

Nanami remembers staring at his phone for a solid minute, his gallery actually blessed with your face in it. The sun shines behind you on that photo and you’re absolutely shining. He thinks that’s when he truly fell in love.

And it just so happened the love of his life is calling, making his heart skip a beat because shouldn’t you be with Gojo? Why were you calling him? Did something wrong happen?

Nanami doesn’t waste another second before swiping the green icon, already standing up from the couch as he grabs his jacket. He had this weird inkling something is wrong, why else would you call him?

His theories are proven true when your voice comes out shaky. “H-hello?”

“Good evening,” he greets stiffly, brows furrowed as he listens in on the way you seem to be shuffling around. “Is there something wrong?”

“I, uhm,” he hears you sniffle through the other line, “Yeah, I guess there is…Satoru just texted he can’t come because Principal Yaga suddenly sent him to a mission overseas…and then I just realized that Satoru’s been summoned by the elders and he’s just refusing to show up, so now they cornered him, I guess… anyways, I’m talking too much and I don’t want to be a bother, but would you maybe…like to hang out with me?”

Nanami’s hand freezes on the doorknob. “Hang out…professionally?”

He immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead for that. Out of all things he could’ve said, he just had to utter something unintelligent. He hears you snicker in the background and Nanami’s ears redden.

He quickly regains his composure with a clear of his throat, suddenly remembering that Satoru’s ditched you, so now you’re asking him instead. It kind of feels like he’s just a replacement, but Nanami buries this feeling down before it consumes him, wondering if he’s already regretting changing into better clothes because he actually agreed to go to a carnival with you.

Upon hearing your happy, “Okay! I’ll wait for you then!”, Nanami realizes that he doesn’t actually mind. Especially not with you.

The carnival is loud.

Nanami dreads the moment he steps out of his car, his body swallowed by the bustling crowd and defeaning music of banging drums and clashing instruments. There’s a hundred scents everywhere – smoke, fish, glazed apples – he doesn’t know where to begin or how to focus.

He nearly turns back to his hair, about to shoot you a text that maybe this is beyond him after all. His head begins to spin when he’s only pushed deeper into the crowd, people bumping into him with every single second and it’s so suffocating. It doesn’t make sense to him how anyone could possibly go on a date like this and enjoy it. He knows for sure this chaos won’t let him enjoy his date’s presence because he’s too busy trying to get away from it all.

Nanami staggers for a bit when a strong hand tugs him to the side. Soon, he finds himself pressed flush against you in a tight corner, your hips warm on his. “Hi,” you breathe out airily, lashes fanning and fluttering in that same manner that always made his heart do complete flips.

“Hello,” he greets back with a small bow out of faux respect, but really, he’s just keeping his head down because you look so beautiful in that moment he doesn’t even know where to look. You’re warm and soft next to his hard and stiff muscles, the scent of roses and vanilla mixing in with the street smoke and Nanami’s head grows dizzy, his hand around yours tightening for comfort. “Y/N…I do not prefer this crowd. Can I take you back home instead? You must be tired – I’ll prepare dinner for you.”

Nanami blinks back in surprise when he sees you nod, a slight grimace on your face, and you practically bury your face in his bicep as you groan, “It’s too noisy for me too. Let’s just hang out at your place.”

So you end up in his immaculately clean apartment, admiring and staring at the boring furniture. Nanami changes into more comfortable clothes and whips out something to cook, not wanting to feed you measly take out when you’re probably famished. He watches with side glances as you pick up a photo of him with his parents when he was younger, cooing and giggling at the baby version of him.

“Nanamin, you’re so cute!”

Nanami scoffs and turns back to the heated water in the bowl, arms hard as they cross against his chest covered with an apron. “Please do not call me cute. I am anything but.”

“No, you’re really cute,” you insist, but after seeing Nanami’s flustered frown, you eventually give up and give the poor man a break. Later, you wobble next to him, watching with curious eyes and a small smile as he adds the vegetables into the soup, moving expertly as he diced up the onions to the side. The sheer focus and attention on his daily tasks makes him falter, and he suddenly finds it so hard to function now.

“Why are you staring at me? Is there something so interesting about slicing up onions?”

“No, not really,” you say absentmindedly, the slight plop of the ingredients echoing. “It’s just – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way. Domestic, I mean, but it looks good on you,” you nod to yourself, and Nanami finds himself struggling to act as if your presence wasn’t making him go crazy while he proceeds to cook. “In fact, everything looks good on you, and I find you really interesting!”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, assisting him silently with mixing the bowl even when he didn’t ask you to. Unaware that he’s now focused on you, watching you cook with him with you pressed up against his side, almost as if it’s right where you belong, Nanami feels the same with you. You also look good being this domestic with him, and he suddenly blurts out, “Would you like to stay with me? Like this?”

Your eyes slide over his in a slow fashion, slow enough that his brain hotwires at the fear maybe he’s said something wrong. But Nanami immediately swallows it down, huffing and turning away from you with that stoic expression again. “Forgive me. That was weird—”

“Why would it be weird?” you laughed to yourself before bumping your hips with his, “You’re the one who invited me here. Of course I want to stay.”

That’s…that’s not what he means.

Nanami is left staring openly at you while you help him set the table and you proceed to talk about how you didn’t really want to go to the carnival but Satoru insisted you’d have fun, so you went anyway even if you’d much prefer to be somewhere else. He’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your lips move and how you swing the house slippers on your big toe, your legs crossed on top of another and your figure slightly hunched across from him.

You look so comfortable and welcomed in his home that it puts him at ease too, not worried that he has to impress you anything because it’s you, and Nanami could actually be vulnerable enough to laugh with you over a bowl of vegetable soup.

It’s fine, he lies to himself again, it’s fine that you don’t know he likes you even if he tends to slip and be obvious sometimes. Because at least you’re with him in that moment, and he lies to himself again that it’s fine, that maybe next time he’ll tell you, but he doesn’t worry about. How could he worry about it when you’re snorting so loud over a lame joke he said that rice nearly came out your nose, and he’s so drunk over the sound of your bubbly laughter that something flutters deep within his belly?

When you help him wash the dishes and bask in the silence instead, comfortable over the lack of words and nothing but the sound of his faucet running and the slight rubbing of towels against dishes heard in the background, Nanami is unsure whether he’s glad that Satoru ditched you on your first date.

It doesn’t stop there.

Nanami only keeps falling in love with you more. He’s been doing a good job of keeping his feelings to himself because the last thing he wants is to have you stay away from him, but Satoru was really getting on his nerves.

He’s just come back from exorcising a curse when he sees you and Satoru play-wrestling in the field with the other students. Megumi is grumbling to himself in the corner, Yuuji is laughing and cheering on you to tackle down his sensei who’s currently going down in high-pitched laughter, Toge pumping his fists and screaming, “Salmon, salmon!”

It’s a chaotic sight – one that he usually doesn’t mind – until you finally pin Satoru down on the ground, your ass above his crotch. Satoru’s hands then come up to squeeze your ass and hips under the false pretense he’s struggling to push you off him, but Nanami knows better.

“Give up already!” you tease the other sorcerer who’s still wriggling underneath you, and Nanami sees it before it happens.

Satoru’s legs bend beneath you and he tries to pin you under him in quick movements, but Nanami is faster, his reflexes taking over. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Nanami tugs you and pulls you forward until you collide on his chest. He’s breathing hard, eyes narrowed at the arrogant smirk painted on Satoru’s features. Meanwhile, you’ve softened in Nanami’s grip, hands fisting his shirt that has him hardening up out of sheer protectiveness.

“Oh, Nanamin!” Satoru beams while wiping the dirt on his hands across his uniform, “Glad to see you here. You wanna join training too?”

“This is hardly training,” he retorts with a clenched jaw, “You’re harassing and disrespecting your fellow sorcerer because you can never keep your dirty hands to yourself,” before Satoru could defend himself, he’s already all over you, his hand tilting your chin side to side to check for any injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did this bastard do anything else?”

“No, not really—”

“Why do you care so much, Nanamin?” Satoru teases, and the students all huddle to watch the commotion. Everyone can feel the tension rising, and Nanami only stiffens up further when he feels you lean closer to his warmth almost absentmindedly. “She and I were just playing around, no hard feelings, no foul play. We’re just having fun, right, Y/N?”

“She is not someone you can just have fun with, Satoru. You’ve already crossed the line when you ditched her on your first date, and you didn’t even bother texting or calling back when I drove her home. It’s disrespectful, and she deserves better than that.”

“Nanami—”

“I was busy,” Satoru sighs dramatically, “And if she deserves better than me, then who would it be? I can take care her of her, you know, she and I have been besties for like what, a year now? I’ll be good to her,” he smirks, and Nanami wants nothing more than to punch him square in the jaw. “Besides, it’s not like she’s dating anyone else. She’s single and ready to mingle—”

“Maybe she is, but I’m not,” Nanami deadpans, his harsh tone shocking everyone.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you squeak under him, and Nanami falls silent. He’s never thought of confessing to you, especially not this way, and Nobara is biting Yuuji’s jacket behind them to muffle her squeals. Panda is clapping his hands and whispers oh, here we go, followed by Toge’s salmon salmon.

It dawns on him now that everyone knows he likes you after all, and now that he’s confronted with the situation, he can’t run away from it. Not that Nanami plans on running away, for he is a man and his pride doesn’t allow him to evade situations like this.

