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plush-rabbit · 3 years ago

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The Dateable's Making You Flustered

Request: Flustered scenarios with the dateables

A/N: Sorry for the bit of delay!! I really need to work faster with these (1k each)

Barbatos:

It’s been such a long time ever since the butler has felt some sort of attraction towards somebody. It surprises even himself and he’s able to see into the future. Yet, when he was given- or rather forced- into a day off, the first place where his mind had wandered had been to you. It was you that he thought of first. He didn’t have a clue on what he wanted to do, but when he was told that he had the day off- no exceptions- his mind had automatically gone to spending time with you. Barbatos wonders what changed that made you so important to him- he wonders when it happened, how it snuck past him and caught him by surprise.

He invited you on his day off, had sent you a quick message asking you’d like to accompany him around Devildom to pick up a few things for himself rather than the usual outing to the market. You had graciously agreed and now he stands beside you, his hand on a book and you peering to see what’s written on it.

“What’s the book about?” You ask, haven given up on trying to figure out what it was that had gotten his attention.

A few demons reach around and pull a book away from the shelf, talking excitedly to one another and he moves to stand closer to you. He smiles at you and holds the book close to him, already deciding to purchase it. “It’s an old tale from Devildom, similar to your Hansel and Gretal but this one is a bit more heavy.” You give out a hum, pleased at his answer and nod your head. “If you’d like, I could lend it to you once I’m done.”

“Oh!” You gasp, grabbing at the same book and holding towards you. “I’ll just take one with me,” you offer and he can’t help but feel a little disappointed that you didn’t want to take his. “This way, we can read at the same time and then discuss. If it’s supposed to be similar to Hansel and Gretal, I’m sure that I’ll enjoy it. Plus-” you look up at him, your smile kittenish the book pulled to your chest- “it can be like our secret book club. I’ve been needing an excuse to go to the castle and visit, so this will be perfect,” you say excitedly, see-sawing between the tips of your shoes and back to your soles.

“You don’t need an excuse to visit the castle.” He hooks his arm with yours, slowly pushing you away from where a growing crowd of demons appear. “You know you’re always welcomed. The Young Lord would never dare to shut the door in your face.” He stops near the corner end of the store, his eyes attracted to a few trinkets where he reaches for.

The book is lowered and you shift your stare to where you both once stood. “And you?” His attention is grabbed immediately and he looks at you with a confused stare. You meet his eyes for a moment before you pull away. “Would you mind if I came over?” You clear your throat and look down, your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. “I wouldn’t want to…” you trail off, clearly unable to find the proper words. “I wouldn't want to distract you or make your work any more difficult than it already is.”

He can feel the back of his neck grow hot. He can’t be mistaken by what your words mean. You want to know what he thinks of you, if you’re welcomed in his eyes. His shoulders lower and he smiles at you, his hand reaching out to take your book from your hands. When you look up at him, he has his gaze kept on the title of the book, following the rise and fall of each letters.

“You’re always welcomed.” He takes in a small breath and fixes his gaze back to you. “You could never be a distraction for me. If you wish to have a secret book club with me, then I am more than honored to be your guest.” He clears his throat and looks away from you, his smile slowly growing but wavering as he lets out a shaky breath. “You make work easier. I enjoy my job, but I must say that when you’re around, the only thing I can think of is finishing in order to spend more time with you. Being around you is… nice.” He returns his stare back to you. “I’ve been around for a very long time, but when you’re around me, well, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so young. I’m not sure what it is about you-” he raises a hand and holds your cheek- “but I find myself happy whenever I’m with you. So please, never think that you are a bother towards me. You’re always free to visit- whether it be for our secret book club-” he returns the book to you, smiling when your fingertips brush against his- “or just because, I’ll always make time for you.”

It might be cruel of him, but he can’t help but smile and let out a quiet chuckle when you press your face against the book. “Barbatos,” you say in a hushed whisper. He only hums in response, glad that his words had such an effect on you. You look up at him with a faux pout and furrow of your brows while he stands there with a wide grin. Your eyes turn away from him and you finally let a smile appear. “Thanks for the reassurance,” you mutter.

“Of course. Nothing that I said was a lie, so it was quite easy to let the words out, you know,” he teases, grabbing the book from you before you have another chance to hide yourself. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to see in the store, or do you wish to go somewhere else?”

“I uh-” still flustered, you rub your cheek where his hand once was- “can we check out the manga section?”

He hooks his arm through yours, his body close enough to where he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume. “Lead the way,” he says, following your footsteps through the store. He isn’t sure when his feelings towards you had changed, he doesn’t even recall the giddiness of when it all started, but he doesn’t mind it. It’s a nice change of pace. You’re something unpredictable and reckless, and something soft and fragile, and he welcomes having you so close to him, to where he could lean over and press his lips against the crown of your head and keep you protected under his touch. Barbatos welcomes the change that you brought and while the change wasn’t originally for him, he enjoys that it is for him now, that you’re the one that gets to be close to him and that gets to have the pleasure of having you wanting to visit him.

Simeon:

Who could have ever thought that he, an angel, would fall in love with a human? The very thing that an angel had created a war for, the very thing that caused him to lose those close to him, and the very thing that had shown just how different he was from someone he had considered a brother, he now commits the same unholy act. He must be a hypocrite. He is a hypocrite. The very thing he turned a blind eye to and here he is, so undoubtedly in love with a human that he fears his wings will be ripped from him, his blood staining his clothes and his halo broken beyond repair. Terror makes his blood run cold and yet, he cannot look away from you. Simeon keeps his gaze upon you with a mixture of hesitation and melancholy and you just smile back at him, the phone in your hand shared between the two of you as you watch a parody of a teen romance on an application.

“It’s amazing how much people have grown to like this er, show?” He asks, still unsure of what to call it. “It’s considered a show, right?”

Your shoulders raise in a shrug and you give him a small, tight lipped smile. “I guess. I think most people refer to it as a series.” The phone is lowered and it returns to your lap. “It isn’t wrong to call it a show, but since they’re short little bursts of episodes, I think people find it easier to call it a series, but it can go any way.” You move away from him, scooting until your thigh is at an angle and your knee is pushed against his. “Anyways, to answer your question, yes people do like it. I think since it’s like a parody but also suspenseful with the cliffhangers, it keeps people entertained.” He nods his head slowly, and he tries to ignore the rush of cold that is now at his empty side. “Did you like it?”

His eyes slightly widen, and his lips pull into a thin smile. “I- Well, considering the fact that it’s written and done by one person- I- It certainly is different than the things I usually consume, but-” He struggles to find a way to finish his thought without offending you in any sort of way and ends with a stiff nod of his head.

It’s a tense moment that doesn’t last long enough to linger on when you suddenly laugh. Your laugh is loud as it effectively gets him to snap his mouth shut. Your hands are waved in front of you and your knee leaves his as you curl onto the couch. “You don’t have to force yourself to like it, Simeon, I only wanted to show it to you, because you asked what I was watching.”

He appreciates you giving him an easy out, and he releases a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. It’s a slow release and suddenly he can breathe again. “Well thank you for sharing it with me. I appreciate that from you.” Silence lingers and it isn’t like before where it’s tense, it’s lighter now, but it still feeds him an odd sense of air where he’s stuck between a breath, his eyes stuck on you.

Once more, your laughter fills the room and it’s short and sweet, a gift given to him for just the moment. “Of course, Simeon. I like spending time with you, and I especially like sharing my interests so I guess, thank you for allowing me to do that.” Your hand reaches towards his and he sees the slightest pause from you, the way your fingers twitch until you allow yourself to hold his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

Warmth returns to him, something akin to a summer’s day in the Celestial Realm, and even though all air has left him once again, he is breathless in a way that matters, weightless and joy illuminating him. When he meets your eyes, he cannot look away and he cannot help but return your smile. The clock ticks onwards and he’s left with a heavy heart. He’s read about the perfect moment, thought about writing something so trivial and false, and yet, the perfect moment sits before him with their hand in his.

“I have to be honest with you,” he murmurs and his eyes feel hot, a lump forms in his throat that makes his words sound tighter. “I- I don’t-” How could he ever phrase what he wants to tell you? How could he drop that sort of confession on you? You know the story, would you ever want him to actually confess to you, to repeat the past mistakes and know the horrid outcome? He frowns. His eyes are stuck on the floor, running along the edge of the carpet and he can feel your gaze on him, your eyes that are heavy with concern and ever the angel, Simeon spares you and gives you the easier answer. “I’m thankful to have met you,” your name is a sweet whisper on his lips, a taste of sweet peach that makes his heart full and heavy. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as wonderful as you. I see you and I think that I’ve found something even more pure than an angel.” With every word, his hand turns to slip into yours, his gloves thin enough to feel the small crevices and calluses on your hand. “Even if you are human and you’ve committed sin, I still think that you are the most pure of them all with your kindness and generosity.”

He isn’t sure what he had expected, but he hadn’t expected to have you plant your face against the soft back cushion of the couch, your face held there for moments. Your hand slips away from his and he’s left holding empty air. His hands fret over your body and when you pull away, your face is flushed, your hands covering the lower part of your face as you look at anywhere but him.

“Simeon,” you whine, closing your eyes tightly. “That’s really sweet.” Your voice is high-pitched and your eyes open once more, as your hands finally lower. “I think I might actually die, that was really nice and something that I don’t hear often.” You finally look at him and your smile is ever growing. “Especially from an angel,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle.

His smile is soft and to him, it dulls compared to your brilliance. As if you were a puzzle, he fits into your hand with ease and grace. “Well if you were to die, I would return you in any way that I could.

Solomon:

He’s human, ageless and immortal, but human. He’s lived and loved, lost and grieved, and he’s gone numb and distant to emotions. He didn’t mind it, he welcomed it. He hated losing and hated the people that he lost and the empty space that they left. He promised that he wouldn’t ever want to feel that sense of sadness ever again. Then you came into the picture. He’s been called shady and worse words than that, but you don’t call him that. You hold his hand and you welcome him into your arms. You go on and on about the human in him and how you love that he’s there with you. Solomon isn’t sure when it was that he broke his own promise, but when he looks at you, he’s willing to love again and again.

The kitchen is a mess and powder covers the counters. His hands knead the dough and the smell of garlic and onion sizzled with oil is heaven in the air. You measure the ingredients and whisk at the eggs. It’s domestic and it’s something that leaves a storm of butterflies in his stomach. He could watch you forever, in the kitchen, with an apron tied around your waist, flour in your hands and the tip of your tongue peaking past your lips as you concentrate on rereading the cookbook. It’s domestic and it’s something he had long forgotten that he wanted.

“I have the ingredients memorized, I could simply tell you what to add,” he muses, returning to forming the bread into its shape.

“Knowing you, you’ll add something in there,” you quip, your smile now directed at him, with your tongue still pinched out. “Plus, it’s just reading. I can read,” you say with a defensive tone. “Just start dressing the bread with garlic and then we can get on with breading the chicken.” You jerk your head to where the chicken rests on the cutting board, the flour beside it.

“Okay,” he sings under his breath, returning his attention to the dough before him. The room is filled with a song from the Human Realm, a classic that has him feeling warmth in a kitchen that is not his, but with a person that is. It makes him long for another time, but when he catches you in the corner of his eye, he’s glad where he is. “I like your song choice,” he says, instantly biting the inside of his cheek once the words had left his mouth. It’s been so long since he’s ever tried to have an actual connection with someone, and he’s sure he wasn’t ever this awful at it.

“Yeah?” You step close to him, holding your hand out. “Care for a dance then?” Your smile is crooked and eyes gleaming with excitement as the song is replayed with a touch of your hand.

He’s frozen for a second, stuck in time, and rooted into place, his hand moving through thick amber as he lets his hand rest in your palm. The room is spun, colors mixing with each other and slowly blurring until he stands still, pushing you away and pulling you close, laughing and letting his hand rest against your side, his hand feeling the soft curve against your ribs. Your hands are powdered and his smell like bread, and your laugh is young and youthful. He can’t help but follow, letting his smile break out and hand slipping out of yours, to encase you in a hug where he traps you into a swaying motion.

The song fades and he’s forced to pull away, to step away from you and there’s hesitation is his steps and movements. His hands linger for a second too long, his eyes still stuck on you and his smile much softer than it was before. It’s a few seconds of silence where you take in deep, heavy breaths, and sway lightly to the song that approaches.

Your name is said and it’s sweet like honeysuckle and addicting like a drug. It’s a night where he invited you over, and now you two are busy making dinner in the kitchen and you’ve given him instructions and kept a close eye on what he does. Your perk your head and nod, allowing for him to continue. “Thank you for coming over,” he says with a tight smile on his lips.

“Anytime, Sol,” you respond, coming beside him once more. You bump your arm into his, leaning to look at the garlic mixture in a bowl. “You know I like spending time with you, so anytime you need a cooking partner, you can always call.”

He doesn’t say anything, only nodding and trying to keep the butterflies in his stomach at bay while his heart beats frantically against his chest. You move away from him, returning to where the powder rests in a bowl and he’s left without, and while the distance is short, it’s something that is unwelcomed. He’s left with dough in his hands and you’re away from him, and loneliness settles.

“Can I call you whenever?” He asks, an easy smile on his lips, but there’s a plea in his words. He’s never been the needy type, but he needs you.

“Of course, you can,” you respond and you’re as kind as ever. You turn away and close the bag of flour, pushing it aside to clear the space at the table.

Like a drug that leaves his mouth dry and heart racing, feeling as if he’s about to die, he calls your name. You’re so close to him and yet, you aren’t close enough. He needs you. He needs you beside him. And he takes the first step, standing in front of you with a red kissed face as stares at the cabinets against the wall. You call his name and your hand is tender against his neck, leaving a white stain that snows onto his shirt.

“I just wanted to thank you. I know how busy you can get and I just-” he can feel the telltale sign of tears and he wonders when he’s gotten so emotional- “I like spending time with you. I like your music choices and I like it when you cook with me- even if it’s just you giving me instructions- but I like it.” His tongue touches against his lips and he looks at you, fiddling with the end of his shirt. “I think you’re great and I just need you to know that if you ever need anything, I’ll be more than happy to help. I would do whatever it would take to make you happy because you have a really nice smile and I don’t think you should lose that.” His heart echoes and his smile is gentle and nervous. “Thank you for being with me.”

You stare at him and he wonders if he had overstepped only to gasp when you bury yourself against his chest, patting at his shoulder and pulling away with a hand covering the lower half of your face. “Solomon,” his name leaving your lips sends a jolt of electricity through him, “I’m glad. Thank you,” you whisper. Your hand reaches to pull his away from his shirt and you hold it in yours. “I like being with you too. Us humans have to stick together, right?” You say softly, letting your fingers run over his scarred knuckles.

He nods silently and leans over, his lips pressed against your forehead. “Yeah, us humans have to stick together,” he whispers against you, smiling when he feels your own lips against his knuckles. He’s with you, at this very moment, he stands in a kitchen with music playing, holding you close to him, and for a moment, he can pretend that this won’t ever end, that he won’t ever have to move away from you and risk losing you.

#obey me #obey me swd #om swd #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me simeon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #i hope you like it!#and that it was in charcater #i feel like i always sturggle for barbs

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cherrykindness · 4 years ago

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let's make babies |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: you and harry are doing a live on instagram, you've drunk a lot of wine and now the world knows that the future Mrs. Styles is ready to make babies.

warnings: mostly cute, but the title tells you what you need to know 🤪

"What is your favorite song from the Fine Line album?" Y/N read aloud, twirling in her right hand the second glass of wine of the evening, the one already halfway through. "Adore You and Watermelon Sugar, of course."

Harry giggled, rolling his eyes upon hearing his fiancée's statement.

"Y/N will always choose Adore You because it was obviously written for her." He accused. "She wouldn't give that answer under different circumstances."

The comments climbed up the screen continuously, most fans gushing about how cute Harry Styles and YN/LN could be while the other part was concerned with wringing even more information out of the slightly inebriated couple who had decided to do a surprise live one early Sunday morning.

As expected after being away for some time to begin filming Don't Worry, Darling in Southern California, Harry enjoyed a lazy weekend in the house he shared with his fiancée and her pets. The days were filled with late naps and relentless Netflix marathons, sublime and ethereal evenings, marked mostly by unexpected declarations and rounds of sex that used to last until the beams of light were shyly coming through the linen curtains. They were not a monotonous couple, so this order could easily be changed.

"Watermelon Sugar is nothing more than about my love for watermelons, don't get too creative." Harry replied to a fan while sporting a corner smile, the message standing out among the rest for its dozens of emojis and large print, questioning the singer about erotic content behind the lyrics of his latest hit. "I really don't know what you guys are talking about."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head before leaning it against her fiancé's chest, propped up on the soft white pillows that were spread practically all over the bed. The air conditioner was on at a minimal temperature and a light rain whipped on the panes of glass camouflaged by the cream-colored curtain, that being the projection of Y/N's favorite nights.

"You can tell them, I'm not shy." She joked, nudging her fiancé's waist.

"You know what it was written about and who it was written for." Harry replied, raising one of his eyebrows. "That's what matters."

It went without saying that much of Harry's newest album, as well as some of his earlier work, had been done in exclusive dedication to his future wife. Y/N had been the muse for a vast repertoire of romantic songs, and even though the singer preferred to keep the story behind his more explicit compositions a "secret", the relationship the two had shared for more than three years was already solid and known enough for the media and fans to distinguish hidden messages in small details.

"It's a song about what usually comes before the act of making babies." Y/N laughed as he pointed at the display. "Honestly, you guys are impossible."

"No, we make babies every day." Harry joked, making a funny motion with his eyebrows. "I would spend my entire career writing just about that."

"Harry!" The actress exclaimed incredulously, slapping her fiancé weakly on the chest. "Children might be watching this."

"You don't want to have babies with me?" He asked falsely offended, accepting the cup that Y/N offered him. "Because I want some babies with you."

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes as she watched the internet freak out at the dialogue that had suddenly emerged. Since the beginning of the quarantine, it was kind of inevitable that the couple of artists would not become the darlings of all social media; they were fervently active with photos, videos, and lives that depicted step by step daily life in isolation, gaining more and more followers and making the media more and more fascinated by the relationship they both shared.

The wedding was scheduled for the summer of next year and it was perhaps the most anticipated event in the tabloids. Bets about what the model of Y/N's dress would be and lists presuming who would be selected for the short list of guests stood out among countless news stories about the famous people influencing pop culture today.

The possible arrival of a Styles baby was an inevitable topic in interviews. Harry and Niall were the only members of the ex-boyband that had not become fathers yet, and because they had maintained a solid relationship and were seen as one of the most enviable couples during the last four years, Y/N and Harry had gotten used to all this openly asked questions. They didn't mind, they even had fun with the montages and all the anxiety that dominated the whole internet, often mentioning the fandoms' efforts to represent them as such "cool" parents in perfectly edited pictures.

"No, guys, I'm not pregnant." Y/N amusingly clarified the doubt of dozens of new comments. "Please don't believe so many controversial news stories that appear out there. I was on twitter last week and saw several people theorizing about a possible pregnancy, most of the arguments based on a website that used photos from the set of How to Get Away with Murder in the season where I was actually playing a pregnant woman as Laurel." She laughed. "It's so funny! I know you guys love to guess these things, but we won't hide something so special when it actually happen, I promise."

"Especially because Y/N can hide absolutely nothing from anyone." Harry accused, leaving his drink on the corner table before settling into a comfortable position for the two of them. "Anyone who's a Marvel fan knows that. That's one of her most characteristic quirks."

"They gave me a fake script for the last two movies." Y/N agreed, shaking his head. "For me and Tom."

"We agreed to keep the engagement a secret for a while. The plan was to travel to Holmes Chapel to break the news to my family in person, but guess who got a call at ten o'clock at night from an angry Anne because she learned of her son's engagement from an interview Y/N gave the next day?"

Y/N gave a guilty smile, winking gracefully at the camera. "It was all James' fault! I'm sure he already suspected something, those questions were very suspicious."

"Of course the questions were suspicious, babe. You literally said you had a secret that involved both of us but that you couldn't tell because it was important that our families knew first."

"I thought he would think about a pregnancy or something!" The actress defended herself, feeling very convincing in her intonation bordering on obviousness. "That's a mania I can't get rid of, it's in my genes."

"Did you all hear that? Further proof that you guys don't have to worry about guessing when Y/N's pregnancy will be, I'm sure our baby will make sure to tell you everything while still in the womb, mom's genes will make sure of that."

"You are so funny, Harry Styles." Y/N sarcastically stated, holding back a giggle as countless messages with laughing emojis were frantically up. "Yeah, I know I talk a lot and all, but you have annoying quirks too."

It was obvious that live would be news the next day. Although they were completely open about matters concerning their relationship, nothing seemed better than receiving so much exclusive information from a Harry and S/N drunk on expensive wine.

"You wake up in a bad mood and you're dangerously sexy, that should be illegal."

Harry laughed, holding his fiancée's waist a little tighter as he felt her tumble a little further to the side, getting closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Y/N was dangerously weak for drinks, and the singer knew that the actress' body was already near its limit.

"You're the only sexy person here, love." He declared with a corner smile, evidently finding the whole situation funny. "Do you want to go to sleep now?"

