#despite all the effort i put into this i still have my reservations about this actually happening

[shardpencil]

Conspiracy theory time!!!

I know Odium's Champion theories are probably redundant at this point BUT i have one cooked up hot for you all. It's a long one.

Featuring Spoilers from all SA books and some minor spoilers from WaT previews..

Adolin will be TOdium's Champion!!!

Let's talk about it:

RAYSE VS TARAVANGIAN

I first want to draw attention to the differences between Rayse-Odium and Taravangian-Odium and their Champions. As the vessel of Odium has changed since Oathbringer, so must our perception of their chosen ones.

According to Hoid, Rayse was an awful person. He was cunning, ambitious, and often had selfish motives for wanting to obtain power and conquer the Cosmere. "Blackthorn" Dalinar made sense as Rayse's Champion, because as a young man, Dalinar's "passions" were selfishly motivated as well. Yes, he was helping his brother, but Dalinar did enjoy the wanton killing and longed for the feeling of the Thrill.

Taravangian carries himself differently as Odium. He has always been motivated by noble causes, such as saving his home city of Karbranth, knowing that he might have to do evil things to reach his end-goal. Even after he ascended, Taravangian holds on desperately to this notion that he alone has the power and willingness to reach the greater good in the end. I firmly believe that his pick for Champion must represent this very same philosophy.

BOOK EVIDENCE POINTING TO ADOLIN:

This first passage comes from WoR. Sadeas is talking about Adolin as he watches him duel:

We learn a few things from this

Sadeas thinks Adolin can be goaded into anger and is capable of making rash, impulsive decisions.

Adolin has less control of his "passion" than Dalinar. Plainly this means he has less self-control than his father. I also note the careful use of the word "passion", as it is used often in OB in association with Odium.

Now Sadeas is comparing Adolin to Dalinar--and not just Dalinar, but the Blackthorn.

What do you know? Sadeas proves himself correct by goading Adolin, threatening his family, and causing him to get angry and lash out. As Readers, we now know that Adolin is capable of extreme, impulsive actions--including murder--if the end goal is to protect his family.

I also think Adolin's wording here is very ominous "My father thinks I'm a better man than he is...he's wrong" Knowing what we now know about the kind of person Dalinar actually was in the past, the wording of this passage, in retrospect, reads eerily.

Then in Oathbringer,

He clearly has complex feelings around what he did. It's a little worrying that there was a part of him that actually enjoyed the physical sensation of killing Sadeas, but he at least has some shame about the act itself.

Interesting that he thinks of the sensation of stabbing right after thinking of his father, too.

Now we learnt hat Adolin doesn't feel sorry about what he did and says that he'd do "it again right now" (directly to Dalinar, no less). I think it's important to note here that he did it because "it needed to be done". He did it because specifically he thinks Dalinar never would, because he knows his line of thinking does not agree with his father's. In Adolin's mind, the destination was more important than the journey.

There was a part of him that was ashamed that he murdered someone, but that doesn't really matter--because he easily dismissed the whole act because it allowed him to achieve the optimal outcome.

Next, lets flash forward to RoW...

The passage above is from the last conversation between Dalinar and Adolin before Adolin leaves for Shadesmar.

This is where we start getting the hint that Dalinar sees something..off within his son. He says he's not disappointed in him, however, Dalinar's wording here implies that Adolin is not quite living up to his own expectations, morally (aka he's disappointed). This passage also reflects Adolin's words as he's killing Sadeas, when Dalinar says something along the lines of, "I want you to be...a better man than I was at your age." So many uses of the phrase "better man" are being thrown around specifically with Adolin and Dalinar.

This next passage I think is the most condemning. Here, Dalinar is placing Adolin and Taravangian in the same bucket, ideologically. Funny, since Taravangian literally becomes Odium later in the same book.

Shortly after this line Adolin does insist that he isn't like Taravangian and wants to carve his own path, however, his previous actions speak louder than his words and he certainly does not regret those actions.

I also think the highlighted line above foreshadows something darker in store for Adolin...in general. The consequences of this conversation did not come to pass in RoW, so we can only assume that it's going to go down in WaT.

Since the end of Oathbringer, anger has been building within Adolin, directed at his father.

Adolin recognizes that his own anger is volatile. He "doesn't trust it".

In the latest passages of WaT, Adolin reported that he assumed that his negative feelings would eventually wane, but he has instead become even more angry. I was a little surprised reading this, since it feels a little too intentional, too deliberate. Brandon is building up to something, but its not clear what that is.

What I'm thinking is that , this pain/anger will lead to an impulsive action on Adolin's part that he may regret making. He's already done it once before (though he had no regrets about that lol).

So Adolin has all this built up anger directed at Dalinar, and one of these days he's just going to snap, just like with Sadeas. I sincerely doubt Adolin would just straight up kill his father like he did with Sadeas, but I do think Adolin is capable of making some sort of stupid decision directly in opposition to Dalinar, in affirmation of his Consequentialist beliefs. Whatever this is, will likely be Adolin's downfall.

WHAT MAKES THE IDEAL CHAMPION FOR ODIUM

I fully think the optimal opponent to Dalinar has to have a few things:

Significance to Dalinar that forces him to NOT want to kill the champion and challenges his Idealism (this is the most important one IMO--this is the real "heart and soul" of the contest)

The capability to actually beat Dalinar in a fight

Significance to the audience (aka us, the Readers)

SO NOW ON TO THE CANDIDATES

A Fused

OC being a random Fused would make sense somewhat, however, this choice would be awful since they wouldn't have any meaning to Dalinar or us the audience. I think a Fused as champion would be such a letdown personally.

2. A Herald

Again, this might make some sense and would be a very formidable foe, but it just doesn't provide the emotional stakes for Dalinar or the Reader. A Herald as OC would likely not challenge Dalinar's existing ideology as strongly as some of the other candidates here.

3. Gavilar

This would be interesting. Brother vs brother would definitely satisfy condition #1, and potentially #2 and #3 depending on how invested he is. Overall, this pick just isn't giving enough of anything for me to support it. I just think we haven't gotten any evidence for this other than a faint ambition of Gavilar to become immortal and just being an absolutely shitty human being.

I think its theorized that hes somehow still alive, but IDK, there's just not enough evidence presently...and Gavilar just coming out swinging from the spiritual realm would be so bizarre. I love the stakes it creates between Dalinar and his brother though!

4. Moash

Yes, Moash has done some shit and works for Odium, but I think the only way he makes sense as Odium's Champion is if Kaladin somehow becomes Honor's Champion.

5. Gavinor

Probaby one of the more popular OC theories presently, because of that one quote from the WoK epigraphs.

“I hold the suckling child in my hands, a knife at his throat, and know that all who live wish me to let the blade slip. Spill its blood upon the ground, over my hands, and with it gain us further breath to draw. ”

This quote is often attributed to the Gavinor theory because it mentions killing a child. However, Gavinor is not "a suckling child"--he's older than that.

I think Gavinor as OC perfectly satisfies the conflict between Taravangian and Dalinar. Killing Gavinor would challenge Dalinar's personal worldview and force him to submit to Taravangian's. There's no way Dalinar will kill a kid, simply because killing an innocent child is wrong and there's no way around that within the confines of Dalinar's Idealism. Gavinor would also be easy to trick into making some agreement with Odium.

The only problem is, Gavinor is a CHILD. Dalinar could easily kill him if he wanted, and I'm not sure if T would take that chance, even if it means having Dalinar submit in ideology. I feel like each Champion must have at least some understanding of the philosophies they represent... Dalinar for Idealism, and OC for Consequentialism. Gavinor would not understand his role and the stakes involved and thus, I believe it would cheapen the whole experience.

As Readers, we are somewhat familiar with Ganivor, but whether he lives or dies to us is more of a question for Dalinar and the plot, leaving us to feel indifferent. We don't know who this kid is, and we haven't spent enough time with him to be truly emotionally invested in his fate.

6. Adolin

Adolin perfectly satisfies point #1. There is no way Dalinar is going to be comfortable with the prospect of killing his very own child. He may flat-out refuse to fight him, which would consequently void the contract and release Odium into the Cosmere.

(Probably inconsequential but, vaguely, I think the "suckling child" epigraph could fit Adolin. He isn't a child, but he is Dalinar's own child, and we even got a flashback chapter in OB where Adolin was literally a suckling child...anyway.)

Based on Adolin's recent developments , I believe he could champion Consequentialism (he's already teetered on the edge of it before in conversation with Dalinar). To reiterate, he is clearly the type of person to do anything, including murder, to protect those he loves. I could see Adolin and Dalinar's present argument turning into some big philosophical conflict that they'd have to work out on the top of Urithiru. The point here is that Adolin would actually be representing Taravangian's philosophy as his Champion, as well as challenging Dalinar simply for being what he is.

#2 Adolin is the best duelist in the world, and according to Brandon, one of the best swordsmen he has written (excluding Lan and immortals who have unfair experience). Unlike Dalinar, Adolin is a "regular person" and doesn't use any form of outright investiture. Dalinar on the other hand, does not wield a shardblade, and only has his Bondsmith powers. The match-up would be interesting to say the least: all magic vs all "physical". Opposing in fighting style as well as opposing in philosophy. I also think Dalinar would have a hard time winning if Adolin decided to go all-out for whatever reason.

Odium is going to want to make sure that if the plan to ensure Dalinar refuses to kill his champion falls through, that OC will not be easy to kill. This way, there is no possible way that Dalinar can actually win the contest. Adolin is the only opponent to Dalinar that can truly create this no-win scenario, making him the ideal pick over all of the others.

And #3... Adolin means EVERYTHING to us, he has been so many characters' rock, and he's been so important to us as the Readers. He's made us laugh and cheer and cry. Being in such a difficult position would hit so many emotional levels. This duel between champions is the one event these first five novels have been building to...I think that it has to pack one of the biggest punches Brandon has ever delivered.

OTHER THINGS THAT MAKE ME SUSPECT

Adolin isn't a Radiant. He's free real estate

He has death flags all over the place. Adolin is the type of character who means everything to everyone around him--his death or corruption would be the perfect plot device to ruin everyone's day and all their days to follow. Whether or not he becomes OC, i sincerely doubt he will make it through WaT alive.

I forget where exactly this is mentioned, but in the text Adolin says he was born "under the sign of nine". The number nine is associated with Odium and the Unmade.

Adolin seems to be associated with an Unmade, Ba-Ado-Mishram (BAM), in some way. Shallan, Renarin and Rlain will be looking for BAM during WaT, which makes sense because they can see into the Spiritual Realm, where BAM resides. However, Shallan reported seeing BAM in Adolin's shadow, which felt like a very intentional detail from Brandon. Odium's Champion has been known to have nine shadows...and there are nine Unmade. The Unmade seem to have a connection with OC as well, such as the Thrill and Dalinar. Adolin has slowly been "reviving" his deadeye Maya, and BAM had some involvement with the ancient Knights Radiant killing their spren and the deadeyes. There's definitely going to be some connection there. We also know that Odium's Champion can be seen from the Spiritual Realm, where Shallan, Renarin, and Rlain are looking for BAM and Adolin will have some involvement. Lots of suspicious pieces of evidence surround this plotline that I haven't quite pieced together, but they're there.

I would also like to point out that ADOLIN IS THE ONLY MAIN CHARACTER WHO IS A DUELIST. I personally see it criminal that he wouldn't be involved in this "contest" in some way.

SO HOW WOULD IT EVEN HAPPEN

He could get into an argument with Dalinar and volunteer to prove a point.

Similar to the first one: Adolin could volunteer...with the intent of killing himself or letting Dalinar kill him. I personally think this is the most interesting of all these scenarios

All of Adolin's built-up anger towards Dalinar could simply make him more malleable/easily tricked

Odium forces him into making a deal by threatening his loved ones.

Odium or BAM convinces Adolin that serving the side of Honor will bring the downfall of civilization and his loved ones. I'm kinda thinking in a similar way that the ancient Radiants and their spren abandoned their oaths and rejected Honor...but the full story has yet to be revealed here (which may happen in WaT)

I do not think Adolin will suddenly just "turn bad". If he does become OC, it will be because he is trying to be heroic, to do what he sees is the "right thing" and put the end-goal above the means to get there. Adolin has had disagreements with his father but he still loves him. And I definitely think Adolin is the type to be self-sacrificial, to put himself in harms way to let his father, brother, wife, friends, and the world live in peace.

Whatever ends up happening or not happening, there needs to be a lot of character work going on with Adolin to actually get to any of these points!

THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM

Obviously the problem with this whole theory is that it seems like Adolin is being set up to revive his shardblade, Maya, and become an Edgedancer. Personally, I think there's no room for Adolin to both become and Edgedancer and become OC. It feels like he's gotta go one way or the other.

So I'll just throw out some reasons why Adolin can't/shouldn't become a Radiant:

Every member of his family is a radiant--it's too redundant within the narrative.

Lift is our Edgedancer POV character, we don't really need another one.

Adolin works really well as a non-radiant

Even if Adolin revives Maya, does it necessarily mean that Maya will bond him and make him an Edgedancer?

Adolin is pretty expendable at the moment. What point is there to have him revive Maya with an unusual type of bond...just to die immediately?

To say the least, Adolin isn't a "journey before destination" kind-of person. He likely couldn't speak one of the most basic Radiant oaths.

Right now, Adolin-Edgedancer seems like a waaay more obvious path, which is why I'll say I am skeptical that it will actually happen the way we all think, especially since Adolin has this darkness within him that he still needs to address.

But, Adolin's train of thought does have a LOT of similarities to an Edgedancer's. He remembers those who have been forgotten--especially his mother and Maya. But you know who else "remembers the forgotten"? Yep, it's TOdium:

Lets look at the WaT interludes. Here, Taravangian-Odium is literally remembering the the children who died in some forgotten country. He also refuses to forget his old self, Taravangian, and let the shard of Odium consume him.

Note the similarity between the above passage and then the one below:

Both Taravangian and Adolin say that they feel like they are the only ones willing and capable of making "hard decisions" in order to stop the danger. This is the "dark side" that an Edgedancer, or any Knight Radiant for that matter, could never have.

Let's also explore the possibility that if Adolin does revive Maya completely and finishes that arc, that she will actually side against the current Knights Radiant...

"We chose!" were Maya's infamous words during the trial at Lasting Integrity. This confirmed that the Radiants and their bonded spren at the Recreance both willingly chose to abandon their oaths. The full reasons why they abandoned their oaths are still somewhat unclear. The Stormfather once reflected that it was because the ancient Radiants and their spren thought that by forsaking their oaths they would be saving the world.

There's no reason to believe that a revived deadeye spren such as Maya would actually want to reinstate those oaths upon revival or support the current Radiants in their fight. Maybe they would even side with Odium? If Honor committed some serious enough offense to have the bonded spren collectively on-board for suicide, it's fair to guess that they still wouldn't have a good opinion of him to this day.

ADDENDUM

I wrote the majority of this post before WaT chapters 16-17-18, so I'd like to add some additional evidence stemming from recent developments.

Let's start with some further conflict build-up:

Adolin takes this upon himself to fix this. Guess who also took it upon himself to save Kharbranth, who--only chapters ago--accepts the burden of saving everyone and fixing things?

This particular paragraph feels...unusually vicious for Adolin? Also, notice how similar what Adolin describes Dalinar doing is to what he himself did. Hear how this sounds when we replace one word, and it sounds like it could be an angry Dalinar talking down to Adolin:

"You always barrel forward. Doing whatever you want. Consequences be storming damned. Like you did years ago, killing Sadeas. And you never bothered to tell me."

One point Dalinar was particularly angry with son about was the fact that Adolin did not tell him that he killed Sadeas.

Adolin is so, so much like his father..and the version of him described here that Brandon is drawing attention to is, worryingly, the Blackthorn--the previous champion of Odium. Father and son are both hypocrites, but how can we be certain that Adolin will become the better man in the end, like Dalinar?

Interestingly, Adolin does recognize that perhaps his anger has gone too far. With the sheer amount of negative remarks out of Adolin this chapter, this felt like a welcome way of reeling in all of that. Yes he's mad, but he's not about to do something stupid...at least not now.

What I think Brandon is doing here is placing Adolin on this edge, where, to us, the character could swing one way or another--either Adolin gives in to his passion, or he learns to forgive his father. Teetering upon this edge, all Adolin needs is a push in the wrong direction (as Sadeas literally stated in WoR), and he can be brought to taking an extreme action. Again, this action doesn't need to be physically violent, but it will almost certainly be directed against Dalinar

WHY THOUGH?

Journey vs Destination is the heart of the first five books of the Stormlight Archive, and everything up until now has been leading to the infamous Contest of Champions. This duel doesn't need to be fought in a traditional sense with swords and sorcery, but what is important is that Dalinar and Taravangian's ideologies clash.

We understand Dalinar's side. Dalinar has a whole book about accepting the journey, growing to be a better person, and living his ideals.

We also understand Adolin's side. We probably cheered when Adolin "took out the trash" and killed Sadeas for the sake of protecting his family.

The point is that an Adolin vs Dalinar match-up will not just put the characters in conflict within the story, but it will also make the Reader stop and think about what they personally believe. With the contest painted in this way, both sides have perfectly valid points.

TO SUMMARIZE

Adolin is a Consequentialist, like TOdium

Adolin resembles an Edgedancer, but so does TOdium, so it could really swing either way. Plus maybe a revived Maya would side against Honor?

Adolin is pissed at his father, the alleged "Champion of Honor"

Adolin has a history of making rash decisions out when his anger reaches a breaking point

Adolin would be an ideal pick to challenge Dalinar's personal philosophy, he can hold his own in battle, and we care deeply about him...creating the perfect tragedy!

IN CONCLUSION

Adolin will be Odium's Champion, you heard it here!

THE AFTERMATH

So what happens next? I've been thinking about this a bit. What can be done with Adolin's character in the back five books if he does survive but has to live with the consequences of his shitty choices?

Adolin's present conflict with his father seems to be rooted from Dalinar killing his mother, which Adolin says he can never forgive.

In the next five books, Adolin is placed in Dalinar's shoes. Maybe at this point he regrets his decision, has to repair the damage he caused, and learns to forgive himself in the same way his father did (also--finally--forgiving his father in the process).

I really hope Adolin lives and gets to have his drink with Kaladin in Shallan. Maybe in Stormlight 10, they do get that ending :)

[thewulf]

Loving You is Easy || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - What about a jake seresin x reader. Of course jake has a reputation but he truly is in love with bartender reader, so finally he wears her down to a date. They go to a nice restaurant and reader still has has her gates up but she’s slowly realizing who Jake truly is WHEN not one but two of the girls jake hooked up... Read Rest Here

A/N: Another one for my fav cocky pilot. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.2k +

T/W : None just fluff

The clink of glasses and the low hum of the late-night chatter fills the air at The Hard Deck, a place that's become your nightly retreat amidst the demands of school and work. As you finish up your shift behind the bar, wiping down surfaces and stacking glasses, you're acutely aware of Jake Seresin's presence. He's become a regular when you worked. His charm was well-known and his flirtations a constant undercurrent whenever he's around.

"Another evening of mixing drinks and dodging offers, Y/N?" Jake teases while watching you with an amused smirk as he plays with his empty glass sitting in front of him.