He just wishes it could’ve gone out better.

“Forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable,” Nanami releases his grip on you, loosening his tie that makes him feel like he’s choking both on air and his words. Through his cool stature, he’s actually sweating inside his clothes, and it doesn’t help you’re patient with him too, head tilted to the side curiously and so horribly cutely he might combust. “But I have always been, and I still am, utterly in love with you.”

Nobara and Yuuji no longer hold back as they scream to themselves, the former slapping the latter in his back while Megumi only shakes his head, muttering “about time,” under his breath. Maki snickers to herself and Satoru is stunned, but it’s nothing compared to the way you shrink under his gaze for a moment.

He believes you’re going to run away from him because of his blatant confession; it wasn’t romantic at all, and the kids are still screaming too loudly for him to form coherent thoughts.

Nanami begins to form a deep bow, ready to apologize wholeheartedly and to politely ask you to forget this if you wish – he would respect your decision. But just as his gaze met the ground, he’s thrown off balance as you jump on him, soft glossy lips crashing into his.

The screams and cheers of everyone are suddenly drowned out when he feels your lips molding onto his, and he can feel you smiling happily, giggling while his hands tentatively run down your hips to hold you close. It’s unprofessional, displeasing, and downright horrendous to be kissing someone during work hours while the students are watching, especially because his clothes are crumpled from your eager touch and you’re on top of his chest, but Nanami absolutely doesn’t give a single fuck because he’s kissing you back fervently.

It’s what he’s always wanted – you’re the one he’s always wanted, and now that he has you in his hold, he’s not easily letting you go.

“See? I told you guys,” Satoru proudly puffs his chest up in the background, “All Nanamin needs is a little push.”

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

only two pictures of sakusa kiyoomi smiling exist on the internet.

the other three hundred live on your phone.

“twenty-five.”

“is one-fourth of a hundred,” he immediately replies, looking up from the video of his last match against the adlers. the slightest smirk on his face challenges you to go on. you play this game every year: he pretends not to know or care that he has a birthday at all, and you have to remind him that despite what the tabloids say, he is, in fact, an aging human (like everyone else).

grinning, you plop down beside him on the sofa and are immediately pulled closer to his side. “it’s your birthday, doofus.”

“really?” sakusa’s brows raise in mock surprise. “i had no idea.”

“shut up,” you laugh, giving him a light shove. naturally, he doesn’t budge – but a short and quiet laugh leaves his lips. “anyway, it’s time to pick your yearly instagram tribute.” the album, appropriately titled “omi :)” opens on your phone, revealing photo after photo of sakusa’s pearly whites (on a hiking trail on mount fuji, in a hotel room in paris, in the kitchen baking brownies…).

he sighs but the skin by his eyes crease ever-so-slightly. “can’t you pick for me?” though he’s never been a fan of having his face shown back to him, sakusa’s gotten used to the fact that you usually get what you want. (and that, maybe, he is kind of good-looking.)

“what if you don’t like that photo?”

“i don’t care.”

you study him skeptically. “i don’t believe you. sakusa kiyoomi? mister ‘can-you-make-that-black-and-white’? mister ‘no-face-pics-on-instagram’? mister –”

he laughs and covers your mouth with his hand. “that’s just my... what’s that word you always use? aesthetic.” the grin on his face doesn’t disappear even when you pry his long fingers off your face.

“i have nothing to say except that you need to choose a picture for your birthday post… or else i’ll have the team decide for you at dinner later.”

it’s not that the rest of the msby black jackals are out to embarrass him every chance they get (though that may be the case for a certain blond setter) – it’s just that they all, with the exception of his captain, have a terrible eye for style. hinata still uses instagram filters, for god’s sake. grimacing, sakusa shifts to let you show him your album.

none of the photos pique his interest – not even the one where he’s two thousand feet above the ground in a hot air balloon (which you were almost certain he’d pick). sure, he looks good enough in most of them, but they’re nothing post-worthy. he’s gotten four tributes with the same kinds of photos from you and he can’t just let you post anything time time around.

noticing the tension on his face, you give your boyfriend a soft nudge. “what’s up?”

“i don’t like any of these,” he admits, running a hand through his curly hair.

“hmm? why? do you not want to post this year?”

“no, of course not,” sakusa interrupts. “i really don’t mind. never did. i’m… thinking.” the living room is silent as he thinks and you watch his expression for any clues to his thoughts. one of sakuksa’s best and worst traits is his poker face and even you still struggle to fully read through it. suddenly, he sits up and unlocks his phone, opening up his camera roll.

and in his ‘favorites’ album, he finds what he’s looking for.

“this one," sakusa says firmly. he looks over at you and chuckles. it’s still a picture of him smiling. it’s not the best quality and he’s certain it’s a screenshot from a video that one of his teammates took months ago, but this one’s special. this photo has you in it. you’re on a yacht in the mediterranean, kissing his unmasked cheek as the sun sets behind you and he’s grinning so widely that he’s almost unrecognizable. god, look what you did to him. he’s a mess – a smiling mess. “post this one.”

there’s no better mess to be.

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa kyoomi x reader #sakusa fluff

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pingutats · 3 years ago

Note

i just had such a good request for a fic. dom/sub dynamic with dom!harry where y/n is being spanked for misbehavior and she ends up crying during it because she feels like she deserves to be hurt, and harry stops immediately and there’s a lot of fluffy aftercare and physical affection

thank you for the request!! i know it took me a million years to get to writing this but finally did it... i know it strays a little bit from all the details of your request but i hope you enjoy regardless!

warnings: spanking, dom/sub dynamic, descriptions of anxiety (maybe don’t read if you’re in a weird headspace, it’s not exactly pleasant!)

word count: 1.7k

. . . . .

As soon as Y/N hears Harry’s car in the driveway, she dashes from the kitchen to the front door like a kid that’s heard an ice-cream van. After the day of work at home she’s had, of redoing paperwork she’d messed up the first time and struggling through technical issues and communication errors over email—she just needs Harry so badly.

In fact, she’d texted him earlier to let him know. Quite blatantly. With a photo she prays he opened when there was nobody else around.

When Y/N opens the door for him he freezes, taking in her appearance. She’s wearing just panties and one of his shirts, her bare legs completely on display for him. His gaze sweeps up and down her body for a second, then he swears under his breath and strides in quickly. Y/N jumps back to give him room, waiting a few feet ahead in the hallway.

He shuts the door with his arm swinging back behind him, not even glancing over his shoulder to watch it close.

There’s a second of silence as they stare each other down, and it’s in this second that Y/N feels them slip into the roles of the game she’s been wanting to play all day. His eyes go from wide in shock to steady. Her head bows almost of its own accord, responding to the straightening of Harry’s shoulders after he drops his bag.

He inhales sharply through his nose and drops his keys into the bowl on the bench. “You’ve been doing this on purpose, darling,” he says in a measured tone. It isn’t a question. He won’t be asking questions now—she won’t have to think, she can just listen to him, let him take over now.

She plays with the bottom of his t-shirt that she’s wearing, pulling it up enough to reveal the slightly paler skin where her shorts would usually cover.

Harry’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Come here,” he says, beckoning her over.

She considers refusing, just to be a brat, but it’s a lot easier to just go along with him now she’s getting what she wanted. She twists her hands in the t-shirt in front of her as she approaches him, averting her eyes from his as he watches her, suddenly vulnerable under his gaze.

When she’s close enough, he reaches out and grabs her wrists to yank her grip on the shirt free, pulling her off balance so the only thing that stops her falling flat on her face is his arms. She tries to relax into his grip, tries to let herself go.

“Been so fucking needy today. That photo — nearly had me getting hard in the studio right in front of everyone, love,” he says, squeezing her wrists almost painfully. “And look how you answer the door, nearly naked for anyone walking on the street to see.” He shakes his head, clicking his tongue condescendingly. “Do you want to apologise for anything?”

She looks at him, pretends to think, and then shakes her head.

He sighs. “Of course not, you little brat.” His grip loosens. “Alright then. Go upstairs for me.”

She blinks at him.

“I’ll be up in a minute. Go on.” He spins her around and nudges her towards the stairs with a gentle push.

She glances over her shoulder at him before she goes and he only raises his eyebrows expectantly. She’s almost tempted to pull the back of the t-shirt down over her ass to cover herself, but that wouldn’t get her what she needs, and what she needs is Harry to take care of her—so she keeps her head bowed as she walks up the stairs, adding a little swing in her hips with each step just as the icing on the cake. She smiles when she hears his deep inhale from the hallway as he watches her the whole time.

Upstairs, she sits on the end of their bed with her hands in her lap, scratching at days-old nail polish she’ll need to redo soon. There’s a knot in her stomach that’s been twisting all day, stresses piling up and morphing into some ugly feeling she can’t shake, not without Harry’s help. She manages to peel all the bright pink colour off her left thumbnail while she waits.

It seems like forever before she hears Harry’s footsteps up the stairs but when she does, she straightens up. The sound of the door opening makes her jump in nervous shock. She flexes her fingers, trying to calm her jitters. It’s Harry. She needs him.

“Being such a brat today,” he says when he’s finally in front of her. “Aren’t you? Don’t know how to behave.” He sits beside her, squishing her cheeks with his thumb and forefinger. “Need me to teach you a lesson, hm?”