"No." Y/N shook her head. "Can we watch some movie? Can we watch Sweet Home?"

"Of course, love." He murmured, giving the woman a quick kiss on the forehead.

Even though Harry knew that his fiancée was unlikely to make it past the five-minute mark of the episode, he made sure to restart the korean series at exactly the scene where she had stopped, the first chapter still halfway through after Y/N realized that it would be impossible to watch such a macabre work without a drop of alcohol in her blood.

She had been so excited by the taste of Argentinian wine and the idea of updating her fans after a few weeks away, that she had forgotten the main purpose of the live. Harry and Y/N had been apart for a few days due to the new movie the Brit was shooting in North America, all happening in an unrestrictedly careful manner due to the restrictions caused by the pandemic.

He was slowly migrating towards acting and the future Mrs. Styles couldn't be prouder. Y/N had felt on cloud nine when Harry had given her the news of his upcoming job, but her only pronouncement on the subject had been a succinct post on instagram. Just a photo of the couple on a trip to Germany with a simple heart emoji didn't seem enough for the actress' exhibitionist soul, and coming to that conclusion was the main reason she decided to invite him, already relatively changed, for a live appearance. Y/N wanted to go on and on about how much she loved that man and work on that whole honeyed speech that would bring her (once again) the title of "cutest bride of all time," but of course Harry had to come home from his trip with his favorite red wine and poison her with those sweet caresses that took her out of orbit, turning the degree of alcohol content into the least of her problems.

"You're going to kiss Florence." Y/N exclaimed suddenly, as if only now realizing that her fiancé would share the screen with Florence Pugh, one of her closest friends in that industry. "Kiss on the mouth."

The MacBook was still open and hundreds of new comments were going up every second, but Harry didn't bother one bit to warn her about the possibility of her becoming a meme the next day. He was having too much fun with the situation to worry.

"Are you jealous?"

"Yes." She stated with a pout. "I am jealous, I just don't know if I'm more jealous of her or of you."

"But you kiss me every day, babe." Harry laughed. "And you've been kissing other people's men for almost ten years." He joked.

"But I only think about you, I already told you that."

Harry shook his head negatively at the camera, knowing he was sharing with the fans the funniest side of his fiancée.

"I know that, honey." He assured, lightly stroking the actress' back. "I think we'd better turn off the TV and go to sleep now, I'm sure you'll have a terrible headache tomorrow."

The brit planned to bid his audience goodbye and put an end to that recording, but Y/N was drunk and her sense of right and wrong had already gone to space. Harry should have been quicker, however, because his fiancée's speech would be cause for new tags and the only subject for the interviewers for at least the next few months.

"I don't want to sleep, how about we make babies?"

That's what Watermelon Sugar was all about, after all.

#harry styles imagine #imagine1d #imagine harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #fluffy imagine #harry fluff #actress reader

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dannyphantom-justiceleauge · 3 years ago

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Same anon as before (at this point I'm not H2O only anymore right?):

Everything about Fae Jazz is great. If you're taking suggestions for other names, I was thinking more along the lines of clever reference (because like... "bearbert" is a pun and I know you were going for something along those lines but Higgs isn't exactly a pun? And yes she's prone to naming things badly but this is someone she's actually trying to do someone nice to, not someone considered an enemy like Crate Creep lol). May I suggest Elsie, Frances, Doyle, or a combination of all 3? (In case you missed the reference, the Cottingley Fairies were very famous in photography history! I learned about it in college because I'm a nerd :3 still one of my favorite random things I've learned about. I get the feeling Jazz might know about it because the Fentons could have done research into other mythological creatures while on the hunt for ghosts or to prove they were ghosts not mythological creatures? I feel like it could have been one of those things baby Jazz would've been interested in--even weirdly mature smart little girls like horses and fairies and stuff y'know?)

Oh speaking about college, if this is later in the main trio's adventures (ie. Danny is king and etc. and everything else seems to have already happened) since I've been imagining most of this stuff pretty much post series/Danny and co are in Junior year, that means Jazz is in college by now and it's more reason for her to have gotten sucked into her own adventures and picking up her own supernatural responsibilities outside of the main group. (I mean, where else is she gonna meet fairies? Kinda doubt they'd hang around Amity Park!) Like how Tucker and Sam have their own supernatural responsibilities that Danny tends not to get involved in unless they really need it (whether they get in over their heads or they ask for it), Jazz's own supernaturalness gets separated from the ghostliness of "normal life" in Amity park that way, and like the others Danny only really helps out if needed and requested (because... let's face it, he's clever but not that clever, he'd probably get his name stolen if it weren't for Jazz's interference...)

Also dang please imagine Jazz starting to apply Fae rules to just about everything she does to not only get used to it but also because they apply to her now too? Like not entering a house without being invited, etc. (On the Darker side of things, maybe she technically owns her friends' names so that other fae can't steal them? I don't know much fae lore though so idk how that'd work, I just think it'd be an interesting thing for Jazz to have/know/do.)

love it, higgs is now doyle. and while i feel the fenton parents were always obsessed with ghosts specifically and would actually ironically write off other paranormal creatures on principal. because science. ectoplasm and ghosts are provable with shoddy science. and they're in a different dimension, that's why no one sees or believes in them. but monsters? living in the same world as us? just in hidden societies? now lets not be silly.

jazz on the other hand, rebelling as a kid, and firmly parking her camp in fairies and not ghosts. stubbornly maintaining that they're real. having little wire and fabric fairy wings that she would wear all the time. having books and figurines that she still loves but keeps in storage since she became a 'grown up'. love it. doyle sees a picture of jazz wearing fake wings and is so offended.

as for this being an exclusively collage adventure i am down for it. i can imagine her ivy league school, which we can fudge the details on since it's a fantasy world, is like a collage town surrounded for miles by dense forests and there's all sorts of stories about people going missing in those woods or seeing weird thing. jazz mainly blames drinking and considers herself too mature for that. but then of course while walking home from the library someone calls for help from the forest and she goes, getting led deeper and deeper into the trees until she gets a clue into what happening and maybe almost shoots the mysterious person who appears to help her with an ecto-weapon. they of course are doyle and jazz is both weird and clever enough to talk circles around them. she of course immediately recognize that mysterious people appearing deep in the forest when you're lost should not be blindly trusted. between being a psychologist, having experience with ghosts, and being polite enough not to be rude, jazz is unlike anyone doyle has ever met before.

i'm also imagining jazz bringing doyle home when she visits home and everything clicking into place for them when they see the family this girl came from and the terrifying amount of ghost activity going on. are fairies and ghosts rivals? there's potential for that. do they at very least normally stay out of each others affairs? for sure. i just like the idea of doyle having a 'oh no. oh shit. oh shit. i need to get of here' moment when they realize that they're in over their head and had completely misread and underestimated jazz as a human. she is so much more chaotic than they ever knew just looking at her and her school life. and that's not to mention the creature her brother is. because he's not even technically ghost. like i can't imagine other magical creatures reactions to danny being a halfa. if we're going with mythology being half dead and alive is considered dark as hell so he's probably scary to other creatures and developing a reputation when he helps his friend.

jazz takes to be a fairy way too well in all honesty. she was weirdly mentally prepared for this day. not intentionally of course but between having her fairy phase and frequent exposure to weird and crazy things... lets say her morals were already a bit skewed and she was prepared for fae rules. applying them in general life is a vibe though. most of them she already considered just polite or her things she could pass as being weird. but it's becoming a thing. i actually see her accidentally being really good at stealing names. like she's not doing it intentionally but she keeps getting more powerful the more names she has. doyle is both frustrated and impressed. i don't see jazz taking her friends names if she can help it, in part because she already knows them and doesn't need reintroduction, but also because having someone's name is mostly about having power over people. like names are powerful. the whole point of giving your name away being considered is dangerous, is that the fairy will use your name to control you. so jazz definitely isn't taking names intentionally. and even when she does take a name doesn't use it.

some other fairy lore things to play with. jazz having an allergy to iron and by extension steel. jazz being much more protective of nature. sam low key being annoyed that jazz got better with plants than her, but also 100% ready to use that to her own ends. jazz being able to travel to the faery world through fairy ring portals. jazz getting sharp teeth. jazz developing a thing for counting. the fairy world being split into courts and having a whole lore and internal logic that is human logic. wordplay and music suddenly becoming really important in jazz's life. - Hestia

#dpjl #danny phantom #transformation trio au #fairy jazz #spooks au

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delimeful · 3 years ago

Text

Helpless (3)

warnings: misunderstandings, spiders/arachnophobia, mild violence

Halfway through the woods, Patton heard the distinct sound of someone mumbling.

He paused mid-step, tilting his head to listen with a fair bit of curiosity. The mumbling was quiet enough that he couldn’t make out any individual words, but he could more or less tell which direction it was coming from.

Whatever the source was, they sounded a little frustrated.

He hesitated. Virgil was always emphasizing how careful Patton needed to be in the woods, though how much of that was due to actual danger and how much was the drider being a worrywart over Patton’s ‘chronic inability to defend himself’, he wasn’t sure.

Either way, this didn’t sound like a dangerous wild animal, so it would probably be okay to take a little detour and see what the matter was!

He followed the noise off the trail into a thick copse of trees, eventually coming upon intricate silvery threadwork that wound between them. He was proud to say he only barely shuddered as he ducked past them, his fear of spiders mostly overcome by his affection for his friend.

The webbing got thicker the further he went, and eventually he came upon the source of the mumbling, which appeared to be a whole person, stuck against the outer edge of one of Virgil’s larger webs.

They looked up upon spotting him, eyes bright for a moment before taking him in and visibly dulling with disappointment, which, aside from sorta hurting Patton’s feelings, seemed an odd response for someone in need of help.

“Hello there,” he greeted, waving. “My name’s Patton, I live over at the nearby town. You seem to be in a bit of a prestickament!”

“No, I did this myself,” the stranger corrected, already looking past Patton with disinterest. “It is an attempt to meet with someone I would like to speak with, and they seem the skittish sort, so I would appreciate it if you moved on.”

Patton hummed, more than a little confused. Something about this seemed familiar. “What are you going to do if this person doesn’t show up, though?”

“My arms are free,” they responded, frowning at Patton’s persistence as they wiggled the fingers of their free hand demonstrably. The other hand was occupied with a worn-looking journal. “I will be able to eat and drink, and thus am in no danger.”

“My friend says these woods can get mighty cold at night,” Patton countered, undeterred. “Can’t you meet your friend in town, instead? Why does it have to be a drider’s web?”

And, oh, that was it! Virgil had just been telling him the other day about someone who’d gotten stuck in one of his webs just like this, a mage who had been all-too-delighted to see him. Patton had hardly registered how they’d met, since he’d mostly been very upset to learn that some people would try to use his friend’s body parts as potions ingredients.

“That’s because the drider is the one I’m hoping to speak with,” the stranger replied, as though it should be obvious. “I sincerely doubt they would appreciate an invitation to town.”

Patton stared at the little notebook for a moment, and abruptly put the pieces together. This must have been the stranger that freaked Virgil out so badly!

And he was lying in wait in one of Virgil’s webs… In that case, there was no way he could leave things like this.

“I don’t think the drider is around,” he offered cheerily. “Sometimes they migrate to different areas for different seasons! You won’t meet anyone while hanging around, so I’ll help you down!”

He circled around the tree where most of the webs were rooted, approaching the stranger’s edge of webbing, and found to his surprise that they really were stuck. How they planned to ambush Virgil while stuck in a web, he wasn’t sure, especially since the gambit hadn’t worked on the first attempt either. Magic, maybe?

“How do you know that?” the stranger asked, craning to look at him with sudden interest. “About drider migration cycles.”

Patton shrugged as he plucked at the threads of the web, testing each one to see where they led. “I’m a good listener, so I pick things up here and there. What do you do?”

It seemed to be the right question to ask, since the stranger perked up, distracted from his inquiry.

“I am a researcher,” they informed Patton. “I’m seeking out information on the more reclusive creatures that live in these lands, like driders! This is the first one that I’ve met in person, so if they’re leaving, I need to catch up right away.”

Patton slid the sheath off of the little paring knife he’d taken to carrying and started sawing at one of the threads. “Are you going to try to capture him?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as he could. “You know, for your research.”

“I’m not a bounty hunter,” they replied indignantly. “The behavior of any being would be unnatural and stilted while imprisoned, especially a sapient one. My research is meant to increase humanity's understanding of driders, not to put them on display for entertainment.”

Patton blinked at them, slicing through another strand. “You… aren’t looking to hurt them?”

“No!” They honestly sounded offended by the idea. “I don’t think I ever could, anyhow, the one I met was very large, and they would likely be able to incapacitate me without any trouble.”

“Weren’t you scared?” Patton asked, remembering the terror that had swept through him during that first encounter, when he’d thought the drider was a giant creepy crawly death dealer. Even after he realized, when Virgil yoinked him with his two front legs, Patton had been a little nervous.

“People are only scared of what they don’t understand,” they informed him, chin lifted stubbornly, “and I know more about driders than any other human. I don’t see any reason to be afraid.”

“Wow… You’re really passionate about this, huh?” Patton grinned as he sliced through the last of the support webbing, and with a few snaps, the researcher fell to the ground, only a few strands of silk clinging to them.

“Of course!” they replied, pausing to pull some of the softer webbing bits off of himself and folding them into a pocket of his bag. “The information compiled on them is often vague or outright misleading, and due to their reclusiveness and occasional aggression, nobody else has been able to correct these false accounts.”

They paused, studying the woods around them. “I am… uncertain on how I’m going to discern which area the drider has chosen to migrate to. I don’t suppose you have any idea?”

Patton patted their shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. I think there’s a friend of mine you should meet properly.”

—

“Virgil!” Patton called brightly. “I’m here!”

He had been leading the way through increasingly dense and shadowy foliage for a fair while, now. Logan glanced up from their connected hands to see exactly where he was being pulled to, his heartbeat picking up in speed despite the possibility that this was a cruel prank or even a mugging.

Sure, Patton had described the drider that he’d met a couple of days ago quite accurately, but that was no assurance that he was actually familiar with the being. Most of the townsfolk seemed peripherally aware of ‘Virgil’’s presence, after all, so Patton could have glimpsed him before. It seemed more likely than them being friends. Driders were notoriously solitary, and ‘Virgil’ had seemed quite averse during Logan’s encounter with him, after all.

There was a crack from above, like a branch snapping.

In the next moment, a heavy weight had dropped down from above, knocking Logan to the ground and forcing all the air from his lungs. As he gasped futilely, he realized there were two hands pinning his arms to the ground, and some very familiar fangs put on full display, mere inches from his face.

“Leave him alone,” a very angry drider demanded, his regular voice layered with harsh, gravely rattling.

Logan wheezed in response, absently noting that there were multiple small black eyes visible against the dark marks under the more human set of eyes and wondering just how the two different ocular sensory organs overlapped.

“Virgil, stop!” Patton’s hands appeared at the edge of Logan’s vision, pushing back against Virgil’s shoulders until he eased up, lifting his crouched spider half up only slightly, as though prepared to lunge at Logan again at any moment. “He’s fine! He won’t hurt you!”

Virgil’s glare finally flicked away, though it turned more bewildered-angry than murderous-angry once landing on Patton. Logan wasn’t sure, but he thought the smaller eyes remained locked on him. “This is the mage I told you about! It’s not safe, you need to get out of here--,”

“Mage?” Logan asked, his voice still coming out a little winded. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s not,” Patton said at nearly the same time, “I promise, he just wants to know more about you! Right, Logan?”

“I’m certainly not a mage,” he agreed, rubbing at his arm. The full force of a drider grabbing him… that was going to bruise. He wondered if there was a way to measure that power. “I’m not sure how you got that impression, I don’t have any of the tools mages often carry.”

Virgil looked back and forth between the two humans with clear consternation, and Patton was the one who answered. “Well, most people are afraid at just the sight of him. And… you weren’t.”

“Of course not,” Logan said, still trying to grasp the connection between his lack of fear and his alleged magehood. “I was enthralled. He’s very beautiful.”

Above him, Virgil made a choked-off noise and shuffled back, giving Logan space to sit up and regain full faculty of his senses. Virgil had turned his face away, and Patton was muffling a smile behind his hand.

“Was that… invasive?” Logan asked hesitantly, glancing between the two of them. “I apologize, this is my first research voyage, so I may have become... over-enthusiastic.”

Virgil flapped a hand at him, as though trying to physically dispel his words. “What exactly does a ‘research voyage’ entail?”

Logan straightened up, trying to look as professional as possible while still sitting on the forest floor. He suspected there might be detritus in his hair. “It’s a journey undertaken by apprentice-level researchers to expand their knowledge in their specific field. Often, once they have thorough evidence and a compelling thesis, they will return to their teacher and present this in order to advance as a journeyman.”

Of course, Logan had no intention of doing that. He was going to spend as long as he could traveling and learning and compiling his knowledge, until nobody could argue that he wasn’t suited to the world of scholars.

“And your field is… spiders? Monsters?” Virgil asked, eyebrows raised dubiously.

“I am attempting to correct the misconceptions that are so rampant in bestiaries,” Logan corrected. “So many depend on them, but I’ve found very few actually capture the intricacies of the cultures and habits of nonhuman magical beings. They read more like old wives’ tales, passed down and warped with time, and both the scientific community and the beings in question suffer for it.”

“Huh.” Virgil tilted his head slightly, and Logan realized that at some point his smaller eyes had closed, the dark creases vanishing amidst the pockets of shade under his eyes.

“That sounds like the bestiary way to help people!” Patton added, and Logan watched in disbelief as Virgil’s expression relaxed further, the drider snorting softly.

“So all I’d have to do is… be a drider in front of you?” he asked, one of his back legs tapping against the ground in a remarkable imitation of the way a nervous human might tap their foot. Logan nodded. “I guess… it could work. And it’d be nice to have someone else around who won’t scream at the sight of me.”

“New friend!” Patton cheered, looking perhaps more delighted at the idea than Logan’s presence really warranted. “Only the spidaring are cool enough to be friends with Virgil.”

“Is the wordplay going to be a regular thing with him?” Logan asked, his face pinching sourly.

“Better get used to it. He’s punstoppable,” Virgil replied, grinning toothily when Logan shot him a betrayed look. Logan thought he seemed pleased, going by the subtle twitching of his pointy ears.

Logan hid a small smile of his own. Perhaps following Patton wasn't the unwisest decision he'd ever made, after all.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #arachnaphobia tw #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #drider #drider au #my writing #helpless #writing #am i missing tags?

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obeymeluv · 4 years ago

Text

QUICK! KISS ME! [Bros x Reader]

A lead-up blurb before I go to bed.

School is killing me. This has been in the drafts far longer than I wanted.

No offense if your name is Bethany. It’s a name I picked at random.

The follow-up piece will have the kiss scenarios.

△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽

Some of Asmo’s friends may have used you to get into a special makeup event, but it’s okay! They bought you a lip gloss as a thank you! The shade ‘Sealed with a Kiss’ was not what you thought it’d be

△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽

Being one of the first humans in the Devildom could be uncomfortable and sometimes down-right dangerous! It also had its perks. To you, that meant being close with the Seven Lords of Hell (and Diavolo). To other lesser demons and classmates, you were kind of a ‘get out of jail’ free card.

Were they late to class? Oh, just helping the human out!

Caught sneaking in food or drink when they weren’t supposed to? It’s to split with the human, of course! They thought you’d love to try it!

Everyone was keen not to overuse it and you’d actually made good friends this way. It was starting to feel less like an excuse and more of a way to be included. You were the friendly, reliable human that had won hearts and saved some asses. As a thank you, one of your closer friends (a repeat offender for lateness), invited you out to an exclusive makeup release. She was a VIP member and had early access an hour before the store opened to the Devildom public.

The fact that she chose you, a human, over some LITERAL century-old friends caused a bit of tension but she could care less. “I’ve seen them every day for over a hundred years. You get one year, and we’re going to make it awesome!” Bethany breezed through the store at a dizzying pace, picking through concealers and opening a box of mascara to look at the packaging. She moved at a pace only demons could manage; you thought you saw her by the nail polish display but when you looked again she was throwing sheet masks in her basket. Hooking her arm with yours, she picked up some foundation on the way back to the coveted display of lip glosses and lipsticks.

You weren’t totally versed in the differences between Devildom makeup and human world makeup. In all honesty, there didn’t seem to be a difference. Bethany swatched powdery cream lipsticks on her wrist and followed with ribbons of liquid lipstick. Every now and then she dotted them on your arm; she was adamant about finding a shade the both of you could wear as your thing.

“This one,” she decided, waving the tube at you and booping your nose with it carefully. “This is our color!” she took you by the hand and joined the checkout line. She had two in her hand but refused to let you so much as hold one, wanting to pay for it first. It wasn’t technically breaking the purchase limit rule; if they tried to nag her she’d just say she was holding onto it so another demon didn’t bully you out of it. You didn’t know if it was her VIP status or the fact that her defense made sense, but you were able to check out without a problem.