Playfully, you roll your eyes at the man who had become a constant in your life. "Just counting down to graduation," you reply. Keeping your tone light even as you avoid meeting his gaze too directly. You've heard stories about Jake, enough to keep a polite distance.

"How about celebrating a bit early? Let me take you out. A real date, not just bar banter that I know you love so much," he proposes while leaning over the bar slightly trying to catch your eye.

You hesitate but you had your response ready. "Jake, I really don't think mixing work with... whatever this is... would be a good idea."

"Just dinner," he presses. But his tone was sincere. "No expectations, no strings. Just two people enjoying good food. Come on, what do you say darling?"

Despite your reservations there's a part of you that's curious. The persistent part that wonders if there might be more to Jake than the rumors and his reputation. After a moment of internal debate, you find yourself nodding, slightly surprised by your own decision.

"Okay, one dinner. Only If it’ll get you to shut up about it" you say with a small smirk adorning your face finally meeting his gaze. "But, Jake, it's just dinner. That's it."

His face lights up with that well-known charming smile. "Just dinner," he agrees while raising his hands in a mock surrender. "You won't regret it."

As he leaves you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and apprehension. You've maintained your boundaries yet you're stepping into new territory. It's just dinner you have to remind yourself. But as you turn the sign to 'closed' and lock up for the night you can't shake the feeling that it might just be the start of something unexpected. But you tried not to get your hopes up. It’s just dinner.

You step into the upscale restaurant. The ambiance immediately wraps around you. It’s intimate and inviting with its dim lighting and soft music playing in the background. Jake stands from a secluded table as soon as he sees you his smile bright and welcoming. "You look absolutely beautiful," he says sincerely before pulling out your chair and taking his own seat.

"Thank you," you reply feeling a faint flutter of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation. The effort you put into choosing your outfit seems to have paid off and his notice of it warms you.

Once seated, Jake’s attention is all on you. He turns his phone off and places it face down on the table. A clear sign that this evening is about the two of you. "I remember you mentioned once you loved champagne, particularly the one from that small vineyard in France," he says, signaling the waiter. With a knowing smile he orders a bottle of your favorite champagne, not missing the surprised and pleased look on your face.

"How did you remember that?" you ask as you were both impressed and a bit bewildered. No guy had ever taken the time to remember the small details about you. And here Jake was wooing you already, five minutes in.

"I pay attention," he replies with a shrug that seems both casual and a bit shy. "Especially when it comes to things you like."

The champagne arrives and as Jake pours you a glass his demeanor is gentle, his movements deliberate. You clink glasses with a grin on your face. The first sip is just as you remembered—crisp, with a hint of sweetness, perfect.

"So, tell me about school," Jake prompts you seemingly genuinely interested. "What’s been keeping you busy?"

You share details about your latest projects and the challenges of balancing school with work. Jake listens intently, nodding and asking questions that show he's truly engaged in what you're saying. It's easy to talk to him and you find yourself relaxing more than you expected. The initial walls you had up slowly dissolving in the warmth of the conversation.

Turning the focus to him you recall the pieces of conversation you've picked up at the bar. "I’ve always been curious, Jake. What’s it like being a pilot in the Navy? It must be quite different from anything I can imagine."

Jake's eyes light up with a mix of pride and nostalgia. "It's intense and challenging, but flying is incredible. There’s nothing like the feeling of being up there… the freedom of it, but also the responsibility. Every decision matters. Not just for me but for my crew and everyone we support."

"It sounds amazing," you say with a hint of awe in your voice. "I’ve actually never been on a plane before. Can you believe that?"

Jake looks at you with an incredulous gaze. "What? You've never been on a plane? I’m changing that, darling," he declares with a playful but determined grin. "We’ll have to fix that soon. There’s a whole sky up there waiting for you."

As the evening progresses you laugh together over shared anecdotes and discover common interests. The connection feels real, unforced, and for a moment, the outside world with all its complications seems to fade away.

The evening had been progressing beautifully with laughter and shared stories flowing as freely as the champagne. You were beginning to see a side of Jake that was earnest and deeply attentive. A stark contrast to the playful banter at the bar. It was easy to forget the outside world in moments like this.

However, just as you're settling into a comfortable ease the first ripple of discomfort appears. A waitress approaches your table with a familiarity that instantly feels intrusive. She's all smiles, especially towards Jake.

"Jake, I didn't know you were here tonight!" she exclaims. Her voice a notch too loud for the intimate setting. She's overly friendly, touching his shoulder briefly as she speaks. Her eyes never leaving his acting as if you weren’t even there.

Jake's response is measured. His smile polite but restrained. "Hey, Sarah. Good to see you," he says, his tone neutral. He quickly turns his attention back to you trying to minimize the interaction. "Sarah used to work with me on base," he explains briefly hoping to dispel any rising concerns you might have.

You nod trying to smile, but the unease settles in your stomach like a stone. The moment is fleeting yet it lingers uncomfortably as Sarah finally moves away, her eyes lingering on Jake a moment too long.

Before the atmosphere can fully recover another beautiful woman approaches your table. This time, it's someone who's dining at the restaurant. Her approach deliberate as she locks eyes with Jake. Her presence is poised when she speaks. Her voice is tinged with a nostalgia that makes you shift in your seat.

"Jake, it's been too long," she says, reminiscing about a shared memory that clearly meant something to both of them. "Remember that weekend at the lake?"

Jake nods. His expression tightening slightly. "Yeah, that was a good time. Hope you're doing well, Rachel," he responds keeping his reply short and devoid of any warmth that could be misinterpreted. He glances at you with a flicker of concern crossing his features as he sees your discomfort.

"I'm sorry about this," he murmurs to you under his breath. His hand finding yours on the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Let’s focus on our night."

Despite his attempts to steer the evening back on course the interruptions have sown seeds of doubt. You appreciate Jake's efforts to reassure you, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes—he genuinely wants the night to be about the two of you. Yet, the encounters with his past make it increasingly difficult to ignore the reputation that preceded him. You find yourself wrestling with the warmth of his present attention and the shadow of his history.

As Jake continues to engage you in conversation, attempting to salvage the remaining warmth of the evening, you're left to ponder whether the burgeoning trust between you can withstand the challenges of his complicated past.

The mood at the table shifts palpably following the interruptions. Jake, noting your discomfort, adopts a more subdued tone. His usual easygoing demeanor tempered by the situation. “I can tell this isn’t easy for you, and I’m really sorry about that,” he says, his voice earnest, his gaze meeting yours with a steady sincerity. “I’ve had my fair share of casual things in the past. That’s not something I can undo, nor would I expect you to just overlook it.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing. Clearly choosing his words with care. “But I want you to know ever since you started at the bar, something was different. I haven’t felt this kind of way about anyone else in a long time. If ever. Honestly, I haven't pursued anyone else since you came around. You’ve sort of... monopolized my interest.”

His admission is frank, devoid of any veneer. It's just him being open and hopeful, sitting across from you. “I hate that my history might be making this awkward. I really like you, Y/N. I’m here tonight because I want to be here with you. All I’m asking for is a chance to show you who I am at this moment in my life.”

The words linger between you straightforward and clear. It’s a lot to take in. His past is a part of him but the man before you now seems earnest, seeking something genuine with you.

You pause letting the weight of his words sink in. His hand reaches across the table, not to impose but to offer a gesture of connection. In response you extend your own hand, sliding your fingers between his, locking them together as a silent acknowledgment of your willingness to see where this path might lead.

“Thank you for being upfront with me,” you respond. Your voice calm and thoughtful. “I appreciate your honesty. Let’s just see what happens, no pressure.”

Jake’s face softens, a gentle smile forming as he senses the tension easing. “No pressure. Sounds perfect,” he agrees with hope in his voice matched by the warmth in his eyes.

As the evening ends with the complexity of real-life weaving through your initial impressions you find yourself intrigued by the possibility of discovering more about Jake, beyond this first, eventful meeting. The evening with all its ups and downs, winds down as the restaurant begins to empty. You and Jake exit into the cool night air. The city lights casting a soft glow on the street. The tension that had built up inside seems to dissipate slightly with the openness around you.

As you walk together Jake's demeanor is reflective and he keeps a respectful distance that speaks to his understanding of the evening's emotional rollercoaster. Yet, his presence is reassuring, a quiet strength in the uncertain night.

"You know," Jake starts, breaking the silence as you both stroll towards a quieter part of the street, "tonight didn't go exactly as I planned. I wanted it to be perfect for you. To show you that I'm not the guy people might say I am."

You glance at him noticing the earnest furrow in his brow. His next words come slowly, measured but clear. "But maybe it's good that it happened this way. You saw everything—the good and the not-so-good. I don't want to hide anything from you."

You stop walking instead looking at him directly. His green eyes are sincere, reflecting the streetlight's soft luminescence. It's in this moment with his gaze unwavering and his stance open that you feel a shift inside you. The doubts linger but there's something about his honesty tonight that tugs at your willingness to explore what might be between you.

"I need things to go slow, Jake. Really slow," you say. Your voice firm yet not without warmth. "Can you do that? Can we take this one moment at a time?"

Jake's response is immediate. His nod accompanied by a gentle smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way. You're worth waiting for and I’m not going anywhere. I want to prove to you that I’m in this, really in this, for you."

There's a promise in his words, not just spoken but felt. You both resume walking and as you do, his hand finds yours, a simple touch but filled with intent. You interlace your fingers with his as a silent agreement to his proposal of taking things slow allowing yourself to feel the potential of what could be a new beginning.

As you walk further the city noise fades into the background, and a comfortable silence settles between you. It's not the fairy tale whirlwind. It’s real, it’s tentative, and it’s new. But it's a start. And for the first time in a long time, you feel a cautious optimism about the path ahead. The night ends not with grand gestures but with a quiet acknowledgment of something that might grow given time and mutual effort.

In the weeks following your first date your relationship with Jake blossomed beautifully against the backdrop of everyday life. Each shared moment from spontaneous coffee dates that extended into long or unplanned conversations to leisurely evening walks under a starlit sky, deepened your connection. The ease of laughter and the depth of discussions revealed layers of each other’s personalities and dreams, drawing you closer in ways both profound and delightful.

As the days turned into weeks, your phone became a constant companion, buzzing with Jake's texts that often stretched into late-night calls. These weren't just brief exchanges; they were rich, lengthy conversations where you found yourselves diving into everything from your favorite books to your deepest fears and aspirations. Jake remembered the little things you mentioned—like your love for mint chocolate chip ice cream or your dreams of visiting Greece—and surprised you with thoughtful gestures that showed just how much he cared. It wasn’t just what he said but how he listened and responded that made you feel truly seen and appreciated.

With each passing day, the shadows cast by Jake's past seemed to fade, overshadowed by the genuine warmth and steadfastness he brought into your life. His consistent effort and the undeniable sincerity in his actions slowly dismantled the walls you had built around your heart instead allowing trust to seep in and fill the spaces between your doubts.

So, by the time you found yourselves laughing together on his couch, enveloped in the comfort of a lazy Sunday afternoon the words that had been quietly taking shape in your heart felt ready to surface. The day unfolded effortlessly, each moment layered with shared smiles and unspoken promises, steering you gently toward a revelation that seemed both thrilling and inevitable. This wasn’t just another pleasant day. It was poised to become a defining moment in your relationship where feelings long simmered might finally find their voice.

The afternoon sun casts a warm, golden light through the windows of Jake’s living room, bathing the cozy space in a tranquil glow. You’re both nestled comfortably on the couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs with a lighthearted romantic comedy playing in the background. It serves more as a backdrop to your own laughter-filled conversation than as entertainment.

Jake is in the middle of recounting yet another of his infamous escapades at the base. This time involving an unintentionally hilarious mix-up during a training exercise. His storytelling is animated, his hands gesturing wildly, his eyes sparkling with mischief and joy.

"And then, I accidentally broadcasted the prank over the PA system, not just to the squad, but the whole base!" he exclaims, bursting into laughter at the memory.

You can't help but laugh along his delight was terribly infectious, his joy utterly palpable. "Jake, you're unbelievable. You always find a way to make everything so fun," you say. Your voice tinged with affection and amusement. The warmth of the moment, the closeness you felt with him, it all feels so natural. So right.

As the laughter subside you look at him with a big grin on your face. And without thinking much more the words on the tip of your tongue just slip out, "You crack me up, Jake, I love you so much." The moment the words escape your heart skips a beat as you realize what you’ve said, your eyes widening in surprise.

Jake's laughter stops abruptly. His expression shifting as he processes your words. There’s a beat of silence, heavy with significance, before his face breaks into a tender, wide smile. He looks at you. His eyes were shining with a mixture of happiness and something deeper, more earnest. "Wait, say that again," he says. His voice low and husky, filled with emotion.

Feeling a rush of courage by his encouraging gaze you repeat your words, "I love you, Jake." It feels even more right the second time. The words resonating between you, filling the space with their profound simplicity.

Jake's response is immediate. He leans in, closing the distance between you with his hand cupping your face gently. "I love you, too. I’ve been hoping to hear that. Was wondering when it would be right to tell you how I feel," he confesses. His thumb softly stroking your cheek. "I’ve been holding onto these words, afraid to say them too soon, but feeling them every day."

"Really?" you whisper. Touched by his sincerity and the depth of his feelings.

"Absolutely," Jake replies with his gaze locked on yours, intense and full of affection. "From the way you laugh to how passionate you are about your studies, from your kindness to others to your strength in handling everything life throws at you. Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

He draws you closer and you find yourself wrapped in his embrace, his warmth enveloping you. "I wanted to tell you on our third date," he admits. His voice muffled as he speaks into your hair, "but I thought it might scare you off. Now, I just want to make up for lost time." He chuckled squeezing you tighter.

The room feels charged with a new energy. A new understanding as you both bask in the glow of shared love. The movie continues to play, unnoticed now, as you and Jake talk and laugh. The conversation meandering through dreams, hopes, and plans for the future. Each word strengthens your ever-growing relationship. Each moment deepens the love that now openly defines the two of you.

And as the sun sets, casting long shadows through the room, you feel a profound sense of contentment. This isn’t just a fleeting romance. It’s the beginning of something lasting, grounded in mutual respect and deep affection. You lean against him with your head on his shoulder, heart full, as you both enjoy the quiet comfort of knowing you're exactly where you're meant to be.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

[gotham-daydreams]

How would it have gone differently if Reader didn't try to be an "overachiever" and instead just stayed quiet and didn't interact with anyone besides Alfred until they left? Their room they left being mostly blank, with only the music journals? Giving up on trying to get their attention.

I think what's so funny about this ask, to me, is that I already have a concept like this written down (along with 3 others since the current reader I'm writing for the "Not [ ]" series is one of them but with a few missing details), so this'll be fun!

I guess it generally goes how you'd expect? Which is different for the most part, but the reader's perspective on what's happening is also different.

Granted, I would like to point out that, at least for this particular concept and the idea I have for it of how this would go, does have more stuff going on pre-Batfam that do affect how they perceive what's happening, and that's what makes things interesting in my opinion. Because someone can be naturally shy or just overall more reserved either out of nature or because they feel a certain way, but still feel bad about being neglected and, despite their lack of effort, feel that pain just as much as someone who's tried. Which is valid! Besides, someone's definition of 'trying' can vary as well.

Everyone should have a chance to have a family, and form some kind of connection with people. Just because you aren't going above and beyond for one person, doesn't mean you're undeserving of certain things. Especially not a chance to have a family, or feel like you have one. That's what I think anyway.

Nevertheless, back to the reader!

From the original concept, I will be tweaking a few things to fit the ask, but the same general outcome remains! Though again, the reader's perspective on things is a tad different. But how about this- I'll show two versions of the reader.

One that's quiet and more reserved because they gave up much earlier, or just generally hopeless really early on because maybe they felt as if anything they'd do just wouldn't be enough, who'll be accurately named Quiet!Reader. With the other being more closely related to the concept I wrote for such an idea, that we'll refer to as Waiting!Reader.

Quiet!Reader would change up things quite a bit! I won't lie!

They might already have bad self-esteem that's quick to develop at the start of things, which is something to note as that doesn't get better with time. They grow more cold and distant from the family at a quicker pace both from personal and external reasons.

Put simply, they don't feel good enough, and even if they did- anything they could do to get the Batfam's attention would never be enough in their eyes. To which, they see very early on when they try to engage and do some things with the family, only to be turned down. What doesn't help is when Quiet!Reader sees Damian get adopted and almost immediately showered with love, (compared to them) and that really cements some ideas that were already developing in their head about the family.

When Damian comes into the picture, they feel replaced. Seeing him as someone to fill in the 'youngest Wayne' role instead of them, so that Bruce and the others actually have someone to acknowledge for such a title. Just someone else to further take away the little they had.

So, they further step out of the way, glaring at the Batfam with tired eyes before that eventually stops too. Envy clawing at their heart, hatred being sent through waves of pain all throughout their body. Hurt unmatched. Yet they still remain invisible. Quiet as ever. Unnoticed. Everything they ever felt dies down, and forms a cold numbness that they begin to associate with the family.

Maybe through that, they feel closer to the family in some twisted way. Now just as cold as them. Just as talkative, and just as engaging. Almost mirroring them, but they're honest about how they feel. Honest about what they think, and therefore better. At least when compared to the Batfam- and to them, even if it wasn't a high bar to reach anyway, at least it counts for something.

It was never Damian's fault, or really about Damian at all. It could've been anyone else and Quiet!Reader would've still reacted the same way, they know that. Though just seeing the Batfam show love and care to him and not them just makes them feel... worse.

Clearly they're capable of love, and can notice new additions to the family (to which they may have mostly believed that the Batfam's neglect was just something the family did for whatever reason, and thought that them being the youngest had something to do with it for a while) and that breaks the reader. It doesn't hurt, not as much as it would've, maybe, but whatever hurt is there dies down quickly as Quiet!Reader, well, quietly accepts their fate.

The Batfam clearly wants nothing to do with them, so why should they try to do all of these things for them? It's simple, they shouldn't. So they don't. Quiet!Reader gives up, and continues to live their life without them.

The Manor just becomes a place they sleep in, and nothing else. It isn't anything close to a home, and not even Alfred can help with that.

It's because of that little fact, however, that Quiet!Reader leaves much sooner than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series. Maybe once they get a friend they can trust, they essentially end up living with said friend, hence why their room remains so empty. The notebooks they even keep in the room they have in the Manor is from when they were way younger, instead of just being from a few months ago or so. We're talking years since Quiet!Reader has touched those things now.

Maybe they do 'officially' leave a month or so before they usually would as an overachiever in the "Not [ ]" series, having only bothered to return so often before because of Alfred. Though even then, they'd forget to return most nights- only being reminded to even try and go back once Alfred would personally call them, and ask them where they were.

However now, after a while of just the time between them basically living with their friend and sleeping at the manor, they stop returning altogether. Though this time around they instead personally go to Alfred to say they're goodbyes. Not explaining much, but just saying that while they might still try to come and visit him sometimes, they don't live in the Manor anymore. Alfred already knows this, and the embrace they share fully hammers in that fact.

Yet when Quiet!Reader turns away, and leaves the Manor for good- even through the front door at that. Alfred can't help but just... miss them already.

You see, while Quiet!Reader is indeed quieter and more reserved, especially towards the Batfam, with Alfred really being the only exception, they still made music.