She nods at him, eyes moony. Yes, this is what she wants, needs from him—to let him take over for a little while, let him take out his frustration on her, help her let go of her own.

His grip softens a bit. “This okay, baby?” he asks more quietly.

She swallows. “Yeah.”

He leans forward and gives her a quick kiss. She feels like melting against the softness of his lips, pressing against her own, the mouth she knows so well. It’s a comfort in the mess that her mind is feeling like right now.

But he isn’t so gentle as he drags her over his lap a moment later, her face roughly pushed down into the mattress. His hand squeezes her ass, only barely covered by her panties, and her breath hitches.

“Count for me.”

“Yes sir,” she breathes, closing her eyes.

Her exhale is cut short by the force of his palm cracking against her skin, jolting her forward over his lap. The sting dissipates quickly, taking none of the tension inside her with it.

“One,” she says.

“Good girl.” His hand comes down on her again, harder this time.

She screws her eyes shut. “Two.”

It isn’t feeling like how she wants it to feel. She’s too tense, restless, her mind unwilling to float away under Harry’s touch. The pain, which usually is laced with something brilliant and exciting, is just pain today. But with all the mistakes she’s made today, all the things she messed up that have just added to her workload and her stress—maybe this is what she deserves. Punishments are called that for a reason.

So she stays where she is, her head lowered so Harry won’t see anything wrong. She gasps at the third, and it takes her a second to remember she needs to count. “Three,” she says, her voice shuddering.

Harry pauses and she fears she’s made him upset, spoken too quietly, taken too long—she can’t do anything right.

“Love,” he says. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder gently. “Are those good tears or bad tears?”

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment and in the pause, realises her cheeks are wet. “Um,” she says. Her voice shakes.

Harry’s arm snakes underneath her and pulls her up, manoeuvring her so she straddles his lap and he can see her face. The crease between his brows is deep as his eyes dart over her face, his thumb coming to her cheek to brush a tear away.

She leans her head into his palm that was cracking down onto her skin just a minute ago and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“What happened? When did it change?” he asks, his voice soft again, his character leaving.

She shrugs. She doesn’t trust herself to speak without crying more, and she feels stupid enough already.

“It’s alright, love,” he says, shifting so he can sit up straighter and pull her closer to his chest. He rubs her back, kissing her hair. “Let’s just rest for a moment, alright?”

She nods into his shoulder, hiding her face. His hand cradles the back of her head. The panic that she was feeling is dissolving into nothing. All day she felt so tense with so much twisting inside her, and she’d thought she could force it out painfully—she was wrong, of course, and now she feels awful for roping Harry into her misguided attempt to fix herself.

After a couple minutes, Harry taps her to get her to look up at him. “Why’d you want a punishment today?” he asks, without accusation.

She shrugs, raising her shoulders as high as she can and then letting them drop sharply. “Just felt like I needed it.”

He nods. He understands that sometimes she feels like this—needs to lose herself in playing a role for an evening, forget about real life and its responsibilities—because he knows the feeling too. She’s helped him in this way before. They take it in turns: give each other what they need, when they need it. “Wasn’t helpful today, though?” he prompts, his eyebrows raised sympathetically.

She shakes her head, looking sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” he says. He smiles a little bit and a shallow dimple appears in his cheek. “That’s fine. It’s just a game. We play it whenever you want to, we stop playing when you’re not enjoying it. That’s important, alright?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Sorry.”

“Need to stop apologising, baby,” he tells her. “Just keep talking to me. I don’t want to hurt you.” He kisses her cheek and the gesture raises butterflies in her stomach, even still after all the months they’ve been together. It reminds her that he’s there for her, to look after her, to take care of her when she can’t do it for herself. His lips stay close to her skin as he asks, “How can I help, though, really?”

She buries her face back into his shoulder. “Dunno,” she says, her voice muffled. “Just need you.”

She feels his chin gently knock against the top of her head as he nods, his arms tightening around her again. “You’ve got me, baby. Always got me.”

. . . . .

thank you for reading! if you did like it, a reblog would be really appreciated as well as any feedback/comments you might have! you can find more of my writing on my masterlist.

#harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #fic

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talesofarcadia78 · 3 years ago

Text

Our Time || One shot

Summary: Douxie’s remembering the good old times.

Warnings: angst, mention of character death, that's it I think?

Word count: 1,735

Everything was set. The lanterns were hung up on the trees nearby, providing light to Douxie for the night. The campfire was crackling just a couple of feet away from the round dining table and chairs that Douxie had set up not too long ago. The plates were also ready on the table, waiting to be filled with food.

Douxie magicked up a bouquet of roses, and placed them in the vase that was in the middle of the table.

Suddenly, he heard a twig snap behind him. He quickly spun around, staff and bracelet ready, only to see Archie looking up at him in his cat form.

"You seriously thought that I was danger?" Archie questioned with an eyebrow raised.

Douxie magicked his staff away and deactivated his bracelet, "Hehe… yes."

Archie rolled his eyes at his familiar's response, "Do you not remember that you put a ward around this whole area?"

Douxie just shrugged and went back to doing last minute preparations.

After a few minutes of silence, Archie cleared his throat to gain Douxie's attention.

"Yes, Arch?" Douxie asked, turning his gaze to the cat.

Archie pointed to the two figures in the distance heading towards them.

Douxie's eyes widened at how time flew by quickly. He didn't even have time to get changed!

He quickly got behind a tree and used a spell he had recently learned, and changed into a black dress shirt (sleeves rolled up of course), black pants and shoes, keeping his signature skull necklace.

He stepped out from the tree to see Archie fly away. His eyes wandered around until they landed on both you and Jim getting closer. You were wearing a stunning black A-line lace dress that went down to your knees with half laced sleeves and beige heels.

You were blindfolded as Douxie had requested Jim to do to you so you had a surprise.

Douxie could hear you complain to Jim how you didn't like being blindfolded. Jim just rolled his eyes at your antics and told you that all would be revealed in a matter of moments.

Douxie walked up to you two siblings and took you from Jim.

"Thank you, Jim. I'll take her from here," Douxie smiled and took your shoulders.

"No problem, Doux! Tell me the end result!" Jim waved and walked off.

"Douxie, where in the world am I?" you asked.

"Shhh. Be patient, love. All will be revealed," Douxie reassured.

After a few moments, the blindfold on your eyes was taken off.

You took in your surroundings. The trees were decorated with lanterns, a dining table was set and a campfire was already lit. Everything was beautiful.

You spun around to see Douxie holding out a rose for you to take, which you, without a doubt, accepted.

"Shall we, m'lady?" Douxie inquired, holding his arm out.

You nodded and you let him take you to the table.

~~~~~

Douxie had prepared f/f for dinner, and for dessert, an apple pie.

Now, the two of you were quietly sitting on a blanket at the campfire, leaning on each other.

"Love?" Douxie asked.

You hummed in response, letting him know he had your attention.

"Remember the first time we met? I had spilled a drink on the ground in the cafe and you rushed to help," Douxie remembered.

"Yeah," you nodded, memories flooding back.

~~~~~

You anxiously tapped your feet on the ground, waiting for your order to arrive.

You were in a big rush.

Mom had called to tell you that Jim was in the hospital. You knew that he was the Trollhunter, so he had gotten a lot of injuries, though, he didn't need to go to the hospital to get them treated, so you knew that this was serious.

Abruptly, you heard a crash from behind you. You turned around to see a drink had spilled all over the floor. The waiter was already on his knees, trying to clean it up.

You got up from your seat and ran over to help him. You kneeled in front of the guy to hear him faintly say, "Fuzzbuckets". You saw a faint sky blue spark come from his hand.

A wizard.

You placed a hand on his arm, making him look up into your e/c eyes. You mouthed ‘no’ and shook your head, telling him not to perform the spell. He stopped and sighed before cleaning up the mess the old fashioned way with your help.

After helping him, you returned to your seat.

Just when you were about to leave, getting fed up of the wait, the same waiter you had helped rushed up to you, order in hand.

"Hey! You were the one who helped me with the spill a couple of minutes ago, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," you nodded and then added quietly, "And the one who stopped you from using magic as a shortcut."

You smiled and took your order from him. You headed out but got stopped by the same guy.

"Hey, I never got your name. I'm Hisirdoux Casperan, but you can call me Douxie," Douxie winked and held out his hand for a handshake.

"Y/n, Y/n Lake," you replied, shaking his hand. "I'm really sorry, but I really need to go."

He nodded understandingly and waved goodbye.

As you walked to the hospital, you opened the bag that had your food in it, as well as a note. You took it out and read it:

Hey, stranger, who I probably got the name of!

I was wondering if you would grab a bite with me tomorrow at the cafe. 4 pm sharp.

Don't be late.

Yours truly,

Hisirdoux Casperan.

You smiled. You had finally found a fellow magic wielder.

~~~~~

"Then, the time when Jim got a bit overprotective of you when you were at the bookstore."

"A bit?"

"Okay, extremely overprotective of you."

~~~~~

The sun was shining high in the sky, your hair moving along with the gentle breeze, and a nice cup of coffee in your hands while you and Jim made your way to GDT Arcane Books.

Jim opened the door to reveal Archie, Douxie's familiar lying on the ground near the fireplace.