A few sour faces and mean glares met you outside but Bethany ignored it all, eager to have a Devilgram-worthy celebratory snack break (snack victory? You know, since you got the makeup?) The plan was to eat, hold down a table at the nearby cafe while her other friends shopped, and have group makeovers (or try-ons) before calling it a day. That plan was interrupted three bites into a croissant sandwich when Lucifer summoned you back to the House of Lamentation. He’d gotten wind of all the girls you’d be with and didn’t feel totally comfortable letting you hang out with them,

Had Barbatos seen something? Did Lucifer feel spurned that you weren’t hanging out with the Seven Lords of the Devildom? He gave no answer, simply asking you to stay put while someone came to escort you back to the house. Bethany was put off by the turn of events but few people dared to complain about the Seven Lords due to their connections with Diavolo (she was no exception). “If we can’t get the full makeover, we’re getting the selfie!” she declared, deftly breaking the seal to her Sealed with a Kiss gloss and swiping it on with help from the front-facing camera on her D.D.D

You busied yourself with opening your tube. Before you could ask for her phone (since the camera was already open), she took the tube from you and tilted your chin up. She dabbed the center of your lips playfully before carefully tracing your lips with the color. The heat rose in your cheeks and she smirked. Being part succubus, she could draw energy from emotions like embarrassment and the feeling of being flattered. Her fingertips pulsed under your chin as she drew on that energy.

Getting energy sucked could feel like a lot of things -- being light-headed, getting a rush of excitement, all prickly and tingly like your whole body was pins and needles. Whatever it was, it usually faded into drowsiness and kittenish contentment. She probably only touched your chin for seconds but the wash of coziness had you melting against your chair, your cheek cradled in her palm.

Did she take the pic? What was happening? It felt like Asmodeus had materialized out of thin air, helping you stand and making small-talk with Bethany before pulling you away, out of her aura that was trying to suckle the vestiges of happy energy you offered.

“And what shade did you get on those pretty lips, hm?” the cotton fell out of your head and ears, allowing you to really hear Asmo now that the aura effects had worn off.

“Uh,” you fished around in your bag and looked at the packaging. “Sealed with a Kiss.”

Asmodeus stopped so abruptly it’d almost yanked you back to him. The two of you were barely tangled at the pinkies and now he’d completely laced your hands together. He held your hands captive, drawing them up in surprise and basically dragging you into his torso. You were forced to look up into glittering pink eyes and if you didn’t know any better, they looked a little panicked.

“How long ago did you apply it?”

“I don’t know.” you blinked helplessly at him. That energy suck thing had a way of making your brain tune out and turn to pudding. That aside, who knows how long Asmo stood there and talked to Bethany while you were being siphoned?! “Bethany applied it, not me.”

Asmo clicked his tongue, huffed, resigned himself to only holding one hand. and started scrolling on his D.D.D to find that selfie Bethany posted. You were being dragged along like a child as Asmo’s shoes clicked towards the House of Lamentation. It amazed you how well he could navigate his D.D.D with his long, painted nails.

Whatever he was looking for, he found it.

Asmodeus tucked his D.D.D into his pants pocket, scooped you up in a way that terrified and amazed you (two people being supported by one set of heels?), and flew to the House of Lamentation. He didn’t always use his wings, as he preferred to decorate them and maintain them with oils, but the fact that he was flying made you nervous.

What had he found? What was the deal?

“Asmo--” you started nervously, the flapping of his wings nearly drowning you out as he pushed himself. Flying against the wind didn’t help. Your hair was a mess and the wind was in your face; the Devildom was always a little chilly but now it was enough to make your face tingly.

“She gave you enchanted makeup. There is a reason humans don’t use enchanted makeup.” Asmo’s pretty brows furrowed as he cut a hard angle and glided over a portion of the square. The tell-tale thicket of trees that lined the winding path back to the House of Lamentation were on the edge of the horizon.

“What’s going to happen?” should you ask that? Did you really want to know?

“You’ll feel something in your lips--some people felt tingling, some people felt pulsing, it can be anything, I think--and then they’ll seal shut.”

“SHUT?!” you yelped. It was enough to make Asmo wince. The startle carried over to his wings; they shuddered and locked; the two of you dropped for a heartbeat or two before he corrected himself.

“If I can’t get some makeup remover on it first.” Asmo panted, tucking his wings in and preparing for a quick descent. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought to teleport first--the panic? Trying to one-up Bethany by walking home and being extra cute with hand-holding?--but a quick touch down could roll into a simple skip teleportation and everything should work out!

“But my lips are already tingly!”

“Ugh, Bethany! I can’t believe you! I mean, I can because it’s you, but really, Bethany?”

“Asmo, focus!” you’d already skipped several feet ahead, clearing the front yard in two teleports. The third put you in the foyer. “I don’t want my lips to seal shut!”

The House of Lamentation was huge but when the occupants had supernatural hearing, that exclamation turned heads.

“What’s this about your lips sealing shut?” Lucifer appeared at the top of his stairs, his head already shaking.

“DID YOU MAKE A PACT WITH A WITCH?!” Mammon screamed down the hall, clearly not far behind.

Asmo scoffed, lowering his D.D.D with a pout. He was halfway up the main stairs, fingers working at lightning speed. “It’s the lip color!” he explained, stomping his foot. Noisy people were just so annoying! If everyone was talking he couldn’t explain! How rude!

“All this over some makeup?” skeptical Satan peered over the banister, book and arm casually propped up on it.

“If two people apply the color and kiss, they’re locked in a makeout session until it dries down. When one person applies the lip color, they can use it like a cheat sheet to see who secretly wants to kiss them,” his words tapered out from authoritatively informed to quiet and shy. “It’s from their ‘Liquid Love’ collection.” he muttered into the stunned silence of the room.

You were trying to open your lips and ask why. The magic had already taken hold. Asmodeus could see you trying to move your lips and strain your chin. Luckily, demons could read minds. “It’s because Bethany is stupid.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes. “Ambitious, but stupid.”

“Please explain, Asmo.” even when using the dear nickname Lucifer couldn’t hide the demand. His demon aura was creeping up his body and slowly becoming jagged and suffocating.

“Bethany has had a HUGE crush on our little human here, and wanted to seal it with a kiss, so to speak.” Asmo’s cheeks got pinker and pinker as he explained. Mostly because he was mad he didn’t think about it. His heart did something funny at the thought of you kissing someone else. Lucifer also looked like he wanted to murder someone about now, and Asmo had to remind himself that he was being looked through, not looked at.

“Just grab a napkin and wipe it off.” Mammon shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Asmodeus shook his head angrily. “It’s too late now. We need to find someone for them to kiss! Someone’s lips will break the seal on theirs...that’s kind of the point of the enchantment.”

“So they just pick someone to kiss?” Levi’s face was turning tomato red. Would it be him?! It would at least be one of them, right? What if your person wasn’t in the House of Lamentation and you NEVER SPOKE AGAIN?!

“Sort of.” Asmo patted your shoulders with his gentle, smooth hands. He started to rub them like he was trying to warm you up. Partly in encouragement and partly to get your attention because he could feel your brain spiraling down into panic. “They basically follow their mouth.”

“So that lip color is like a crush detector?” Satan abandoned his book at the top of the stairs and was now perusing articles on his D.D.D as he sauntered down the steps. It sounded like he’d found the one that sent Asmo flying to the House of Lamentation.

“Basically.” Asmo sighed. It was the stupidest way to confess to someone, he thought. Demon to demon, it was fine. Demon to human?! NO! The whole thing gave him a headache. The fact that Bethany thought she could just steal your little lips and be greedy with them was the biggest annoyance of it all.

“So,” Satan’s green eyes cut sharply from his phone to you. The corner of his lips curled up in a smart little smirk. He knew it was wrong to find your predicament so funny, but this was a very human thing to get mixed up in. “Who do your lips want? Who do you feel yourself being drawn to?”

#Blurb #Lead-up #Obey me! x reader #Asmodeus x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Satan x Reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Beel x Reader #Belphegor x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Levi x Reader

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quillsareswords · 3 years ago

Text

1:20

Damian Wayne x reader

SUMMARY: You're lucky you've memorized Robin's schedule: it might me the only saving grace you've got left.

WARNINGS: blood, near-death

Master List in bio

It's 1:20 on a Tuesday morning in early June.

Gotham never really gets hot, but the humidity suffocates anything that might think that's a relief. You didn't check the weather this evening. You probably should have.

It's 1:20 on a Tuesday morning. He's gonna be here. You've had mixed feelings about knowing his schedule this well in the past, but now it's the deciding factor of your fate.

It's 1:20. That means you've been bleeding like a stuck pig for ten straight minutes, even if it feels like it's been hours. Or seconds. You don't really know anymore. You're getting dizzy.

So you've leaned against the wall. Some little roof access point that stands tall above the gravel covering the rooftop. The brick digs into your shoulder, even through your jacket.

You're starting to think you've gotten it wrong. Or maybe he just didn't show today. Maybe you're out of luck this time.

It was dumb. Stupid to think that you could stop this. Stupid to think you would end any way other than alone.

It was on purpose, after all. Isolation, that is. You pushed and shoved everyone away with a friendly smile and kept them at arm's length, lest they wiggle their claws beneath your mask and expose you for every ugly thing you are.

You're a mole. An informant. Someone who plays every side all at once and somehow manages to stay neutral the whole time. You've been passing tips to the Bats for months now, means be damned. Trust was meager between you, but what little there is is mutual.

You'd hoped it'd be your saving grace. Hoped the side playing would leave you with at least one friend, even though it was the entire reason you're in this position in the first place. You had hoped your downfall would save you.

He appears before you two minutes late. 1:22 in the morning and he's late. He doesn't seem to have noticed you, a few feet away, surveying the street below him like it's his job (and it is), with his back to you.

"You're late, Birdy." Your voice comes quieter and rougher than it should, and the force it takes nearly sends you to the ground.

He spins around at the sound, hand already curled around the hilt of his sword by the time he faces you. He says your name lowly, like a warning, like always. His posture relaxes nonetheless. "You come with useful advice, I expect. The skirmish by the docks sounded quick, but Batman thinks–"

"I didn't know where else to go," you say suddenly, because you already know you aren't going to be conscious long enough for this conversation.

The effort gets you this time. Your knees, shaky as they've been, finally give out. You understand, and you forgive them; they carried you all the way here, after all. Your body turns on the way down, back of your jacket scraping terribly against the brick as your heels slide through the gravel. The noise you make is somewhere between a groan and a cry.

It rips the breath out of his lungs. Your name is in his mouth again as he drops to his knees beside you, gloved hands already pawing at the hand you have clamped around the knife still sheathed into your side.

"What happened?" he demands, and he's reaching for his pager with the other hand. "Who did this?"

You're too focused on the way your first name sounds in his voice. There's something nice about the way he spaces the syllables.

He says it again, all panic and worry, like he hasn't the time to mask it anymore.

You wonder for a moment if it has anything to do with his lingering stares and gruff get home safe's.

But then he's shaking your shoulder and you're wincing because it's bruised beneath the jacket.

"Stay awake, hey, stay with me. Batman is on his way. We'll fix this." There's a pause where he's sucking in a deep breath and you're trying to focus on his voice. "You're going to be fine."

You think it's a little funny. You managed to get all the way here, up a goddamn fire escape, but the moment you think he's got you, you lose all ability to keep yourself upright. You just want to sleep. You want to lay down and take a nice, long nap.

You hate to admit that it just might be because you trust him more than anyone else you know. You've only known him for a few months, but you're sure that you're safest with him. You're safe with him.

It shouldn't be much of a comfort, with Death staring you down like a lion on it's last meal. You won't need protecting if your decline doesn't level out soon. It's surprising what such little comfort feels like when you're staring Death down like a gazelle with an attitude problem.

You don't remember being moved. Or how you ended up in a medical bed with stiff, scratchy sheets and a nearly flat pillow. You do remember hearing Damian's voice, fading in and our with your consciousness. The words are all garbled and quiet, but you know the recall the sound.

Alfred is the first person you see. He's unfamiliar, but he introduces himself and offers you a warm smile and a glass of water. He brings you a bowl of soup and hands you a bottle of painkillers and another of antibiotics.

You fall asleep again, listening to some little body of water just outside the white room you're settled in.

When you wake up, it's to the sound of an argument. Batman and Robin. It's hushed, angry and patient whispers back and forth, but it's an argument all the same. You've heard them bicker enough over the last few months to recognize it.

You can't quite make it out. You hear your name a few times, something about time, something about healing, something about help. Batman finishes it.

Robin swings the squeaky door open a few moments later.

He stops halfway into the room when he sees you're awake.

You wiggle your way up the mattress to lean against the pillows behind you. "Birdy."

He sighs. "You nearly bleed out in my arms and that's how you greet me?"

He doesn't sound quite right. A little deflated, maybe. Relieved? As if he'd been holding his breath before he entered the room, and just remembered how to breathe when he caught your eye.

Course, you can't be sure he caught it at all, with those white lenses.

You cock a shoulder. "I'm sure you've seen worse. I'm sure I'll have worse."

His posture shifts as he crosses the room. He shakes his head. "That's not funny."

"It's kind of funny," you try, throwing the best carefree smile you can manage when everything beneath your skin is so sore. "I'm the one who was bleeding, that means I'm allowed to make all the jokes I want."

"That's an unhealthy coping mechanism."

"So is dressing up in red and yellow and calling yourself a bird."

His shoulders drop again. You think you might see a smile, but he turns his head away too quickly. "You should be more careful. I can't always be there to drag you out of every fire, you know."

You cross your arms, raising both knees to take some pressure off of your abdomen. He takes it as an invitation and makes himself comfortable in the chair beside the bed. He finds a comfortable position with a little too much familiarity. "I don't expect you to. I wouldn't have even been there if I wasn't getting information for you."

"For Batman–"

"Potato, pa-tot-oh."

He goes rigid again. "I never would have asked you to put yourself in danger like that."

It's defensive. Appalled, almost. Offended.

You don't know how to reply. That doesn't seem to matter though, because he's not done.

"And even if I had, I would have gone with you. I would have made sure you had backup, I would have– this never would have happened."

There's a certain distain in his tone that catches you off guard. A resentment, toward you or his partner you aren't totally sure.

He runs gloved fingers through slick black hair. Heaves a breath. Pushes himself to his feet. Falsely composed. "You may stay as long as you need. Alfred will take care of you."

"Where are you going?" It slips out before you can stop it. And perhaps you could play if off as a standard question—you are in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people, aside from him—but it's much too quick. It sounds a little too much like don't leave me.

And you know he hears it too, because he turns back around so quickly you wonder if he even considered it. "Patrol. It's Wednesday night." And yet he makes to move to leave.

You nod. "Right. Yeah. You're, uh, what? You're over by the city museum tonight, aren't you?" You want to smack yourself. What are you doing, making small talk? He's got places to be, people to save.

"Yes." The top seal of his mask flexes when he raises an eyebrow.

You nod again. An awkward smile on your lips. "I, uh, I didn't know how to feel about knowing where you'd be most of the week, but I guess I'm glad I do. Saved my skin last night, didn't it?"

He drawls in a deep breath. "Suppose it did."

There's a long pause. You aren't sure if you're breathing, but you're sure he isn't. He looks tense, like he's torn between saying something and leaving, body angled not quite toward you.

"You can always come to me," he says suddenly. He must read something on your face, because he tumbles straight into the next sentence. "Last night, you said you didn't know who to go to. I'm telling you now, you can always come to me. I'll fix it, whatever it is."

His voice is tight. A little unsure, but not in the statement. Like a hiker on a rocky trail; unsure of his footing, but certain in his destination.

There's something else in his words. Something scrawled between the lines in thin, fragile letters. Something deeper than wounds and needing backup.

I'll fix it, whatever it is.

Your heart rate picks up, and the heart monitor reveals your secrets on the screen beside you. What it can't reveal is the way the poor organ soars, throwing itself to the clouds with reckless abandon, completely uncaring of the hard trip back down.

You still don't know how to reply. You'd like to say something witty. A little sarcastic, maybe a smidge mean. He's giving you a glimpse at his heart, beating bloody in his hands, and there's a large part of you that wants to poke it. Nothing too wounding, just enough that he never makes the mistake again.

But you can't help it. There's a much larger part of you that wails, who wants to snatch it from him to shield and cradle, because he obviously can't be trusted with it. Not if he's baring it to you.

The deciding party is the reminder of last night. Dragging yourself up a rusted fire escape, praying to anyone who might listen that he'd be there. That he'd help you. You remember thinking he wouldn't. You remember the thought hanging above you like gravediggers as you settled into a coffin: you pushed everyone away, you don't leave room for those who want to help you.

"Thank you," you attempt, and it comes barely above a whisper. You allow it to be tender. You let it embody the raw little piece of you that utters it; the piece that wants so desperately to let him in. The piece that knew he'd save you. The tender little sliver of soul who still believed you deserved to be trusted and supported. The one who still hopes for meaningful connections, even among your collection of throw-away contacts.

You can see the way he relaxes. The way he melts inside his skin, like he'd been expecting you to poke when you could have. Like it lifts a weight off of him, knowing that you'll trust him enough to come to him in the future.

"I'll be back in a few hours. You should sleep."

You roll your eyes. "Sleep in some weird ass white room I've never been in, surrounded by a bunch if people I barely know. Yeah, I'm sure I'll sleep like a baby."

He recognizes that you aren't entirely serious, but he also recognizes the orange pill bottles on the table beside you. "If Alfred has you on those, I trust you will—no matter where you are."

You chuckle, he offers you the tiniest smile, and then he's gone. Vanished into the rest of whatever strange building he whisked you into.

You should be worried about it. Not knowing where you are, exactly who you're with, who has access to you. But you aren't. And it might be the medication making you compliant, and you'll look back on this in a week and be horrified—or it could be that you've broken all your own rules and thrust all if your trust into the hands of a boy you've never seen without a mask.

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader

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raineydays411 · 4 years ago

Text

The adventure continues

Bruce Banner x daughter! reader

Summary: It’s been about two weeks since you’ve been on Sakaar. You and Loki have been kissing the Grandmasters ass in order to stay in his favor. That’s when you see a familiar face.

A/n: Hello! So I finally found the energy to write this chapter lol sorry it took so long. Also, I’m not too sure how to spell Sakaar, soo if there are different spellings please ignore that

You sigh as you sit next to Loki. It’s been about two weeks since you came to this planet. You haven’t even begun looking for your father. No, instead you and Loki have been running around kissing the Grandmasters ass.

You found the man amusing, his chaotic energy was entertaining to say the least. But he had an air of danger to him. You tried to make sure to stay on his good side. Loki seemed to have the same idea as well.

You and Loki have become significantly closer during your stay here. You never thought that you’d be so close to the God that tried to take over your planet, but here you were. Since your talk in the tailor's room, Loki has become increasingly overprotective over you. He was constantly by your side, glaring at anyone who dared to come up to you. Now as annoying as that sounds, he has gotten you out of some sticky situations.

For example, there was this one time this alien tried to kidnap you, claiming that as a terran, you’d make him rich. Well before he was able to step even a foot away, Loki was there and almost ripped his arm off. The only thing that stopped him was the Grandmaster. He assured you and Loki that the kidnapper would be taken care of by his “Champion”. Whatever that meant.

That was another thing you tried to avoid on this planet. The Grandmaster’s fights. Something about the idea of sometimes innocent beings being forced to fight for others entertainment was wrong to you. And while to the rest of the population it was the norm, you just couldn’t stand the thought of watching these people slaughter each other.

Other than these few incidents, you and Loki have fit in pretty nicely. Loki was at ease with this crowd, charmingly talking to them and winning them over with his silver tongue. And you have made a name for yourself as well. You were known as one of the best storytellers in Sakaar. Of course, you usually told plots of the movies, plays, and books you memorized from Earth. But what they didn’t know won’t hurt them. But unlike Loki, you were getting restless. You wanted to find your father and go home. You miss Tony and Pepper, the way they were so sweet to each other, and the way Steve would ruffle your hair in the kitchen after his work outs. You wondered of they were worried about you as you have been missing for two weeks now.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice a familiar face who was strapped down in a chair. However, you did notice when Loki went tense next to you. Looking up at him you raised an eyebrow, silently asking if he was okay.

“I’m fine”, he said quickly, “Darling, it seems as if the Grandmaster will be inviting us to watch the newest competition, perhaps you’d want to make yourself scarce before he comes.”

You smile, appreciating the warning and stood up excusing yourself. You thought you heard someone call for Loki, but brushed it off as he was very popular among this crowd. You made your way to your room, desperate for some peace and quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki lets out a relieved sigh, knowing that if you saw Thor in that chair, you would have made a rash decision and ruin all the plans you both had made.

He stands up, excusing himself from the small group that formed around him. He rushes to Thor, shushing him.

“What?!” ,Thor asks confused on why Loki was shushing him.

“You’re alive?”, Loki says, in a hushed tone. Thor looks up at him as much as he could, the chair restricting his movements.

“Of course I’m alive!”, He shouts quietly

“What are you doing here?”

“What to you mean what am I doing here?!” ,Thor says exasperatedly, “ I’m stuck in this stupid chair! Where’s your chair?”

“I didn’t get a chair”

“Then get me out of this one!”

“I can’t”

The two brothers were so caught up in their silent bickering, they didn’t notice the Grandmaster appear right next to them.

“What are you whispering about?”

The two jumped apart.