Maybe they didn't have as many concerts or physical, grand, live performances compared to the reader in the "Not [ ]" series, they not only started earlier, but may have actually started out on a social platform such a youtube. They really started out small, but were able to find and start their passion much earlier!

Most of what they played was when they were in the Manor, but slowly they started to get involved with things music related outside of the Manor and in Gotham- and from there were able to build themselves up even more. Hell, I'd even say that Quiet!Reader is a little more well-known and popular than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series because of the amount of extra time they dedicated to their passion.

So basically, Alfred this time around has more recordings and such of Quiet!Reader actually doing something they love than with the one in the series. However! Funnily enough, they're gone for a shorter amount of time despite having left earlier than normal.

Alfred is just, extra fed up with this nonsense, and so pulls his tricks more early on, but also make them hit harder.

He doesn't clean Quiet!Reader's room to show how long they've been gone, adding onto the emptiness and almost abandoned feeling the room itself gives off because of how bare and empty it is. They're music haunts the halls, subtle, sure, but still noticeable- especially to those who are hyper aware all the time. Pictures of Quiet!Reader and Alfred begin to be hung up, and if he can manage- some with Quiet!Reader and their friends during important parts of their life.

No one is safe from the guilt and anguish Alfred seeks to cause to not only have the Batfam look for you, but most importantly, to finally notice you.

Let's just say, things work out a little too well.

---

As for Waiting!Reader? Oh man, I've been wanting to rant about them for a while!

Unlike the reader in the "Not [ ]" series and Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader had some semblance of a life before getting adopted into the Batfam. Though the idea and character themself isn't musically inclined/involved in music, or even all that interested in music for that matter- for the sake of this ask, lets say they are!

I won't dabble too much into the life Waiting!Reader had before the Batfam, as if I do end up writing them I'd also like to keep some details vague (for the sake of leaving it up to interpretation and everything), but just know that during the time they were still with their original family, they were essentially taught that they should 'wait their turn', and eventually their parents would spend time with them and care for them. Hence the little name I've given them.

So! When they get to the Manor and are officially adopted, only to be neglected and ignored during their first few attempts- because of their young age, they immediately think "oh! they're just like mom and dad!" So they 'wait' for 'their turn', believing that eventually, should they wait long enough, they'll be rewarded with bonding and such from the Batfam just as they were with their previous parents.

This mindset changes what they do as well, as Waiting!Reader even goes out of their way to not bother anyone, or "get in the way" of whatever they could be doing. Waiting!Reader treats the situation so much like their previous home life, that sometimes they might even forget that the Batfam are completely different people from their parents. The only real difference that they can think of is that they're not acknowledged at all and it seems like their 'turn' never comes. Though for a while that doesn't get them down. The Batfam is busy like they're parents were! Waiting!Reader is sure that when things die down then they'll have their time.

... Hopefully.

I can imagine that part of the reason why Waiting!Reader holds on to hope for so long is because, again, their own parents constantly reassured them that they would have their time eventually. That if they behaved, and stayed out of the way, then they would go somewhere fun with their parents and essentially be rewarded for their efforts. They were conditioned to wait, to be patient, and just comply until those around them decided to actually take care of them, and spend time with them.

Of course, as they grow up the reality of the situation does hit them eventually, but during that time they do try.

Waiting!Reader helps Alfred around the house, and so they mostly bond over doing chores, among other things. They are also more mindful, and try to keep the amount of noise they back down— so they actually don't play at the Manor all that often, and instead play literally anywhere else. If and when they do play outside, around the area of the Manor like in the gardens or something, they make sure no one is around before even thinking of playing.

Alfred does help them break a few of their habits that they got while living with their parents, but the one thing he can't seem to 'fix' is how absolutely quiet Waiting!Reader is when they walk around. Which, as on can imagine, doesn't exactly help in a situation where the whole family, except for the butler, is neglecting you.

The amount of times Waiting!Reader has caught Alfred off guard is more then you'd think for someone that works with the Dark Knight, and his various sidekicks and such, over the years. Which does say something, sure, but it's also funny!

Regardless, similar to Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader is able to start their musical career earlier than normal, and thuse becomes a little more popular than they would originally. However, they're more known for their live performances and giving back to the community. Seemingly just like Bruce as they attend charity event after charity event, and try to do good by the people.

Waiting!Reader also does genuinely try to become a vigilante as well, but they do so in a way where they only take care of the smaller/medium guys, and leave the bigger ones to the rest of the Batfam. This is because they want to remove possible distractions for their family, and while they would try to take on "bigger guys", they don't think they're skilled enough or experienced enough to even think about it. So they don't even try. (They also don't have the same theme as the Batfam- since they don't want to 'ruin' their reputation with what they're doing or something. Which does hell them further detach themself from the family later on.)

I'd say that with Waiting!Reader, the difference between them and the Batfam is more clear to them? Like, to them, the Batfam are just so good at what they do that they have no hope of reaching them. So instead of trying to reach for them, they just do their own thing and try to help in their own way.

Because Waiting!Reader takes care of smaller guys, they are kind of closer to Waiting!Reader as a vigilante.

The best way I can put it is that while the community trusts Batman and the members of the Batfam to save their city, they trust Waiting!Reader to save their homes.

So basically- Batfam is the bigger picture while Waiting!Reader focuses on the smaller picture.

Nevertheless! Also like Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader actually leaves earlier. Except when they leave, they leave.

Waiting!Reader straight up leaves Gotham City to attend the college that they want to go to, in an area that has more opportunity for them, that isn't close to where the Batfam lives or patrols.

So they not only leave earlier, but it also takes the Batfam longer to find them. Especially because Waiting!Reader does still do some things in Gotham, they just don't live there anymore.

I feel like out of all three readers, Waiting!Reader definitely feels like the kind of person that someone would assume is some kind of "Phantom of the Wayne Manor," y'know?

So Alfred definitely tries to make the Batfam feel bad like he does with Quiet!Reader. Except how anyone in the Batfam is reminded that Waiting!Reader even exists, and that they've been gone for a while now is through a letter that is accidentally sent to the Wayne Manor from one of Waiting!Reader's fans. From there, some research does start and the more the Batfam learns, the more they want to go and find the reader- you know the deal.

I hope this answered your question even if I really did ramble on this time- if you'd like me to clarify anything or go into more detail on a specific part, feel free to send in an ask!

[x-gabrielle-x]

Interlinked

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x Reader.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, major character death, blood, war.

Summary: Mattheo Riddle was hated by most, yet you saw more in him than what most could.

Mattheo Riddle knew that he wasn't the most approachable person out there, especially when more than half of the school referred to him as his father's son.

Besides his small group of close friends, anybody else was just another thorn in his side. He had come to learn that despite keeping his distance and reserved personality, he was still seen to be just like his father.

So of course, it was a shock to everybody when you had chosen to sit beside him in potions class away from your usual group of friends.

You hadn't said anything to him, merely sparing him a quick glance and small smile before you were placing your things down quietly onto the desk. He could see your friends in the corner of his eye gawking at you from across the room and silently waving you back over, one of them even going as far to call out to you, yet you paid them no mind and picked up your quill, scribbling down the notes written on the board before the professor continued on with the lesson.

He felt his gaze linger on you longer than he would've liked to admit, brows furrowed before he chose to let the silence thicken.

Mattheo knew then and there that this wouldn't be the last interaction he'd have with you.

It went on like this for a few more days. You coming into class and sitting directly beside him, showing him your bright smile that he desperately wished to hate despite the small warmth it gave him. At this point it became regular routine, and if you ever happened to be late for class Mattheo would ensure that your seat was kept empty.

It was a silent agreement between the two of you.

So once again when Mattheo caught himself staring at your bored expression in class, your head propped up onto the palm of your hand, he decided that for the first time it was time to break the silence.

"Not taking any notes today?" He couldn't help to hide the growing grin on his face when your head nearly snapped toward him, eyes wide as if you were checking that he was in fact talking to you.

You leant back further into your seat, shrugging as you turned to fully acknowledge him whilst also being discreet from the Professor as to not get caught.

"I'm just not really in the mood for it, I guess," you shrugged, giving him a small smile. "It's pretty basic stuff, anyways," you added.

He grinned once again, although this time he put no effort into hiding it. "Of course, one of the best students in class calls it 'basic.'"

He didn’t fail to notice the way your eyes lingered on his smile. He never smiled, really. Maybe the occasional half lipped smile to his few friends he had, but to you, it felt natural. Meaningful.

"It could be basic to you too, if you took notes and gave the lesson your full attention," you teased him, nodding to the board.

"Unfortunately, my attention is elsewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, and despite your attempt at hiding it, Mattheo noticed the obvious blush dusting your cheeks when he flashed you one last smile.

In truth, Mattheo wasn't awful at potions class at all. In fact, he found it to be one of his best subjects. He would never admit that to you, though. Not if it meant that you could continue to tease him about it.

The both of you quickly went silent when Professor Snape turned your way, eyeing mainly Mattheo for a second before he continued to pester poor Neville about what chapter to read from.

Small conversations would be thrown back and forth between the two of you, and Mattheo being himself, of course threw in many flirtatious comments, addicted to the way you'd attempt to change topic and hide the nervousness from him.

It didn't take long for him to realize he was craving for your attention every chance he could get. He found himself looking for you in the corridors and in the main hall when he happened to be walking with his friends, and it didn't fail to go unnoticed by them when his usual bored demeanor would instantly change when talking to you.

You would catch his attention with a bright smile and wave, before your friends were quickly pushing you away to giggle about the situation.

After practically begging you to help him study for the upcoming potions test, despite him not needing the help, he was insistent on getting to spend more time with you.

When you were both sat in the library with the few books you had brought over, Mattheo found himself watching as you concentrated hard on what you were explaining to him, with your brows furrowed and your eyes darting along each printed word on the page. Only it didn't last long when you suddenly closed the book and looked at him expectantly.

"You could at least pretend to be a little more interested, Riddle," you had teased when you discovered he hadn't been listening to you, earning a small chuckle from the boy sat across from you.

"Would it be a surprise to you that something else had taken my interest?" was all he said, watching you closely for a reaction. He caught the slight blush dusting your cheeks.

"You're funny, Riddle." You quickly turned away from him and picked up your book, opening to a random page to save you from the embarrassment of his words. You knew that he had you wrapped around his finger, and he loved it.

Christmas holidays had come, and of course the two of you were sad to go. The many bickering conversations and your smile would have to wait until next year.

"I'll send owls whenever I can, I better get some back, Riddle," you had said, throwing one of your jumpers into your bag as Mattheo sat watching from the common room couch.

He rolled his eyes at the comment, as if it were impossible to do so. "You'll be missing me that much, Princess?"

He caught you halting your movement, and you looked at him.

"Would it be a boost to your ego if I admitted I would miss you?"

He pretended to ponder, but he couldn't hide the grin on his face. "Not entirely sure, I guess were going to find out."

You rolled your eyes once more and zipped up your bag. "Then if it makes you feel better, I will miss you, Mattheo."

Nothing felt it had sunk in until you were stood on the platform to the train, Mattheo at your side and bags in hand. You would both be going to your homes, and the several months of friendship the two of you had built together would not make it easy for the next few to come.

Your father had insisted to pick you up himself, claiming he couldn't wait long enough for the train to arrive. Unfortunately, this would mean Mattheo would go by train alone.

So, when the both of you were saying your final goodbyes, of course it had surprised him to feel your lips press against the corner of his mouth.

You patted his cheek twice, to which he just silently gawked at you.

"See you soon, Theo," you smiled before turning away to find your father who was waiting somewhere nearby.

He watched you walk off, and without another thought he was turning on his heel and stepping on to the train.

Then he was gone.

Mattheo never sent a letter, and the months seemed to drag on the longer you waited. Every day you would run outside of your family home to check the mail, expecting, hoping, to see that he finally sent you a message. You couldn't deny the embarrassment every time you opened the mailbox to see it empty. Your hope was fading, but still, there was the smallest tinge of hope left deep in you.

You thought that maybe you were overthinking things too much. He did say he had plans for the holidays, after all. Your owl would wait by the window ready for you to clip another letter to her neck once again and fly off the moment you opened the window. No matter how many times you would send a letter, deep down you knew you wouldn't receive one back.

When school was finally about to start up again the coming week, you were beyond excited to see Mattheo again, despite the fact of his lack of letters. You were sure there was a reasonable explanation!

As he sat in one of the carriages in the train, his eyes zoned out of the window and watching the fog clouding the terrain, his memories flooded back in and for a moment he swore he felt a sharp sting on his forearm. Glancing down at the Dark Mark printed pure black, he remembers the exact moment his father had pressed the tip of his wand to his flesh and the searing pain that followed.

He felt as if the holidays had been the slowest they'd ever been. Being stuck in the same building as the Dark Lord feels like that, he concluded.

He was drawn away from his thoughts when he heard the carriage door slide open, and he wasn't surprised to see your face peeking in through the door with your usual smile, only it was brighter than he'd ever seen it.

Despite him not sending you letters; you were beyond happy to see him again.

Ignoring your excitement, you met his gaze and gestured to the seat across from him. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Truthfully, he wished for some alone time to dwell on his thoughts. He didn't need you or anybody else trying to strike up conversation with him, especially after he had been mostly ignoring your letters and leaving them stranded in piles upon his desk. The slight annoyance began to bubble in his chest, yet he gave a curt nod and continued to stare out the window.

You seemed to have caught onto his behavior, the awkwardness settling in once you closed the door behind you and watched in silence.

Your mind was swarming with questions you desperately wished to ask him - What did he do during the holidays? Why was he acting like this? Did he miss you?

You inhaled a breath before asking the question you had been craving to ask the most.

"You never sent me any letters over the holidays?" You regretted mentioning it the moment the words slipped your lips, and you bit the inside of your cheek when you heard a deep inhale come from Mattheo.

"Things get busy," was all he said, and the pang in your chest that followed caused for you to try think of anything else. He refused to look at you, and that only made the pang worsen.

"Oh, that's alright," you nodded, teeth pressing deeper into the skin of your bottom lip. "What did you do over your holidays?"

Mattheo shrugged, and you wished that he could just meet your eye the longer he stared blankly out the window.

"Nothing of much importance."

His bluntness to you confused you. Never had Mattheo attempted to be so short and bored with you, even when you were both at the awkward stage of just becoming friends. You took it as a sign to sit in silence the rest of the train ride back to Hogwarts, feigning it'll be back to normal once you're both settled into the regular routine again.

The longer the days passed at Hogwarts, the more Mattheo found himself hating your presence. You were always there - always following him like a lost puppy or trying to strike up conversation. He didn't want you here. Not at the moment. He couldn't.

You didn't fail to realize this either, firstly it being small things like the previous conversation on the train a few weeks ago. But then you found that Mattheo was physically avoiding you, changing seats to be on the opposite side of the class, leaving the dining hall whenever you attempted to sit with the rest of your friends. He never saved your seats anymore; even going as far as to make sure he was sat between other classmates to avoid you being near him.

You did miss him, but you also weren't one to push boundaries. Especially when it came to somebody you cared about as much as him.

You had tried to give him space, tried to give him time to come to you, but your own emotions were clouding, and you just wanted your old Mattheo. You had made sure to find Mattheo when he was alone, gently tugging on his arm and pleading for him to talk to you.

"Can't you just fuck off already? I don't need you here. You're a constant pain, how don't you see that?! I thought you would have gotten the hint ages ago!" He'd practically screamed in your face, and you had never felt more mortified than you did right now.

"Thats not what I'm trying to do at all, Theo-"

"You need to leave me the fuck alone, Y/N!"

He hated you. He hated you for making him feel this way. It was your fault. for making him care about anything in the first place, and it was your fault that he despised you for it. And most of all, he hated you for making him love you.

He could never forget the look on your face when he stood beside his father at the war, the tears seeming as if they were rivers along your dirty cheeks, cuts littering your body. Despite all that, in your pain seeing him, he still wondered how you had managed to stay beautiful even in these circumstances. Even with the blood from your wounds, you seemed like the brightest person here.

He so desperately wished to reach out a brush away the bloodied strands of hair away from your face, to apologies for everything. He couldn't stand the way your heartbroken gaze was practically burning into his soul.

Then the flash of green and a heavy thud echoed.

He hadn't even registered the war around him as he darted forward, tripping over his own legs as he dropped to his knees and cradled your body. He couldn't even hear his own wails and sobs over the screaming of his classmates.

He wished he hadn't looked down to the sight of you in his arms, because as soon as he did, he felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest. Your body was limp against him, your head lulled back to which he carefully readjusted his body to keep his arm supporting your neck. He could barely see with the tears cascading down his face and blurring his vision - some even dropping down onto your cheek and rolling off the slopes of your jaw. He quickly whipped it off with his thumb.

This couldn't be how you last remembered him, could it? He was pressing his forehead to your cold one the longer the seconds passed.

"You’re not leaving me, Princess, ok?" he was mumbling to you in your ear despite his sobbing. Deep down he knew you were gone, but the lingering hope that you'd flutter your eyes open and smile back up at him was haunting to him. He couldn't resist but to shake your shoulders in hopes that it would be true. "You need to get up now! It's dangerous," he cried longer, and in that moment, he couldn't care less what happened to him beyond that point, because the one thing he truly cared about was now gone.

He would never hear your voice again, your lips pressed against his, or your smile that he secretly wished to see every day. He wished that he could feel your hands running along his hair comfortingly as you whispered sweet nothing to him.

He would never be able to tell you that he did, in fact, read every single one of your letters. That he wished to write back. That he wished to see you every second of the day.

Your last memory of him would instead be of how he betrayed you. Left you, and fought against you in the war. Scared and broken because of him.

It was truly all gone, and he had never hated himself more in that moment.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[charliekomori]

Castle of glass.

Summary: diaboys reacting to you fainting on them. Headcanons.

Characters: Kou Mukami, Subaru Sakamaki, Azusa Mukami, gn! reader.

Tags/warnings: fainting, blood sucking, mentions of blood and knifes, a usual day in dialovers.

Something with my three fav boys... I might write more if you guys like it ♡

❀ Kou Mukami.

- At first he’d tease you, say something like “eeh my M-neko-chan has finally fallen for me I see!”

- That is until he notices how the vitality seems to drain from your expression. Your eyes seem glazed over, your body is limp, not in the way it is when you and him share sweet dreams in the comfort of his room. 

- No reaction follows his usual teasing either, not your cute pouts or bashful glances when he managed to fluster you.

- There is clearly something wrong with you.

- And for an instant, he doesn’t know what to do.

- He stays there, kneeling besides your still body, his smile wiped from his face for once.

- He is very worried and low key panics for a second. There is so much he wanted to still show you, so many gifts he wants to still get for you, what if…

- No, he cannot let thoughts such as this to cloud his better judgement.

- Probably tries to ask his siblings for help (thankfully he doesn't take Azusa’s suggestion to stab you to see if you’ll react).

- With all the ruckus around you, your eyes begin to stir. Your sight is still unfocused, and yet those eyes of his his, like the bluest sky, somehow give you the strength to fight the dizziness away.

- “Kou-kun…” he hears the weak call of his name, and within seconds he is pulling you close to his chest, his forehead against yours to make sure you are here with him.