"Hey, Archie!" you greeted.

"Hello," Archie called.

You turned your attention away from the cat and to Jim, who was looking around in suspicion.

"Jim, what is it now?" you asked, placing your hand on your brother's shoulder.

"It's just… why does this store seem so… magical?" Jim inquired.

"Because a magical being owns the bookstore," you replied.

Jim nodded in response.

"Hello!" a new voice spoke.

You turned around to see Douxie coming out of the back. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jim's gaze harden at the sight of the wizard. He pulled you a bit closer to him.

Overprotective brother mode switched on.

"Hey, Doux. Did you call us in for some help?" you inquired.

"Yep! There's only so much a 900 year old wizard can do by himself," Douxie nodded.

Douxie told you and Jim what he needed help with.

Jim was sent off to get some supplies from around town, to his dismay. He wanted to keep an eye on you and Douxie, but alas, he had to go shopping.

Before Jim had left, you heard him send a death threat to Douxie.

"Don't do anything funny with my sister, Casperan. I won't hesitate to slice your head off with Daylight."

Your eyes widened. You knew Jim didn't like Douxie, but you didn't know that he hated him so much to actually threatened him.

Geez. He's way too overprotective.

You made your way over to Douxie as soon as Jim left the store.

"Don't mind him. He's just overprotective," you told Douxie.

"Uh-huh," Douxie nodded slowly.

~~~~~

"We know each other so well, made so many wonderful memories, we've spent so much time together," Douxie sighed. "And I want to spend more time with you."

You turned your head towards him, silently asking him to elaborate.

Douxie moved away and got up. He lent you his hand, which you accepted and followed suit. He took a deep breath and got down on one knee.

"Y/n, love, we've been through so much together. Good and bad. Sad and happy. And I'll continue to. You made me the most happiest man when you became my girlfriend and I thought I couldn't be any happier. But today may prove me wrong," Douxie expressed.

You gasped and clasped your hand over your mouth as Douxie took out a golden ring with embroidery and held it out.

"Y/n Lake… make me the happiest man in the world. Will you marry me?"

You had tears in your eyes at this point. Douxie looked at you with hope, love, admiration, and so much more as he waited for your answer.

"Yes."

Douxie's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning, and quickly got up. He grabbed your waist and brought you close. He leaned down and softly kissed you as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

~~~~~

Douxie stared at the photo of you two on your wedding day. You were wearing a short lace white dress and beige ankle strap heels and Douxie was wearing a white dress shirt, black tuxedo, black tie, black pants and a rose attached on the left as you two stood in front of each other, hand in hand while Douxie was kissing your forehead.

Douxie placed the photo back and glanced down at his wedding ring. It was simple, a silver band with swirl embroidery as you had the same, but gold. He remembered the feeling of your hand in his. Your giggling. Everything. But alas, ever since you had passed in battle, he couldn't seem to bring any of those memories back.

Tears formed in Douxie's eyes as he remembered the good times.

Suddenly, the door opened to reveal Jim and Claire.

"Hey, Teach. What were you--" Claire started before she noticed the tears streaming down his face.

Douxie wasn't going to cry but as soon as he saw the wedded couple, he couldn't help himself.

Jim and Claire rushed over to Douxie and enveloped the wizard in a hug, attempting to comfort him. He sobbed into Jim's chest as Jim ran his hand through his hair and Claire rubbing Douxie's back.

Nothing was going to be the same without you.

144 notes · View notes

oro-e-diamanti · 3 years ago

Text

Quiet Music: Leggiero (Chapter Three)

aIn collaboration with @bethanysnow

Small touches, looks, and wine-soaked daydreams lead to whispered conversations on balconies' edge. Put out cigarettes in the middle of the night. Let lips touch as palms do - eventually...

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word count | 7111

Tag list | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitermoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @dacey0eg @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @bidet-and-legolas @ginny-lily

***

The bus rumbled underneath Damiano as he turned around in his bunk, the humming of the vehicle drowning out the clatter and chatter of his bandmates in the background. His head was pounding, but less because of the little alcohol he had consumed the night before and more because of the thoughts that had kept him up all night. This morning, he had made sure to be up before Y/n would come around for her wake up call, got ready and then all but crawled into the bunk on his bus for more sleep. They would play a gig in the evening, but for now he was thankful for the 6-hour drive to Oslo with nothing to do.

He could almost feel himself drifting off, body tired out and mind exhausted, but instead all that he saw when he closed his eyes were scenes from last night.

The room was filled with laughter. Music and Vic’s singing, as Damiano let himself fall onto the bed next to Y/n. She looked gorgeous, hair down, relaxing, a champagne flute in her hand and a slight smile on her face. Even though he knew she’d be worrying about what Thomas was doing to the room and how she was going to get them out of bed the next morning. But mostly she was just gorgeous and he told her so.

His hand reached out before the contemplation of this action had been finished in his brain. The adrenaline from the first show of the tour had him flying, soaring, and there was nothing that could possibly bring him down. Her eyes showed surprise but she didn’t pull away as he put a strand of her hand behind her ear. The gesture was small but Damiano felt like he was on fire, briefly stroking the soft skin under his fingers before pulling back.

He found himself babbling about his hair, but he was much more interested in what she had to say. He wished she would talk about herself more often - so much of his personality was so out there, so much information about himself was literally out there, in magazines and interviews and photos, but she had her walls up, even when they were joking, even when she seemed to be talking freely.

“You’re getting more interesting with every second I’m around you, you know?” The words slipped out of his mouth so easily. She went over it just as easily. Did she not care? Did she not find him interesting? He had hoped for some sort of reply or reaction, but she just continued talking. Maybe she wasn’t interested in him… His brain only allowed the thought for a minute. No, he told himself, she simply was this way. Cool, calm, collected. He was sure he would be able to get her out of her shell further one of these days. He wasn’t going to stop trying.

Next thing he knew, she had thrust her phone into his hand, some picture of her from years ago. He didn’t care much about the outfit or the makeup or the questionable hair, it was her smile that drew him in. There was something carefree about it, something unabashedly confident, something she seemed to have lost since then. There was no way back for him he realised in that moment - it might as well have been this woman or no other ever again.

Next thing he knew, he was complimenting her again, calling her darling, but this time he didn’t have to wait long for a reaction. The drink that had been in her mouth just a second ago was now spluttered on her clothes and some of the bedding. He was about to ask her if she was alright, but she had jumped up from the bed, hands trying to hide her reddening face, and dashed to the bathroom.

Fuck, what happened?

“Damiano! What did you do to the poor girl!” Vic shouted in amusement from across the room. He simply waved it off. He wasn’t actually sure what he had done and it bothered him more than he would like to admit - especially in front of his bandmates. Maybe he had come on too strong, tried too hard, had made it awkward. His plan had been to pay her compliments - not scare her away with them. He would have to reconsider his course of action.

When she came back, it was only to say a quick goodnight, waving and leaving. She only spared him a brief glance, no smile or any reassurance that they were fine.

It had not stopped going through his mind. This morning, she had pretended like nothing had happened, but he knew she had been avoiding his gaze and her smiles didn’t seem quite as genuine as they did before. Damiano let out a low groan into his pillow. This was a mess and a half.

The curtain of his bunk was drawn back harshly, revealing Ethan’s face.

“Why would you scare me like that!” Damiano complained. “I could be jacking off in here!”

“Well, I want to assume you wouldn’t do that in a semi-public space such as this,” Ethan replied with contemplation on his face.

“What do you want anyway?”

“Victoria sent me and told me to tell you, I quote,” Ethan cleared his throat. “‘Stop moping, Damiano, it’s no fun'. So, there you go.”

Without another word, Ethan turned back around, leaving the curtain open, and walked back into the kitchenette of the bus. Out of the corner of his eye, Damiano could see him stealing a bit of fruit from the fruit bowl. He felt no motivation to join them.

***

“He alright?” Y/n whispered to Thomas, who was sitting close to her, guitar on his lap. He just shrugged. Ethan rejoined the group with an unreadable expression on his face, sitting down next to Victoria. Y/n shot him another concerned look, but he simply shrugged as well. She shook her head and got up from her spot, walking over to the counter to make breakfast for everyone. Getting out the waffle maker. Putting the Moka pot on the stove and filling it with water. Too early in the morning for rock and roll. In the background, she could hear the band discussing rehearsals and the show in Oslo.

As soon as the smell of food hit the three bandmates, they were all over Y/n, hovering around the little kitchenette, pushing and shoving each other to be first. Y/n looked at all of them in turn. Thomas was currently standing on the couch, raising his hand to smack an unsuspecting Vic who was looking the other way. A single raised brow from Y/n got him back down onto the ground.

“Hey! I’m older, I go first!” Victoria pushed Thomas back.

“Maybe, but it still took your mum nine months to think of a good joke,” Thomas retorted.

Ethan turned around, chuckling at his friends’ banter - but Y/n’s reaction was far more blatant. She started to laugh, a loud, almost cackle that the band had never heard before. Her smile easily reached her eyes and she gave a little applause at Thomas’ joke. “I- I;” she gasped in between laughs, “I know it’s not that funny but it just got me, sorry!” Finally managing to bite her tongue, she went back to serving breakfast.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw Damiano leaning so far out of his bunk to find out where the sounds and the laughter were coming from. The driver though couldn’t have known it was a bad moment to go over a pothole. With a loud thud, Damiano crashed out from his bunk and onto the hard floor. Chili, excited at the prospect of being able to reach him, ran over to lick his face.