“Time works differently around these parts.”, He says, “Anywhere else I would be like millions of years old but here in Sakaar I’m like...”

He trails off, leaving an awkward silence. He smiles and glances at Loki as if he was waiting for him to say something. Loki laughs nervously, looking from Thor to the Grandmaster. Thor looked in between the two totally confused on what was happening.

Seeing he wasn’t going to get an answer, the Grandmaster continued,

“ In any case, you know this uh, um”, he turns to Thor, “ You call yourself the ‘Lord of Thunder?”

“God of Thunder” ,Thor corrects, he gestures at Loki, “Tell him”

“I have never seen this man in my life.”

“He’s my brother!” ,Thor shouts getting frustrated.

“Adopted.”

The Grandmaster looks at Loki, “ Is he any kind of fighter?”

“You take this thing out of my neck and you’ll find out.”

The Grandmaster laughs in amusement, as if Thor told him a joke instead of threating him.

“Hey Sparkles, here’s the deal, anyone who defeats my champion shall win their freedom.”

As the Grandmaster and Thor had their conversation, Loki’s mind was racing. He had a plan. A plan to overthrow the Grandmaster and (reluctantly) help you find your father, even though he doesn’t know who your father is. He already adjusted the plan when you arrived, and now Thor. He has to keep both you and him in the Grandmasters favor.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he hears Thor call his name once more. He turns to see him being carted away on the chair he was bound to. He smiles at the Grandmaster and excuses himself, forcing himself to mingle once more and not rush off to find you. After a while, he manages to sneak away from the crowds and go back to his room. He finds the room where all the gladiators are being held and makes a clone, stepping into the prison. He sees Thor, saying a prayer for Odin as they were not able to give him a proper burial. He joins in, seeing Thor tense up at his voice.

“It hurts doesn’t it...being told you are one thing only to find out that it was a lie.”

Then Thor turned and sat indignantly, refusing to acknowledge Loki.

“I couldn’t jeopardize our position with the Grandmaster. It took time for us to win his trust. He’s a lunatic, but he can be amenable.”

ping. Thor throws another pebble at Loki. Loki sighs, knowing that it was going to be useless talking to him at the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in your room, listening to music on your phone. You may not have any cell service, but surprisingly, this planet has great Wi-Fi.

You’re writing in a journal you found in the bag Strange gave you. Ever since that first day you arrived at Sakaar, you have been journaling your experiences, thoughts, and feelings in this journal. You also have been writing down methods you could use to find your dad.

You were so lost in the music and your writings that you didn’t notice Loki walk into your room. He saw that you weren’t paying attention and decided to scare you.

He crept quietly, making sure to make no sudden movements that would catch your eye. But before he could actually scare you, you spoke up.

“Don’t even think about it Loki.”

“How did you know it was me?” ,He asked, surprised at your reflexes.

“I can smell your hair gel from outside the door.” You say, rolling over to look at him and removing your earbuds. You laugh at the offended look on his face.

You both chuckle and then Loki’s face turns serious.

“Y/n, we have a problem.”

At those words, your heart begins to race. You worry that the Grandmaster has lost trust in the both of you, or he has become suspicious of you both.

“What’s wrong?”, You ask, chewing on your lip in anxiety.

“It seems that Thor has found his way on Sakaar.”

You breath a sigh if relief, “ Oh, is that it? That’s fine, we can just get him on board and adjust out plan--”

“No, we can’t.”, Loki interrupts.

You squint in confusion, “Why not?”

“It seems that the oaf has gotten himself captured and forced into the gladiator fights.”

You gasp and quickly stand up, “We have to help him! He could be killed!”

“Calm down”, Loki says, resting his hands on your shoulders, “ Thor is far stronger than you believe. He will be able to handle himself. What we need to do for now is to keep our heads, and stick to the plan.”

“Stick to the plan?! Loki, we can’t just leave Thor on his own!”

Loki sighs, “ It’ll be better in the long run. If the Grandmaster suspects mutiny, we can both be killed or forced to fight as well.”

You stay silent, taking in the words that Loki is telling you.

“Alright.” ,You agree, disappointed you couldn’t do anything to help Thor.

“That’s a good girl.” Loki says, patting your head. He turns to walk out of the room, “ Come along, we mustn’t give the Grandmaster any suspicions.”

You roll your eyes, hiding your phone and journal in your bag. Following Loki down the hallways, you sigh. You miss home. You miss your dad, And you feel completely useless.

“Darling”, Loki whispers, “Now, I know you don’t like the idea...but perhaps you should make an appearance at the fights”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, but before you speak Loki continues.

“ I won’t force you, but just know that the Grandmaster is incredibly proud of his champion, and you seeing it would be more points toward you.”

You nod. You’d have to go eventually. Might as well get it over with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Loki arrive to the arena late. You didn’t miss much except for the opening act. You hear the roaring of the large crowd, thirsty for blood and carnage. It churns your stomach.

Then the Grandmaster appears in hologram. You don’t really pay attention, you just force yourself to relax. You know that if Thor is fighting then he’ll be okay. But the thought of watching a friend murder another living being that is most likely innocent makes bile rise in your throat.

You’ve never been a person who likes violence. Violence meant that you and your dad had to move again, violence meant that you would be left alone.

Despite this, Tony made sure that you knew how to defend yourself if you had to. You trained with Natasha at first but...it didn’t go so well. So you started training with Steve and Bucky. You learned quickly but hardly ever used your training. Mainly for stress relief or a good work out.

But here on Sakaar, you had to be on guard all the time. It was exhausting. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like if Loki wasn’t here. Surely without him you would be dead.

You zone back in, hearing the Grandmaster introduce the first contender.

“Ladies and gentlemen...I give you...Lord of Thunder. Watch out for his fingers, they sparkle.”

To your surprise, Thor walks out from his waiting area, the crowd booing as he enters. He was wearing different armor and most noticeably, his hair was cut. He had red markings going down the side of his face.

“Jeez, now I remember why I had a small crush on him back in the day” you mutter to yourself. Loki looks at you in disgust and disappointment. You avoid his gaze, looking intensely at the arena.

“Okay! Lets get ready to welcome this guy”

The crowd cheers, getting excited for the next contender. The grandmaster rubs his hands together.

“Here he comes”

a boom goes off and green smoke fills the air. The crowd applauds and cheers as they burst.

“He is a creature. What can we say about him",

Rumbling shakes the ground as the arena is lifted. Your chest fills with anxiety, this champion must be big if they have to lift the arena. You turn to Loki, seeing his face light up with a mix of emotions.

“Well hes unique. There’s none like him”

The rumbling continues as the area is still being lifted.

“I feel a very special connection to him.”

You see Thor prepare to fight, putting on a helmet. Concern fills your heart and the audiences cheers fill your ears.

“Hes undefeated.”

Loki’s words fill your head. Reminding you that Thor is a god. He’ll be okay.

“He’s reigning”

You settle down, trying to reign in your anxiety.

“He’s the defending.”

Loki looks at you and smiles, brushing a curl out of your face and patting your cheek. You instantly feel better, knowing that someone is there for you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you”

“This guy really knows how to build suspense.” You whisper to Loki, who snorts into the drink he has. You both quiet down as the champions doors finally start to open.

“Your Incredible...”

A roar fills the arena. A roar that makes your blood grow cold and your breath stop.

“HULK”

And there, bursting out of his holding area, was the Hulk. Dressed in gladiator armor, holding an axe and club in both hands. The crowd goes wild, cheering loudly at the sight of their champion.

Your father, who has been missing for four years, was the Grandmasters champion.

“I have to get off this planet.” Loki says, pale at the memory of what the Hulk is capable of. He pulls you up from the couch, you lax with the shock, an rushes to leave.

“Hey, hey, hey where are you two going.” The Grandmaster intercepts the two of you guiding you both back to the seats.

“Is she okay? She looks like she’s about to be sick” The grandmaster says, scooting away from you like you were contagious. Loki looks at you in concern and asks if you are okay.

But you could barely hear him. You didn’t hear anything. You were just focused on the arena. Finally seeing the man who you were looking for.

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x daughter!reader #bruce banner imagine #loki x reader #loki x teen!reader #loki imagine #poc reader #PoC representation #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #Avengers #thor ragnarok #thor odison x reader #black!reader #marvel x reader #marvel #reader insert

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arcadejohn127-9 · 4 years ago

Note

What if Mc was a person who don't take shit from anyone, demon human or Angel, and just was this small sassy piece of dynamite? How’d everyone react?

MC who takes no shit - brothers + undateables

Satans pact and chapter 16 spoilers

Lucifer:

So you've chosen death

This man can't even handle the smallest sign of defiance

an actual bitch boy

"You are here because you were picked to attend, you were listed to be under my care, this is MY house! You follow MY rules-"

"hold that for a second, I'm calling Dia."

He's so easy to rile up

You feed off his quick temper, he makes it too easy

But he deserves it

Too many times he thinks he can just control you and his brothers

You've cut Mammon down from the ceiling, when faced to Lucifer you just handed him the rope

"If you want someone to hang so much, do it yourself, old man, it is your fault after all - if you didn't leave your cursed valuables lying around Mammon would of never tried to steal them and get himself cursed."

Mammon:

He both scared of you and in awe of you

He's surprise you're still alive at this point

Of course you're alive, the great Mammon is looking after you

You have definitely called him out for being a tsundere

"So, you wanna make out or do you wanna keep yammering on?"

"I- You can't just be saying that to demons!! Why would I wanna kiss some human-"

"Kay, I'm going to go see if Levi wants to-"

"WAIT! DON'T DO THAT!"

Whenever he steals something from you or the others, you go on a man hunt

"Sell your own stuff! You always have something new in there! or are you that scummy and bad with money you need to steal off others ?"

Please have some mercy with him

In general, finds your sassy attitude interesting, always wonders what the new comment or roast will be

Levithan:

Scared and in awe but times it by 10

Is mostly terrified because you make him upset

Didn't expect to be called a guilt tripping bitch

"You're busy? I get it, I mean - why would you ever want to spend time with someone like me? I'm just some nobody, a yucky otaku who no one wants to be around-"

"I get having a low self esteem but shitting on yourself at EVERY given chance and then go on to be about how yucky and worthless you are when I just wanna spend time with someone else?! You can fuck right off!"

He thinks you're a delinquent, has gotten you a cool jacket so you can put it over your shoulders

You can pat him on the back for at least being able to stand up for himself, he's always ready to brawl and never shys away from calling his brothers out

Always lets you wear his headset and just watches as you cuss and sass any petty player

Satan:

It seems you keep choosing death

You wanna get sassy and back talk the literal embodiment of wrath????!

So - do you want be buried or cremated?

You take none of his shit

He respects it just as much as he hates It

We all know he has good control over his anger but there's a limit on how much of your attitude he can stand

"You're so petty, do you have to be a smart-ass about everything?"

"that's rich coming from the guy who threatened to cut off my limbs because I wouldn't make a pact wth him."

When he doesn't respond you just nod to yourself, checking your nails

"Yeah that's what I thought."

If he needs to come up with a good come back he always asks you

Sits back and watches you argue with Lucifer

Asmodeus:

He loves it until you call him out

Didn't expect to get psychologically profiled

"At first I thought you were just a narcissist but now I see you're just a Insecure man who placed his value on his looks and how people perceive him-"

" You can't seem to handle any type of bad press about you-"

"Oh? Did you make yourself look bad then blame it on someone else because they just wanted to do what they please? Oh boo hoo!"

You could end this man's career with a single word

But, if you're 'no shit' attitude is targeted to someone else? He's all over it

Will sigh dreamily and watch you chew Someone out

Unless you get super roasty and rude - he encourages you to talk to him with an attitude

"You're so hot when you talk like that~"

Knows you aren't all sass, he definitely enjoys your more softer side

Will invite you to a sleep over so you two can gossip and rant over a bottle of wine and do a mini spar

Beezlebub:

What prompted you to be this sassy? He's baby!

I mean, he did throw a fit when you ate his custard and destroyed your room

Sure, constant hunger is painful but he can survive without one custard

Yeah- he can be up for roasting and being chased out

"You've told me you literally want to eat me! How is that comforting?! You're hunger tantrums are already bad enough but now I know I could be on the menu?"

"No thanks! Do the hokey pokey and turn your goofy ass around!"

Has a habit of being your stool, he doesn't mind really, finds it pretty adorable actually

You're so small compared to demons so when a gym jock is being rude about you or Beel

You just snap your fingers and he'll sit down, hunch over and put his hands over his head

You'll just step on his palms (you take off your shoes angrily whilst telling the jock demon to not move an inch) and just go off

He understands where alot of your cusses come from, he agrees with you and feels guilty on his behaviour

Really likes it when you stand up for him; normally no one does that because he's such a big guy

Belphie does it but things can be abit disheartening when your twin Is the only one rushing to help you

Belphegor:

You know what? Understandable, please, fire away

Just keep making jokes and references to all the bad things he's done

He needs to be put in his place

The dude has literally killed you! If you weren't going to give him an earful when you recovered then what was the point?!

This man is one of many bastards in this school

Either watches you go off on people or sleeps mid arguement to stop hearing you call him out

"I'm innocent, I haven't done a single thing wrong in my life."

"wELL-"

He will always respect you for looking out for his twin, when he can't do anything he always looks to you to step in

Has held things out of your reach just to watch you get mad

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

You've chosen a fate worse than death at the cost of sassing a pure man

He gets upset but is very understanding, it's his companions who will handle your fate

I honestly, CANNOT, think of a reason you'd want to be sassy or rude to him

If it's just in general and not meant to offend him; he thinks it's very attractive

You've got a silver tongue and able to make a comment without much thought

Very impressive

His type is Lucifer very simple

You'd call him out for letting dangerous behaviour happen at the school and putting loads of faith into Lucifer

Perhaps point out how reckless inviting humans to a demon realm - who could easily be killed if they don't have an escort with them at all times

But other than that? He's safe

Barbatos:

He is your executioner

He can handle a jab

But he will remind you he was the one who saved you if you get too out spoken with him

that only gets him more cussed out though

"So you're aware of pretty much every event that happens, Right?"

"You could say that."

"Then shouldn't you use those abilities to then help anyone and stop all sorts of tragedies?"

"My Lord has stopped me from using my powers freely."

OKAY THAT'S SOMETHING YOU CAN CUSS DIA OUT ON

In general, you just make comments about how vague he is

He's too mysterious that it's just ridiculous

You want to get to know him but he just gives you that smug look and amused laughter

Solomon:

Can you really be blamed for being Sus of him?

He's so suspicious, for what?! For what reason?!

He doesn't like being called old? Depending how disrepectful you wanna be, you like to use the nickname "Grandpa Solo"

"I'm surprised you aren't actually some evil Wizard trying to get the brothers pacts so you can be the most powerful human alive and take over the Devildom."

"Who says I'm not?"

He's witty and smug

You're sassy and explosive

You're a duo that should be feared

The two powerful humans banding together? I'm sure there's a website on the two of you with theories of your evil plans

Simeon:

Finds your attitude delightful!

Didn't want his kindness to annoy you but it did, sometimes it is a crime to be Too nice

His favoured company are all sassy bastards so it only makes sense he likes you very much

"You gave them bangles that made them into SAINTS! that's fucking weird! And you had them turn into angels despite the fact they have truama from heaven!"

as mischievous as Simeon can be

His angelic nature really does pop out alot

"aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you want to go ape-shit?"

"Of course not, there's no need but thank you for worrying about me, I know I can seem force and strange to you but I really do enjoy being kind to others."

"disgusting."

Almost fought him during the TSL event; you didn't expect him to do a 360 and become super strict

Despite your hard shell you care alot about the people you're close with and can't stand to see them upset

Luke:

It appears you're trying to throw hands with a 10 year old

He does seem demonphobic

Why are you always denying your true feeling??!! Just admit you like demons!

You try not to swear and be outwardly rude Infront of him

But sometimes this little boy really tests your patience

"Okay species-ist."

Is your main response when he's being a tsundere

He's the one who's the safest from your attitude

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minor-solemnity · 4 years ago

Note

hi i love your work and am excited for your series. i was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader comforts tom and let’s him fall asleep on her while she plays with her hair 😩 soft tom 😈

Yesssss! Soft Tom - I cannot resist! This may have gotten away from me a bit so I hope you enjoy 2.6k of fluffy comfort!

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

What Equates to Worship

The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

It’s late when you get home. There is a Very Important Case being tried in the Wizengamot and your boss, Gerald Montague, is running you ragged in an attempt to get the edge on the prosecution. It’s a nasty case, the defendant, Mr Vickers, is on trial for the kidnapping and murders of five women. His chances aren’t looking good - there is enough physical evidence to bury him and his alibi is flimsy at best. In private, both you and Montague are convinced of his guilt but that doesn’t matter when it’s your job to convince the Wizengamot and a jury of his innocence. Needless to say, it’s not been an easy couple of weeks.

Your shoes click against the uneven cobblestones as you make your way down the narrow road to your flat situated just off the main drag of Knockturn Alley. It’s not the best part of town, but the flat itself is double the size of what you would be able to afford if you lived somewhere more reputable. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever been scared by the less savoury parts of humanity and society - you’d be awful at your job if that were the case. You throw a couple of sickles to the hag that operates outside your building, and she promises you glory in the afterlife in thanks. “If you could promise me glory when I’m alive, I think I’d find that more useful,” You say as you fumble with your keys.

She laughs, “That will cost you more than a few sickles, love, try again tomorrow.” You chuckle and shrug a shoulder. It was worth try at least. The gas lamps that lead the way up the winding stairs to your attic flat are already lit, casting a dim, flicking light across the stairwell. You frown slightly as you make your way up the stairs; no one usually lights the lamps, leaving it up to you to light them when you return from the Ministry every day. Your curiosity is further piqued when you reach your front door and find it glowing a dim red, indicating that someone has broken through the wards. You have an idea of who it is, but you take your wand out just in case you’re mistaken. You have a few files from the Very Important Case hidden in the depths of your bedroom, which in the wrong hands, would be disastrous for you and Montague.

The inside of your flat is dark and cold and looks just as you’d left it this morning. With a sigh, you flick your wand at the fire and smile as flames begin to flicker and burn. Your flat is relatively spacious, but the fireplace is enchanted to spread the warmth further than a normal fire would and with any luck you’ll be toasty and warm within a few minutes. You shrug out of your travelling robes and kick off your heels, rubbing your aching feet with relish. Next on your list of things to do is figure out who has broken into your flat and if it's something you should be concerned about.

You pad through the flat, your stockinged feet making no noise against the polished wooden floorboards. The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is in disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat which is honestly pitiful and you are struck by a burning desire to make whoever put him in such a state pay for their crimes. Tom should never look so downtrodden - it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. You rub soft circles against his palms, smoothing the tension out of his fingers with careful strokes as the quiet of your flat weaves a gentle spell of calm and soothing around the two of you. “Is it a good evening?” He mutters and when you look up at his face, you can see the hard lines of annoyance and defeat marring his forehead.

“Hmm, don’t frown, darling - you’ll ruin your pretty face.” This at least gets a small hum of amusement out of him which you count as a win. Heaven knows that when Tom gets in these moods it can take a lot more than gentle touches and murmured sweet-nothings to get him to smile. You rise from your position and move behind the armchair, resting your cheek on the crown on his head and your hands on his shoulders to kneed at his knotted muscles. “I assume that you didn’t get the job?”

You’ve been so busy with your own work that you’d forgotten that Tom’s interview with Dumbledore was today. If you had remembered you would have taken the day off because even the most optimistic person would have known there was a fool’s chance of Tom getting the Defence job. Despite everything though, Tom is an optimist. You would never have guessed it when you first got to know him, but underneath his taciturn facade is a terribly hopeful young man who still believes that things will turn out in his favour. His idealism is part of what you love about him if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s a good contrast to your cynical realism.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Tom, despite his young age, is the most qualified person you can think of for the position. He knows more about Defensive magic than anyone save for maybe Dumbledore himself, and beyond that, he has the right temperament for it. It comes as a surprise to most people who meet him that Tom would be a good teacher, but he really is. His love of Hogwarts, defensive magic, and his desire to impart that knowledge all adds up to someone who sees struggling students and wants them to succeed. If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, he would have been a shoo-in for the role.

“You assume correctly.” His voice is still tight and muted with resigned anger, but he begins to loosen under your hands, his head lolling to the side and coming to rest against your forearm.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

Tom sighs and the sound is world-weary and destitute. At that moment, your hatred for Dumbledore intensifies. “He never intended on giving me a chance. He invited me in and lectured me about dark magic. He essentially said that as long as he was Headmaster I would not be welcome in the castle.” The worst thing is that Tom sounds so forlorn. Unlike you, who had decided after a year at Hogwarts that the only thing you wanted to do was leave, Tom’s fondness for the school is unparalleled. “Knowing him, that won’t be for another hundred years or so.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” You say, dropping a kiss into the dark curls of his hair. “He’s an old coot. Still so struck by the mythology of his own genius that he can’t see past his own prejudices.” He hums lowly in response and eventually, you feel him start to relax. It’s gratifying to know that it’s you over anyone else, that he comes to when he needs support. You know his friends and followers would do anything to gain his favour, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t seek them out. No, he doesn’t trust them to see him like this, to see him in his more human moments of vulnerability. He trusts you to understand him and comfort him. That in itself is a gift.