- “Stay with me…” a barely there utterance of your name leaves his perfect lips, not the nickname he often used, but your name, reserved often only for the intimacy shared in the privacy of his or your bed.

- Afterwards, he is totally giving you the princess treatment.

- You are always there for him when nightmares shatter his sleep in fragments of a painful past. He has to give back all the kindness and love you showered him in every time.

- Kou will bring you your favorite snack, even try to make it himself, despite the result maybe not being perfect (please accept it, he put so much effort into it!).

- If you’d rather cuddle, he’ll hold you all night, in the same way you did when the phantom of his scars still ached; he’ll sing to you, lyrics only you get to hear, the affection in his voice rivaling his tender touches.

- He just wants to be there for you as much as you have always been for him, he is such a sweet baby who loves you unconditionally.

❀ Subaru Sakamaki.

- “Tsk, oi! oi!” The anger in his voice is mixed with the shadows of worry and underlying dark hues of panic as he calls for you.

- To no avail, for you slump unresponsive against his chest.

- His arms wrap protectively around your form.

- “You idiot!” He grits his teeth, fear and anger rising in his heart, almost choking him like wilted rose thorns.

- Why are you not answering him? Why is a crease forming in between your brows?

- Is it his fault after all? Does he really always ruin everything? 

- “Subaru…” You call, half unconscious. In your daze and shallow breathing, you cling to him.

- Clenching his jaw, Subaru picks you up in his arms.

- “You really are an idiot…” He softly utters, voice devoid of any malice.

- “Don’t go…” You mumble, skin coated in a sheen of sweat.

- Well, at least you seem to be conscious enough to still know he is by your side. He just hopes this is indeed not too bad.

- Brings you to your bed and when you fully wake up he is most likely losing it because why did you agree to him having your blood if you were feeling weak?

- You know he can go without it for a little longer, it’s not like he cares about you of course (his words not mine) it’s more that it’s a hassle to have to care for you afterwards and besides what if something had really happened to you or what if you hadn’t been with him-

- His speech is interrupted by your hands gently cupping his face and your lips on top of his.

- For an instant, ruby eyes widen, his cheeks matching their hue, but then he is quick to return the kiss.

- There is desperation written all over it, filling the sensation with subtle layers of fear, white wilted petals on moonless nights.

- “I love you…” You think you hear, barely above a whisper, when you part ways.

- “What did you say, Subaru?” You ask, half teasing.

- His face’s hue deepens, as he pouts, looking away.

- “I told you! You have to tell me when you are too exhausted to give me blood! Don’t you dare do that again!” He sputters, stomping away.

- Well, you’d rather he be his tsundere self that have him worried about you (as cute as he is).

❀ Azusa Mukami.

- Not a good idea to fall unconscious by his side, just saying /hj.

- See, Azusa is a sweet boy. It’s just that he might use… rather… eh… unconventional methods to try and wake you up.

- I mean, yes, he sure is scared that you just have fainted on him, but also the pained expression on your face… That means you are enjoying this, no?

- Then, is this really bad? Maybe if he gives you some new “friends” you might come to.

- He really is trying his best, poor baby :(

- But this isn’t right… you usually flinch or try to resist when he tries to cut you.

- Why are you completely unresponsive now?

- “Hey… Eve…” Azusa calls, his voice slightly quivering, the usual aloofness in it threatening to crack.

- This is definitely not good, you always answered him, after all.

- Now he is beginning to become frightened. What if he ends up losing you too? He doesn't want you to be just a permanently etched wound on his skin. He needs you, your here and now.

- “Azusa, what are you doing?” Ruki’s voice cuts through his disarrayed thoughts.

- “Eve… they… they fainted.”

- “It’s not severe, I told you not to cut her too much, figure it out by yourself.” Is Ruki’s statement as he walks away.

- After a few minutes, you finally regain consciousness.

- You are met by dull amethyst eyes, a silver lining illuminating them beautifully the moment you react.

- “You’re awake… Eve…” 

- He wraps his arms around you before you’ve had time to fully sit up from the daze.

- “Azusa!” You yelp, not expecting the sudden embrace.

- Despite him always having a cold body temperature, his hug feels… comforting, a welcome warmth fending off the chills that raked your skin up until moments ago.

- A smile tugs at your lips, as you return the embrace. Perhaps Azusa is learning about this gentler kid of affection now.

- In that case, you’ll give him plenty of it. You stay like that for a while, neither of you wanting to pull away.

- “Eve… is safe…” He whispers, pulling away enough to lock eyes with you with a tender smile.

- And his gentleness does certainly make you feel that way right now.

[vettelsvee]

YOU WROTE A SONG ABOUT ME? | Oscar Piastri

f1 one shots masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

oscar piastri x singer!reader

requested by anon: x singer!reader, maybe Oscar and his family going to her show and she sings a song about him

word count: 2402

warnings: none of them! use of y/n and y/l/n

posible part 2 if you like it and ask for it!

you can send your one shots requests here!

Oscar was nervous. Very, in fact.

It wasn't the first time he attended a concert of Y/N, his girlfriend, but every time he did he ended up getting more nervous than he should.

Perhaps the fact that today was his twenty-third birthday and he hadn't received any kind of congratulations from her had a lot to do with it.

The Australian took a deep breath and continued on, trying to catch up with his sisters and parents as quickly as possible, who had barely noticed that the boy had fallen behind, immersed in his thoughts.

Nicole quickly turned around, going to where her son was as calmly as she could, and above all making sure not to do or say anything she would regret, especially not something that would ruin the surprise her daughter-in-law had been keeping so well.

"What's wrong, honey?"

Oscar slightly startled as he felt his mother's hand on his shoulder, even letting out a small scream that startled the woman.

"Yes, of course!" the boy hurried to say, trying to calm down. "Just... I'm a little nervous, but that's all, really."

Despite the Australian's efforts to sound as calm as possible, it was in vain. Nicole could see his anxiety in his gaze and, above all, in his gestures. His hands were barely still, and every time she tried to walk beside him, he ended up putting a little more distance between them.

"I'm your mother, Oscar, you know I can catch any lie like I've done so many times before. Why are you so nervous?"

He sighed. He didn't want to share his concern, especially when they were heading to see the main reason of it.

"Well..." he tried to find the right words, finding it quite difficult. "It's just that I haven't received any message from Y/N today. Today, of all days, you know? On my birthday."

"Oh, what a shame..." the woman replied, feigning surprise. "She must have forgotten or had some problem. Have you talked to her?"

Was she really asking him that? He just told her he hadn't received any message from the brunette...

"Yes, but she hasn't replied."

"Don't worry! I'm sure there's a reason for it," assured the Piastri matriarch. "Don't let this ruin your day. If that girl doesn't call you as soon as it strikes twelve, I promise she'll have to deal with me."

"Mom..."

"No mom, Oscar," she scolded him in an ironic tone, making him laugh. "Now try to enjoy her concert and have a good time with us, okay?"

The brown-haired young man nodded, grateful for his mother's support, and continued on his way to the Rod Laver Arena, now a bit happier than before.

After passing through security checks and receiving the VIP accreditations reserved for the Piastri family, and the occasional stops for the pilot to take some photos and sign autographs with fans who recognized him, which were quite a few, they made their way to their reserved spot, located in the lower side stands just a few meters from the main stage.

"Wow, I didn't know you were so famous to have so many people following you," joked his father, making his sisters laugh.

"You should take a break!" shouted his mother, hugging him and making his cheeks turn red. "You're at your girlfriend's concert, not at one of your stupid races."

"They're the ones who make me who I am, Mom. Besides, I'm a public figure," added the brown-eyed one. "I can't ignore them and act like nothing, you know? It's not that easy."

Oscar said that, but he still felt uneasy. As he looked at his family, already occupying their seats as there was still about half an hour before the concert started, the need to see his girlfriend or at least hear some news about her was taking over him more and more.

"Mom, I'm going to see if I can find out anything about Y/N," he said impulsively, interrupting himself with his own words. "I'll be right back."

Nicole looked at him with surprise, telling him no, to wait there, and they would see what to do after the concert. But the young man had already gained some momentum and was navigating through everyone in his way around the stands, seats, stairs, and multiple corridors until he reached the place where, supposedly, his girl was.

Once he reached the supposed dressing room, a perfectly uniformed black security guard, with a completely serious expression and crossed arms, stood in front of the door.

"Um... I'm Oscar," he greeted with a wave, trying to curve his lips without trembling. "I'm Y/N’s boyfriend," he timidly pointed to the door behind him with his hand. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Piastri, but Y/N has agreed that there are no visitors before the concert today," the man responded firmly, still looking at Oscar seriously and shaking his head.

"It's just a moment. I want to wish her good luck before she goes on stage," he insisted, hoping the guard might make an exception.

"I'm sorry, sir. Rules are rules, and if the young lady said no, then it's no. I can't make any exceptions, even for you."

The Australian thanked the unfriendly man with a slight nod and, feeling defeated, made his way back to where his family was. As soon as he arrived, he had his sisters pestering him:

"Did you see Y/N? Did she say anything to you? Did she leave you wanting something, and that's why you look so depressed now?"

The eldest sister's insistence was making him feel even worse than he already did; having the other two join in the sudden conversation with curious faces and even more unsettling questions made him want to leave the place.

The young man simply remained silent. He sat in his seat and kept his gaze fixed on the stage, waiting for the lights to go out and the concert to begin.

It was a matter of the singer stepping onto the stage for the crowd to rise to their feet, applauding and chanting her name, shouting compliments and praises of all kinds.

"Good evening, Melbourne!" exclaimed Y/N, who was on a platform that had risen from the bottom of the stage. "I hope you all have a great time with me tonight because I assure you that today will be full of surprises!"

Nicole Piastri got up from her seat, as did the rest of the family, and told Oscar to do the same. He refused, remaining seated with his arms crossed, but unable to stop a smile from appearing on his lips.

He might be upset with his girlfriend's behavior for who knows what reason, but it was impossible for him not to look away from her while she danced, sang, and interacted with the audience.

It was too difficult for him not to feel proud of her and everything she had achieved.

The show continued as Oscar knew it would, having memorized it from the numerous times he had not only attended various concerts of his girlfriend's tour around the world but also from the countless rehearsals he had accompanied her to.

However, Piastri did not expect that suddenly the lights would go out and an orange glow would begin to emerge everywhere, especially illuminating the stage.

Y/N appeared again, now wearing an orange bodysuit with perfectly placed blue tones that accentuated her figure.

"Do you know what day’s today?" asked the brunette, looking with wide eyes at the audience.

"April 6th!"

She nodded, a playful smile forming on her lips more and more as she was about to reveal, and trying not to turn her head towards where her boyfriend was, whom she had deliberately avoided all day and who, possibly, would tell her to screw off after all the ghosting she had done to him on his birthday.

"And, by any chance... do you know what happens today?"

There were a variety of responses. A large part of them answered that it was Oscar's birthday, her partner's. Others were somewhat wild, as if she was about to reveal that the couple was expecting a baby, or that the young woman was going to announce her retirement from the stage after her very short musical career.

"No, it's none of that," the Australian ended up saying. "I am pleased to announce that today, here, right now, I am going to debut my new single, 'Throttle Hearts'!"

The stadium erupted in cheers and applause once again. No one, not even Oscar, expected this revelation from the girl, so it was completely normal for people to ask her to sing the song already.

Y/N, however, asked them for a moment with her hand.

Quickly, she ran to her cell phone and, secluded in a small corner of the stage, tried to make sure that the camera recording to broadcast her image on the large screens captured nothing.

At that very moment, Oscar's phone vibrated in his pocket with a notification from the same girl who was on stage:

"Happy birthday, my love! I'm so sorry for ghosting you all day, but I hope it was worth it. If you understand any references in the song, it's normal bc it's based on our story. I hope this is the best gift you can receive, at least for now, in your life. I can't wait to get off stage and give you the biggest hug in the world <3"

And there was Y/N, making eye contact with him, having a minimal interaction with her boyfriend for the first time all day. The girl had her arm raised, waving enthusiastically and making heart gestures with both hands that ended sooner than expected as she went to the piano to play the first chords of the song.

Oscar found himself trying to hide some tears, which were forming in his eyes not only as Y/N’s voice adjusted to the melody but throughout the rest of the concert.

The only thing the boy could reply to that message was whether she had really written a song about him, receiving as a response during a break between songs a large number of heart shaped emojis.

When the show came to an end and the singer disappeared beneath the stage, the Piastri family quickly grabbed their belongings to leave the venue and go to where the boy's girlfriend was. The same security guard who had previously denied him access to see the singer to the Formula 1 driver was now standing next to them, telling them to follow him.

Obviously, they didn't hesitate to say yes and followed his steps to the young woman's dressing room, who allowed her boyfriend's family to enter, welcoming them with a radiant smile and hugs that had been delayed all day.

The only thing the young couple did as words were exchanged was to look at each other, shy to show their love in front of others, as it had always been with them.

"I think we should leave the lovebirds alone for a while," Nicole began as she headed towards the exit of the room. "Don't take too long, the reservation for dinner at Oscar's favorite restaurant is at ten fifteen, and you know we take quite a while to get there."

Both of them thanked her shyly, unsure of what to do or say beyond being unable to stop smiling.

When they were alone, facing each other, they didn't know what they should say to each other. Oscar Piastri didn't know if he should reproach his girlfriend for not speaking to him all day despite preparing a surprise for him. Y/N Y/L/N was aware that perhaps she should apologize for not having done things quite right and for keeping the brown-haired boy on edge by maintaining some sort of no-contact for the past 24 hours.

Finally, it was the McLaren driver who broke the not-so-uncomfortable silence:

"Y/N, that song..." He was at a loss for words. He didn't know what else to say other than that he had loved it.

The girl smiled shyly, grateful not only that he had liked the composition she had kept to herself for the past seven months, but also for seeming to have understood.

"I've been wanting to sing it to you for a long time, but I didn't know if you’d like it," the young woman admitted. "It has had a couple of important modifications since the first draft, and since the record label wasn't cooperating much when I wanted to release it initially, I thought it would be a good birthday gift for you," she explained. "Hey, and I'm sorry if this whole game of ignoring you all day has offended you. I feel really bad, and the last thing I want is..."

"Shut up, silly!" Oscar interrupted her, approaching her to wrap her in his arm and give her a tender kiss on the forehead. "At first, I thought you wanted to break up with me, but then seeing how my mom was acting, that gorilla you have as a bodyguard denying me access, and above all you ignoring me all day..."

"I'm good at keeping secrets, and I'm absolutely in love with you, Oscar Piastri," Y/N declared, mock-offended. "Do you really think I would ignore you all day?"

"Not a chance. I know there's a good intention behind everything you do," agreed the Australian, earning himself a hug and a kiss on the lips from his girlfriend. "Did you know that I'm also good at keeping secrets?"

"Oh, really? And are you absolutely in love with me like I am with you, Piastri?"

Oscar grinned mischievously, an idea starting to appear in his mind like a flash that was making more and more sense.

Obviously, the driver was a tad resentful, and the girl wasn't going to get away with it no matter how good the intention was behind Throttle Hearts and its surprise presentation.

Now, Oscar had to prepare a surprise for the girl's twenty-second birthday that would match, or even surpass, the one she had prepared for him.

"I don't know," he shrugged, laughing more and more emphatically and perhaps frustrating his girlfriend, "I guess now you'll have to wait for your birthday to find out."

[blueberryxbloom]

♡ 𝐂𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞 ♡

[Monsterbfxreader]

Author note: I accidentally deleted this but managed to recover it.

Ever since you cooked for your boyfriend, he's been having you try his cooking Cuisine De Monstre.

Day-5

"My dear, behold the delightful Minotaur bone broth," he said excited, causing you to be confused once again as his long tentacles carefully placed a bowl of meat without any liquid before you. It also looked like the most normal dish he has ever given you to try.

"Where's the broth, and where did you get the minotaur?" you asked curiously. Your already knew that he had gotten the minotaur from his own world since their no minotaur in your world but perhaps he gotten it somewhere else.

With a nonchalant air, he casually replied, "Ah, I just popped into my world to get the minotaur since your world's cattle simply don't compare in taste. As for the broth, just wait; it's still too hot for you, my dear."

He then tenderly planted a kiss on your forehead and you said, "It can't be that hot."

"It's 572 degrees Fahrenheit."(300°C)

"Oh," you responded completely taken aback and wondering how the pot hasn't melted.

"I think I'll just use magic to cool it down," he said, touching the pot that he had settled on the table. "Now, it's just right for you to enjoy, my dear," he added with a smiled, carefully pouring the broth into the bowl of meat

As he poured the broth, you noticed it had a pale purplish color with no scent. To your surprise as soon as broth hit the meat it quickly dissolved leaving only bones swimming in the liquid that had turned into a gooey, dark purple substance. You could swear it was smiling at you with a gooey grin.

"Wow, that's... unique, darling," you said, trying to mask your hesitation.

"You've been saying the same thing about all the dishes I've cooked for you, dear," he replied with a chuckle.

"Well, that's because they all look unique. I've never seen anything like them," you said with an uneasy smile.

He chuckled lightly, "I suppose they do look quite unique from what you are accustomed to," he said.

He then sat down next to you, his eyes twinkling with excitement as you, his love was once again trying his homeworld cuisine. Eagerly, he urged you, "Please go ahead and eat up. I made this dish especially for you, my dear, with all my heart and love."

His eyes gleamed with excitement as he eagerly waited for you to taste his cooking. As with every dish you've tried before, every single of your instincts screamed at you to not eat it, fearing it might be deadly. Yet, just as before, you couldn't refuse him; he looked so excited, and you knew the effort and time he had put into preparing it. Despite your reservations, you couldn't deny him, even if it looked deadly.

You took a deep breath, picking up your spoon. "You love me right?," you asked, dipping it into the goey broth. Despite feeling a hint of guilt for often asked this question before trying his food, as it imply a lack of trust.

His heartfelt words eased your apprehension as you brought the spoon to your lips, bracing yourself for the unexpected flavors.

As you tasted the broth, a rich, buttery, and strong beefy flavor exploded in your tongue completely overwhelming your taste buds, surprising you once again.

"It's amazing... absolutely incredible. Its really out of this world, my dear," you said, with genuine astonishment."You're a wonderful and amazing cook, my dear."

He beamed with sheer happiness upon hearing your praise. His smile widened, and a faint blush spread across his cheeks as he responded shyly, "O-oh, I'm so glad you enjoy it. It means alot to me."

You smiled and continued to eat, and his expression softened to one of contentment as he watched you. "I can't wait to share more of my world's flavors with you, my love," he said warmly.

You truly have to look past how they looked because they are wonderful.

[irisintheafterglow]

hello…………..kiyoomi crumbs pls

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE

*patting the hood of a car* this bad boy can hold so much bf!sakusa

cw: swearing and the msby jackals being idiots

you checked your phone again and prayed you weren't keeping him waiting for a long time.

"hi, is omi still in there?"

"he should be just about finishing up, but you can go ahead. you know your way around the place by now," the security guard states warmly, giving you the go-ahead to navigate the back halls of the gym to the men's locker room. even if you did find yourself lost, it'd be easy to get to your destination by simply following the banter of your boyfriend's three very spirited teammates. their voices grow louder with every step and you have to stifle a laugh when you start to pick up the bits and pieces of their conversations.