“Eh! Chili, hi. Vic! Come get your dog!” He groaned, picking up the golden fluff and sending it back to her owner. She trotted away happily, over towards Victoria, who was a giggling mess after seeing her friend’s fall. He rolled his eyes at her grin.

“You gonna come join us, sleepy boy? I made coffee,” Y/n said, still trying to keep the peace between everyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, she walked over to Damiano and bent down, handing him the beverage. “I don’t really care if you want to spend the entire day on the floor, but I think your fans might tonight. So come join the party, hm?” Her voice was soft and enticing. Damiano’s eyes sparkled at her invitation. But still, his face was burning red. He sighed and nodded.

Y/n stepped back, taking the cup after he had taken a long sip, and reached her hand out to him. With a swift movement, Damiano was back up on his feet, immediately losing his balance and crashing into Y/n’s shoulder. More blushing on his part. He had not been expecting this amount of strength from her. Not caring about his little bump into her, she dusted him off, picking some fuzz out of his hair, her hand so close to his face, yet so far. She handed him the coffee once again and gave him a smile, before going back to her little corner on the bus as everyone devoured their breakfast.

Damiano watched as she tidied up after everyone had finished, constantly making sure what was effectively their home during tour would stay homely. She always looked like she belonged, and he admired her for that. After one last wipe down of the counter, she quickly addressed everyone on the bus, asking if she was needed for anything else right now, and after a round of head-shaking from everyone, she grabbed her laptop and retired to a quiet corner on the bus. It was only when she briefly looked up to find his eyes and gave a slight smile that he realised he was still watching her every move. Embarrassing, he scolded himself.

Damiano started fumbling for his bag, grabbing a notebook and a pen. He had too many thoughts running around in his head, too many images and ideas about Y/n, and he felt like the only way to get rid of them was to write. Maybe he’d even be able to make something out of it. Anything would be better than staring and dreaming about her anyway.

***

Two more hours until Oslo. With a heavy sigh, Y/n pushed the laptop away from her, neck cracking as she finally moved her bones a little. Suddenly, a pair of hands came down onto her shoulders. She only flinched for a moment before she realised it was Damiano, slowly starting to massage her tense flesh. Her head fell forward and she waved her hand to have him keep going. His fingertips digging into hours of uni work, work work, other work. Tension all living in her neck being slowly worked away by the singer.

"I'm not gonna turn down a free massage," she chuckled, feeling his talented fingers remove knot after knot. Then, suddenly, they became softer. She could hear Thomas in the background shouting something at Damiano. Taking his attention away from her, and all it left was soft fingertips on the sensitive skin on her neck. Dancing along and leaving goosebumps in their wake without him even knowing what he was doing to her. She shivered under such a light touch. A groan left her lips as she was falling deeper under his spell. At this point, she didn’t care. A very pretty man was smoothing his hands over her neck and shoulders and it was nothing short of lovely. Normally this wouldn’t be on Y/n's top list of things she would allow - but a 6-hour bus ride and sitting in one place for most of it was a killer.

I could fall asleep like this - fuck…

She was snapped back to reality when she realised that Damiano was once again staring at her screen, asking what she was working on, hands never moving from their position. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to concentrate like this.

“Oh, I’ve, um,” she awkwardly fumbled with the laptop, “I’ve been trying to memorise this sonnet. I’m doing a course on Shakespeare this semester and we’ve been told to pick our favourite by him and I think I finally decided on mine. It’s Sonnet 128 - um. One of the only sonnets to give you an actual scene in place. It’s from the perspective of this guy watching a bard and just craving to be touched, used, kissed by this person. To have the same sort of attentive mastery be directed at him instead of the player’s instrument. Describing the person listening to this bard play… Wait, would you just like me to read it to you?” Y/n looked up at Damiano. He nodded as he slid into the seat beside her. She moved the laptop so she could see its screen still and began to speak.

***

Sitting next to her wasn’t as bad as Damiano thought. After working on her neck and shoulders, her perfume had rubbed off onto his skin. Light and warm, not super floral, but he didn’t peg Y/n to be a flower kind of woman anyway. Looking at her face now, he noticed things he hadn’t seen before. Faint freckles, little lines around her eyes, the pink tint on her lips. Her hair was done up again in a bun. He could see a couple of bobby pins trying to hide in her wild hair. Then she started to recite the piece and his chest was exploding. He felt as if he was watching winter melt away and spring come.

“How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st”

Oh, what he would do to be her muse, Damiano thought. Her voice, low and soft, was like music itself to him, never mind the way her eyes lit up at the words she repeated from the screen. A little light inside of her, one he hadn’t encountered before.

“Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway’st”

Her fingers were just as sweet, his mind piped up as he tried to listen to her more closely. Some light polish on her nails that he hadn’t noticed before, but now that she was scrolling through the laptop, it was like he couldn’t keep his eyes off them. Quickly exploring images of them tangled in his hair, scratching down his back ever so slightly. Stop, he told in his own head in vain. Just stop and listen, for once. Yet the ideas of her he had hidden away kept demanding attention.

“The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,

Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap

To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,”

He tried so hard to concentrate. To listen, to take in the words she was reciting, to grasp their meaning and what they meant to her, but it was hard, getting harder. In an uncalculated move on his part, his arm swung around her shoulders, not pulling her closer, just letting her know he was there, right now, right here, with her. His hand resting on her upper arms, feeling the warmth underneath the fabric of her blouse.

“Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,

At the wood’s boldness by thee blushing stand!”

His eyes travelled up from her fingers, over her soft and curvy figure, her delicate neck, to her blushing face. She was blushing an awful lot with him and he had not yet figured out completely if this was a good sign or not. Either way, he thought she looked adorable, a natural pink on her cheeks. Slightly restless eye movements that didn’t match up to the words she was reading, a certain nervousness overtaking her. He wanted to make her blush like that for the rest of his life if he could. He silently wondered if she would blush that much if… if it was just the two of them, alone in some random hotel room, a whole world of exploration before them.

“To be so tickled, they would change their state

And situation with those dancing chips,

O’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,

Making dead wood more blest than living lips.”

His eyes betrayed him, flicking down to her lips as soon as she said the word. Soft, a light tint on them, pronouncing every syllable in the most mindful way. He wondered if she would let him kiss her. What. His brain flickered between two emotions. Yes, yes, yes. He would give everything to feel her sweet mouth on his, getting her close, inhaling her scent, pouring his every thought into a kiss. No. What was he thinking? She was their assistant. Strong, gorgeous, fiercely independent, and surely not interested. Right? He couldn’t help wondering. Would she let him kiss her? Would she want him to? Had she thought about it, the way he was right now?

“Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,

Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.”

Their eyes met and Damiano hadn’t even noticed how much closer he had edged towards her. It would only take a little bit, one more breather, a tiny motion, to put his lips on her, to feel what she was feeling, and the way she looked at him had him craving, obsessing and he almost dared himself to do it, when a voice pulled him out of his thoughts, pulled him away from her.

“Y/N! I don’t understand how the waffle maker works!”

Damiano had never wanted to kill his bandmate more than at that moment. With a groan he turned around, seeing Thomas fumble with the appliances in their little kitchen area, a dumbstruck look on his face, and puppy dog eyes pleading Y/n for help. She only gave a low chuckle, before getting up and walking over to the guitarist, leaving Damiano with a head full of thoughts that all circled around her.

***

That was close, Jesus Christ! My face is so warm… how are his eyes that pretty? How have I never noticed that before? I wonder if he was thinking about the same thing as I was back there…

***

The crowd was roaring out by the main stage. Crew held their places waiting for the queue to go. The band stood off stage trying to sneak a peek at the audience. Hundreds more people than they were expecting. Y/n sat in a metal chair that was dubbed ‘her chair’ so she could watch the performance from behind the main curtain to cheer the band on without being seen. The lights in the main room were being lowered, the playlist that had been on in the background slowly being turned off, as the noise of the audience got impossibly louder. The band was getting nervous now, the good kind of nervous. Thomas jumping around to get his energy levels up before they would get the sign to get on stage. Y/n smiled at them in turn, returning a little wave Ethan was giving her. Just as they were given the go-ahead, and all of them started to jog on stage, Damiano took a little detour, sending her a smile that would set all the butterflies free in her stomach, before pressing a little kiss to her forehead. He was gone before she had a chance to react. Yet, she froze. Damiano looked back and it was the most perplexed, confused, and adorable expression he had ever seen on her.

It was an expression Damiano couldn’t get out of his head for the rest of the concert, even long after she had lost it - and he knew she had because he couldn’t keep himself from looking over at her every now and again. He was fascinated by the way she watched them.

And if she was watching? Well, then he was going to put on a show.

He pulled all the tricks he knew - well those that were fitted to the situation and venue. During one of their songs, he decided to pull his favourite one. With a low grunt, he ripped his shirt apart, throwing it across the stage, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Until he looked over to where his top had landed and his eyes fell onto Y/n, standing beside the stage, now with a performance-rich torn tank top on her face. Maybe his aim had been a little off. The look on her face as she removed the fabric made him laugh. At least she isn’t hiding now, he thought, before going back to the song.