“Now, come on. We can worry about Dumbledore later, but right now, let me find us something to eat.” Food, in your opinion, can go a long way to right a lot of wrongs and you have a sneaking suspicion that Tom probably hasn’t eaten all day. He’s annoying like that, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about silly little things like eating and taking care of oneself. You can’t help but chuckle softly as he mumbles something under his breath and reaches for your hands to hold you in place. “Later, my love. I promise,” You say and disentangles yourself from his grasp.

Tom follows you out of the bedroom and watches you with a look of exasperated amusement as you search your kitchen. Your cupboards are sinfully bare when you go to inspect them, the rush of the last two weeks has meant that you’ve neglected a lot of your more basic chores. “And you accuse me of neglecting my needs. You hardly set a good example, my dear.” He murmurs from where he’s lounging against the stove. You roll your eyes as you shove your feet back into your heels and head for the door.

“Veeraswamy?” You ask and have to hide your smile when Tom’s eyes light up. It’s not often that the two of you treat yourselves to restaurant-quality food as neither of your jobs’ salaries really allow the indulgence, however, tonight, you think an exception is called for. “Feel free to look over the files I brought home - maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” You don’t even finish your sentence before Tom is digging through your work bag and pulling out the offending files. Typical, you think fondly. Tom is as curious as a cat and one of the easiest ways of making him feel better about anything is to introduce him to a puzzle.

Fifteen minutes later you apparate home with a brown paper bag of Veeraswamy’s finest selection of curries and sweet treats. As a rule, they’re dine-in only, as many of the restaurants in muggle London are, however, you’re not above a confundus charm to get what you want and you always make sure to tip splendidly to offset any guilt you feel for taking advantage. When you get in, Tom has the case files splayed out on the small kitchen table and you spare yourself a moment to admire the elegant curve of his neck and the way his curls fall in graceful arcs across his brow. Without looking up, he makes a space for you to drop the bag of goodies on the table and you collect plates and the bottle of wine that is the only thing you already had in your flat.

You discuss the Very Important Case over dinner and he indulges in your complaints about Montague’s refusal to even consider your line of defence. “Vickers says that he went to a Seer and was told that these women would die by his hand. I want to make the case that he can’t be fully held accountable for the murders if it’s already foretold.” Never mind that that isn’t how prophecies or fortune work, no one in the Wizengamot understands the intricacies of Divination well enough to know that just because something is said, doesn’t mean it will come to pass. “Montague is convinced that we can prove his innocence without resorting to asking for lesser charges.”

“And he’ll lose the case because of it.” He hums, sets his fork down and reaches for your hand, his long fingers looping around your wrist. “Have you considered the fact that Vickers may have been compromised? The file says that when he was found, Vickers was abnormally placid and made no attempts to hide the evidence that would have been easily disposed of? Maybe hire a mind-healer and see if he’s been the victim of an imperius curse,” He says nonchalantly as though he hasn’t just dropped the biggest break in the case in your lap.

“Tom. Tom, you are a genius. How did you even begin to come to that conclusion?” He must hear the wonder in your voice because a small, self-satisfied smile curves his upper lip and he leans over the table to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“These things are obvious if you know what you’re looking for.” The knowing in his voice hints at something darker and your eyes narrow slightly. Tom’s proclivity for the dark arts is no secret, neither is his cunning and ruthlessness. You don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, but you suppose it’s probably a good thing that you’re training to become a defence lawyer. Maybe one day he’ll need one.

Tonight is not the night for those kinds of thoughts though. You doubt any night will be - if ever there comes a day when you have to reckon with Tom’s less savoury pursuits, you already know where your allegiances lie. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you stand and lead him to the bedroom. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I think,” You say as you settle against the headboard and motion for him to join you. “You must be tired after today.”

Even though he tries to hide it, you can see that the day has worn on him. Shadows form like ink stains underneath his eyes, and he holds himself with a kind of forlorn regret that fills you with a feeling of sympathetic sorrow. He crawls up the bed and raises an eyebrow when you don’t move to make room for him. Instead, you simply lift an arm and smile, sleepiness and tenderness mingling into something soft in your eyes. After a few second of internal debate where Tom looks from you to the spot you’ve made for him, he gingerly lowers himself against you, his head resting in the hollow where your shoulder meets your neck. He lies unnaturally still and tense in the way a feral kitten might react to the kindness of a stranger.

Honestly, it’s more than a little heartbreaking. Slowly - carefully - you rest one hand over his heart and begin to card your other through his hair. You’re not entirely sure how he manages it - you’ve never seen a haircare potion in his vicinity - but Tom has the softest hair of anyone you’ve met. It’s dreadfully unfair, really. You rub gentle circles against his scalp and smile softly in the dim light as you feel him relax against you, the long hard lines of his body soften as you continue your gentle ministrations. Gradually, you sense him ease into a contented state as he seeks clemency from the day in your touch.

That you can do this for him, that you can be this for him is not something you would have ever thought possible. You remember vividly the uptight rigidity with which he had held himself throughout your time at school. The fervent dedication he had channelled to reach the top of the pecking order, never allowing himself a moment of softness or reprieve. You’re certain that if he’s not careful he will burn himself out before he’s had a chance to truly shine, and you know just how brightly he could if given the chance.

You brush his hair from his eyes and lazily draw abstract patterns against his chest, feeling the way his breathing deepens as sleep overtakes him. In this moment of calm, sleepy repose, you feel your heart expand with all love and care you think you might ever feel, and you brush a soft kiss to the crown of his head, revelling in the almost breathy sigh that escapes him. “You’re far too good to me,” He mumbles, half asleep and entirely too sincere.

“Agree to disagree, my love. I am exactly as good to you as you deserve.” He chuckles at this, nestling deeper into your side and flinging an arm across your waist. “Now, sleep - we have so much time for everything else.”

AN: Also before anyone accuses me of anachronisms, Veeraswamy is London’s oldest Indian restaurant. It was opened in 1926 and I’ve been there once before - the food was so so so good and it was disgustingly expensive. I’m assuming that it wasn’t that pricey in the 40’s

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #minific #asks #request #prompt fill #prompt fic #harry potter #harry james potter

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s4kasaki · 3 years ago

Note

hi naynay!! been a hot minute since i've requested something from you, i think...i hope youre doing well and taking care of yourself!! :DDD may i request the same thing i requested last time(tall fem!s/o) but with adonis and madara? thank you in advance!! :DD (and if i already sent this request before *inhales* you can delete that one because i probably dont remember it)

omg it has been a while.. glad to see you're back! and thank you for the kind words and care ! ☆⌒(ゝ。∂) I am doing lovely and I hope you are too. let's get into the request!

♡ — madara and adonis with a tall s/o!

‣ cws / tws: none

‣ reader: female - she/her.

‣ author's note: I love writing for tall___!s/o, maybe that's because I am tall myself so it hits harder.

☆ — MADARA.

... Picks you up~! (￣▽￣)ノ

Madara likes the fact you're tall, he has no problems with it at all! And definitely don’t assume you being tall is gonna stop this man from picking you up as he does with everyone else, absolutely not. He is all about hugs and picking you up as much as possible, please do seek first for his affection, he'll gladly do so whether it be in public or just the two of you.

The guy is a spoiler, he insists on buying you a new pair of high heels often, sometimes he gets the idea you dislike heels and is very curious as to why. Maybe because you haven't gotten used to wearing them yet? But you look so amazing in them! It makes you even taller! It has him doting on you.

“Is that an angel? Or am I hallucinating~!”

Asking his opinion on things you do and or wear? Sometimes height can ruin some appearances for you, but he'll gladly tell you off how beautiful, and lovely you are just alone.

He can talk about you endlessly on MaM & Double Face interviews! He does like to mention how tall you are but slyly! Please save Kohaku, this man is in AGONY.

“hey? Have I talked to you know my dearest love? She's so sweet, and something I love most about her... Her height~☆ But even when people offend her she's still so happy! ＼(^o^)／—”

“Okay, ‘enough!”

Do you feel insecure about your height suddenly? What made you think that way? He showers you in insist affection the moment you're insecure, picking you up and swinging you around... Into a dance. He's just your swinger when you want to swing <3

He calls you simple, sweet names but still occasionally very cheesy ones. You know how some other people concider he's that type of guy... to say ‘you're like the peanut butter to my jelly sandwich’ type thing! Absolutely correct.

“i love you so much, baby!”

This man definitely owns a motorcycle, so expect to go on midnight rides often! You two look like the ideal couple~ his fans are so welcoming of you, it's addictived to not feel spoiled in a sense... “All this? Just because you care about me... it's too much, I don't deserve this attention!”

He spots you in the crowd of his performances before anyone else, thanks to that nice height of yours!~ you're so noticeable! expect to get blown a million kisses! Maybe he'll even invite you on the stage~☆ sure you'll be quite embarrassed for a moment... But what can you do besides go on stage ?

☆ — ADONIS.

Short = protect has swapped into tall = protect!!

It doesn't matter how tall or short you are, you are his soulmate. He's gonna protect you until the day you and he departs.

He was a bit shocked at your tall height, not in a bad way tho. In an interesting way... He's never dated a tall girl before... Nor did he date often anyway.

He thinks you're simply the most wonderful thing In the world.. shape or form, he shows that with the little acknowledge he has on relationships very often. Such as reminding you of the perfection that you are!

“Well, if you’re asking for my own opinion. I think you look great how you are now.”

Everyone else in UNDEAD knows who you are far too well, Adonis isn't the type to bombast you, as Madara might. but he might talk about you to another one of his unit! Most likely the most acknowledgeable to women, Kaoru. This can often lead to him being teased to oblivion (╥﹏╥)

It's gotten to a point where UNDEAD is extremely fond of you hence the fact they know too much, Koga loves your height. He thinks you're cool! You're just about the same height as him! And Kaoru is a flirt nonetheless knowing you're with Adonis, he's just being friendly!

talks about you on interviewers and radio shows, it gets to a point where he can help with but say something about you, and how much he loves you! Nobody has to know it's romantic!~ he's only saying these words out of pure kindness! Nothing more! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

He's so sweet and so gentle with you, going out as giving you kisses when you feel down, to buying you things he'd think you like! Forgive him, he is none the wiser with relationships... But he's trying! And that's what counts, right?

Insecurities are big No-No for him, he detests seeing you depressed over something like your height, or over how your legs are perhaps too tall for a female, how you don't fit in with the crowd or the things around you. don't say such things! you're so pretty, so remember that always! ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡

Yes, he may be quite the shy one to call you names... But when he does they are ever so sweet! Like:

“Sorry, Dear— let's look at something else.”

It's soothing in its own way, his voice is so soft... So gentle. And he certainly isn't afraid to sing to you with that lovely gentle voice of his.

He loves small little animals, so he takes you often to places like the zoo. Simply to show nothing more about his undying love and affection for you. Please consider picking him up and protecting him like a small little fawn who's lost its mother— the way he does you sometimes, he'll faint!

To put it short, no matter how tall you may be. He'll still behave, and act as your faithful Knight and protect and serve you. <3 ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

#꒰ 🌸;; hcs ̖́-#madara mikejima x reader #madara mikejima #adonis otogari #adonis otogari x reader #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #tall s/o!!!

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dudeandduchess · 4 years ago

Note

"I'm so in love with him/her, I don't know what to do" for Giyuu maybe pretty please with Kyo sprinkles on top. Because two emotionally constipated idiots would definitely flounder 😂

Here you go, Biz! Also, big yes to the Kyō sprinkles 😛🤤

***

Giyuu x F!S/O: Moonlit Confessions (Fluff, Modern AU, SFW Scenario)

Note: This will be a little self-indulgent. But I’ll leave the name spaces as (Y/n) and (K/w) for Kyō’s wife’s name.

“How am I even supposed to tell him that?” (Y/n)’s voice was loud with disbelief and a twinge of panic, knowing full well that a few people had already turned their heads to look right at her. Still, she couldn’t care less about what they thought— and even garnered even more stares when she looped an arm through her best friend’s own.

The materials of their kimonos clashed beautifully; a silky burgundy against an equally beautiful hue of blue— which (Y/n) had worn just to get the chance to earn a compliment from her lover.

It wasn’t that her lover— the usually stoic Water Hashira, Tomioka Giyuu— didn’t like her; but his lack of compliments only stemmed from his tendency to always get flustered when he was with her.

And to make things worse for their situation, (Y/n) pretty much simmered down to the same flustered and stuttering reaction whenever he was near. Especially when she caught a glimpse of those pretty blue eyes of his.

Their friends— the Flame Hashira, Kyōjurō, and his wife (K/w)— didn’t even know just how they managed to go on dates when they couldn’t even go without acting like lovesick teenagers in front of the other.

And that was how Giyuu and (Y/n) had found themselves walking with their respective confidantes, before they were set to meet for the festival. Albeit, it was Kyōjurō’s idea to invite Giyuu on a walk before they met up with their respective lovers.

On (Y/n)’s side, she was so busy panicking about her impending confession that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Not even (K/w) buying snacks for her had worked, as she only took a small bite before pushing it onto the other woman.

“I can’t just tell him that I love him. He might not return my feelings!”

At that, (K/w) shook her head, before leaning in and flicking her best friend’s forehead. “Kyōjurō tells me that Tomioka-san loves you a lot. And that Kyō saw him smiling when he overheard Kyō telling that story of when you two went out on a date with us.”

“It’s your husband, he could have been making that up to get a kiss from you.”

Instead of getting offended, however, (K/w) only shrugged before smiling right at (Y/n). “Kyōjurō was right when he said that Tomioka-san was going to ask you out for tea, after he met you at our wedding.”

“That was one time, (K/w)!”

The Flame Hashira’s wife merely quirked an eyebrow at that, before changing the topic. “So, where are you and Tomioka-san going later tonight? Seeing the sights? Eating at the stalls? Maybe… kissing behind the abandoned shrine?”

“Gods no. We aren’t you and your walking libido of a husband,” (Y/n) snarked back, which only served to make her snort at the new unsavory name that she could call the Flame Hashira. After all, she had earned the right to tease (bully) him after he had married her best friend. “We’re just going for a walk and then watching the fireworks, and then we’re going home.”

“How boring,” (K/w) teased good naturedly, before turning her gaze straight ahead and subtly making a beeline towards the head of blond and red hair that she saw. “Let’s go by that takoyaki stand, I have to get Kyōjurō some. He’ll be hungry later.”

“You love him too much.”

“Just like how you love Tomioka-san?”

“I don-… shut up.”

***

Meanwhile on Giyuu’s side of things: he was barely reigning in the urge to knock Rengoku out and make a run for it. He was fed up with consistently being badgered by the other man, especially when it concerned his relationship with (Y/n).

“Do you like her? Or do you love her? I’m asking for a friend.” The Flame Hashira had to know, or else his wife would be upset with him. And he didn’t want that, at all. Happy wife, happy life— that was his belief.

That and if he came back empty-handed, then she wouldn’t make that dessert she’d made that he really loved. He didn’t even know what it was, so he couldn’t very well ask Senjurō to make it.

So, pestering Giyuu it was.

“That’s private.” The Water Hashira answered flatly, before picking up his pace— only to groan audibly when Rengoku had easily managed to catch up to him.

“Just tell me, Tomioka! We’re practically best friends since (Y/n)-chan’s my wife’s best friend. Best friends in law!”

Giyuu didn’t know which pit of hell Rengoku had gotten that idea from, but he bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything mean to his fellow Hashira. It hadn’t ended very well, what with the blond only getting more annoying.

“Tomioka, tell me!” Then came the worst thing Giyuu could think of: physical touch. Rengoku began poking his arm, with every chorus of ‘tell me’.

Even while he walked, the other Hashira kept up with his pace— even if he had already dashed ahead.

He didn’t even know where he was going anymore, just that he was extremely annoyed at his company. He could have been with (Y/n) already, but Rengoku had asked for his help on buying his wife a present.

Now that Giyuu thought about it, the most he had done earlier was look at the lavish pair of earrings that the Flame Hashira had dropped a serious amount of money on.

It was only then that he figured that he was being toyed with. And he was pissed. His time had been completely wasted— when he could have been with (Y/n) earlier.

“Tell me, Tomioka!” Kyōjurō piped out once more, before going to poke the other Hashira’s arm once more.

However, before the blond’s finger even made contact with Giyuu’s haori, his hand was immediately slapped away. “I’m in love with her! I’m so in love with her, and I don’t know what to do, Rengoku! Does that satisfy you!?”

Red-tinted irises widened a fraction of an inch for a second, before they darted over to a spot behind Giyuu. And the latter didn’t even need to look to know who was there, as Rengoku looked like that he was the cat that got the cream— a lovestruck cat at that.

“There’s my gorgeous wife! Come here and hug me, my love!” Kyōjurō had almost all but forgotten Giyuu in front of him, as he stepped around the other man so he could open his arms for his wife.

(K/w) didn’t fail him, catching on to what he wanted to happen, and dragging a reluctant (Y/n) closer to a speechless Giyuu. Not even digging her heels into the ground kept (Y/n) anchored in place— and she could only watch in wide-eyed horror with her heart pounding so hard in her chest, as Giyuu got closer and closer to her.

Until she was standing right in front of him, with (K/w) and Kyōjurō slowly inching away from them while entangled in their hug.

“We have to… uh… start kissing behind that shrine!” Came the Flame Hashira’s excuse for leaving, which had his wife slapping his arm before biting her bottom lip to keep herself from bursting out in laughter.

Both (Y/n) and Giyuu didn’t even know how much time had passed with them standing on a relatively unpopulated part of the path, not even having the courage to look up at each other and reveal just how red both of their cheeks were.

And it was so filled with a tense silence that even Giyuu couldn’t take it. He had faced countless demons before, yet none of those compared to confessing his love for the one person in his life whom had made him happy.

The one person whom had made him forget all of the painful things in his past, and erased all of his fears for the future.

(Y/n) was so special to him that he couldn’t even begin to describe how much his feelings amounted to; all that he knew was that she was everything he could ever want in life— and all he saw was him and her growing old together in the future.

He was sure that he wanted to be her everything, just as he was sure that she deserved more than a shy and borderline cowardly confession.

So, after taking a deep breath, he finally looked up at her without the commotion that the Rengokus brought with them; only to feel his heart leap up to his throat at how breathtakingly beautiful she looked in her kimono— which was the same shade as his eyes.

Giyuu couldn’t help but want to melt on the spot, yet he fought the stiffness in his legs and began to close the distance between them. Until he was standing right in front of her, with his hands gingerly reaching out and wrapping around her own.

And he was glad that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous, because he felt just how cold and shaky (Y/n)’s hands were.

Slowly, he began to caress her knuckles with the pads of his thumbs— all in an effort to get some warmth into those clammy hands of hers.

However, just when he thought that he had fully taken her ethereal beauty in, the moment she looked straight at him took his breath away; since those eyes of hers looked positively beautiful, especially with the way that the moonlight reflected off of them.

“I love you… anata.”

#tomioka giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #tomioka x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x you #giyuu x reader #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer fanfic #kny imagines #kny fanfic

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icequeenbae · 4 years ago

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Daddy’s Struggles (m) | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Dad!Baek, domestic au, established relationship (duh), a slice of life, fluff, a lil smutty(!)

Warnings: some friskiness between mom and dad if you know what I mean, mentions of teenagers watching porn (I’m not promoting it, you guys lol), also this gets fluffin’ sweet get a bucket in advance

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: Baekhyun overhears your teenage daughter watching porn. You have to handle a small crisis.

Event: the BBH day @supermwritersnet

Author’s Note: This… came out of nowhere:D I blame my dear beta @baekshoney – we'd once discussed the idea of Baek being a teenager’s parent (in relation to a different story). Don’t we all love dilf Baek though? lol Anyways, this is a tiny glimpse into his future as a cute af father and husband <3 Let’s name him puppydad!Baek 😊 I hope this lifts your mood a little on a day like this!

On that note – happy birthday to our genius idol (aka mochi-cheeked hyperactive puppy), I wish that he stays healthy and happy and on the radar throughout the next 2 years (and forever)!! Don’t be too sad, guys, he’s hopefully going to finally lead a somewhat normal life for a bit 💞 Ok, I’ll let you get to it already~

A yawn.

You rubbed your tired eyes and dictated a reminder for tomorrow morning to your AI assistant. It was pretty late and you had your hands full all day with your kids. And while family time was always great, there hadn’t been a spare moment for you to tend to your own business. But two decades of dealing with your hyperactive yet loveable children (and husband) taught you to make the most out of what you got. So you were doing just that, organizing your errands and sorting important emails after everyone had scurried off to their rooms, and your husband — to the shower.

Baekhyun was quite exhausted himself, so you realized he must’ve gotten in the common bathroom by the time you exited the one in your bedroom. He did that sometimes when you locked the door out of habit. Not that he couldn’t come in, it was just… You used to scold him pretty badly for breaking into the bathroom. Picking locks wasn’t something you wanted your juniors to acquire as a habit. They had enough of their daddy’s traits as it was.