"and then she told me i was being delusional! can you imagine? me? delusional?"

"remind us all when you met this girl, atsumu?"

"...last week."

"dare i say, she has a point," deadpans the smooth, low voice of your boyfriend. he always knew the best ways to press atsumu's buttons, making it very difficult to invite his friends over for dinner without harmless arguing occurring at the kitchen table. "it's okay; i'm sure you'll find another 'love of your life' next week."

"shoyo, the fuck are you doin' with my shirt?"

"can you all please put clothes on? if sakusa's partner walks in here and all of you are naked-"

"i'm not naked!"

"we know you're not, bokuto, but atsumu needs to put his tits away before i cut them off with scissors," kiyoomi quips and you fail to muffle your snort from around the corner. the room quiets in an instant and you hear a faint fuck before he finally comes to find you. he's still slightly sweaty from practice, all toned muscle and messy hair and bright eyes that only twinkle for you. "hi, beautiful."

"hey, handsome. you done threatening physical violence in there?" your eyebrow quirks in question and he shakes his head tiredly, tugging you into him by the belt loops of your pants. your arms rest on his shoulders, brushing stray curls from his forehead.

"not yet. i still have some unfinished business."

"mmm, with razors, i hear." you nod in solemn understanding and his mouth quirks into a half-smile, another expression of his that was reserved only for you. his lips press a kiss to your temple in a rare show of public affection, inhaling your presence with his eyes shut contentedly. "i could be wrong, but a federal offense will probably screw up your olympic prospects."

"if you tell me to do it, i'll do it," he murmurs absentmindedly and you chuckle under your breath.

"what, murder atsumu or not murder atsumu?"

"dealer's choice." he places one more kiss on your nose before resting his forehead against yours like he'd been away from you for decades. to you, it was a few hours; but, to him, it felt like a century. "i missed you a lot."

"i can tell. you're very affectionate tonight." his forehead scrunches in confusion at the implication of your statement.

"what am i, a cat?" the incredulity in his voice makes you giggle and, despite his best efforts to remain stoic, you can tell he's fighting back a smile too.

"in some ways, yes. you do tend to leave hair all over our couch, and you make a lot of noise when you're hungry." he makes a proud noise in the back of his throat and lightly pinches the flesh of your sides in defiance.

"i'll buy us a new one if you want me to," he promises. you stopped sharing product ads with omi on instagram because he tended to buy you anything that you sent him, even if it was just a funny little trinket you saw on an etsy shop. these items included but were not limited to stationary, plushies, athleticwear, and, of course, furniture.

"you don't need to do that."

"maybe i already have."

"thanks for letting me know that your newest love language is buying me a sofa."

"my love language is doing whatever you want me to do, angel." you both jump when a loud crash comes from the locker room around the corner, followed by hinata's panicked rambling and bokuto saying "that was fucking epic!" atsumu, you'd guess, is either the culprit or the object that caused the crash. you gently push omi's sturdy shoulders away and he groans in protest. "do i have to?"

"wrangle your team, put some proper clothes on, and take me to dinner, lover boy."

"as you wish."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[femdomlieeh]

Riding your thigh (m)

Sub!Monsta X ✧ Dom!Fem!Reader

WARNINGS—nsfw ✧ thigh-riding ✧ praising ✧ degrading ✧ dirty talk ✧ mentions of spanking, breath play & oral sex ✧ BDSM ✧ pet names (mommy, babyboy, puppy, princess)

NOW PLAYING—vampire ✧ Olivia Rodrigo

[A/N.] This is unedited and I wrote this a long time ago but I want to prioritize my time and energy on writing new fics instead like

M.LISTS—random idols/groups ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp

All rights reserved © femdomlieeh

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊

이호석 / wonho

Wonho's cheeks would puff up, as well as redden at your words. He likes it when you introduce new positions, and in return always acts all innocent with a flustered reaction as if he never knew those types of positions existed — but it's just an act. His cutie-like self would not question you at all; he'd smile and get on your lap without a word. To add more effect to his angel acting he'd maybe ask you about directions.

But once he got to action he no longer seemed like an innocent angel who didn't know what thigh-riding was. His hips would be grinding very seducingly — as if it were an erotic dance he'd practice for months — and his hands would be on your shoulders so there would be space between you so you could see him. He'd love to get praised. Praises would be motivating. This boy would love it so much he'd continue riding you even after cumming if you allowed him to. His stamina comes in handy.

"Should I take my clothes off or keep them on, Mami?"

After your answer he got on your thigh and sat down, ready for fun time.

"Am I doing this right, Mami?" he asked innocently, fully knowing he was a pro, because he wanted praise.

He will not admit that he's a dirty boy. No way. He'll still act like he's too pure to know what thigh-riding is, but every time he gets back on your lap he proves your theory of him being a freak to be true. Despite craving to ride your thigh again, he'll wait for you to tell him to do it instead of asking you. If you want to mess with him you can refrain from ever bringing it up. If you rile him up enough his innocent bubble might burst and he'll beg to get on your though again. Innocent angel? Pfft.

... ✧ ...✧✧✧✧✧✧

 손현우 / shownu

Hyunwoo's a softie, but he likes it rough. He knows that if he ever were to ride your thighs he wouldn't be able to go any different. Thus he'd be worried of actually getting off too hard on your thighs :C He'd be blushy and try to slow down, even if it wasn't enjoyable for him. You'd have to encourage him and grab his hips and physically make him ride your thigh harder and faster. After a while of seeing that you're completely fine, he'd get more comfortable and let loose of the tension he was previously feeling. The effort he'd put into it would be shocking since he's so shy and 'innocent'.

"B-But, Mama," he stuttered as his cheeks reddened.

"But what, Babybear?"

"I-I don't wanna hurt you," he looked down insecurely.

"You've been such a good boy this week, you deserve to get off on my thigh. Now listen to Mama and ride, okay?"

"Ye-Yes, Mama."

In the future, he would get flustered even at the mere mention of the first time he had ridden your thigh. And because of the embarrassment, he won't have the courage to ask you to do it again. If you asked him to do it again, however, he'd gladly do it (still blushing as if it were his first time, of course). He'd say he'd do it 'because he's a good boy', but the truth is that he had wanted to do it again ever since the first time.

Progressively, he'd feel more easy-going about it, and would muster up the courage to ask you if he could do it again. He'd be stuttering during the little speech that he had prepared beforehand and his face'd become red if you allow him to. Thigh-riding will only be occasional because it's his guilty pleasure and he feels abashed about asking you — but he'll give his all any time he does it. Take the first step for his sake.

✧... ✧ ...✧✧✧✧✧

이민혁 / minhyuk

Minhyuk is the human version of a puppy. He would get on your lap and hump you like there was no tomorrow. Boy has no shame and is always up for the dirty.

"Get on my lap."

"Okayyy~" he sang cutely.

Baam! In a second he was sitting comfortably on your lap like you ordered.

"Now ride it, Puppy."

He grinned.

"Okay, Mommyyy~"

Not caring enough to take time to dedress when he's horny, he'd be the one to do it fully clothed. You would maybe need to slow him down, because his great excitement would make him go crazy on your thigh. Guide him through it.

If he doesn't listen to you, give him a spank and he'll be sure to listen. After a while into it, he'd take off his shirt or drag down his collar so you could give him some hickeys. Your attention and affection is important to him. Your hands guiding and caressing his body, your lips and teeth nibbling on his purple skin would be the only way to get him to cum.

"This is so much fun, Mommy," he moaned and arched his back at the sensation.

He threw his head further back to give you more access to his neck. Panting, he managed to say what he wanted the most during that moment: "M-Mark me, Mommy. Please, please, please—"

He will act like such an adorable and good boy for you if it means that he can ride your thigh in the end. From calling you Mommy in sweet scenarios to giving you head without wanting anything in return — he'll do everything to prove that he deserves it. He'll love to do it randomly too. Imagine watching a movie with him on your lap and he suddenly starts grinding slowly on you and whimpers out pleads.

✧✧... ✧ ...✧✧✧✧

유기현 / kihyun

Kihyun's eyes would pop out. He'd be shocked people even do that, because he's a pure, holy child of God. It wouldn't take long until the stupefaction would turn into shyness. He'd be so flustered and ask you if he heard you right just to make sure his brain hadn't messed with him. Oh boy would he become even redder after you confirmed he'd heard you right. You'd have to lead him through the whole process or else he'd just sloppily ride you with insecure thoughts hunting him. In a very foreign situation like this one he'd need you to tell him what he should do and what he shouldn't do.

He'd be very obedient and would flush at any compliment you gave him, but on the inside he'd feel very sexy and confident in himself at the praising. By the end of it he'd be back to being pure and holy and would deny that it was indeed very pleasant to ride your thigh. But when you two'd go to sleep that night he wouldn't be able to stop thinking of it as he reluctantly smiled.

"You want me to w-wHat?"

"Ride my thigh."

"A-Are you for sure?"

"Yes. Now."

"I— Uhm— Okay—"

Sheepishly he followed through your command.

"Good boy."

"T-Thank you, M-Mommy."

He will never admit that it feels good. The only time he ever could go against himself and actually admit he was into it will be when he's very, very, very needy for your thigh — which is very rare. But you could also find out that he's into it if you find him watching thigh-riding porn, which by the way would result in him not being able to look you in the eyes for at least a week. It'll be better for you both if he himself tells you that he likes it. And if he does decide to tell you one day, he'll expect you guys to start doing it often.

✧✧✧... ✧ ...✧✧✧

채형원 / hyungwon

Hyungwon would get on your lap and look you in the eyes confidently. He's often sassy and shit, but in the bedroom his missions are to impress you and satisfy you — he'd still be a power bottom, but he'd be a nice, not-too-bratty one. You'd have to grab his butt with one hand and choke him with the other, or else he'd physically bring your hands to where they should be. If you called him something other than Princess he'd tell you off. He's the definition of thigh-riding Princess. Since he wants to be a good Princess he'd need you to tell him he is one.

If you didn't praise him enough he'd think he didn't do good. But he wouldn't become sad about it, instead he'd ask you for guidance. By the end of the session he'd be tired and want the Princess treatment — cuddle him and let him sleep on top of you.

"Wanna take a ride?" you asked and patted your thigh.

"Of course, Mommy."

He made his way to you and plumped down on you, putting his ass out in an arch.

"This—" he looks down at your lap and up into your eyes, "—This is my throne."

He will start sitting on your lap more often. Both because he wants some lovey-dovey time and because he wants come touchy-touchy time. If it's the latter he wants, he'll move a little against you to send you signals of what mood he is in, even if it makes him a bad Princess. Another occasion he'd sit on your lap would be when he's jealous and wants to show that he obviously is your Princess. Back to the thigh-riding, he'll make it your routine to do it at least once a week, because it's his favorite form of masturbation.

✧✧✧✧... ✧ ...✧✧

이주헌 / joohoney

Jooheon would love the idea as soon as it went past your lips. He's always up for anything Mommy wants. But he'd feel like he needed to put on a show for you and would thereof feel pressured to be good enough for you. Confidentally, he'd get on your thigh, but when it came to actually riding you thigh he wouldn't be as confident since it's his first time doing it on you.

He'd try his best and be as cute for you as possible, moaning out your name, telling you how much he appreciates you, pecking your neck as he hides in it — everything to prove to you that he loves you. If you say something filthy in return he'd keep his head on your shoulder and wouldn't look at you for a while out of embarrassment. If you praised him cutely, however, he'd get giggly and encouraged to continue showing how much of a good boy he is for you. He'd be so exhausted after he cummed, because of how much work he put into it. You better give him nice aftercare.

"Your thigh is so nice, Mommy," he whimpered out.

"You're doing so good, Honey. Only you can look this pretty riding my thigh."

With deeper dimples from smiling, he fastened his pace.

At first he'll only do it if you encourage him to, because then he knows you like it too. Eventually after you've requested to do it a couple more times, he'll become confident and start surprising you every now and then. It'll both be sexy and cutie time. He'll be able to make thigh-riding cute with his small whines at your praises and with his fluffy hair sticking to his forehead. If you don't cuddle afterwards he'll become pouty and cross his arms until you hug and kiss him.

✧✧✧✧✧... ✧ ...✧

임창견 / i.m

Changkyun would be like 'finally she asked me'. Like this is something he's wanted to do for so long. No matter how cute he is, he is not innocent at all. Just the thought of rubbing himself against your thigh, whilst looking into your eyes, and moaning for you turns him on. He'd be a little bratty at first, because you didn't want to do it earlier on in the relationship.

Out of all the boys he'd be the one most likely to ask you if you two could do it. Anyway, he'd be a soft boy and would want affection such as kissing, touching, or just praising words, from you at all times. He'd also love it if you helped him by keeping your hands on his hips or if you grinded your thigh up against him. After cumming he'd stop being whiny and would instead be fully satisfied.

"Took you long enough, Mommy."

"What do you mean?"

"I basically live on your lap. I want to be on your lap all the time, Mommy. Whether it's for cuddling or humping," he whined and pouted dramatically with crossed arms.

"Come here, my Babyboy," you said and opened your arms for him.

He kept arms crossed but still listened to you.

"Show me what you want to do on my thigh," you whispered and pecked his pout.

His pout turned into a dimpled smile.

"Okay then, Mommy," he whined softly.

Oh how he was going to enjoy every single moment of it.

He'll ask you to do it again for sure. He's very submissive and baby-like and isn't ashamed of himself or his sexual preferences. If you denied him he'd be all pouty and whiny, and would complain along the lines of 'But I've been a good boy~' and 'Why not, Mommy? I thought you loved me.' Let him ride you for fuck's sake. He's a good boy and he deserves it. He also deserves the best cuddle sessions afterwards.

✧✧✧✧✧✧... ✧ ...

❝ And every girl I ever talked to told me you were bad, bad news

You called them crazy, God, I hate the way I called them crazy too

(...)

Went for me, and not her

'Cause girls your age know better ❞

—olivia isabel rodrigo; 2023

[earthtoharlow]

Teach Me: XOXO

series masterlist

“What do you mean you don’t have a reservation under my name?” Jack asked sternly into the phone. Valentine’s Day was coming up which meant that this was going to be Ariel and his first time celebrating the holiday together. Wanting to make it special he made reservations for a fanciest restaurant in town, booking out the private room so they could have some privacy.

Jack listened as the guy stuttered nervously over the phone. “I’ve checked everywhere, sir. I apologize.” Frustration etched across his face and he ran a hand through his curls roughly. “Fine. So can I just book the private room for 7pm Wednesday please?”

The host cleared their throat nervously, “Well, Mr. Harlow the room is actually booked by another party. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jack said, failing to keep his emotions in check.

“Again. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience—“ Not wanting to hear another word from him, Jack hung up the phone and threw it on the couch of the recording studio. Jack couldn’t shake the disappointment. Valentine’s Day was Ariel’s favorite holiday, all he wanted to do was make it special and now he felt like the day was ruined before it even got here.

Jack groaned loudly and placed his head in his hands, trying to figure out what he was going to do for Ariel’s favorite holiday now. Urban, who walked in during the tail end of the call, offered a suggestion. “Dude, why not just have a casual dinner at home? You two are more about the cozy and comfortable than the fancy and formal. Besides, you don’t even like being around people anymore. This would be perfect.”

So that’s what Jack did, as Valentine’s Day rolled around, he dropped Jayla off to spend the night with his parents, which she wasn’t very happy about. Jayla clung to his hand, getting emotional as Jack tried to leave.

“Daddy, can’t I just stay with you and Miss Ariel? I’ll be good, I promise!” Jayla asked, with a small sense of hope in her eyes.

Jack crouched down to her height, gently wiping the tears that were threatening to fall. “Sweetheart, Ariel and I need a little time for just the two of us, but we’ll make it up to you. How about a special day together tomorrow?”

Jayla nodded reluctantly “Okay, but it has to be super special. Candy for breakfast!” Jack could only smile, “Deal. We’ll make tomorrow just as amazing, I promise.” With a reassuring hug, he left Jayla in the care of his parents before rushing back home to get everything set up for tonight.

When he got home he immediately started working on dinner, determined to make it an unforgettable evening despite the restaurant hiccup. As the minutes ticked by, Jack found himself nervously pacing the living room floor awaiting for Ariel’s arrival. While he was nervous he was proud of himself for preparing a home cooked meal that looked edible, adorned with Valentine decorations and flickering candles.

Jack’s heart raced in his chest with each creak in the floorboards. Finally the doorbell rung, his nerves immediately turned to excitement as he welcomed Ariel inside.

“Wow, Jack, this looks amazing!” Ariel exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she took in the cozy atmosphere and the spread laid out before her. Relief washed over Jack as he watched her appreciate the effort he had put in.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, a hint of nervousness still lingering in his voice. “I love it.” With a warm smile, Ariel leaned in to give him a tender kiss, expressing her thanks.

Jack reciprocated the affection, but as they pulled away, a playful grin spread across Ariel's face. “Oops, looks like I left a little something behind,” she chuckled, noticing a faint lipstick mark on Jack’s lips.

Jack’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment before he joined in her laughter. “Well, I guess I’ll wear it as a badge of honor,” he joked, gently wiping away the lipstick.

As they settled onto the coach after having dinner enjoying being in each other’s arms. “Everything tonight was perfect!” Ariel sighed happily snuggling closer to Jack. “This is exactly what I wanted – a quiet evening with you.” Jack smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead, happy that the night was going well.

“Remember last Valentine’s Day when we weren’t officially a couple?” Ariel grinned, her eyes sparkling with the memory.

Jack chuckled, “How could I forget? I was nervously trying to figure out how to express my feelings without sounding like a creep for liking my daughter's teacher.” They both laughed, recalling the playful banter and subtle hints.

Now, a year later, those memories were tinged with a profound warmth. “Who would’ve thought we’d be here now?” Jack mused, his gaze filled with affection. Ariel leaned in, a gentle smile on her face, “I had a good feeling about it. Look at us, celebrating Valentine’s Day as a couple, and I couldn’t be happier.”

They had agreed earlier that month not to exchange any gifts but they both couldn’t help themselves. With a sheepish smile, Jack reached inside the side table drawer and pulled out a cheesy card adored with hearts. “You’re the missing piece to my puzzle,” it read, with her favorite lollipop attached to it.

“I know we said no gifts, but I couldn’t resist. Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Ariel laughed, equally guilty, “Funny, I got you something too.” She presented him a card that read “Our love is like these candies – sweet, irresistible, and a little nutty,” featuring Jack’s favorite chocolates.

They both couldn’t help but laugh at realizing the joy in breaking their own pact. “I guess we both failed at keeping it gift-free,” Jack teased, and Ariel grinned. “Well I’m not complaining one bit!” Ariel said as she ripped open her candy.

As the night continued Ariel couldn’t help but wish Jayla was there with them to celebrate. They had grown closer this past year and it felt weird not having Jayla with them.

She gently broached the subject with Jack, “Do you think we could pick up Jayla and spend the rest of the night as a family?”

Jack’s eyes softened as he realized the significance of the request. “Absolutely,” he replied, touched by her thoughtfulness. They made their way to his parents place, and the joy on the little girl’s face when she saw Ariel spoke volumes. The trio embraced the rest of the night with warmth, creating cherished memories that extended beyond the romantic, making it a truly special Valentine’s Day.