During “You need me, I don’t need you”, one of the covers they had chosen for the night, he couldn’t fight the grin, knowing his favourite lyric of the night was coming up.

“Melody music maker, reading all the papers, they say I’m up and coming like I’m fucking in an elevator.”

Where Damiano would usually take the chance to suggestively hump the mic stand and focus on the audience, this time he did it while looking straight at Y/n. Her face clouded red, eyes looking at him with a flustered glare. He simply winked at her.

Similar things kept happening throughout the night, any song to do with sex or romance, any innuendo, it was all directed at her. To him, it was all about her all the time, and he made sure to let her know.

***

After one last encore, the band left the stage, the sound of the crowd chanting their names in the background. Once backstage, they all exchanged hugs, all pumped up from the adrenaline and the successful show. A massive gift basket sat in the corner, filled with beers, chocolates, some skincare products, and flowers, along with a note from the venue welcoming them to Oslo and thanking them for playing. Vic immediately grabbed Y/n.

“When we get back to the hotel - up for a girl’s night?” Wriggling her eyebrows at the assistant, she picked out some of the products from the red tulle in the basket.

“As if I could say no to you.”

***

“Okay, what’s first, face mask or red wine?” Victoria asked, holding up both items in her hands as she followed Y/n into the hotel room, Chili yapping at both of their feet, dying to get attention from anyone.

“I will pour the wine if you open the face mask stuff,” Y/n decided, picking up Chili for some snuggles, before putting the dog down on the bed and grabbing the wine glasses. “Don’t have a girls' night often, so this is nice.”

“I keep having them with the boys but it’s not really the same,” Vic laughed. “They never want me to pluck their eyebrows or anything! Oh, and please be careful with the wine around Chili, I drenched her once and it didn’t come out of her fur for ages.”

“You - you did what now? Wait, nope, I don’t wanna know. But to be honest, I would kill to get Ethan on my lap with some tweezers in my hand. Boy, does he need it. Not by much, sweet guy. Just, uh, you know?” Within a moment or two wine was being poured and handed to the blonde. “I didn’t know how much you would want but we can always add more,” Y/n stated, hopping onto the bed next to Vic.

“Oh, very sweet guy with unpredictable hair, really!” Vic said, grabbing the glass and downing more than half of it in one go already, before sitting down next to Y/n with the little pot she had opened and a little applicator for the cream. “That’s so fancy, I usually just slap it on my face with my fingers.”

“Same! Thinking we’re posh fucks, aren’t they?” Y/n grinned, looking at the tiny skincare items, another sip of wine. Chili curled up between the two women. “You looked like you had fun at the concert.”

“It’s so good to be back on the road and I feel like we’ve really found ourselves as a band now. We’ve only played two shows but it’s already my favourite tour. I’m convinced it’s because you’re here, too, by the way, you really fit in with us,” Victoria smiled at her, sipping from the glass, then putting it away on the nightstand and motioning for Y/n to do the same. “Come here, I’m gonna do your face.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that. You guys have been absolutely killing it. You got here by your own accomplishments and will, that’s hard to do. I am far more surprised at how well I’ve been able to fit in with you all. I’m, uh, as you can see,” putting the glass away, she scooted to face Victoria, “not as… ‘rock and roll’ and I would have assumed you’d want your assistant to be. But glad I got stuck with you though.”

“Oh, shush,” Vic said, sternly, as she began applying the cream to Y/n’s face. “You fit in just fine. Firstly, I think we definitely need someone to keep us grounded a bit sometimes and secondly, I am absolutely convinced there’s a lot more rock and roll in you than you think - you just wait until you’ve been exposed to us for longer, you’ll see!”

“Well, I agree with the grounded part. You realise that today during breakfast Thomas was climbing on the sofa about to smack your head just to get further in line? That boy does not stop.” She relaxed into Vic’s touch, silently deciding that girls' nights needed to be a more regular thing. This was great. “Ethan said something similar - something about ‘head banging right along with everyone else’. You all have it out for me don’t you?!” She asked, putting on an overly dramatic, surprised look.

“No, he didn’t!” She exclaimed, astounded. “I’m gonna get him back for that tomorrow. Anyway, Ethan was right, you won’t be able to resist our bad influence forever, Y/n! So, have you been to gigs before taking this job, or is this still something new to you?”

“I have been to gigs before, but they were more music festivals, and I was never one for EDM or anything. The heat and lots of glittery, sweaty people drunk on warm beer? No, thank you. Or they would get a new assistant for a tour and the job would end. Not in a bad way, it's just how it is as an assistant. You do your job until they don’t need you anymore.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s the wine or you, but I don’t think I’ve talked this much about myself really since I started this job. Not this particular job, mind you, but the whole P.A. thing.” Y/n chuckled, pulling her hair back into a tighter ponytail to keep out of the way of the fancy skincare.

“Hm, now I just keep thinking of putting glitter on you and getting you in the middle of a good punk gig one of these days,” Vic giggled as she finished up Y/n’s facemask, motioning for her to return the favour. “Let’s make the most of this wine then, I’m going to pour you another glass and you tell me a bit more about yourself.”

Grabbing the little pot of face mask, Y/n gently held Vic’s face, slowly applying the cream. “I’m going to be an alcoholic by the end of the tour, aren’t I? Um, well, I had a boyfriend, he was a prick, we broke up. My best friend lives in London in our old flat. My favourite films are old Hollywood romances. ‘Singing in the rain’, stuff like that. I dunno really. I’m just Y/n. Though I was thinking we should find a way to line Damiano’s trousers so that if they - when they rip apart, you see the lining and not the man’s underwear. Not that I think he cares, actually.” She truly was unable to turn work off completely, even on a night off.

Victoria couldn’t contain the giggle, receiving a scolding look from Y/n, who almost put the cream in her hair by mistake. “Thinking about Damiano’s underwear a lot, huh? Can’t blame you, that man is as pretty as they come. You can be happy they’ve all not gotten to the point where they just hang out on the tour bus in just their boxer shorts, but believe me, that day will come sooner or later!”

“I have not!” She insisted as her face betrayed her, telling a completely different story. “That is unprofessional and objectifying. I hope it doesn’t happen at all. You saw my face before when you all decided to ‘put on a little show’ in the dressing room.” She took the glass from Vic to take a sip. “Anyway.” She started blending out the face mask with fingers, careful not to get it into Victoria’s hair. “Would there be anything you want to know? I am never good at talking about myself.”

Chili nuzzled into Victoria’s leg, getting more needy. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries here, but honestly - why do you work so hard? I’ve only known you for like three days but you never seem to relax, you’re always either busy working for us or working on your projects and when you have a minute to breathe you end up cleaning after us or just going above and beyond taking care of us. I’m not complaining,” she held her hands up, laughing. “It’s great, but it’s a lot, huh?”

“Um… I can’t lie. Not to you or the band. Lying isn’t good for you anyway. But.. I don’t know. Lots of stuff happened before I moved to Italy. Lots of not-so-good stuff. So, I had a lot of reserved pent-up energy, still do. So I had to find ways to put it into things. Now I put it into my work because it’s my new dream. I put it into the band because I care about you. I want to see this tour do well…” Y/n stopped for a moment, caught off guard by the question, looking back and forth between Victoria and her own reflection in the wine. “I want to prove to myself that I can achieve and be successful. I am also a giant workaholic, though, like it’s bad,” she giggled, as Chili now put a paw on Vic’s thigh, demanding attention.

“Well, if you gotta do that whole workaholic thing, I’m glad you’re doing it for us,” Vic smiled, placing a soft hand on Y/n’s arm. “Just make sure to make some time to let loose every now and again. I’m sure any of us would be happy to help you with that.” She turned on her phone to check the time. “I should probably get this mask off now, give me a second,” she explained before getting up and skipping to the bathroom sink.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Y/n said, also taking note of the time. “Doesn’t Chili need to go out now? There’s no grass on the balcony or I’d let her do her business here.” She stood up, placing the wine glasses on a little counter, trying to force the cork back into the bottle. “Thank you for tonight though, we should make it a thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll take her out for her evening walk now.” Victoria came back, hair slightly damp from where she had washed her face too hastily. “But let’s definitely do this again, next to Ethan you’re like the most calming person on this tour to hang out with.” She moved to give her a hug, only to realise Y/n still had the mask on, so instead, she opted for an awkward shoulder rub and a giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You do realise it is my job to follow you around and see you tomorrow? Like, that is what I am paid to do. But hell, I’d still do it if it wasn’t my job,” she smiled, nudging Vic’s shoulder. “Now go get Chili out and then get some sleep yeah? Important things like sleep, food, water, everything you people seem to keep forgetting about!”

“Well, that’s what we have you for now, don’t we?” Victoria laughed, picking up a whining Chili and already halfway out the door. “But you get some sleep too! No working through the night, I am ordering you to bed - as your boss!”

“Of course!” Y/n laughed, shutting the door behind the bassist. After taking off her mask, she put the rest of Vic’s leftover wine into her glass and went out onto the balcony with her laptop. Pulling out all the bobby pins and the hair tie, she ran her fingers through her hair, brushing out the knots and letting it hang loose. The light from the sunset had long been gone by the time they had gotten to the hotel. Only street lights and the blue screen were illuminating the space of the balcony. The outdoor space was large enough for a table and chairs. The street down below was faintly noisy as people and cars passed by, but not enough to disturb her peace and quiet.