The thought made you chuckle. Your eldest son had already outgrown his father by at least five and a half – gotta be precise here! – centimeters (which made daddy very proud, but also a teeny tiny bit jealous). Despite his height, which, you were sure, was going to break the golden 180cm in the next few months, your boy’s build was exactly the same as Baekhyun’s. His shoulders were broad, his hips wide, and his waist was naturally narrow. Legs long and lean, and eyes always mischievous. He was eighteen and already seemed more like Baekhyun’s best friend rather than his child. Being both the hyung and the oppa of the household, he was the most mature out of the bunch, and always a big help to his parents.

Your middle child, your precious daughter, resembled you a lot. Her wavy hair and her big eyes with the longest eyelashes either of you’d ever witnessed. Seriously, that was the first thing Baekhyun’s friends had commented on when they came by to meet your new baby. ‘Is this even normal? Can she see through those? That’s one pretty baby!’ She was even prettier now, at her sweet sixteen, cheeks still a bit chubby, which – just as her button nose – were definitely an homage to her dad. Not to mention her hands that were even more delicate and exquisite than his.

The youngest, your six-year-old son, was a blessing. You weren’t planning to have more children after the first two until you suddenly thought… why not? Cannot say that you weren’t a little bit under the influence at the time. It was one of those rare weekends when your kids had a sleepover at their grandparents’, so you had the whole house to yourself. Deciding to have a domestic date and enjoy shameless daytime drinking, you indulged in a whole glass of wine before both of you were tipsy and giggling, then you added one more to the mix. At that point, all kinds of crazy things were brought up.

‘We should do this more often…’ You informed your partner. ‘This is exciting! We can walk around naked the way we used to before we had teenagers in the house!’

‘I miss our naked Saturdays…’ Baekhyun whined, almost spilling his wine while trying to sip it gracefully. ‘Now I barely even see you naked with your shower locking obsession!’

Pursing your lips, you dismissed his complaint.

‘After that incident… You cannot blame me for my caution.’

The incident was, well, your son needing to use the bathroom while his sister was taking too long and heading to the one in your bedroom. He nearly walked in on… an adult scene.

‘He didn’t even see anything, Y/N-ah,’ your husband grumbled, but you waved him off, downing your drink as if it was a shot of tequila rather than a glass of wine.

‘I don’t see a problem though,’ he blinked at you, not following. ‘We’re alone. Why not… See each other naked again?’

‘Right. We can also- Y/N-ah!’

‘What?’ You eyed his suddenly enthusiastic form with nothing but suspicion.

‘We can create a distraction!’

‘Hm?’

‘A distraction for them. So that they’d be busy with something else while we’re away.’

‘Hmm?’ You still couldn’t locate the source of his excitement.

‘Lemme show you,’ he slurred, tugging on your wrist to get you up and dragging you to the bedroom.

Let’s have another baby – that was his brilliant idea. Had you both not been such poor drinkers, one of you would’ve thought this through.

Nevertheless, you were glad that you didn’t. Because your little angel, who could sometimes be more of a tiny demon, to be frank, was the single sweetest thing to ever exist on planet Earth. He had his entire family wrapped around his little finger, and you – most of all. How could anyone blame you? That troublemaker was the spitting image of his dad and had a personality to match — just as playful and affectionate.

The chill spring breeze from the window licked at the bare skin of your arm, causing you to shiver slightly, coming back from the land of reminiscing. You stretched on the bed, noticing how protruding your nipples became from the cold even while hidden by the gentle fabric of your nightgown. Pulling the covers up, you grunted under your breath, wondering what was taking Baekhyun so long.

Just as you did, the door cracked open, and your husband sauntered into the room.

‘Ah finally, I thought I needed to go rescue you again,’ you chuckled.

That had happened before. He once used the common bathroom to shower before bed and ended up captured by your daughter, who was around six or seven at the time, in the hallway. She then demanded cuddles, knowing that her father was too weak to turn his precious girl down and send her back to bed. You found them both huddled up asleep on the couch, with your husband’s head tilted dangerously to the side. Terrible sleeping postures always had consequences, so you spared him the agony of the next morning, waking him up mercifully and helping to get your little girl to her bed. This was only one of many occasions – Baekhyun was a softie.

This time, however, he was a bit stupefied.

He didn’t react to your remark and seemed like he was going on autopilot when he came closer and sat on the bed.

You lifted the covers, inviting him to join you, and he followed your lead, still staring at the wall across the room.

‘Yeobo,’ you called, getting slightly alarmed. ‘Are you okay?’

He blinked, the stupor breaking, and looked at you with astounded eyes.

‘I- I think,’ he began, making you shift to face him properly. ‘I think I just overheard our daughter watching porn!’

His voice lowered to a whisper by the end of that sentence.

‘Oh my god,’ you whispered back. ‘How do you figure?’

‘I was walking down the hallway, and I thought I heard something from her room. I didn’t fully register what it was, but now that it processed… It was definitely porn!’

The signs of distress on his face almost caused you to break down in a fit of laughter. You held it in with all you got. Fathers and daughters, the eternal struggle.

‘First of all, ew. Aren’t you even a little bit ashamed to be eavesdropping on your kids like that?’ You didn’t let him protest. ‘Also, how do you even know it was porn, you know she sometimes mumbles and whimpers in her sleep. Like someone else we know…’

Giving him a pointed look, you leaned over his chest to turn the lights to the lowest mode, leaving the room dimly lit. It was always effective when you wanted to help him relax.

‘I wasn’t ea- And you think I can’t tell what porn sounds like? There are some generic… sounds. That give it away.’

‘When was the last time you watched it?’ You murmured, eyeing him curiously.

Of all people, you knew best how short his attention span was. Sometimes it could work to your advantage. Like right now, when you needed to de-escalate this before you could reason with him.

‘I- wh- I don’t know, probably when you were pregnant,’ he recalled. ‘The third one was somehow the toughest on me. You looked way too attractive for a heavily pregnant lady, let me tell you.’

‘Heavily pregnant??’ You scoffed, softening right after. ‘Well, you have a point, he was pretty huge. I swear, if he doesn’t grow up to be taller than Chanyeol, I’d be offended. That boy’s giant head prolonged my healing by at least a month.’

Baekhyun sighed and looked up at the ceiling, thinking back to that time.

‘He was the only one who caused you to tear, right?’

‘Yeah. Which is weird, considering that he was my third one. Ah well, I guess I’m not getting any younger…’

‘Aren’t you though? I’m constantly being asked about my pretty young wife,’ Baekhyun smiled at you charmingly. ‘And you only became prettier after the third pregnancy. I say it’s the hormones.’

Your cunning little plan was working. He was incredibly easy to distract.

‘Tell me the truth, was it the boobs? Or my butt? I did gain the most weight with the little daredevil, that’s for sure.’

‘It was all of you. You always looked so sexy when pregnant, I just wanted to have you all to myself,’ he cooed at you. ‘To feed you handpicked strawberries. And smother you with kisses. My beautiful young wife.’

At some point during this conversation, you shuffled closer to each other, now cuddled up snugly on the bed. Your finger slowly traced abstract patterns on his chest, happily exploiting the access to his skin where his pajama shirt was unbuttoned.

‘Ah, you’re just saying that to get under my nightgown,’ you batted your eyelashes at him, and he shook his head.

‘Maybe a little, but that’s true. And it’s not surprising that people are noticing – you are younger than me.’

‘A couple of years is nothing at our age,’ you murmured, bending your knee and moving your leg slightly up his to get cozy.

‘Well, you know what people say… Small kids make parents younger. Wanna have another one?’ He nudged you gently and laughed at the dirty look you gave him.

‘Yeobo- please don’t make jokes like this. I’d rather look for other elixirs of youth than go through that entire ordeal again.’

You knew that he was kidding, but the thought made you shiver.

‘I know, honey, I know. Like I said, you’re not in need of any elixirs.’

At this you relaxed, melting into his shoulder, and guiding his arm to wrap around you, warming your exposed shoulders.

‘Well, Mr Byun, same to you. Still as charming as two decades ago.’

‘Hey, I’d like to think that I’m more charming now. The experience and all.’

‘Who helped you gain all that experience though?’ You poked him lightly, and a low chesty laugh escaped his lips.

‘Of course, it was my one and only, my young, and beautiful, and smart and sexy little wife,’ he punctuated each compliment with a chaste kiss to your cheeks, nose, lips, and neck.

You squirmed in his arms.

‘Ah, you make a woman go mad,’ you purred into his lips mockingly.

He snickered softly, ready to lean in, but then stopped abruptly.

‘Wait a second- What about-’

‘Baekhyun…’ You murmured as he fussed on the bed.

‘I should probably go in there, and-’

‘And what? Embarrass your daughter?’ You held him down. ‘She’s sixteen, honey, it’s just the hormones. We’ve both been there. Let her be.’ You nuzzled his neck, pressing your lips to his sensitive skin lazily.

His mind was growing cloudy again since your hand was now caressing his inner thigh foxily. He’d probably realized what you were doing by now, but you were right, so he allowed you to sway him into giving the idea of an immediate intervention up.

‘Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t be nearly as appalled if that was our eldest,’ you scoffed and added in an exaggerated tone. ‘Never took you for a sexist.’

‘But- he’s eighteen, and she- she’s my little girl…’ He mumbled in a small voice, hazed further by your not-so-subtle seduction. ‘I can’t let her- watch that-’

‘Don’t worry, yeobo,’ you whispered soothingly in his ear, slipping your hand into his loose pants. ‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Without you. No need to traumatize the poor girl, that’s how daddy issues develop.’

‘You should know,’ he bit back meekly, sighing when you finally wrapped your fingers around his semi-hard length.

‘The sass! It’s almost like you still got it, Mr Byun. Care to impress that young wife of yours?’

‘I sure will, you cunning woman,’ he growled playfully, completely giving in to it and attacking your laughing mouth as he lifted the covers over your head.

A/N: Thank you for reading! As usual, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments/ asks, and if you’re new – check out my Masterlist ^^

#theBBHday #baekhyun smut #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun scenario #exowritersnet #supermwritersnet #baekhyun event #baekhyun fanfic #dad!Baek #puppydad!Baek #icequeenbae fics

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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

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xoxo (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, roofie use, Stark!Peter, snobby rich people, Peter’s an ass (I believe @opheliadawnwalker3 coined the term “baby Ransom”)

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: Peter Stark, the adopted son of the playboy philanthropist Tony Stark, has been a pain in your ass for years. Ever the womanizer, you always brushed off his flirtatious behavior as part of his personality, unaware of just how deeply his feelings ran.

You leaned against the bar with a grimace, nursing the strong drink in your hand as the annoying sound of high-pitched laughs and fake compliments drifted up from downstairs, swirling around you. You glanced over your shoulder to look down at the rest of the guests before rolling your eyes at this soiree that was nothing more than a pissing contest for the rich and snooty.

You truly hated being the daughter of a wealthy CEO more often than not. You’d grown up with the kind of lifestyle that more than half the world would never taste, ignorant to not only reality, but the true inner workings of the business that funded your lifestyle. It wasn’t until your junior year of high school when the rug was ripped out from underneath you, exposing the dark truth.

Now, you detested everything about this lifestyle. From the preferential treatment to the fancy parties, you hated everything that came with it. Despite the fact that you were an adult now, your father still had an iron grip on you no matter how much you pretended he didn’t. It was why instead of going on a humanitarian trip with some friends from college for winter break, you were back in the big apple, the upper east side to be exact, surrounded by a bunch of brownnosers.

“Another please,” you murmured, setting your empty glass down onto the bar.

The bartender was quick in giving you a refill, but before the glass met your lips, a finger slid in between to gently push it away. A sigh escaped you before you even turned your head, the familiar smell of his cologne reaching your nose.

“You’re always off by yourself at these little gatherings…”

You turned towards the voice, eyes meeting his dark ones as a playful smirk danced along his pink lips. His brown hair was neatly pushed away from his face, suit fitting him to perfection. He looked so put together and very much like a gentleman. Too bad that you knew better.

“Someone like me might take it as an invitation to approach you.”

You fully turned in your seat, leaning your elbow on the bar to gaze at him, unimpressed, cheek resting on your hand. He too was leaning on the bar, signaling for the bartender to get him a drink, already sliding into the seat in front of you. You could’ve protested, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Peter Stark was the bane of your existence. Adopted by the great Tony Stark when he was just a toddler, a big ordeal that made the papers apparently, the dark-haired male grew up in the same environment you did. The same circles. You went to the best schools together, often times having the same batch of friends. He always had the teachers and just about every other adult fooled, but everyone else knew better.

Peter’s charm was notorious. Those soft brown eyes and boyish good looks could have any girl swooning at his feet. He was so good that most girls didn’t even mind being one of the many. As long as they were a number, they didn’t care. Let them tell it, he had a way of making every single one of them feel special. You probably would’ve been one of them had you not seen his behavior firsthand all those years ago. How he’d tell one girl one thing and say something completely different to the next.

Peter’s constant flirtations with you and your absolute refusal to ever even entertain him had made your relationship…interesting. Could you even call yourselves friends? He flirted with you, and you rolled your eyes at his antics. That was the gist of it. His behavior had only gotten worse once you’d denounced this lifestyle the minute you left for college, a non-Ivy League college at that.

You remembered the surprise you felt that Peter had seemed to be genuinely upset with the 180 you’d done with your lifestyle. You had rolled your eyes as he’d called you all sorts of ‘wannabe’ this and ‘wannabe’ that, biting your tongue as he insulted your ‘low rate school’. Even now, after a little over 2 years, he still sneered whenever he brought up your new life.

“Color me shocked you even showed up today. Last I heard you were going to build houses for children,” he said, nursing his drink.

You smirked at him, fighting back a laugh.

“Last you heard? Keeping tabs on me, Stark?”

He returned your smirk, dark eyes trailing over you, gaze lingering on whatever skin your short dress exposed. You weren’t fazed by his conspicuous onceover, more than used to it.

“Of course. I have to make sure my best girl stays out of trouble,” he told you, leaning in.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you downed your drink.

“Your best girl,” you dryly repeated, standing. “Yeah, okay.”

Peter hurried to stand with you, whistling at the bartender as you walked away. It wasn’t long before you felt his arm being thrown over your shoulder as he pulled you against him. He waved an expensive bottle of champagne in your face as he walked down the hall with you.

“You may have switched up and hate me now-.”

“I’ve always hated you,” you deadpanned.

“…but you can’t deny that I know how to throw a party within a party,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Ned and I are having a little get together in the penthouse suite.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you sighed as you thought about how angry you’d been to be forced back home for the break instead of doing what you wanted to do. You could honestly use the distraction, at least for a little while until you had to be in your father’s presence again. You sighed again, and by the grin on Peter’s lips, you knew that he knew that he had you.

“Fine. Lead the way,” you said with a flourish.

His grin widened, and he pulled you closer as he took you to the elevator. You leaned against the mirrored wall once inside, staring at your reflection with a frown.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he said, pressing the button. “It’ll give you premature wrinkles.”

“Why are you so concerned with how I age?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, approaching you as he swung the bottle of champagne in his hand.

“I want you to age as gracefully as me when we get married,” he teased, pressing his free hand onto the wall beside your head.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’d never marry you, and you… Well, you’d never get married,” you said with a shrug, shaking your head.

His grin dimmed a bit as his eyes met yours.

“I’d marry you,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, head leaning back against the wall as he moved closer, pressing his forearm to the wall, face suddenly serious as he eyed you. It was his turn to sigh now, the sound heavy and drawn out.

“When…are you and I finally going to get together?” he slowly asked, voice low in the quiet elevator.

Your eyes widened just a tad, nose brushing his as he leaned in. Peter hadn’t asked you that for some time now. It was a recurring question of his that you always brushed off, and even though this time was no different, something in his voice made you blink. There was a yearning that had never been there before. Something new lingering in his eyes.

You laid your hand on his chest, pushing him away, and he let you.

“Seriously, Peter? You know the answer to that question,” you said.

He huffed, his grin returning as he shook your rejection off.

“You know I always have to ask…just in case you change your mind,” he replied, quickly scanning your frame.

The elevator dinged, and the doors parted behind him, the low hum of a small party reaching your ears.

“I’m never going to change my mind.”

Without a second glance, you brushed past him to exit the elevator.

“You need to start getting serious about your future, Y/N.”

You stared out of the tinted window, watching the city fly by as your father’s car weaved in and out of traffic. He was giving you yet another lecture on what he thought you should be doing with your future. After all, it wasn’t like you had already decided on a major and knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, so you could understand his- oh. Wait… You had!

“Dad,” you sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Humanities isn’t a real major,” he argued for the umpteenth time, tone laced with contempt.

You cut in before he could continue.

“First of all, it is. Second of all, it’s my minor-.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me to forget that- what is it? International relations? That’s the major, right?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ll never understand you kids. So fickle with your goals-.”

“Dad, I’ve had the same plan since before I even went to college. You can’t call it fickle just because at 17 I told you I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps. I’ve known what I wanted since then. Its literally the opposite of fickle,” you huffed.

You heard him sigh.

“I don’t understand what happened here, Y/N. I really don’t. Ever since you were little, you wanted to follow in my footsteps-.”

“…and now I don’t. Things happen,” you told him. “I don’t want anything to do with this lifestyle.”

You’d told him this a hundred times. You were so tired of having the same discussion, and you knew that he was too.

“Why can’t you be more like Peter?”

You frowned, finally looking over at him. This was a new tactic. The older man had his eyes focused on the paper as he continued to speak.

“He’s following behind Tony swimmingly, a real successor in the making,” he praised.

You fought the urge to groan and sink down in your seat like a child. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your father would be comparing you to Peter Stark of all people.

“You’re comparing me to Peter now?” you scoffed.

The paper ruffled as he turned it, humming.

“I’m just noting that the two of you came up together, but you somehow deviated so far off track.”

“Well, since you love Peter so much, just pass the company onto him when the time comes. God knows he’ll appreciate it way more than I will,” you grumbled.

Your father hummed at that.

“I actually have hopes that, in some way, the company will be his one day,” he replied.

Your brows furrowed, confusion filling you as you fought to understand what he meant. Your father’s eyes finally met yours, a serious look on his face.

“Peter’s exactly the kind of man you should be considering when you finally get ready to get married.”

Shock poured over you like a bucket of ice water, his words having been the last thing you expected to hear. Marriage? Peter? You blinked a few times, fighting to clear your head enough to articulate what you were thinking.

“You…you can’t be serious…?”

He fixed you with a stern look.

“As a heart attack. What is there to oppose? Peter is young and handsome and well brought up. He’ll be taking over after Tony one day, and you really can’t do much better than that. Unless you’re aiming to be the next Meghan Markle, but no offense sweetheart, you don’t strike me as the type,” he elaborated.

You pressed your hand to your forehead as your mind spun.

“I’m not telling you to marry him or anything. I’d never go so far to participate in something as archaic as an arranged marriage. I’m just telling you to consider it. He’s a good match for you, and I’d like you to be open to it…”

You couldn’t begin to believe how sharply this morning had turned.

“It’s why you’ll be seeing a lot more of him over the break. Just keep it in mind when we meet with them,” he said.

He must have noted the confusion on your face because he continued.

“We’re meeting them for brunch. Tony wants to run his latest idea by me, and we figured it would give you and Peter more time to catch up,” he explained.

The car had finally stopped just as he finished, and you didn’t have time to process anything before you were being ushered out of the car. The brisk air whipped around you as you followed your father into the fancy restaurant.

Your father wanted you to marry Peter? The idea was so absurd that you actually considered the possibility that your father was playing a joke on you. You felt like you were having an out of body experience as you and your father sat down, you across from Peter. As always, he looked absolutely tickled to see you, while you simply returned his grin with a withering stare.

Brunch was a taxing affair. Tony Stark greeted you as politely as he always did before he and your father got right down to business. That left you and Peter with no one but each other to look at. You did your best to ignore the annoying brunette sitting across from you, barely speaking with him no matter how many times he tried to engage you in conversation.

You supposed that your behavior towards Peter was a bit unfair. After all, it wasn’t his fault that your father wanted you to marry him. Although, as you thought back to your conversation in the elevator the other day, you had to wonder if he knew, or at the very least, had some idea. And that was exactly what you asked him once you were alone.

Your father and Tony had gone back to Tony’s office in a hurry to remedy some oversight that had been missed. You’d been left with your father’s car and driver, and you eyed Peter, waiting for his answer, as you made your way outside.

“Not really, no.”

You slid into the backseat, thanking the driver before scooting as far away from Peter as possible as he joined you.

“Not really or no? Those are two different answers,” you told him.

A smirk danced along his lips as he leaned his head back, turning it ever so slightly to gaze at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I had an idea. The great Mr. Y/L/N never came outright and said it, but little things he’d say here and there started to add up,” he explained with a chuckle.

He apparently found this funny while you did not. You crossed your arms over your chest, anger bubbling within you at the thought of your father playing matchmaker behind your back. Peter reached for your hand, attempting to pull it away from your chest, but you jerked it away as soon as his fingers brushed yours. He sucked his teeth.

“Come on. Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You turned to fully face him, not a hint of humor on your face.

“Yes,” you answered, voice steady with conviction.

He simply rolled his eyes, lips twitching, and you shook your head with a scoff.

“Is your father in on this too? God, I bet Tony Stark is just eating this up,” you complained.