***

AN: surpriseeeee 💋

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[chiiyuuvv]

• WORD COUNT — 1k • AUTHOR'S NOTE — cute idea i had but had no intentions writing it.. so enjoy my bullet points!!

It all started when you were first introduced to the friend group, catching sungchans attention immediately at you shy but reserved aura

But all that shyness flutters away when sungchan musters up the courage to talk to you, quickly learning that you two have similar interests, along with living near each other

And so a friendship blooms. You and sungchan get closer while your new (his) friends tease the couple, saying how obvious you liked each other, yet you always shooed the idea off

Its a few months later when sungchan suggests that you go to a party with him. Sungchan loved meeting new people and acting 'crazy', and plus, youre always stuck in your room. "you gotta get out more," he'd bump your shoulder as you walked to class

And you're almost sure that you'll tell sungchan no, until he sends you a big pair of puppy eyes, bring his hands together with a pout.. he was almost on his knees. You hate him for it, showing up at the blasting house after school hours

"You came!!" He would gasp as he opens the door, clapping his hands proudly as he leads you inside

But despite sungchans warm welcome, you found yourself uncomfortable about the amount of people, leaving the house to get some quiet air

And although you tell him to stay inside, enjoy the party, hes right behind you, refusing to leave your side

You open up to him, saying the reason why you were so quiet, the reason why you hated being around people was because of your past school. You were constantly ignored no matter how many times you tried to make friends, so over time you shut down, finding comfort with being by yourself

Sungchans a very clear extrovert, so when you say that you didnt have any friends, his heart immediately breaks. He starts apologizing even though he didnt do anything at all, feeling so bad about your misfortune that he swears that he'd be with you no matter what

Hes also confused onto why you were so okay about it. The only that felt your lips was a sad chuckle, he would have been crying in your shoes. So he stops walking, being out his arms. "Need a hug?" You almost run into his arms, tucking your head into his chest as he rubs your back, still saying how sorry hes feeling

And after that day, sungchan was your best friend. Someone you could talk to no matter the mood. Someone you cherished ♡

YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE?! AHAHAHAH

Now, sungchans friends are really sure that you at least like each other, even in the slightest

But you're both persistent. Sungchan didn't want to be wrong and you didnt want to assume anything, as you both really enjoyed each others company, and was not about to risk it for some stupid feelings

But the boys are sick and tired of your endless pinning, pulling sungchan aside when youre in the bathroom and telling him how much sungchan is in love with you

And after the several points they made, suddenly everything clicks. The amount of time and effort sungchan put into your relationship, the boys were finally making sense

And since hes aware of his feelings, hes a little shy, avoiding your eyes so he doesnt stare at you lovingly and embarrass himself. When youre not looking he'd finally turn to your direction, a smile on his face as he watches your side profile glow

Sungchan starts to get some desires. It isnt creepy or sexual in any way; he just wants to cuddle you and hug you and squish your cheeks. But most importantly he wants to kiss you. So bad. Like soo bad

Sungchan randomly calls you to walk around the park that was nearby your houses, worry taking over you as he normally calls ahead of time

He starts complaining about how he feels sick. But not sick sick, love sick. He's found this girl that hes head over heals for, someone he wanted to spend his life with, someone that was you. But you didnt know he was talking about you, your heart going into void as he continues to rant about the nameless girl

Before he can reveal the identity, hes called home, giving you a quick hug because you made him feel better

But he made you feel bad

You spend the night and early morning crying your eyes out. You wanted to push away your broken heart, just be happy for the boy but you just cant. You felt broken

Sungchan comes to school happier than usual, ready to see your pretty face that was.. frowning..?? And avoiding him.. did he do something wrong?

Its only when hes talking to wonbin that he realizes hes the source to your problem, sending you a quick text to meet him at the park, same time

He continues to talk about his nameless crush, watching you hold back your tears as he just couldnt take it anymore.

"Whats wrong?" He whispers, pulling you close as he begins to wipe your tears away. He gets a little angry when you keep refusing to talk to him, telling him repeatedly that everythings alright when youre face is close to a rivers

So he apologizes, which makes you feel confused, as he smashes his lips onto yours

"You.. you're the girl I've been talking about." He lightly strokes your cheek, his eyes watering at thought of making you cry over him. "I should have told you sooner.. im so sorry for making you wait." He'd pull you into a hug, his voice cracking. He really feels so bad

After telling him plenty of times that its alright, that he didnt do this intentionally, you suggest that he comes over for dinner, so you can talk (kiss) about this more

It all started when hes interacting and laughing with your parents and siblings, feeling so connected and happy that you felt your heart warm of joy, knowing that hes the one. And with his very obvious glances, you can confirm that he feels the same ♡

[beyondspaceandstars]

Paint 'n' Sip

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: N/A, just all fluff! Summary: You convince your boyfriend Bucky to go to a paint and pour with you. A/N: so this is part of my attempt to post the writings I originally posted on ao3 before I made this account so this is a pretty old one-shot (ao3 says 2020 but I feel like I wrote this before that lmao) however I did go through and edit it so it's a bit stronger than it was before! please enjoy, it's a super simple little fluffy thing :)

Masterlist

"Doll, come on…" Bucky sighed as he gripped the event flyer in his hand. You were sitting on the couch, watching, while Bucky was planted in front the kitchen island.

You just came in the room minutes ago with puppy dog eyes in full swing and a pout as sad as you could muster. Of course, your boyfriend immediately knew something was up, but he gave you the benefit of the doubt and read the flyer you were shaking about. You had got yourself cozy on the couch and waited for his reaction. As predicted, he wasn’t a willing participant.

"What?" You frowned. "It’ll be fun."

He shook his head and turned to you. "Painting and drinking wine? Sounds more like a girls night activity."

"Well," you sighed and crossed your arms, "none of my friends are available, so I thought my wonderful boyfriend who loves me so much would go with me." You tried to keep your face as serious as possible, but it was difficult thanks to Bucky’s expression which told you he wasn’t that convinced yet.

"Doll, seriously, of course I love you, but I draw the line somewhere."

You groaned and got up from your seat, making your way over to your stubborn boyfriend. He placed the flyer on the counter and opened his arms to engulf you. Despite your slight annoyance, you accepted. You were always weak when it came to him holding you.

"You’re being a bit dramatic about this," you said as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. "It’s just a bit of painting paired with some wine sipping. What’s there to really hate?"

"Well, for starters, I’m not much of an artistic guy—," you rolled your eyes, but he continued, "and it’s gonna be full of moms."

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. "Moms? You think it’ll be full of moms?"

Bucky gave you a look, eyebrows raised. "Wine and painting? Sounds like a mom activity."

You shook your head. "I’ll have you know, this is a very trendy thing trendy adults do."

Now, Bucky was the one laughing. "Oh? And we’re so trendy?"

You lightly hit his arm for that comment. "Come with me and you’ll see that it isn’t so bad."

He truly couldn’t say no to you. And you both secretly knew it.

Saturday night had finally rolled around.

You sat at your vanity touching up your makeup while Bucky lounged on your shared bed. You kept sneaking glances at him through the mirror, taking notice of how he had freshened up a bit more than usual. His jeans hugged him in the right places and his hair was done well. It warmed your heart to see the effort he was trying to put in for you. Even if it was just a night of painting and drinking, it was still a night out with each other.

"You almost ready, hon?" Bucky asked as he kept glancing at the clock on the wall. Your reservation was at seven and you were sure going until the last possible second with your makeup.

"Oh, sure, sure," you waved a hand in dismissal. "Just let me put on lipstick."

"Lipstick?" Bucky frowned. "That just means you won’t let me kiss you."

You let out a laugh, trying to stead your hand as the scarlet color coats your lips. "You can keep your lips to yourself for a few hours."

Your boyfriend mumbled something under his breath then whisked you out of the shared apartment.

You both arrived in just the knick of time. After checking in and grabbing your drink, you two found the only open seats. They were in the middle of the room. And they were nicely situated between two groups of excited, bubbly women.

It didn’t go missed by you that Bucky was the only guy that and from the frown forming on your boyfriend’s face, you realized he noticed at well. You did your best to hold in laughter. He would probably bug you endlessly for this one, and you knew it.

"I think you owe me for this, sweetheart." Bucky muttered as he stared emotionless at the blank canvas propped up the table.

You glanced down at your sorted paints and brushes. "Maybe this will allow you to find your inner Picasso."

Bucky let out a humorless chuckle before taking a big gulp of his drink.

While your boyfriend stewed in his grumpiness, you decided to eavesdrop on the ladies around you two—partially desperate to prove it wasn’t just moms here. You quickly found out that the women on your side were college students out celebrating the end of finals. There was, also, what looked like, a bachelorette party going on a few tables in front of you. You were just about to tell Bucky he was wrong about the clientele when the women sitting closest to him started talking about their children's soccer games. As if on cue, Bucky shot you a look.

"You so owe me for this," Bucky whispered to you. You had to cup your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from roaring with laughter.

The room died down when the instructor introduced themselves and began the class. The painting on tonight’s agenda was a simple sunset with a forest landscape. It sounded quite cute and may even make a nice piece for over your dresser, you thought.

As you got into the painting, you kept glancing over at Bucky. To much surprise, he was extremely concentrated on his canvas. Every brush stroke was done such precision and no move was done unwisely. His drink was even going untouched, completely forgotten about as he was consumed by paint. Your heart fluttered at this sight.

Turning back to your canvas, you tried to match his precision. The blending of your sunset wasn’t exactly up to par, but you thought if your stubborn boyfriend could get into it, you could too. It was your idea after all. How were you doing to be shown up by Mr. Grumpy over there?

Eventually, the instructor concluded the session and everyone around you was quick to show their group what they had done. Plenty of wine had flowed as well, probably contributing to the frenzy.

You stared at your sunset and were a bit…unimpressed. It was alright for a beginner, you figured. You turned to ask how Bucky was doing but your words died on your tongue when you saw his final painting. Bucky’s was the completed opposite of yours… It was like a whole new world. The detail, excitement, colors, everything… The care and concentration he had put into it didn’t go unnoticed. Everything flowed so gently and beautifully. To say you were amazed would be an understatement.

"Buck, that’s…incredible." You were in awe. Bucky glanced at you and a slight blush creeped up on his cheeks.

"You really think so?" He asked.

You nodded. "We’re gonna have to hang it up when we get home."

He chuckled and asked if you ere ready to go. You agreed, deciding it was time to free home.

With both paintings in one hand, Bucky used his other to intertwine your fingers and swung your arms back and forth gently as you two walked back home.

"I’ll be honest, I had a good time tonight," Bucky admitted.

"Really?" You giggled. "I hadn’t notice at all. I thought the canvas would combust from your intense stare."

He bumped his side into you lightly. "I was just… really into it. We gotta paint more."

"Oh, no, not we." You shook your head. "I think this is your hidden talent."

Bucky started to blush again and looked away toward the street.

"I mean it, babe." You mumbled, rubbing patterns on his hand with your thumb. "I think it could be good for you. Therapeutic, maybe."

His walking speed was slowing down a bit. You were looking at him while his eyes were trained on the pavement.

"Only if you promise you’ll hang up every painting I do."

You smiled at the comment. He started picking that talent up from you—making some lighthearted comment even in the slight serious of times. The fact he even considered it made you feel all fuzzy. You couldn’t wait to see what he could do with a full set of acrylics.

"It would be an honor to display any of your paintings."

He gave you a peck on the cheek, now making you blush as you continued your way home.

[cowboyemeritus]

Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter One

Series Masterlist

Summary: After another victory in the ring, your manager, Copia, makes sure you’re taken care of. (18+)

Content Warning: smut, violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, references to organized crime, drug use, ethically dubious relationship

Read on AO3

Notes: Howdy, everyone! WE ARE SO BACK (for now, at least)! A lot has happened since I last wrote something for you all (graduated college, got a job, moved across the country, etc.), but I got really excited about this idea and couldn’t stop myself. I’m considering turning this into a series, so if you thought this was cool please lmk!

GIF is by @ghuleh-recs :)

You’ve got this bitch licked.

She’s up against the ropes, desperately trying to protect her face as you pummel her over and over again. There’s blood streaming down from her nose, mouth, and a large gash on her hairline. You can tell it’s hard for her to see with how much is in her eyes. One of her front teeth is chipped.

It’s the fifth of five rounds. Thirty seconds left on the clock. Up until now it’s been a pretty close fight. She’s one of the tougher opponents you’ve faced and you’re in equally rough shape. Your split lip stings with every breath, and your nose will definitely need to be set after this. It only adds fuel to the fire of your rage.

You’ll win. Despite being evenly matched, you’ve managed to get in more solid hits, especially in the last two rounds. This girl is a fucking idiot, insulting you like she did.

“At least I don’t have to fuck my manager for table scraps.”

This isn’t about winning anymore. This is about making her suffer.

All you need is a well-timed right hook. You hit her directly on the temple, and she crumples to the ground. The crowd screams their applause, but you can’t hear it over the blood roaring in your ears. Before anyone can interfere, you’re on top of her, landing hit after hit in rapid succession. You want to beat her face in, to turn her into a bloody pulp.

It takes several men to finally pry you off of her.

“Fucking bitch!” You continue to thrash and curse as the referee and the unconscious woman’s manager kneel by her side, checking to make sure she’s still alive. When your opponent finally sits up, you redouble your efforts to break free. She starts to crawl away from you. There is genuine fear in her eyes, the sclera now red with blood. It’s not until you feel a firm hand on your shoulder that you finally still.

“That’s enough, dolcezza.”

Copia is looking down at you, a bemused look on his face. Still restrained, you rise to your feet. You spit a glob of bloody saliva towards your defeated foe, looking her up and down one last time.

Serves her right.

The manager, a hairy man with a misshapen face, points a finger at you, glaring daggers.

“Control your fucking dog, Emeritus.” His entire body shakes with anger. “Or I will have her put down.”

Before the situation can escalate, the men transfer you to Copia, who keeps his composure as always. Grasping your wrist, he raises it in the air and the crowd cheers again. A moment later, his gloved hand finds your waist, pulling you into his side as he whisks you away, leading you out of the ring towards the makeshift locker room. The feeling of his body against yours is grounding, eating away at the rage boiling inside.

“You did well tonight,” he says quietly in your ear. “The Boss will be pleased.”

The crowd is already clearing out of the abandoned warehouse, few willing to risk being caught by the authorities. Some linger, money and drugs moving from hand to hand. You’re about halfway to your destination when one of the loiterers, a man with dark hair and a scruffy beard, intercepts you.

“What an amazing fight,” he exclaims. You detect a slight southern drawl. Copia gives him a polite, reserved smile, and you feel him squeeze your hip.

“What can I say? There is no fighter quite like mine.”

His.

“Indeed,” the man says. Finally, he regards you. “That’s why I always bet on you, darling.”

You mumble out a quiet “thank you,” as you’ve been coached. There’s a moment of tense silence as you wait for the man to get to his inevitable point. He’s jittery, dilated eyes darting around wildly. You know why he, and all these other men, are really here.

It's not your athleticism.

“You know,” he continues, returning his attention to Copia, “I'm quite interested in the particulars of the sport and would love to pick this little lady’s brain. If we could have some time one-on-one, I would-”

“Thank you,” Copia interjects, “but we will have to decline.” Seemingly unfazed, the man takes a wad of cash out of his coat pocket, offering it to your manager with an unsteady hand.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

Copia’s tranquil demeanor finally cracks.

“She’ll bite your dick off, DeFroque. Now get lost.” For emphasis, you jerk towards him a little, snapping your bloody teeth together. DeFroque jumps back in surprise, paralyzed for a moment. Without another word, he turns tail and flees.

“Quel cocainomane...” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s clean you up.” You nod in assent, and the two of you resume your journey.

The “locker room” is really a grimy old office at one end of the warehouse. It's empty save for a battered old desk and a rusty filing cabinet, the floor covered in chips of yellowed paint. The fluorescent lights flicker as Copia sits you down on the desk and begins inspecting your face. He grasps your chin, turning your head side to side. You want to lean into his touch, but remain pliant for him.

“You’re allowed to defend yourself,” he remarks, examining a pink welt on your cheek. He breaks away to dig through one of the drawers, producing a small hand towel, cotton balls, bandages, and rubbing alcohol a moment later.

You shrug. “I like offense.” Copia’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“That’s why you always draw the biggest crowds, cara.”

Uncapping the bottle, he thoroughly soaks one of the cotton balls. Tilting your head up, he dabs it on the bridge of your nose. You hadn’t even noticed the skin had broken. The alcohol stings, but you remain still, used to the sensation. There’s a comfortable silence as Copia cleans the blood from the rest of your face, taking extra care around each cut and bruise. He has always insisted on caring for you in this way, despite being able to do it yourself. You’ve learned to let him, and savor every touch like it’s a gift.

Copia moves from your face to your hands. You offer them to him as he carefully unwinds the tape around your wrists and thumbs. Knowing the routine by heart, you slowly rotate and bend them to show him they feel alright. Copia nods in approval. With the towel, he dabs at your knuckles, wiping away your opponent’s blood until the skin is visible again. He shoots you an interrogative look when he sees they’re all split.

“She made me mad.” Copia sighs. You both know that in an official boxing league, this kind of behavior would be enough to keep you from ever setting foot in the ring again.

“Amore, what am I going to do with you?”

Now it’s your least favorite part. Copia gestures for you to lay back on the desk and despite the gnawing feeling of dread you obey, legs dangling off the edge. Hovering over you, you can’t help but gaze up at him, admiring the contours of his face. You feel the urge to run your hands through his mousy brown hair, but he’s already reaching for your broken nose. You jolt when he finally makes contact, writhing a little beneath him. He tuts.

“Stay still.” It’s all but a whisper.

There’s a faint crunching noise as Copia pokes and prods at your nose with experienced fingers. You do as he commands, balling your fists and gritting your teeth at the sensation of bone and cartilage moving. Once he’s satisfied with the positioning, he packs your nostrils with cotton, then gently places a bandage over the break, securing your nose in place.

“There,” he coos. “Not so bad, eh?” You glower at him and he chuckles. You think Copia is going to let you sit up but he doesn’t move, looking down at you with an interested look in his peculiar, mismatched eyes. He brushes some loose hairs away from your face and runs his thumb across an undamaged section of your cheek. Planting his hand next to your head, the other finds your opposite hip, effectively pinning you to the desk. You don’t resist when he leans down, pressing his mouth into yours. He’s forceful, enough to agitate your split lip, but careful to avoid bumping into your nose. Closing your eyes, you take in the lingering minty taste on his lips, instinctively parting yours at the feeling of his tongue prodding at you. Unconsciously, your thighs press together.

Copia’s tongue is gentle in its exploration. It crosses your mind that your mouth is still bloody and you are in desperate need of a shower, but clearly he doesn’t mind. With the hand at your hip, he begins to lightly trace the waistband of your shorts, his index finger running along the edge. The two of you remain like this for what feels like forever until, unable to breathe through your packed nose, you start to tremble from the lack of oxygen. Having mercy on you, he breaks away. While you desperately catch your breath, he takes the tip of a gloved finger between his teeth, pulling the garment off to expose his bare hand. It quickly returns to its place, this time right above the apex of your thighs. Smothering you with his mouth once again, Copia swallows your quiet moan as he reaches down to grab at your core. You want to pull him closer, but the second you try to reach around with your free arm he grabs your wrist.