***

So much for an early night, Damiano thought, staring at the screen of his phone, as Ethan slept soundly in the next bed. With a sigh, he kicked the blanket off his legs, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, and sneaking out onto the balcony without waking his bandmate. Maybe a smoke would help. His eyes drifted from the rather unspectacular view out front to where he noticed movement to his right, only to see Y/n on her own balcony, right next to his.

Y/n was relaxing in her chair, glass of wine in her hands, mouthing the words to something on the computer in front of her. Entirely focused on whatever she was working on, she didn’t notice Damiano’s door opening and closing. She took a drink of her wine, leaving a dark red stain on her lips, then stood up to face the street. Laptop on her arm and looking outward, she mumbled the words on the screen to herself. He just about managed to make out what she was saying.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with brief- Wait, no. Grief. Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Who is already sick and pale with grief. Stupid tiny font is gonna be de death of me,” she mumbled, trying to zoom into the text.

Damiano watched her, a chuckle on his lips, both amused and amazed at seeing her play out the scene on her own. With a quick flick of his lighter, he turned to his cigarette, taking a drag, wide awake. The low light of the moon was illuminating her figure and her hazy movements and for a while he allowed himself to simply be fascinated by her. By the way she moved. Performing fully committed to the open air. Then she made a particularly dramatic, sweeping gesture in her monologue and he knew he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Hey there, Juliet.”

The surprise went through her like an electric shock, she was stumbling over nothing, almost dropping the laptop from her arms, as she turned around towards him so fast, he was sure her hair was going to give her whiplash.

“Ah fuck - Damiano?!” She gasped delicately into the night. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!”

Hopefully, for very different reasons, he thought to himself.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly replied. “What are you doing? It’s almost 2 am.”

“You know I could very well ask you the same thing.” She looked at him accusingly. “If you didn’t have the day off tomorrow I’d be ordering you back to bed immediately.”

Damiano briefly considered a suggestive comment, but instead, let the cigarette between his lips keep him quiet. Y/n was putting her laptop away now, sinking back down into the lounge chair as he walked over to the edge of his own balcony, leaning over the railing to get a better look at her.

“You know I’ve not forgiven you for your antics at the concert tonight yet,” she suddenly stated, pulling him from his thoughts. The smirk flashed over his face naturally. He wondered if she was blushing again, but the little light the moon and her laptop screen gave off didn’t tell him anything. He was hoping she was.

“I promise I didn’t mean to hit your face with my top,” he laughed.

“But you obviously did mean everything else you did!” An accusing finger was pointed his way. “I did not appreciate that.”

For a second he flinched, wondering if he had gone too far, crossing a boundary. But then she looked back at him with a smile she was obviously trying to push away, unsuccessfully. Glass of wine in her hand, she sauntered over to him, while he put out his cigarette on the railing. She leant over her own railing, mirroring his movements. At a slow pace, like she knew he was watching, she sipped from her glass. His eyes falling to the way her neck was exposed as she threw her head back, tracing the soft skin with his glances until she set down the drink. There was a droplet of red wine on her lip and he wished their balconies were closer together, fantasising about reaching out and wiping it away, feeling just how soft she would be under his touch.

“Not that… I didn’t like it.” She paused. “Also not the first time I’ve been hit in the face with a shirt. So there’s that.” Y/n laughed.

“Now you’ve got me curious - who else would hit you with a shirt? Are you trying to tell me you’ve been to strip clubs?” Damiano laughed. Teasing her came easy to him.

“Dancers. With aim as terrible as yours, Mr. David. And I don’t know if you want the answer to the second question,” she smirked. When they were alone like this, she seemed more at ease. That, or it was the wine. He didn’t know.

“Dancers, huh? Think you could teach me a thing or two? Or, you know, were you just watching, lusting over sexy men?”

“Ah! I would do nothing of the sort. Most of the guys there weren’t into girls anyway. Wouldn’t do me much good… Damiano, I could teach a lot of things. You to dance? God help us all.” She made a dramatic cross across her body, laughter twinkling in her eyes.

“Now, Y/n, I’d let you teach me whatever you wanted,” he winked. “Preferably something… active, hm?” He could keep from laughing as he saw her unimpressed face, staring him down and shaking her head. He’d rile her up for the rest of his life if she gave him the chance.

“I once met this Italian guy, came to the studio. Thought he was God’s gift to dance. But you Italians all have that, bravado, confidence, whatever you wanna call it. Well, after learning the first intermediate step, he fell flat on his face and went back to beginner lessons. You gonna be like that?” Raising a brow at him, she leant further over the railing on her side.

Damiano puffed up his chest, comically, trying to make himself appear bigger in a useless attempt to impress her. “Now, you’ve obviously not met the right Italians yet, amore mio. Sounds to me like you need a real Italian to show you the way.”

Just like this morning, she burst out laughing, letting out cackles that filled the air with joy. “Sorry - not laughing at you. Just thought what you said was funny.” She looked down, and as dark as it was, he could see the same signs he had seen before. Shy expression, holding herself close to her body. The slight panic of not knowing what to say. “You’re real Italian, alright. You seem to always know what to say. Now is that an Italian thing or a Damiano thing?” She asked, sarcastically, to deflect the fact that her face was heating up.

Amore mio…that's what did it. He felt like he was unlocking a single puzzle piece at a time, slowly putting her together and making sense of her. He couldn’t wait to get the whole picture one of these days. “Maybe it’s a you thing,” he simply said. The night was making him strangely comfortable with being honest. “Maybe you just bring it out in me.”

“Eh - I’ve been told I bring out a lot of things, never a savant before.” She was still looking down, at her hands, starting to pick at her nail polish. Some little nervous tick that he hadn’t caught onto till now. “It’s late, you should go to sleep, Dami. I am sure that bed is missing its handsome owner right about now.” She started to look far away, picking up the wine glass and taking the last sip.

He had barely heard what she had said - too focused on her calling him Dami, for the very first time. It was like a little shudder running through him, knowing she was growing closer to him as the time passed. “Are you okay, though? I’m sure my bed will survive without me a little bit longer.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me, I worry enough as it is. Tomorrow is a day off, so I won’t be waking you up in the morning, bus call isn’t until later. Um, but I will be getting breakfast. Is there anything you would want?”

“As long as it involves coffee, I’m happy. I’m sure you’ll pick out the perfect thing anyway.” Damiano watched as she nodded, moving towards the balcony doors and away from him. He felt like grabbing her just to keep her there. He straightened up as well, just barely backing away from the railing. As she left he looked at the space she once occupied, feeling like he could almost make out the outline of her body where it once had been.

Amore mio...

#maneskin fiction #damiano david fiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x you #ethan torchio x reader #maneskin imagine #maneskin x you #maneskin x reader #thomas raggi x reader #damiano david x reader #writers block #bethanysnow #quiet music

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hobbitsnapes · 3 years ago

Text

YOU GUYS ARE DATING

Corpse x MGK!sister reader

(Found this image on Pinterest so all credit goes to artist, if you know who it is please comment below so I can credit them)

A/N: this was requested by @heyitssab

Tree is tall of sex in this, but it’s more in a joking matter, plus corpse has stated he doesn’t mind as long as you are not a minor or send or tag him. I’m literally 2 years younger than him, and have no intentions of ever tagging him or sending him any of my work XD

Summary: how many idiots does it take to tell the brother and friend they’re dating? Apparently takes 2 very forgetful people, who kept their relationship secret without knowing it.

It had just been by chance, a small chance that he had been scrolling through his tags. liking and reposting art, when he saw a tag from someone he followed. He wrecked his brain for when he had followed her, coming up empty. She was cute, no denying the beauty she had as she laughed in the video. It was a clip from a stream that he didn’t know she had, as he couldn’t even remember her name, wearing his merch as it fit her snug. It fit her perfectly in fact, the large hood covering her face, hiding the flush to her face from her rather large chuckles that left her body. He couldn’t help but like the photo, and he couldn’t help but to press message either.

It was first only small likes to posts, an Occasional message, and a view on their livestreams, but that all changed when he spoke of the song he was working on with her older brother.

It all started that night, when both lay in their beds as they talked, laughed, and felt their hearts flutter each time they heard one another speak.

Her phone rang violently in her bag, nearly making her drop the to go bag all over the ground as she walked. “Hello?” She asked, as she held both bags with her hands as her shoulder gripped the phone as if it’d fall down a cliff. “Hey bug!” He exclaimed, making her chuckle as she heard the booming sound of his voice. She had always detested the nickname, as he gave it to her as kids due to her horrendous fear of the creatures. But, it brought more joy to her, as it reminded her of their youth. Having been adults for years, it was fun to hear such a childish name that’s stuck.

“Hey mopey.” She chuckled, as that was the name she gave him when he was in his emo phase that he never outgrew.

Both talked as she walked towards the elevator, mainly about how his day had gone as she silently listened.

She had always been this way, always the shyer of the two, the one to listen to others first before she said a word. He had teased her for it most of their childhood and teen life, but he had grown to love it, as he could let loose or rant to her about anything, and he knew she’d be there just to listen to him.