The tone of Peter’s chuckle gave you pause, and you eyed him as he grinned at you.

“Quite the opposite actually…”

You frowned, and God help you, because you found yourself…offended.

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you or something?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

You didn’t want to marry Peter, but you knew that you were more than good enough for a guy like him. The truth was that Peter wasn’t good enough for you. He shook his head, picking at a piece of lint on your shoulder as he hummed.

“No actually. In fact, he’d dare say that you are out of my league, and I’d be forced to agree,” he told you with a shrug. “He thinks you’re too much of a ‘wild card’.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, nodding as you understood what that meant.

“I see. So he wants you to marry a meek and submissive little thing who will do everything you say and conform to the Stark image. Got it,” you replied with a smirk.

He returned it, finger trailing along your collarbone now as he eyed you.

“He thinks that you march to the beat of your own drum…and you do…,” he said, smirk growing as his gaze met yours. “…but I think I can handle you just fine.”

You slapped his hand away, disgust filling you just as the car stopped.

“We’re at your place. Get out,” you sneered, looking away from him.

“Care to join me? No one’s home…we’ll have the whole place to ourselves…”

You opted for ignoring him and the way his voice lowered, the hidden meaning in his question loud and clear. When some time passed, he finally sighed, and you heard the car door open. When it didn’t close, you turned to see Peter standing outside, one hand pressed onto the top of the car door while the other rested on the hood of the car as he leaned down.

A dark strand fell out of place and brushed along his forehead, dark eyes somehow darker as he trailed them over your tense form. His smirk slowly fell, and you blinked at the less than humorous expression on his face. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d seen Peter so serious.

“You really shouldn’t try so hard to show your dislike for me…”

You frowned at him, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards just a tad.

“…someone might think you’re playing hard to get.”

Before you could process that, he’d closed the door. He didn’t go inside right away, instead opting for standing on the curb to watch your father’s car drive away.

When your father said that you’d be seeing a lot more of Peter over the break, you underestimated just how determined the old man was to get you and the Stark heir together. Every innocent gathering turned into a run-in with Tony and his wife, Pepper, and Peter. Whether it was brunch or dinner or a shopping trip. Hell, even an innocent day at the park had you coming face to face with who you now liked to refer to as ‘the pain in your ass’.

Had you known that this is what your winter break would entail, you would have fought tooth and nail with your father on it. You felt like this was such a waste of time, one big joke that you’d walked into and you were the punchline. You had no idea how much worse it could get.

You were currently in the hallway of the home that belonged to none other than the Starks. You were killing time by fleetingly looking at the artwork that was hung up on the dark walls, a half empty glass of some brown liquor in your hand. You could hear the voices of Tony, Pepper, and your father drifting to you from the lounge, and you rolled your eyes.

When your father had told you that you’d be joining them for dinner, you thought it’d be in their apartment in the city. Some place that you could easily escape if need be. You never would have agreed if you’d known you’d be in upstate New York hours later, conversing with them in one of their many secluded vacation houses. Dinner was long over, and you had no desire to be privy to anymore of their business talk. Peter had scurried off to only God knows where, and you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Perhaps you should have.

Your mood soured even further as you felt an arm slide over your shoulders to curl around your neck, pulling you back into a firm chest. Peter hummed, and you sighed. The story of your lives.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he wondered, gesturing to the painting. “I picked it out. I thought it would brighten the place up a bit.”

You threw his arm off of you, and he chuckled.

“Don’t look so glum, Y/N. The grownups are knee deep into stock market talk, which means they won’t even think about us for another hour at the least…”

You looked to the ceiling as he slipped an arm around your waist, praying for some higher power to strike you down. Or him. You’d be happy either way.

“Surely we can find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” he murmured.

You turned to face him and turned your head again just in time for his lips to brush the skin of your cheek. You pushed yourself away from him with a frown, backing up until your back rested against the opposite wall.

“Whatever happened to MJ?” you suddenly asked him, a faint smile on your lips as you took a sip of your drink.

Peter smirked, leaning against the other wall as he stared you down, raising an eyebrow at you, dark suit hugging him nicely.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hardly,” you snorted. “My father likes to bring up you and your personal life every chance he gets. Of course, now I know why. I was shocked to find out that you had a girl in your life who stuck around for more than two months.”

“She was too much like you,” he dismissively said. “She wanted to travel and see the world and make a difference. There’s only room for one girl like that in my life. Anything more, and things would start to get a little…dull.”

You hummed, pushing away from the wall to walk past him. Peter followed, and your mind spun.

“What exactly are you going to do when I finally meet a nice guy to get serious with? Surely, this behavior can’t go on forever, Peter,” you wondered.

He grabbed your elbow and gently pushed you into the wall. His other hand was beside your head, dark eyes narrowed and inquiring. You sharply inhaled, unintentionally breathing in the scent of him, and you blinked.

“What nice guy could you possibly meet at that sad excuse of a school you call-?”

“I don’t know how to break it to you that an Ivy League education isn’t exactly the picture of intelligence you think it is,” you sneered at him.

His own face grew taut as he glared at you, tilting his head to the side.

“Is that why you turned down your acceptance to Princeton? To prove some silly point?”

“For your information, Peter, I turned down my acceptance because I learned that the main reason I got in was because of my father.”

“So what? What is the point of our parents working their asses off for years if not to give us the opportunities they didn’t have growing up? When are you going to drop this holier-than-thou wannabe Mother Teresa act?”

“It’s not an act,” you spat, shoving him away from you. “This world? This way of life and everything that comes with it? I hate it. I despise everything about it. Its sickening that we live like we do while people down the street struggle to keep a roof over their heads. What is it to you, anyway?”

Peter ran his hand through his hair, huffing as he stared you down.

“You and me?” he started, gesturing between the two of you, his other hand on his hip. “We could’ve been unstoppable together. We were supposed to go to Princeton together. We were supposed to leave our mark on that campus together, create a legacy, and make a name for ourselves on our own, and instead I’m doing that by myself while you go off galivanting down south-.”

“Is that what this is about?” you demanded, incredulity filling your voice. “…some fantasy in your mind that we’d be some power couple who’d go on to take over after our fathers and rule the upper east side? Seriously? That’s a new one, even for you.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he glared at you, nostrils flaring as he ran his eyes over you with the nastiest look you’d ever seen on his boyish face.

“You can run all you like…reinvent yourself all you want…”

His voice lowered as he approached you, and you stood your ground, glowering at him.

“…but you will never escape this life,” he threw at you, and you flinched at his harsh tone.

“That may be true…but I can still try,” you whispered.

The corner of his lips lifted into a mocking smirk.

“Try all you want. Hell, jump into a relationship with the next guy you have some anthropology project with for all I care. We both know that the only guy to give you the life you deserve…to give you what you need…”

He reached to fix a stray hair that had come out of place, smirk smug and eyes smugger.

“…is a guy like me.”

You stumbled away from him with a frown, arms folded over your chest.

“Screw you, Peter.”

You turned away from him to go find your father.

Peter had always been an annoying thorn in your side, but his behavior tonight had reached new heights. It amazed you, really, how far he was willing to go just to finally get you into bed. He had never had any problem being an asshole, but there was a shift in him tonight. His tone was harsher, words meaner, eyes just a tad bit icier than normal. In fact, it almost seemed like it wasn’t his usual cruel teasing.

When you finally neared the lounge, you frowned at the words that reached you.

“She’ll probably be a bit bitter about it at first, but I’m sure Y/N will grow to love it. This will be an amazing opportunity for her.”

You recognized your father’s voice, and you slowed just before finally entering, listening in.

“I was surprised to hear that she’s transferring, which is why I had never initially considered her for the internship. I was under the impression that she wouldn’t be here to do it.”

Your frown deepened at Tony Stark’s words, a sinking feeling in your gut, and although you wanted to hear more, something in you prevented you from staying still and doing so. You stepped into the lounge, greeting them all with a smile before resting your gaze on your father.

“I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m feeling a bit ill,” you lied.

Perhaps it wasn’t a complete lie. Peter’s harsh words didn’t exactly leave you feeling the best, but your father believed you anyway. The two of you said your goodbyes to the Starks, even Peter who had slithered his way into the foyer eventually. He’d sent you off with that stupid smirk on his face, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The ride home was quiet. Your mind was too stuck on the snippet of conversation that you’d heard. You knew that it was about you, that much you had heard, but the talk about internships and transferring had you confused. Again, there was that sinking feeling in your gut, and it wouldn’t go away. You wanted to bring it up to your father, but he’d spent the entire next day in the office.

Your paranoia got the best of you though, and the next evening, you found yourself in his study, mind going a mile a minute as you poured over the papers you found. Shock coursed through you at every reveal, hands shaking and heart sinking in disbelief. That was how your father found you that night, perched in his desk chair, tearful eyes glaring up at him as he walked through the door. He sighed as soon as his eyes landed on the papers scattered all over his desk.

“Tell me this isn’t true,” you quietly pleaded.

You knew that it had to be, but you needed to hear him say it.

“You’ll be going to Princeton for your senior year. All of the paper work has been done and whatever needs to be transferred has been transferred,” he breathed, stepping into the room.

You shook your head in disbelief, tears spilling over. You were shocked to find yourself…shocked. You knew that your father didn’t approve of your new lifestyle and your plans for your future. You knew that it ran deep, and yet it had never occurred to you that he’d do something about it. You had foolishly thought that he’d let you make your own decisions.

This was the main reason you hated this world you were born into. The things that people could buy, could do, if they had enough money to do so scared you. It shouldn’t be allowed.

“…and the internship?”

You didn’t even care that you had revealed yourself to be eavesdropping last night. Your father stepped further into his study.

“You’ll be interning with Stark Industries immediately after graduation…”

You were out of his chair and stomping out of his office before he could even finish. He didn’t even call for you to come back, and why would he? His word was law. You both knew that this was going to happen, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The night air was cold, and you wished you’d grabbed a thicker coat before stepping outside. After all, the only thing you had on underneath was a flimsy dress. You’d had plans to meet up with some old friends from high school tonight after your talk with your father, but you had never imagined that the talk would reveal this.

A lot of people were out in the city. It was a Friday night, after all. There was some light snow falling, but you could hardly even see it because the tears had finally spilled over. You couldn’t remember a time where you were so angry that you’d cried. You were grateful to be in New York of all places, right now, because a girl crying on the sidewalk was the most normal thing someone would probably see.

You crossed the street to a less crowded sidewalk, still trying to wrap your head around what your father had done, when a sleek black limo slowed beside you. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it had the window not rolled down to reveal none other than Peter.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing he asked you.

Fed up with this night and having no patience for Peter Stark and all of his glory, you sneered at him.

“No,” you snapped.

You huffed when the limo rolled slowly along the street in time with your steps. Peter called to you, but you ignored him. What was he even doing out, right now? It was a Friday night. Shouldn’t he be at someone’s party participating in at least 2 illegal activities?

You sped up when you heard his door slam shut, but you weren’t quick enough. His firm hands grabbed you and turned you to face him, shaking you just a little as he ran his eyes over you, gaze lingering on your tearful one.

“Hey…”

“Go away, Peter,” you said, fighting to get out of his grip.

His hold tightened, and he stepped closer.

“It’s late. Why are you out here on the street like this? What happened?”

You snatched one arm out of his hold and shoved yourself away from him.

“Did you know?”

His brows furrowed, frowning slightly at your question. His cheeks were red from the cold, giving him a cherubic aura that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. Did you know that my father was getting me transferred to Princeton behind my back? That I’m supposed to be interning with your father as soon as I graduate?”

You registered the shock on his face, and he slowly shook his head, thrown by what you’d told him.

“No,” he softly said.

You crossed your arms over your chest, more tears falling.

“If I had known…I would’ve told you, Y/N.”

“Would you?” you scoffed.

His face hardened at your insinuation, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I would have. Look, I may hate this 180 that you’ve done with your life just as much as your father, but even I know that you’re going to do what you want anyway. You always have.”

He whispered the last part, and your gaze reluctantly met his. He pursed his lips, running his eyes over you as he reached for you.

“Where are you headed?” he wondered.

It hit you that you hadn’t really had a destination in mind. Your eyes widened, and you were sure that the panic and confusion was written all over your face. You shrugged, a few tears escaping.

“I…I don’t know,” you pathetically answered.

Peter softly sighed, pulling you towards the limo.

“Well, I was on my way to a party-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head. You didn’t know where you wanted to go, but you knew that a party was not it. He pulled on your jacket, and you stumbled towards him in your heels.

“Hey,” he softly said when your eyes started to stray, and you looked at him. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of champagne in the limo, a full tank of gas, and a driver who’s getting paid by the minute. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

You glanced away, thinking it over. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being near your father right now, and although Peter had shaken you last night, in the end, it was just him being his usual self. Your uneasiness from his words last night you wrote off to sensitivity and overthinking. You suddenly let out a humorless chuckle.

“You promise to get me really, really drunk?” you teased.

You were joking, but you honestly didn’t want to even remember your conversation with your father right now. That familiar smirk of his graced his lips as he threw an arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the car.

“I promise to get you anything you want,” he purred.

The inside was warm, and you had almost forgotten how roomy limos could be. The L-shaped seating could easily fit 4 more people. True to Peter’s words, there was indeed two bottles of champagne on ice, and he reached for one as soon as the vehicle continued down the dark street.

You leaned your head against the window as he popped it open, getting you a glass. You felt defeated, and you were sure your face showed it as you took the offered drink from him.

“So what are you gonna do?”

You shook your head at Peter’s question.

“What can I do, Peter?” you quietly wondered with a shrug. “I mean… If my father is willing to go this far to get me where he wants me to be…? What’s stopping him from doing so again and again and again?”

Peter leaned back in his seat, eyeing you as you sipped on the bubbly alcohol.

“I’ll never be free of him,” you said, more to yourself than Peter. “God, he really is going to get everything he wants. Looks like I’ll be seeing you in 3 years at our engagement party, after all.”

Peter slid along the seat to get closer to you, rolling his eyes.

“Come on,” he dragged out. “Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You almost choked on your drink, and you incredulously eyed him.

“We’ve been over this before, and the answer is yes. That’s if we can even get you to walk down the aisle.”

Peter sighed, sitting his drink down.

“I would marry you,” he argued, looking at you.

“Come on, Peter. You’re just saying that!”

You took another sip, thankful for the liquid courage.

“It’s all a game to you. It always has been. The minute you finally get with me, it’ll be over. Hell…,” you said, thinking. “…maybe I should sleep with you so you’ll finally leave me alone.”

Peter laughed, resting his arm behind you on the back of the seat.

“If I had you, I’d never leave you alone,” he replied, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you barked a laugh. “Okay…”

“I’m serious,” he said, tone matching his words, and you fought to hold his intense gaze. “When are we finally going to get together?”

You glanced away.

“You’ve asked me this probably a hundred times, and the answer is always the same,” you murmured.

“When are we finally going to stop playing this game?”

Your eyes met his again, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game-.”

“I want you,” he whispered so quietly that you weren’t sure you heard him right. “You know that, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you.”

There was a frown on his face, and you swallowed.

“You want everyone,” you quietly replied, suddenly feeling very odd.

You scooted away from him just a tad, but he followed.

“When I have you, Y/N, I won’t treat you like those other girls,” he told you.

“Ha! How reassuring,” you sarcastically replied.

His hand rested on your arm, and you squirmed, head feeling a bit light.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, hand trailing upwards to brush along your shoulder before resting on your neck. “You’re my best girl…”

You blinked at him with a frown, and he tilted his head at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why would I treat my best girl like the rest?”

You shook your head, moving away from him some more.

“Maybe…maybe I should just go home after all. I’m not feeling so good, right now,” you told him, alarmed at how slurred your words were.

You watched as Peter reached to take another sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” he calmly said, taking your drink from your trembling fingers and setting it aside. “That would probably be the Rohypnol.”

You slowly blinked at him, trying to clear the fuzz from your head as you processed his words. Did he just say…Rohypnol? As in…?

“Roofie is the common term, also known as the date-rape drug.”

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt like you weren’t sliding away from him fast enough.

“Peter, this…this is a joke, right? You’re kidding…?”

He snorted, and even without his confirmation, you knew that he wasn’t kidding. Your head had been spinning for minutes now.

“Come on, Y/N. When have you ever known me to be a huge comedian?”

You fell against the door as you tried the handle, but it was locked, and that was when you really started to panic.

“Y/N.”

You ignored Peter as he called your name, opting instead for hitting against the partition. You heard Peter heave a sigh from behind you before his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you back. Your movements were sluggish and futile, but you fought against him anyway. He pulled you down onto his lap as he leaned back into the seat.

“Peter…”

Your words died in your throat as his hands clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you down until his lips met yours. The kiss was hungry, Peter a man starved as he moaned into your mouth. He was panting when he pulled away, chest heaving before he kissed you again.

Your hands were pressed against his chest, trying in vain to push yourself away from him. You gasped against his lips, heart stuttering when he flipped you, your frame now between his and the seat. He settled against you easily, fitting perfectly in between your legs as his fingers danced over you.

The buttons of your coat flew as he yanked it open, and you shivered. Peter paid no mind, running his hands over your exposed skin before sliding them under your dress. You felt like you were barely hanging onto consciousness, not even realizing when Peter had started to drag your underwear down your legs until they were already to your ankles.

You feebly kicked against him, but he simply grabbed your legs, spreading them to settle in between them once more. You could feel him hot and hard through his pants, and more tears kissed your eyes. How on earth had you missed this? You cursed yourself for not taking his behavior more seriously. For not listening to yourself last night.

Confident that you could not fight him off, one of his hands worked between your legs while the other worked to release himself. He was right to be confident, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your arms to work right. You felt like you were underwater, weighed down by sand.

“Peter,” you quietly pleaded again, and he shushed you.

You squirmed beneath him as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, hating how easy it was because of how wet you were. He pressed his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue past your lips, and you trembled as you felt him line himself up with your entrance.

A high-pitched yelp left you as he filled you with one thrust. The moan that climbed out of his throat was low and long, and he cursed as you clenched around him. Your hand pressed against the back of the seat as he pulled back before snapping his hips into you again.

“You feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth.

One arm locked around your waist as he pulled you both into a sitting position, his throbbing cock still inside of you as he held you onto his lap. You pushed against him, but your arms buckled when he lifted his hips up into you.

You whimpered, falling against him, and both of his hands fell to grip your waist, tightly holding you as he fucked you. Your body couldn’t support itself, and you sagged against him, forehead pressing against his as your eyelashes fluttered. Your jacket was barely hanging onto you, and with one hand, he pulled it all the way off. He gripped the bottom of your sequined dress before bunching it around your hips.

You tried to push yourself up, push yourself off of him, but not only was his hold firm, your body was too under the influence of the drug he’d given you. You pathetically whimpered as you fell against him again, a sob caught in your chest. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, the strap of your dress falling, and you shuddered.

He pulled you into another kiss, the taste of your salty tears seeping into your mouth. Your head was light, mind spinning with the pleasure being forced onto you. You pressed your hand against the seat, attempting to push yourself away again when Peter spun you both, your back connecting with the seat as he laid you down, his clothed hips slapping against yours. He moaned into your mouth as you fluttered around him, and with a start, you realized that despite your unwillingness, an orgasm was creeping up on you.

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks as he kissed you again and again. His dark hair was falling into his forehead, sweat coating the strands, and your skin fared no better. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your stomach clenching, shamed and disgust coursing through you.

“Look at me,” Peter quietly demanded.

You shook your head but yelped when one of his hands reached to pinch your nipple through your dress. You peeled your eyes open, tears blurring your vision, but your gaze met his all the same.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured just as you clenched around him with a choked moan.

Your climax triggered his own, and he pushed into you a few more times before falling against you with a groan. You were both sweating and panting, and you felt the flames of sleep licking at the corners of your vision.

There was so much that you wanted to say to Peter, to scream at him, but you couldn’t form the words. You could only lay there as he kissed you again before pulling out of you, leaning back against the seat as he fixed himself. Sleep was just in your grasp, but you were scared to close your eyes. Scared of the man you thought you knew.

He spread his arm over the back of the seat, the other pulling your dress down, that annoying playful smirk dancing along his lips.

“I think a winter wedding would look absolutely beautiful.”

tags: @bamposworld @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @hurricanerin

#dark peter parker #Dark!Peter #dark fic #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker

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harrylilies · 4 years ago

Text

The Royal Series | Pt. VIII

The Royal Series Masterlist

"Come on, Henry!" You laughed at your brother, wrapping the scarf you got him around his neck. "It's your best picture!" The green and red scarf had a picture of him fighting a pap in 2004 all over it, ready to be worn.

"You were only 10 when this happened, how did you even remember this?" He laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing you to his chest.

"Brings out the colour in your eyes." Will said, helping Charlotte off of his lap and letting her run towards you.

"Think you should wear my gift to your boyfriend's family meeting." Harry joked, letting you go.

You rolled your eyes, scooping Charlotte in your arms. "Did you see Granny's face when I opened the gift?"

Harry mimicked, making everyone in William's drawing room laugh. "Admit it, it's a nice sweatshirt."

"The best thing to wear to a first family meeting; Harry Styles have my babies. Excellent choice." You said sarcastically, swaying Charlotte gently in your place.