“Let Papa take care of you.”

With no other choice, you lay back as he massages you through the fabric of your shorts. You’re practically melting under his touch, your aches and pains fading until they’re nothing but background noise. The fight itself seems so far way, as if it happened in another life. You can’t imagine why you were so angry before. Right now, Copia is at the center of your whole world, like he is, and always has been, the only thing that matters.

When he finally slips his hand under the elastic to touch you directly, you moan for him again. He traces your clit with his middle finger, dipping down to feel and gather the wetness of your cunt. Your self-control slips, and you grind your hips up into his touch. Seemingly satisfied with your state of arousal, Copia withdraws, sliding an arm under your body and lifting you so that you’re sitting upright. You swing your legs over the other side of the desk so that you’re face-to-face. Copia removes his other glove, placing it next to you before gripping the waistband of both your shorts and underwear. Planting your feet, you just barely lift your ass off the table, allowing him to pull the garments down. You have to kick off your slides so that he can completely remove them, dropping them on the floor next to the desk.

The anticipation is heavy as you watch Copia free himself from the confines of his well-tailored suit pants. His cock is thick and hard, immediately springing forth when he unzips his fly. The tip is flushed a light purple and already beading with precum. You swallow down the saliva rapidly accumulating in your mouth, wanting to reach out and touch him but knowing to let him lead. Sure enough, he takes a small step forward, slotting himself between your parted legs. His hands find the underside of your thighs, lifting them up to rest on his hips. You fall back, propping yourself up on your forearms. The desk is just the right height where he has perfect access to your entrance, and you shudder at the sensation of his cock teasing your folds.

Copia drapes himself over you as he slides inside your wet heat, claiming your mouth again. He fucks like you fight, hard and fast, snapping his hips with an unparalleled ferocity. The force is enough to move you back and forth on the desk, and your already exhausted arms begin to wobble with overexertion. When they finally give out you fall back, nearly smacking your head. You just barely manage to catch yourself.

“Dolcezza, you make Papa a very happy man. You know that?” You nod and Copia rewards you with a well-angled thrust, hitting a spot that has you convulsing under him. He hums, satisfied by your response. Still pounding into you, he grabs onto your sports bra, dragging it upwards to expose your breasts. They bounce each time his hips drive forward, the cool air immediately pebbling your nipples. He pinches one of the pink buds, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and you gasp, back arching off the desk.

“Fuck!” It comes out like you’ve been kicked in the chest. You can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach, pulling tight like a rubber band. Copia’s pleasure is evident on his face, his brow furrowed and cheeks flushed. Small droplets of sweat bead at his graying temples.

“You always — Fuck! — You always fight so well for me.”

Slowly, his hand trails down to where the two of you meet. His thumb begins to trace tight circles around your clit, compelling your body to contract around him.

“Papa-”

“Where would I be without you, mia campionessa?”

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, crashing down like a tidal wave. You thrash wildly on the desk, a hand clapping over your mouth to stifle a long string of moans. Copia follows not long after, spilling inside you with a low groan. For a moment, everything is still. You gaze up at him, spellbound. The florescent lights create a blueish halo around his form and with the flush still decorating his cheeks, he’s practically glowing. You know he won’t kiss you again, but when he withdraws entirely, tucking his soft cock away, the disappointment still stings. Unable, as always, to find the right words, you bite back the feeling and silently get up. Going through the motions, you let Copia assist in making you presentable again. You’re acutely aware of his seed dripping out of you, but choose to pull your shorts and underwear back on before he can address it. From a hook on the door he retrieves your jacket and sweatpants. He’s halfway through pulling on his own coat when there’s a knock.

“Yes?”

“Sir,” a muffled voice announces. “The earnings are secure. Car is ready for you.”

“Bene. We will be along soon.” He looks to you, offering you his arm. You take it like it’s a lifeline. “Let’s go home, dolcezza.”

[kenshimybeloved]

Part 2 of me talking too fucking much about these men!

At this point in the story, we start to see Johnny filming everyone/everything that he finds interesting enough to include in his stories. The first thing we see him film is an interaction between Kung Lao and Raiden at Wu Shi Academy. As pictured, you can see Johnny finds them important enough to the story to film, but his face and body language aren’t exactly giving excitement- he’s more so just doing a task. Again- not that he dislikes Kung Lao and Raiden or that he finds them super boring- but at this point he’s just kinda filming to film. He then approaches the two and starts complaining about how long this all is taking, and how he needs something crazier to happen to include in his movies. This is when Kenshi walks up

[side note: THE WAY HE SHOWS UP ON SCREEN STRETCHING IN THIS SCENE DOES THINGS TO ME]

and immediately begins an argument with Johnny over his motives for being here. Despite training together for months, the two are still butting heads at every interaction- or so you’d think if you were any of the characters in the game. I want to take extra time here just to fully acknowledge the fact that this interaction is not only happening in a public space but directly in front of Kung Lao and Raiden who are the two original people of this conversation (Johnny really saw them having a good time and decided he needed to come in and whine about shit and Kenshi saw that as an opportunity to start an argument with him- can these bitches just let Lao and Raiden be happy together??). The conversation leads to the comment ‘my ex’ll rue the day she gave up on me’ from Johnny which immediately earns an eye roll from Kenshi and the sarcastic reply ‘so selfless.’ I want to note that Johnnys been here for months- he says “ex” casually enough to imply that at least most people know he’s going through a divorce but most people don’t know enough to know her actual name. Or, he’s specifically putting emphasis on the fact that they are very much over and Johnny is very much single in front of a certain somebody. Maybe a healthy balance of both. I also want to note that the way Johnny speaks of his ex wife is very much indicative of the fact that Johnnys motive currently is to redeem himself and prove to everyone that he isn’t a lost cause. These movies becoming a success is his only hope at this time. However, this also means his focus should be shifted from Sento onto his movies now, right? Wrong! You’d think since now he’s putting all of the pressure of getting his life together on these movies he’s be willing to give up the sword that used to symbolize his past life, but no. Even tho his focus is now on something he can do currently/in the future to get his life back on a track rather than fixating on an object from his past, he’s still clinging to Sento. Though he’s now looking forward, his goal is still centered around people from his past (him wanting to prove to everyone that left him that they were all wrong about him rather than fixing himself for his own sake). The argument escalates to Johnny calling Kenshi ‘tattoo’ and tells him he’s only here for his sword anyways.

[side note: him calling him tattoo despite Kenshis effort to cover up the majority of his tattoos means a couple of things- Johnny is studying Kenshi. As mentioned in my previous post, Johnny is absolutely infatuated with Kenshi and wants to know everything he can. It also means he’s poking at Kenshi, letting him know that though he may try to be reserved, Johnny will stop at nothing to get to know him. He’s just going to keep observing the little things about him until Kenshi can open up about the realer shit]

IMO, Johnny very clearly knows what Sento represents for Kenshi and saving his family is much more important than the sword itself (at this point it’s important to remember nobody knows of Sentos powers- it’s just a symbolic thing to Kenshi since it’s his family sword). Deep down he knows objectively this sword should go to Kenshi, but he’s unwilling to admit it. Here’s where a lot of headcanoning happens for me- since this is a new timeline, we can’t guarantee things we know about these characters from previous games are still true. However, based on how Johnny behaves, I think it’s safe to assume his relationship with his dad was still rough as a kid (is this mentioned in this timeline? I can only seem to remember it being mentioned in MK11). I headcanon that while his dad was abusive, his mother was his rock. Unfortunately, living with both a negative and a positive parent in the same house creates instability and often leads to things like NPD, BPD, Bipolar Disorder, etc. I don’t specifically think Johnny has any of these, but maybe just aspects here and there that show up. For example, when you grow up with your needs unmet and never being a priority of your parent’s, you learn to provide for yourself. Sometimes this can be in a healthy self sustaining way, and sometimes this can mean over compensating when you perceive that somebody doesn’t think your problems are very important- like Johnny knowing that Kenshi deserves the sword more than he does, but hearing him say it leads Johnny to double down and cling to the sword with his life. Anyways, this is getting too long so there will have to be a part 2 of my analysis of the scenes at Wu Shi Academy.

[alovesreading]

Nice Kind Of Messy

Summary: Your friends set you up on a blind date, one that you aren't really looking forward to at all but when you find George Daniel there waiting outside the restaurant, there is no doubt it'll be a date to remember.

Word Count: 16.7k 

Warnings: smut.

A/N: So I wrote this as part of my Alex series but I figured I should turn it into a one shot so my George girlies could read it without having to commit to a long Alex Turner fic lol It took me a while to get it ready on one shot form but I hope you enjoy now that it's here hehehe xx

Masterlist

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You wake up that morning quite nervous. Your excitement makes you shiver in anticipation but the feeling brushes the line of anxiety and it’s rather overwhelming.

You’ve not been really looking to date lately, there hasn’t been any type of enthusiasm when hinted about putting yourself out there again since you got cheated on by your ex boyfriend. You couldn’t be arsed about it—the whole process of actively trying to look for a person that you felt was right and suited what you at least felt was the bare minimum was exhausting just to think about.

Going out with your friends was almost always a failed mission. They tried to get you out on the pull with them but you ended up straying back to the table and waving them goodbye when they came back with someone hanging from their arm, winking at them as if to wish them a good night.

They had only been lucky to send you off with someone a handful of times, but despite their best efforts to push you to pursue those who you had spent a night with, you had left them as that: a one night stand.

So they had used a new method this time, which entailed the fact that they had apparently been scheming about behind your back for a few weeks. You had only found out when you were having a wine night with them over at your flat, your jaw dropping and brows furrowing when they let you know they had made a reservation at a certain restaurant in Covent Garden so that you could meet up with someone they swore was the perfect match for you.

“It’s a blind date, we can’t tell you,” said one of your friends with a wicked grin on her face, sipping on her wine as you took the time to glare at your other two friends sitting on your settee.

They only offered you gallic shrugs and giggles, bubbly and high pitched which unfortunately managed to tug at the corners of your lips until they formed a smile.

A happy, “You’re excited then?” made you realize what you were doing, so you took a gulp of your wine and shook your head in disagreement as you swallowed.

“No, I’m just confused.” You really were, it was worse you didn’t have a clue who it could be because there wasn’t really anyone you think had shown interest towards you that you all knew. “Am I allowed to back out?”

You hoped you could, even if a meal at a restaurant you had been dying to go to for ages paid by one of them was on the cards here, but you were truly wary about throwing yourself into a situation where you actually had to put yourself in the dating mindset.

As you cursed your stupid cheating scum of an ex for ruining the prospect of dating for you, your friends shook their heads and said, “No.” in unison.

And they unfortunately went on to explain how your date knew about it already and had cleared their schedule for it to happen, and since you were an awful people pleaser, you sighed in defeat and agreed to go.

So there you are, slowly making your way to your kitchen to make yourself breakfast, despite the nerves making your stomach flip constantly and making you nauseous. Slowly you eat, slowly you wash your dishes and put them away.

You do everything slowly that day, taking a long shower and lounging in bed, still in your robe and letting your hair air dry. The date wasn’t until four so you still had time, and you figured if you went about it at a steady pace, then by the time you were fully ready you would have to leave and there wouldn’t really be a long space of time for you to bail out at the last minute.

By the time it hits noon, you’re doing your hair. Straightening it and curling the ends leisurely, humming along the music you’re playing on your speakers which is interrupted by a call.

“Good afternoon Miss Y/L/N, are you ready for today?” One of your friends greets you with a chipper tone in her voice, you could practically see the beaming smile on her face just from her voice.

Biting on your bottom lip, you let the phone rest on your lap as you continue with the next section of hair and shyly admit, “I’m actually nervous…”

The way she coos at you makes you roll your eyes but there’s a wave of consolation that comes over you when she says, “Good but also don’t be. He’s an absolute dream.”

The tiny piece of information actually makes you more curious about who he is, so you try your chances again as you ask, “Are you finally gonna tell me who it is?”

You had been trying all week to get anything out of your friends but they had been surprisingly good at keeping this one secret under a lock. And this time wouldn’t be different since you only get a vague, “All you have to know is that he’s fit and I know you’ll get on with him perfectly well.”

At least the reassurance that you and him would get on well eases your nerves a little. Not as much as you would like though, but that’s because you know yourself and when you first meet anyone, you get shy and a bit awkward, so you’re praying that you'll be able to get a bit of courage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Thankfully your friend stays on the phone with you as you finish doing your hair and you actually facetime her when you’re doing your makeup. She keeps making you laugh throughout it all and somehow makes you forget about how tense you had been for a bit.

Her boyfriend, Matty, comes back to her flat from a meeting right as you’re showing your friend the dress you’re wearing for the date and, to her dismay, he almost slips and tells you who it is that you’re seeing in merely an hour from now.

“Matthew!” She exclaims loudly before the name can fall from his lips and he quickly throws his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

His honest, “I’m so sorry.” sounds muffled behind his hand and it only gets an eye roll from your friend which makes you laugh.

But you are gutted that your only chance to find out is gone that way. You whine as you complain, “Why do you react so quickly?”

Your friend takes her boyfriend’s close mishap as a sign to let you go though, completely ignoring your complaint to remind you, “You’re gonna have to get faster Miss, it’s quarter past three and it’s a twenty five minute walk over there.”

“Shit, right.” You curse under your breath, realizing you need to get dressed already and leave as soon as you can so you aren't late.

“You look fucking stunning, babe.” She states with confidence, reassuring you since you seem to start growing panicky, “I’m gonna leave you now so you can change but you have the best time Y/N/N, alright?”

You purse your lips at the camera and clutch your chest, “Thanks hun, love you.”

She grins sweetly at you and reciprocates, “Love you too. And let me know how it goes, alright?”

“Will do, but I don’t promise anything too interesting.” You make sure to make that point clear, you don’t have much expectations for the date just so you don’t end up feeling defeated for it not meeting whatever you could imagine it to be if you allowed yourself to.

But your friend is in heavy doubt of it not being interesting considering she knows who you are meeting with. So she shrugs as she smirks, “Yeah, well… We shall see about that.”

It’s the way that she looks like she’s trying not to laugh that has you narrowing your eyes at her, “What?”

Question that isn’t answered because she plays dumb and simply says, “Okay byeee! Love you!” loudly, blowing you a kiss before hanging up the phone.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You walk the best you can in your high heeled boots which were not a great pick when mixed with how nervous you are and how far you had to walk. You had debated getting a taxi when you were locking up your flat but decided against it when you realized that if you did, you’d get there quicker and you wanted to stall as much as you could.

You aren’t even late yet, ten minutes left for the clocks to strike four in the afternoon and you are merely five minutes away. The whole walk, you had been practicing in your head whatever you could say to the guy you were meeting with, just to prevent embarrassing yourself. If anything went wrong though, you had brought your camera with you and a few rolls were stuffed in your pocket so that you could at least take the opportunity to take pictures.

In your head, you had gone from any topics you could come up with about yourself, deciding against being the one to mention your tragic love life and picking a few questions that could be interesting to ask your date.

But all the inquiries and words you had been rehearsing die in your throat when you round the corner at the end of the restaurant’s street and you see the tall dirty blonde smoking a cigarette, leaning on a lamppost right by the entrance of the establishment.

You think of making a run back to your building, hesitating which way would be easiest to go and how it would work with your long dress but his eyes fall on you before you can make up your mind and when he smiles sweetly at you, cigarette perched between his lips, you know it’s too late.

On your face a shy smile breaks and you give him a little wave before approaching him, faking confidence as you get closer until he’s only a few feet away so you say, “Oh hi, I wasn’t expecting you.”

Your face is burning up and you know he can see your flustered demeanor because he smirks down at you, and cheekily asks, “Were you hoping for someone else?”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you smile harder at his playfulness and in a rush of bravery you choose to play along, “Do you really want to know the answer?”

He takes a drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke out steadily as he shakes his head, “I’m just hoping you remember my name.”

And how could you forget, “Of course I remember you, George.”

George hums, taking one last drag of his smoke as he takes in your appearance and he’s grinning mischievously when seeing the dark satin and lace of your dress contrasting on your skin, your leather jacket making you look even more stunning and coincidentally matching the one he’s wearing.

“Glad you haven’t, Y/N.” The drummer replies with a wink, dropping the bud on the ground and stepping on it before taking something out of the pocket of his dark jeans, “Y/F/N sent this for you.”

An involuntary “Oh.” falls from your lips, entirely intrigued by what it can be that your friend had wanted to tell you that couldn’t be said on the phone because George hands you a folded piece of paper that only says Y/N/N x on the front.

You carefully open it, trying your best to avoid George seeing it—which is a bit of an issue since he’s so tall he can easily read if he looks down—and you instantly blush harder when you read Get the nice kind of messy ;) x

A flashback of the moment at Glastonbury when you had been gawking at George and you had let slip how fit you found him comes to the forefront of your mind and you can’t help yourself getting a little flustered at the mere thought of it.

“He’s fit as fuck.” Your eyes are unable to move from his figure, the way his muscles contract and define with every hit of the drums and the facial expressions he makes as he plays.

Your friend snorts in laughter and leans in to ask further, “Oh, so you fancy George then?”

You stutter as you try to come up with a response, “I mean… Look at him!” You’re entirely entranced by it all and it doesn’t help that he’s covered in a thin coat of sweat already, only three songs into their set, so his white top is slowly becoming translucent and sticking to his body.

It’s like your brain is shutting down and all that it can register is the look of the drummer because it takes you a few long seconds to realize your friend has teasingly said, “I’ll make sure to relay that message.”

“Oh, no, don’t.” The panic of that happening is the one thing that helps you snap out of your trance.

You watch as your friend’s face contorts in confusion and she fights your answer, “Why?! You need to get back out there and who better than George?”

But you shake your head, “No, that’d be so messy!” You can’t think of anything worse than trying to get with your friend’s boyfriend’s best friend—you cringe just imagining how that going wrong would cause a horrendous change in the group’s dynamic.

All of your worries come to a halt and you choke on your own spit when your friend smirks as her eyes fall on George, “That’d be messy, alright. The nice kind of messy.”

In an attempt to try and play it cool, you fold the note and shove it in one of the pockets of your leather jacket, clearing your throat, adjusting the strap of your camera on your shoulder and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like it’s all fine and normal.

But George can see the way you’re pursing your lips and how you hid the note so hastily so your behavior completely betrays your attempts to be secretive about it. “What did you say?” He kept his promise that he wouldn’t open the note when Matty gave it to him earlier that day, even though he’s been really tempted too, especially when he realized Matty knew what it said because he was giggling when his girlfriend handed it to him.

You don’t give him an answer though, only a little cough that acts as a coverup of you avoiding his gaze and a subtle shrug, “Just a little joke.”

“Can you share?” He tries further, his hand coming to nudge you softly in the arm.

Not even that helps your answer change. You shake your head and say a shy, “Not really.”

“I see how it is.” George narrows his eyes at you and adds, “S’alright, I’ll remember that.” which is a promise that has you biting your tongue.

“Shall we go inside?” The drummer says then, watching you struggling to come up with a response to his previous statement.