“So what’re you doing right now?” He asked, as she got into the elevator. “Just grabbed some dinner a few minutes before you called and nearly made me shit.” A smile painted on her face at his boisterous laughter.

“Are you at home?” He asked, as he heard the sound of the elevator beeping in the background. “No, I’m spending the night with my boyfriend.”

She had mentioned about a month prior that she was seeing someone, the joy it brought him to hear the excitement and joy in her tone as she gushed about their first date.

If this was 7 or 8 years prior, he would be bombarding her with questions about the man, who he was, where he lived, where he could meet him to find his intentions with his baby sister. But, in the last few years, he found himself feeling calmer whenever she’d mentioned her love life. He knew she was smart, and would never date a man who treated her poorly. The few breakups she had, they always ended amicably, her head still high as she told him. So, he never asked her any questions about the man, as he could tell from the few times she mentioned him, he could feel the love this man had for her, and Vice versa.

The strong barreling of her phone alerted them awake, both groaning out as she reached for her phone without lifting her head from his shoulder. “Hello?” She mumbled, voice slurred as the saliva was thick in her mouth, barely awake as she fought to listen in on who dares to wake them up.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, making her equally exhausted lover groan. She shifted off of him, laying on her back as he turned away from her, as to hopefully shut his eyes and fall back asleep. She was used to her brother's large voice, as it hardly phased her after growing up with him. “Colson, why are you calling me this ungodly hour?” “Oh come on, it’s not that early.” “Col its-“ She pulled her phone from her ear, eyes shutting violently as the bright light blinded her “5 o’clock in the morning. So again, I’m going to ask you, why did you call me at the asscrack of dawn?” “You don’t remember?” He asked, making her irritation grow. “No, that’s why I’m asking.” She says, as she rubbed her sleep crusted eyes. “You were coming up today to hang out with casie, remember?” Her hand stopped rubbing her face, as she felt her heart stop momentarily. “Wait, you mean today? I thought I was coming Friday?” “No, both of you settled on today, remember I told you that’s perfect because I have a day off?” She felt her heart pain as she heard the sadness in his tone, knowing he’s expecting her to bail. “Yeah sorry, I thought you meant Friday so I mixed it up, let me get ready and I’ll be out the door okay? Love you” she said, as she hung up the line.

Before she could even move, she felt his arm wrap around her body. A tired groan leaving his lips. “Nooo stayyyy.” He groaned, pulling her body to his. She smiled as she looked down at him, wrapping her arm on his chest and the other behind his neck. “I wish I could live, but I can’t.” Planting a soft kiss against his lips. “Stay in bed for a few more hours, please?” Her heart pulled at his tone, hearing just how tired he was. “I can’t, casies wanted me to come up for weeks now. And it takes a good 3 hours to get there. I wanna spend as much time as I can with them before it gets dark so I can get back safely.” He groaned at this, wrapping his arms around her. “Yeah but it’s only 5, it wouldn’t be safe to drive since we went to bed like, 2 hours ago.” “Yeah, and whos fault was that mister?” She teased, “hmm, sorry but I just couldn’t keep my hands to myself after not seeing you for a few days.” He mused, pulling her body closer to his, planting his lips against hers. A small hum left her lips as he pulled her thigh over his, grabbing the flesh harshly as their lips cascaded together. “Mm, no no no, you’re not gonna convince me to stay here just to go another round.” She said, as she got off from his warm body, throwing his large hoodie over her bare body. “Oh come on babe, are you sure about that?” He said, making her turn around to him. A small gasp left her lips as her eyes took in his milky white complexion. His honey brown eyes looking back at her with a small smile etched onto his face. His hair a tousled mess that resembled a bird's nest, some pieces falling onto his face. “Honey, I’ve been wanting to see my family for weeks now, I see you almost everyday and practically live here. I’ll be back tomorrow so I can grab more clothes from my place okay?” She placed a kiss to his lips, both holding one another in their arms. “I don’t know why you don’t just say fuck that place and just move in.” He mumbled, making her chuckle and heart warm. “Don't you think it’s a little soon though? I mean we’ve only been together a few months love.” “Yeah, but you’ve practically lived here since we got together, you literally just go there to get more clothes that you end up leaving here.” She looked into his eyes as she thought about his words. “Hm, I’ll think about it today okay?” She mused, planting a kiss to his lips. A soft okay leaving him as she got up.

“And babe, remember if you live here, we can have all the sex we want and not have to worry about driving to get one another.” He exclaimed, laughing at the loud honey she screamed from the bathroom.

She couldn’t help but laugh out as she watched, as her niece tried her hardest to braid her fathers grown out hair. It was near impossible not to, as pieces would fall out, resulting in her pulling them harsher, nearly pulling his eyelids back due to the tension from his temples. “Okay okay you’re gonna fuckin scalp me.” He chuckled , as all three bursted out in large laughter.

“So how’s school going this year?” She asked her, as she delicately painted her nails. Both of the girls had found themselves on the floor in front of the nice coffee table, as colson sat and chatted with them. “It’s going really well.” “Oh yeah? Make any new friends?” She teased. “I mean, kinda.” She couldn’t help but hear the wavering in her tone, spotting the faint blush dusting her skin. “Ohh, so there’s a someone eh?” She teased to her, making the preteen hide her face as to conceal the flush. “His names Garrett, and we both take social studies together. He always sits next to me at lunch, and we’ll draw on my notebook.” She gushed, making her smile. “Soo, do you think he likes you?” “I mean, that’s what everyone keeps saying.” “Yeah well don’t worry about it to much cas, you’re not dating anyone for many more years. You’re still a kid.” Her das said, making the young girls face fall.

Y/N knew he was only saying this to protect her, as he said the same thing to her growing up. “Hey, don’t be bummed out about it. He is right, you both are only 12 and should focus on school. But don’t worry, he’ll come around. He was just like that with me up until my current boyfriend.” She whispered, making the young girl chuckle.

“Speaking of which, how are you guys doing?” He asked, as she hadn’t mentioned hun to her in a while. He didn’t think it’d hurt to ask. “Great actually, we’re thinking of moving in together actually.” “That’s great! I’m really happy that y’all met.” “Yeah, I am too.” She hummed, a flush dusting her cheeks.

Both men laughed as they chatted on the phone, talking about anything that would come to mind. What was once only a collaboration for a song, turned into an amazing friendship that caused both of them to call at late hours just to shoot the shit.

A yawn left his lips, as he listened to colson ramble on about another song he was making. “Woah, you tired man?” Colson asked, shocked to hear the sound. “Yeah sorry, was up most of the night last night.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Were you feeling alright?” He asked, worry laced in his tone. He knew all about his friends illnesses, even once being on the other end of the phone during a bad spell one day.” “Oh yeah yeah yeah, was just, up with the misses last night.” He chuckled, a flush blooming on his cheeks. “Ohhh yeah? And how was it?” This shocked him, nearly feeling his heart stop. Like, does he usually know about his sisters sex life? He didn’t think much of it, as he knew just how close both were. “It was absolutely fucking amazing. Like I thought we’d be done for the night, fully tapped out but after like 5 minutes she’d be right back on me for another round.” He chuckled, his flush even worse than before. “Ayyyeee good for you corpse, glad to hear that puss is bussin.” He laughed at this, throwing his head back. “Yeah, it’s bussin bussin.”

Both men talk as they read from their phones, eyes wide in absolute awe of the love they received from the song. They had just dropped it a few days prior, not expecting the cry of joy from both fan bases.

He didn’t even look up from it when she walked in, until she bent down to plant a kiss to his forehead. “Sorry I had completely forgot about the tea I made you an hour ago, but I put it back on the stove to heat it up so if it’s twisting funky just tell me okay?” Before he could even thank her, both their heads whipped towards the loudness from the other line. “Y/N? Is that you? What in the hell are you doing there with corpse!” He didn’t sound angry, more shocked than anything, both of them looking at the phone in confusion. “I, I love here? Remember I told you like a month ago I was moving in with him?” “WHAT!” Both jumped at the loud scream. “Wait so you guys are dating!?” Both we’re even more perplexed, until it dawned on both of them. Their eyes wide as they turned their heads to one another slowly. “Wait you didn’t tell him?” “No? He’s one of your best friends so I thought you did!” “He’s your brother! So I thought you did!” Both whisper, until all three lay silent. That was until, the large cry of laughter that leaves the two, leaving colson even more confused. He wasn’t mad, not at all actually. More shocked and confused than anything. Until he started thinking, it does make sense, all the times they spoke about one another without him knowing, all the times they mentioned-“OH GOD!” He yelled, gagging violently, making them stop their laughing fit. “What's wrong? Why are you yelling?” She asks “like a month ago corpse was talking about how he was tired cause he was up all night having sex AND I HAD NO IDEA HE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU! OH GOD WAS THAT WHY YOU WERE LIMPING THAT DAY WITH CAS AND I!” Both laugh even harder, as they listen to his ever growing gags.

“So yeah,. That’s literally how we had no idea we were keeping the relationship secret from her brother.” He laughed, as he red the comments and listened to his friends' laughter. She sat beside him, head laying on his shoulder as he told the story. She couldn’t help but to look back up into his eyes, as he glanced down at her, planting a soft kiss to her lips. “Keep it pg guys.” Colson said from the other line, making them chuckle.

#corpse husband imagine #corpse #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse imagine #corpse fic #corpse x you #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband

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