"Teetee, did you like my present?" Charlotte asked enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around your neck.

"I loved it! I'm putting that picture frame beside me, on my bedside table. So every morning when I wake up and every night before I sleep, I see you and your brother. It's the best to wake up and sleep to, Charlie." You smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "Also, our little squish here wrote me a very nice letter." You nodded towards Kate's baby bump.

Spending more time with your family doing nothing but laughing, teasing one another, and reminiscing the days when you were all younger, it wasn’t long before you were putting on your coat and ready to leave.

"Do you have to go?" Charlotte whined, frowning as she looked at you.

You cooed, "Aw, none of that now, Charlie. I'll be back before you know it."

"Yeah, Charl, Teetee will only be gone for a few days before she comes back." Kate said, standing beside you as she assured her daughter, "We don't want Y/N leaving with us crying and her getting sad, do we?"

Charlotte nodded before letting out a dramatic sigh, "Okay."

"Now, I really have to go. Want to help me get my bags?" To which Charlotte nodded eagerly to, making you grin, "Where's your brother? Where's Georgie?"

"I think he's in his room." Will said, standing up.

"Let's go get him, Charlie. Let old Daddy sit, wouldn't want him hurting his back." You said teasingly as you walked past your brother, hearing everyone behind you snickering.

"Hey! Don't tell my daughter that!" Will joked, making you wave him off.

Reaching George's room, you let Charlotte knock before you heard him give you a "Come in!"

You opened the door gently, peaking yours and Charlotte's head inside to see George sitting on his floor, playing with the train toy set you had gotten him. His head snapped towards you, a grin instantly drawn to his face as he stood up and sped towards you, hugging your legs. "Auntie, you're still here!"

"I am, baby, but I wanted to ask you if you want to join me and Charlie and help me with my suitcases?" You stroked his scalp gently.

"Yes, of course! I'll get my train." He said before walking back to his previous spot, taking one red train before walking beside you, holding your hand.

George opened the door to your room, going inside and climbing up the bed till he sat, his feet dangling and swaying as he made train noises and flew his toy in the air. You sat Charlotte beside him, giving her the small piano toy she had left in your room the previous day, before unlocking your phone, finding 3 missed calls from Harry.

"Shit," you cursed under your breath, turning your phone slightly to find that it was silenced.

You instantly called him back, balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder blade as you opened your plain blue suitcase, double checking that nothing was missing before checking your duffel bag, too.

"I thought you got cold feet." Harry said as soon as he picked up, followed by a heartfelt laugh.

You smiled to yourself, taking your red sweater in your hand, "No, no. My phone's mute button was probably pushed by accident. Is something wrong?"

"No, love. I just wanted to make sure that you're," he cleared his throat, "You know, still coming."

"I am, H. I'm about to leave," you assured him before chuckling, "They still don't believe you?"

"They don't. Even showed them a couple of pictures but they told me that my fans make insane photoshopped pictures. I’m starting to feel very offended."

You laughed, zipping your suitcase. "Good thing I'm spending New Year's with you then, huh?"

"The best. Still sure about that? Wouldn't your family have your head?" He asked. "One, I'm sure. Two, told you it's me who decides. Now," you held your phone with your hand, "I have to go get dressed. I'll text you when I'm near, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. I'm waiting for you. Take care, yeah?"

"Always do. Bye, baby." And so, it slipped from your mouth, making your eyes widen and your other hand to cover your mouth.

The pet name didn't seem to go unnoticed by Harry as he giggled quietly into the phone, giving you an eager "bye!" and a kissy noise before hanging up.

"I'm going to go change, I'll be right back." You informed your niece and nephew who only nodded at you, too engrossed in their toys.

With the car door open wide for you, you bent down, hugging George and Charlotte close to your chest, kissing their temples. "Be good for Mummy and Daddy, will you?"

"Yes, Teetee." They both replied, their arms on you.

"Come on, give me a kiss." You smiled, patting your cheeks for them to which they giggled at, leaning forward and planting loving kisses on your cheeks. "I love you."

"Love you, Teetee!"

Getting into the car and blowing everyone a kiss, you nodded at your driver who stood by the driver's door side. "Don't worry, Ben. I’ll be careful." You smiled, "You spend some time with your family."

"I did actually spend a wonderful time with my wife and the kids." He smiled, closing the door after you got in and put on your seatbelt before you put down your window.

"Oh! Did they like my presents? I certainly hope they did. Although I'm not so sure about the sizes, I just picked the ones suitable for your daughters' and wife's ages." You chuckled, looking up at him.

"They loved it, Your Highness! And the sweaters fit them just right. Lilly especially wanted me to thank you and invite you for a tea party." Ben chuckled humorously as he referred to his youngest daughter, only being 5.

You grinned, perking up. "I love tea parties! I'd gladly come if you'd let me."

Ben laughed in delight, nodding eagerly. "Of course we would! You're welcomed to visit anytime, Your Highness."

You smiled, starting the car before waving at him before you drove off, already feeling the nervous butterflies in your stomach at the thought of meeting Harry's family after a 3-hour drive.

Meanwhile, Harry sat on his mother's sofa, laughing at Gemma's embarrassing stories that Anne was telling Michal, Gemma's boyfriend, laughing at his sister's sour face.

"Oh, come on. At least I'm not as delusional as Harold here, says he's with HRH Princess Y/N." Gemma snickered.

Harry groaned, dropping his head low in defeat. "She's coming in a few hours."

"Oh dear, I have to move the pebbles for when the horses arrive on our doorstep." Anne joked.

"She doesn't move in coaches, Mum." Harry laughed.

"Probably wings." Gemma joked, motioning with her arms to wings, making Harry throw a cushion on her.

"Stop it, Gemma. Stop making fun of your brother," Anne said, standing up and taking two of the many empty glasses on the table which belonged to some of Harry's family whom were in their presence but left, "I raised you both to never make fun of troubled people." She giggled, speeding off to the kitchen.

"Hey, why are you doubting him? Harry's pretty big and known." Michal defended him, looking at Gemma.

Gratefully, Harry made prayer hands as he closed his eyes, mouthing "Thank you" to him.

"I'm not belittling him but," Gemma began, "This 23-year-old woman, one of the most beautiful, whose father is Prince Charles and mother is Princess Diana and her grandmother is the fucking Queen and was raised and continues to live in the monarchy is pretty big, too."

"You always believed me when I told you about my girlfriends." Harry gave her a side eye, raising his eyebrows.

"Because you dated what we now call ordinary people, T Swift, Kendall Jenner. If a colleague of mine told me that they were dating them I'd believe them," she stood up, taking a couple of glasses before following Anne to the kitchen. "Better start cleaning before Her Highness arrives.”

Harry rolled his eyes, looking at Michal. "At least you believe me."

Michal chuckled, standing up as him and Harry started helping Anne and Gemma with the remains of the Christmas get-together they threw.

"It told me to make a left, so I did." You said, glancing at your phone in its holder before looking at your surroundings. "Alright wait, I'm coming outside." Harry said through the speaker, the sound of some shuffling around being heard next.

"Are you wearing a green jumper?" You asked, squinting your eyes to get a better look at the figure in front of you.

"Yes! Is that you in the black ca-Oh, hi." He giggled as you drove closer to him, finally getting a clearer view. "Bye bye." He eagerly said before hanging up, watching you park in front of him.

You grinned as you rolled your window up and took your keys and phone, Harry opening your door for you.

The moment you got out, Harry wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you chest-to-chest closer. "You look very cuddly right now," he whispered, kissing your hair. "You always look cuddly now that I think about it."

You laughed, putting your hands on his chest and looking up at him. "I got some nice cocoa powder for hot chocolate. It's the best you'll ever have."

"I think we have marshmallows." He nodded. "Where are my manners?" Harry asked himself. Smiling as he leaned down, he pressed his lips to yours. Your leaned back on your car, smiling into the kiss as your hands moved to his jaw.

"They still don't believe you?" You asked as you took your breath, glancing back at his house before looking at him.

Harry rolled his eyes, "They teased me enough."

You tried not to laugh, though did a terrible job at it, before patting his chest, "Come on then. Let's meet them." You got out of his grasp and towards your boot. Right as you were about to take your suitcase, Harry beat you to it, taking it out, draping your duffel bag on his shoulder before closing the boot.

"I can take it." You said as he rolled your suitcase in one hand, the other holding yours.

"So can I. Come on." You both walked towards his open door, you smiling sheepishly as you tried not to look around.

"It's quiet." You whispered as Harry put your suitcase and duffel bag beside the door after kicking it close.

He chuckled, "They're in the back."

"I got presents." You whispered again, "Oh shit, I forgot to take them from the backseat." You opened the door, practically jogging towards your car before Harry followed you, grinning as he saw you take out neatly wrapped medium sized boxes in glistening and vibrant Christmas wrapping. "I trust you with the sizes you gave me."

"You got Mum that dress you showed me?" He asked, helping you and taking two boxes, leaving you with one which had a card on top of it with your neat handwriting that said “Merry Christmas, Michal!”

You nodded, humming. "And got Gemma the striped suit and the golf watch for Michal. Is that all alright?"

"Baby, I told you that you don't even have to get anything." Harry chuckled, bumping his hip with yours.

"It's Christmas, H. Everyone deserves nice presents." You smiled.

"Let's put these under the tree." Harry said, raising his eyebrows upwards as you both walked inside. Instantly smiling at the cosy aura the place had, your eyes fell on the twinkling Christmas tree by the window. You put the box under it, waiting as Harry put the other two there.

"And your gift is in my suitcase." You giggled, looking up at him.

"Yours is in my room." He replied with a dimpled grin, "Come on."

With his hand on your waist, you both walked towards the kitchen where you heard chatter and clinking, making you look at Harry, giving him a nervous smile. "Oh God." You whispered to yourself, huffing out before putting a strand of your hair behind your ear, your fingers lacing together in front of you, sheepishly.

Harry gave you a quick peck on the cheek before walking inside the kitchen, clearing his throat to catch his family's attention.

You could almost hear a pin drop. All of their jaws dropped, faces going tint red, looking intently at the new addition. You looked up at Harry for a second before looking back at the ones in front of you. "Hi, I'm Y/N."

"What the fuck?" Gemma was the first to speak, Harry cringing as he squeezed your waist slightly. Gemma's eyes caught her brother's, who widened his green eyes at her before she cleared her throat, drying her hands in the yellow towel on her shoulder before putting it on the chair. "Do I-Do I curtsy?"

"God, please don't," You laughed, moving forward and naturally wrapping your arms around her in a brief hug. "You look a lot like Harry. It's insane."

Still at a loss of words, Gemma awkwardly hugged back, looking at Harry from over your shoulder as he smirked at her, cocking an eyebrow. "You look like-" She cleared her throat, "Like how I see you on the telly."

You chuckled, pulling away, "I'm hoping that's a good thing?"

"Yeah, of course. Of course, it is."

"Excuse my daughter," Anne spoke, moving forward and approaching you with a wide, loving smile. "I'm Anne."

You and Anne hugged, her rubbing your back soothingly as she did. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Good things?" She asked jokingly as you both pulled away.

"The best." You nodded in confirmation.

"It's so nice to meet you." Michal said, leaning down and giving you a greeting hug before looking at Gemma, "Guess your brother isn't so delusional after all, huh?"

"Shut up." She said under her breath, covering her face.

"Let's take this to the living room, shall we?" Anne grinned enthusiastically.

"They're starstruck." Harry leaned down, whispering in your ear.

"I'm more of in awe that I'm meeting them." You giggled, holding his hand that was draped from your shoulder.

"Who got-Oh God, did you-" Anne gasped, looking back at you from the tree.

"It's Christmas. It's also a thank you for making me spend New Year's with you." You smiled warmly, feeling yourself get hotter, “I hope that’s okay.”

"Did I just get a present from the Princess of the United Kingdom?" Gemma asked her boyfriend quietly who tried to stifle his laughter and not burst out laughing before his face fell, looking at one box under the tree, "Yup. She got you one, too."

"I read online that's she's known in the royal family to get the funniest Christmas gifts." He whispered back.

They couple both shared a look before looking at you, laughing at something Anne said. "We did make fun of our Harry, honestly. Sorry, darling."

"I felt very offended, thank you very much." Harry put his hand on his heart dramatically before looking at you, "How was your drive here?"

"Very nice and quiet. That intersection you told me about saved me a lot of time." You pointed at Harry.

"No offense, sweetheart but what do we call you?" Anne asked warmly, “We have never really interacted with someone from the royal family this close before, excuse us.”

"Please, don’t worry. Just Y/N would be great."

"And please call me Anne," Anne pointed at herself, "Oh where are my manners? Are you hungry, sweetheart? We had nice turkey and mashed potatoes."

"Mum makes incredible turkey." Harry said from beside you on the sofa, his hand on your knee.

"Thank you so much, Anne, but I think I'm so full. I managed to get myself pizza on the way.”

“How many slices did you have? You can’t be that full, love.” Harry asked.

“Got a large and finished it all actually,” you shrugged, “But actually, I got us some fine cocoa powder if you fancy a nice hot cocoa cuppa. It's homemade." You grinned, standing up to walk towards your suitcase, "Actually if you don't mind, I can make them."

"Oh, love. You really didn't have to." Anne laughed in delight, watching as you shook your head at her with a warm smile, "Gemma can help you."

"Of course!" Gemma perked up, standing up, "I personally love eating cocoa powder."

You laughed, pointing at her, " Me too! My brothers make fun of me for it all the time."

You and Gemma walked towards your suitcase by the door before you opened it, taking the packet of cocoa from one of the pockets and closing it. Gemma hummed, closing her eyes "It already smells so good."

"Trust me, it's the best you'll ever have." You assured her as you both walked back to where everyone was. Harry leaned his head back on the sofa, looking at you upside down before giving you a childlike wide grin, almost as if he was assuring you that it was going well.

Standing in the kitchen with Gemma as you warmed the milk, she cleared her throat, getting you to look at her. You felt nervous, almost as if you were preparing yourself for the talk.

"So, you and little Harold? How did that even happen?" She chuckled, looking at you as she leaned on the counter.

"I've been a fan of One Direction for as long as I remember and I've always, you know, kind of had a soft spot for H. I don't get to go to concerts and shows very often but I went to his show a few months ago after getting in contact with Jeff then I met him. We met then we went to this local bar not far away with the rest of the band and we sort of," you shrugged with a smile, "Clicked."

"I bet he was shitting himself," she laughed, turning off the stove before taking out mugs for you. "From what he told us, you haven't been dating for long."

You nodded, "Almost two months."

"I'm sorry if this is too straightforward but does your family know?" Gemma asked quietly.

"My brothers and their partners know that we're together, yes. Uh, my grandparents and father know something is going on but we kind of had," you gestured with your hands, "A disagreement you can say. They'll come around."

"But you're planning on telling them, right?"

You nodded instantly, "Definitely," you paused, sighing as you looked at her, "I know what you're thinking. I really don't plan on hurting Harry."

"What about your family? Do they not?"

Deciding to not take it to heart, you simply shook your head. "My family won't get in the way of what makes me happy."

"I'm sorry if I come off as a bitch, I just," Gemma stopped, looking at you sympathetically.

"I understand," You smiled, "I'd do the same if I were in your place. You're just looking out for your brother and I truly respect that."

Gemma smiled in gratitude before shaking her head, "God, you sound so posh."

As the night went on and everyone was more comfortable, you were tucked in Harry's side, his arm wrapped tightly around you.

Empty mugs of hot cocoa were proof of the success and so were the smiling faces in the room. Gemma, Anne and Michal sat with their presents on their laps as they waited to unwrap them.

First went Anne, neatly unwrapping the present after complimenting your choice of wrapping paper. Her eyes almost widened at the Versace box, opening the lid slowly as she gasped at what's inside. She took the dress out, holding it at arm's length as she gushed over it. "Y/N! This is gorgeous, sweetheart!" She stood up, holding it over her.

"Ooooo, look at you." Gemma grinned, now feeling over the moon excited to open her present.

"This is a lot, Y/N."

"It's not, I promise. You're letting me stay here for 6 whole days, Anne. It's the least." You truthfully said, giggling when she gave you a kiss on the cheek.

Harry grinned at the interaction, rubbing your arm.

"Okay, my turn!" Gemma exclaimed, unwrapping the present before gasping at the Alexander McQueen box, "Oh God," She laughed, opening it. "Ooooo,"

"I trusted H with the sizes." You informed them, watching as Gemma took out the black and white striped jumpsuit out.

"I love you already." Gemma pretended to wipe her tears, making everyone laugh. "Thank you so much, Y/N." "You're welcome, Gemma. I bet it would look so good with red lipstick." You wiggled your eyebrows.

"You know what? We're going out tomorrow and I'm wearing that." She pointed at you. Gemma sat down, elbowing Michal, "Go on then."

Opening his box after unwrapping it, Michal let out an excited laugh as he looked at the expensive golf watch he remembers telling Gem about it a year ago. "That's massive! Thank you!"

"It's no problem. Harry told me you're really into golf. He helped me with this one." You smiled up at Harry who scrunched his nose.

"Did a great job, mate."

You left your hair down as you changed into your pyjamas, walking inside Harry's room. Right as you stepped inside, Harry quickly covered something with the covers, making you stand on the doorway with your hand on your hip. "Got something, Styles?"

"Don't know what you're talking about." Harry shrugged, tilting his head at you with a cheeky grin.

You sighed dramatically, "Guess I just won't give you your present then."

Harry laughed, throwing his head back, "Y/N!" He whined.

"Fine," you chuckled, "Alright I got you a bunch of stuff actually." You took the rectangular box out of your duffel bag, holding it out as you sat beside him on the bed, crossing your legs.

"Okay," Harry breathed out, copying your moves and sitting in front of you with his legs crossed, unwrapping the box. "You have really nice wrapping paper."

"Thank you, I take pride in choosing and wrapping them." You giggled, bringing your knees closer to your chest as you rested your chin on your knee.

The first thing Harry got out of the box was a book that had a cat in front books and a typewriter on cover, the title being "I Could Pee On This" along with "And Other Poems by Cats"

Harry burst out laughing; his eyes shut and his head back as his hand slapped his thigh. "Where did you even find this?!"

You only shrugged in response, grinning at his reaction. "I know you love cats and I thought it might be exactly what you need."

"I definitely needed that. Thank you, baby." He laughed, putting it beside him before taking out the next item. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the packet in his hand, reading what was written; "Animal butt magnets."

"When I first came to your house, I noticed your fridge didn't have any magnets so I thought you should add a few there."

Harry laughed, turning the packet to you, "You got me animal butts for me to stick on my fridge?"

You nodded excitedly, hugging your legs, "Precisely!"

"You're absolutely mental." Harry chuckled, leaning forward to peck your lips.

"Now for the grand, real gift!" You exclaimed in a reporter's voice, opening your arms wide.

Harry grinned, glancing at you before closing his eyes and taking the last item out of the box. His eyes fell on his hands, laughing, "Love, is that-" He glanced at you before opening the wallet in his hands, "It's a wallet! You got me a wallet that looks like burnt toast!"

"I love all of them!" Harry laughed, moving until he propped himself up on his knees, cupping your face in his hands as he pressed his lips to yours. "Has anyone ever told you how creative you are with gifts?" You hummed, smiling up at him before glancing at his lips, "Maybe one or two."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You whispered back, pecking his lips.

"You might not know it but you've been touching your present all along." Harry chuckled, kissing your temple for a second before taking the box from under the covers.

"H, it's made a fucking lump. Of course I knew it was a present." You laughed, looking at the green wrapped box.

You unwrapped the box, Harry watching nervously and silently admiring how gentle you were while unwrapping the box. "Gucci!" You grinned, looking at him, "That's your favourite."

"I remember you telling me you like something of mine so," he shrugged.

You opened the box, "Loafers! You got me loafers!" You grinned, taking them out, "Are we going to be the cliché couple that match?"

"I think we're cliché enough to do that." Harry nodded. "There's something else in there."

You looked down, taking out the vinyl record in your hands, grinning when you read "Piano Man" and "Billy Joel".

“How on earth did you know I wanted this?"

"Might have had Farrah help me with that one." Harry smiled, shrugging sheepishly.

"You take your Christmas presents seriously, don't you?" You smiled, putting the shoes back in the box before wrapping your arms around his torso.

"Do you have any idea how hard picking a present for you is?" Harry rolled his eyes, groaning as he threw his head back.

"Hey, that goes both ways." You raised an eyebrow.

He laughed, raising his hand to push the hair that got on your face away, "You know what I got us for when we're back at my house? For our board games nights and all that?"

"And the Chinese takeaway?" You asked hopefully, making him chuckle and nod.

"And the Chinese takeaway," Harry confirmed, "I got us about 10 massive puzzle pieces."

You gasped, "You genius! I was actually thinking about getting us a new one."

"And now we have 10."

“And I have Gucci loafers.”

“And I have a wallet that looks like burnt toast.”

“Sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t know you took Christmas presents so seriously.” You sheepishly said, scrunching your nose as you looked up at him.

“Hey, none of that,” Harry frowned, “These are probably the nicest Christmas presents I have ever had. ‘sides,” he held up his wallet and new magnets, “What’s not serious about these babies?”

#The Royal Series #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x princess #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au

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