The new question is much easier to reply to, a soft “Yes.” falling from your lips, breathlessly.

And he takes your breath even more when he lets you walk ahead, only to rest his hand on your lower back delicately and casually comment, “You look beautiful by the way. Really like that we’re matching with the leather jackets.”

The opportunity to not acknowledge the compliment is perfect because you feel like you’re going to explode under George’s attention. You giggle and nod, “What a great coincidence huh?”

His answer being, “Hot coincidence.” accompanied by a wink doesn’t make it easy for you though and you find out then that being on a date with George Daniel means blushing every five minutes even if the chat is about mundane topics.

You talk about your hometowns and the differences between your upbringings, how different it was that you’d stayed in the same city for your entire life while he lived moving around for a good part of his childhood until his family settled in Manchester. You tell each other how you had ended up doing what you were doing currently and you end up cooing constantly when George tells you how the guys became friends and how the band had come together. You exchange stories about your jobs, finally having the opportunity to ask all that came to your mind about producing music which you had always found fascinating ever since you’d gotten closer to the band. George being fascinated about your knowledge on films and everything to do with photography and cinematography, which really comes with your job as a photographer and videographer.

Then he asks about your hand tattoo—the ‘Pure Desire’ written on the back of your hand is rather enticing—smirking when he rubs his thumb over it and asks if you have any more which ends up in you both sharing the amount of ink you have on your bodies which George beat you to by an incredible amount. You end up taking your jackets off and showing each other each piece you have on your skin.

Eventually, the chat comes back to the band and you ask him whereabouts The 1975 has toured so far. Your jaw drops the more his list continues and you genuinely have a hard time wrapping your head around them being relatively new to the mainstream scene when they are already going to all those places.

“I don’t even remember the last time I went on holiday, fucking hell.” You chuckle out in awe at the information he’s just given you.

And George turns your innocent amusement into a mess of heated cheeks, pressed lips and eye rolls when he suggests how that could be easily fixed, “We just have to take you on tour with us next time, don’t we?”

“Think it’ll be crowded enough now that Matty is taking Y/F/N with him.” Your eyebrows are raised to accentuate how serious you are trying to be about it, it’s so hard to conceal how flustered you are at his insinuation.

But he makes it difficult for you to play it cool when he shrugs, “We can share a bunk then.”

“You’re such a flirt. Bet you say that to all the girls.” It almost sounds like you’re scolding him and he likes seeing the reactions he can get out of you, but there’s one thing that has been constant in the back of his mind and he decides to bring it up.

Taking his glass up to his lips, he takes a sip and gulps softly to start saying, “Surprised me when Y/F/N called me and asked if I wanted to go on a date with you.”

“God, that’s embarrassing.” You wince at the information, hating the way it looks for your friends to be asking people around if they want to go out with you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and die in a ditch.

George smirks playfully, “Going on a date with me?”

You laugh in response to that, shaking your head before clearing up, “Y/F/N asking if you wanted to go out with me. You know you could’ve said no.”

He frowns at you, like you’ve just said the most outrageous thing and he wholeheartedly asks, “But why would I?”

“Oh George, stop it.” You warn him, pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes at him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” George reaches his hand out to touch yours and you almost shiver under it.

You let your fork down beside your plate and fan yourself with your hand as you admit, “You’re making me blush.”

But that’s not something that will keep him quiet, because he confesses, “Yeah and I quite enjoy doing it.”

The rest of the date is spent between good food, good wine, laughter, a picture you take of George when he asks about your camera, and chatter that has been really entertaining and entirely not awkward like you’d been expecting. Getting to know George in a deeper way is like a breath of fresh air and that’s why, when you leave the restaurant and the drummer offers to walk you back home, you don’t even hesitate to accept.

He takes a few detours on the way, taking you around places where he had hilarious and very wholesome stories of his childhood and teenage years when he would come around to London with the lads and other friends just to mess about. You’re so grateful for the anecdotes because you’re making sure to capture each place in its unique beauty and you know now that behind each shot you’d have the memory of what George had shared with you.

George watches you closely every time you take a picture, taking in every little thing you do before and after you press the shutter. You’re so adorable to him, the way your face lights up when you press the shutter and look at him excitedly when you roll the film.

You guide the both of you back to the way to your flat and as you walk, you’re smoking cigarettes and chatting. It’s so easy to carry a conversation with George, he exudes such an energy that just makes you feel free talking about whatever comes to your mind without having to think for a split second about what you should say or shouldn’t.

And just as easy comes laughter, because not only is his laugh hilariously contagious, he is funny himself and he has you struggling to catch your breath multiple times at his quips and comments.

There is something about this evening that you just feel the need to remember as best as you can so he catches you sneakily trying to take candids of him, every time he’s called you out on it and you shamelessly lie about the frame being focused on just what was behind him—every time something mundane and boring—but by the fifth time, instead of calling you out and have you grumpily change the focus of your lenses, he allows you to take a picture of him and even smiles for you; he doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle after you’ve pressed the shutter.

The way you smile to yourself and proudly state, “I’m really gonna like that one.” makes George’s chest swell and in a lack of any more self control, he stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into him, your chest hitting his chest eliciting a gasp to fall from your lips.

“Oh hi.” You giggle at the sudden action, your hands subconsciously resting on his chest after that, but any other words die in your throat when he dips his head and traps your lips with his.

You hum into the kiss, which is a dizzying combination between sweet and determined. His left arm stays wrapped around your waist, pulling your flush into his chest but the other one comes up to cup your jaw and he keeps you at the perfect angle for him to kiss you just how he wants.

Your arms slowly move up until they are wrapped around the back of his neck and you let your fingers tangle in his hair. It’s soft and long on the top of his head which you really like. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his fingers clutching your tighter and you let your mouth open so you can taste each other.

You completely forget where you are until someone walks past you and whistles at the two of you, startling you out of the kiss. You really enjoyed that kiss, and it shows in the way you look up at George with burning cheeks and something written on your face.

“I liked that.” George cheekily states, getting ahold of your hand and resuming your walk.

You hum, trying not to giggle when he intertwines your fingers and a feeling you can easily recognize starts bubbling inside you. “Yeah, I liked that too.”

You felt like a teenager. Blushing to yourself while you walked hand in hand with the person you had a crush on, and it’s so ridiculous but so relieving at the same time to feel this kind of pathetic elation instead of despair and heartache for once.

Your conversation resumed from whichever point you last remember it being left at but after that kiss it only gets more and more flirty, and you like where it is going but soon enough you reach your building and you have to slowly come to a stop with a pout.

“This is me.” You mumble, squeezing his hand in yours but he doesn’t let go.

He hums as if hesitant of believing what you’ve just said and instead he suggests, “Don’t you wanna take another walk around the block?”

“George, my feet hurt.” They had been hurting for a while but you hadn’t said anything just to not ruin things, and because you were enjoying his company so much that you were willing to endure the pain for a while longer.

The drummer comes to a quick solution, “I’ll carry you.”

Which makes you chuckle, “Sure you would.” You genuinely don’t want the date to end so in a bit of a rushed decision, you bargain, “Don’t you… Do you wanna come upstairs?”

He gets a kick of excitement inside him but he wants to play it cool, so he jokes, “What, are you gonna take my picture?”

You hold back a snort of laughter, and shrug as if it was fine by you that he only wanted that. “If that’s what you want.” There’s a little voice in your head that tells you not to but there is another one that purely encourages you to have fun.

“Yeah, that works.” George casually says, like he isn’t praying that he gets lucky to even get another kiss out of you.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

“Where’d you want me?” George turns to look at you as you drop your camera on your bedside tables and take your jacket off to perch on the back of a loveseat you have in the corner of your room.

You take one of the new rolls out of your pocket and change it for the one you’d almost fully used earlier that day. “Wherever you’re comfortable.” you tell him, focusing on perfectly lining the roll before you can turn to him.

“Bed’s quite comfy.'' You hear George say from behind you and when you look up to see him, you find him lying on his side, head perched on his hand and a smirk on his face. “Paint me like one of your french girls.” He teases, resting his other hand dramatically on his forehead.

All you do is giggle at his antics, “You’re such an idiot.” Shaking your head, you come up to the bed and try looking at the scene through your lenses but you aren't quite convinced by the shot.

George watches you struggle, stepping backwards and forwards, to the sides before sighing. He reminds you with a soft smile, “I’m not used to being the one to pose for the camera. You’re gonna have to guide me.”

“Okay.” Silently, you think about it as you bite on your thumb and once a vision comes to your mind, you start instructing him, “Lean into your forearms, sideways so you fit in the bed.” But you find what’s bothering you and it’s that his legs are half hanging off the bed.

“Why are you so tall? Oh my god.” You go over to the drummer and prompt him to go further into the bed, perching one of his sock-clad feet up on the bed and the other leg staying stretched on the bed. “There, now look at me.”

George looks at you with a blank face first to which you complain about but when he actually shows you a smile he starts giggling, and if there had been something you had learned about George quite early into your date was that his laugh was incredibly contagious, so you find yourself shaking with laughter as you try to take his pictures and you end up having to call him out for it.

“Don’t laugh! You’re making me laugh!” You scorn him, struggling to sound serious between your giggles.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes halfheartedly, swallowing his laughter until he goes back to a stoic face and he gives you the perfect soft smolder.

You hum in satisfaction at the result of that frame and then you move onto instructing him to do the next pose, “Throw your head back a bit and close your eyes.” He silently listens and does as you say which earns him a sweet, “Just like that.” from you.

Of course, your words make George give you a look, one that had you lightly blushing and since you know he can recognize the way you get flustered, you hide behind your camera.

“What?” You say behind the device, inquiry thrown out into the air, and warn him, “Don’t look at me like that.”

George chuckles to himself, wondering if you are this naive or if you are playing dumb. So when you take another picture of him, he purposely complains, “My leg’s cramping.” to then throw himself back on the bed, ending up completely splayed over the duvet and breaking the pose.

“George!” You scold him yet again, a bit of amusement sneaking through your words.

He groans in response and without moving, tells you to “Just take a picture like this.”

You kiss your teeth to exaggerate your disapproval and shake your head, “I can’t even see your face.”

“Come here so you can see it.” He resolves easily for you, waving you over to come close to the side of the bed instead of taking pictures by the end of it. You roll your eyes at him in amusement, not moving at first but since he actually doesn’t plan on moving, you have to do as he says.

But attempting to get a picture from above while standing beside the bed is an actual failure, “That’s an awkward angle, look at me.” You try to get him to turn to his side again but he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Need you on your side.” You say explicitly this time but he doesn’t let up either.

Instead he suggests, “Why don’t you just get up here?” He pats the bed, right next to his hip and you blush just thinking about it. At your silence, he opens his eyes and turns his head to the side to encourage you with a “C’mon.”

He offers his hand so you can use it as leverage to kneel on the bed on each side of his hips and hover above him. You struggle as you do so because you’re growing nervous and therefore clumsy.

“Fucking hell, George.” You curse under your breath, seeing him from above is an angle that you don’t really know if you can handle.

“What?” George bites his bottom lip to not let a smirk break on his face.

Yet, not even that keeps you from knowing that he knows just what he was doing but you won’t say anything, because you’re enjoying this a lot more than you are supposed to. So you stick to just replying, “Nothing.” as you take yet another picture of him.

Remembering his tattoos, you bit your bottom lip for a few seconds before hesitatingly asking, “Why don’t you take your jacket off?”

George lets his hands rest right above your knees and squeezes your legs as he teases, “Is that code for something?”

You hoped your flustered state wasn’t obvious so you can play off your nonchalant, “For ‘I want to see your tattoos’, yes.”

It goes right over his head though, because he keeps smirking as he sarcastically replies, “Right, right.”

You move so he can take the piece of clothing off without you hovering over him but when he’s done and laying on the bed again, he pats his right side so you can move your left leg there and have you hover over him properly again.

“How’s that look?” He asks cheekily as his hands go to touch your legs again, the skin up to your mid thighs showing because your dress slit allows it to open and rise up in the position you’re in.

“Amazing.” You breathlessly compliment, making him raise an eyebrow at you.

The shutter goes off again and, as you roll the film, he tests the waters, “Do you want to see them all?”

“Sure.” The word comes out so soft it could’ve gone with the wind, his hands leave your thighs for a second to grab the bottom of his shirt.

“Top’s coming off next then, is that alright?” He asks for confirmation first and you nod eagerly, your pupils dilating in anticipation.

He sheds himself off his shirt in the constricted space he had, you’re so spaced out that you don’t move but it isn’t a problem for George. If anything, his smirk grows at your inability to act and it gets bigger when he throws his shirt somewhere across the room and you’re left shamelessly gawking at his naked top half.

After a minute of your eyes wandering everywhere, George brings your back to reality by letting his hands come over your thighs again. You tremble at the same time as the drummer says, “Y/N/N?”

“Yeah?” You ask, slowly coming back to reality. Your brain has been completely taken over by the view of the taut muscles of his arms littered by colorful ink, a pair of symmetric ‘broken’ tattoos on both sides of his collarbones and his torso beautifully chiseled with a defined six pack.

“When are you taking the picture?” He reminds you, trying not to smirk too hard as to not put you off.

“Shit, sorry.” You say under your breath and, after quickly focusing the shot, finally take a picture of him like that.

There was a heavy silence that hung over you two, the trail of his fingers making your skin grow hot and your throat going dry at the growing need for anything at all. So you find yourself surprised when he breaks the silence to ask you, “Can I take your picture?”

“Mine?” You repeated like you’d heard wrong.

George nods and lets you know, “You look really pretty from here.”

In a feeble attempt not to have him do that, you remind him, “You don’t know how to.”

“Matty had a film camera a few years ago, I know how to.” George surprises you even further when he explains and just to try a bit harder, he pouts at you and says, almost begging, “Please?”

“Okay.” You let yourself accept, your mind too distracted by the view beneath you to even fight.

Once you hand him the camera, he lifts it up to his eyes and lets out a chipper, “Smile.” as an instruction, which you follow only just a bit shyly.

You’re about to get the device back from him when he pulls it away from your grasp and pleads, “Another one please?”

You sigh at the drummer’s exaggerated pout until it turns into a giggle and that’s when the shutter goes off. Your cheeks burn again when he compliments as he rolls the film, “Stunning.”

Letting the camera rest beside him, George tries his luck and lets his hands rub on the skin of your thighs a bit further up. You don’t refuse it, he can clearly see the growing hunger in your eyes as you look down at him so he continues, letting his gaze trail down your body to drink in all of your but when he reaches down to your legs is when he catches a slight glimpse of red ink on your left thigh that makes him ask, “Do you have more tattoos?”

He doesn’t remember your mentioning any other tattoos than the ones you’d shown him at the restaurant. So when you nod, he can’t help but ask, “Where?”

“One, right here.” You grab his right hand so he can touch over the fabric of your dress where the one on your rib is. Your eyes looking right into his and his lips opening further when you continue, “And this one here.” lifting the fabric up to show the ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.

George lets his right hand fall until it reaches the one on your thigh, you’re still clutching the satin in your first so he can fully see it. He rubs on the red ink on your skin as he stares at it, eliciting goosebumps to break on your entire body.

He looks up and asks with a low voice about the only one he hasn’t seen yet but you had just let him touch over your dress, “What’s the other one?”

“A word.” You vaguely say, as if encouraging him to continue asking about it.

“Which word?” His fingers trail further up, making your knees go completely weak. They had been hurting from hovering over him for so long but his touch is the thing to finally have you finally sit on his lap.

And that’s when you feel him growing hard in his jeans.

His fingers had already been making your every thought go straight down to your core so you’re entirely driven by lust when you fully lift the satin up and shed the dress off your body, leaving you only in your underwear and in full show for George.

It’s involuntary, his hips jerking forward and pressing on your center, his mouth agape at the sight and he grows even more breathless when you roll your center against his hardening cock.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, taking one quick look at the strange word on your rib before perching himself up on his left forearm to wrap his right hand around your neck and pull you in for a hungry kiss.

You lean further into him, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and digging into his hair to pull on it as your lips move with each other. Your fingers tugging on his hair made him groan into your mouth and, as payback, he tightens his fingers around your neck, earning a loud moan out of you.

George pushes himself up with his left hand until he’s sitting on the bed, his right arm wrapping around your waist to keep you flush against him. Your tongues taste each other and your breaths grow heavy when you start rolling your hips in sync, meeting in the middle and creating a delicious friction that soon enough forces you to break the kiss only to gasp in pleasure into each other's mouths.

His fingers come to graze the ink on your left rib, your desperate side having you sink your hips down to roll against him and turn his, “What does it mean?” into a gorgeous moan.

Your lips brush as he moans and you respond to his sound with a mewl of your own and when that reaches his ears, George forgets ever asking anything for he can’t wait any longer to feel your lips on his again.

The kiss grows needy then. His hand goes from your ribs down to knead the flesh of your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and encouraging you to move against him. Your clit was getting so stimulated from only being covered by the thin material of your lace thong against his jeans which means you can’t kiss him any longer.

A string of moans falls from you as you quicken your pace, getting louder as you go but your actions are interrupted when George clutches you tightly by your middle and swiftly flips the two of you around so it you’re resting on your back on the bed with him hovering right over you.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden change of positions, your hand flying to cup his face and bring his lips back on yours and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull his hips into your core in a desperate attempt to have the friction back.

The feeling of his hard on coming down to rub harshly against you every time he bucks his hips forward makes your head spin. He starts off by teasing you with the friction and leaving you hanging for a few seconds before going back in but when you start gasping into his mouth, he keeps himself close to you and relentlessly rolls his hips on yours, hard cock pressing deliciously against your throbbing clit.

The pace grows faster, making it impossible for you to continue moving your lips with his so he takes it as a sign to continue on with what he wants to do first. Unfortunately, that means his hips stop moving and leave you throbbing and clenching around nothing but he makes it up to you with his lips all over your skin.

Wet kisses trail down your neck, his lips taking their time to give every bit of your skin attention on the way down. Kissing, sucking, licking. His fingers run down your sides until they clutch tightly on your hips, fingers pressing hard on the skin there and making your cry out in pleasure even louder.

Your breath is heavy by the time he stops sucking bruises all over your chest and abdomen, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging on it so he can come back up but instead his tongue runs flat from just above your belly button agonizingly slowly up until his nose bumps against the hem of your bra.

George looks up at you through his lashes, teeth coming to bite on the fabric and tugging them the slightest bit down so you know what he wants to do and you desperately nod.

Without much of a proper attempt to take the piece of clothing off, he just tugs down the lace cups on it and lets your tits spill out freely for him. He groans from the pits of his chest at the sight, hips bucking forwards into the mattress harshly in search of some relief for himself.

But not letting any more seconds go by, George dives to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Groaning around it, the vibrations of the noise causing white heat to run straight down to your throbbing wet cunt.

He switches the sucking for flicking it with his tongue, blowing cold air and smirking as your nipple hardens at his actions, ending with a soft bite and tug that have you loudly saying his name in call for mercy.

You needed something, anything. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing and it’s almost torturous. But your cries fall on deaf ears for he moves onto your other nipple and repeats his process. You’re only ruining your underwear further, so wet you feel uncomfortably sticky with your thong still on.

“George, baby, please–” You plead in anguish when he starts sucking bruises on your tits, biting them until you whimper loudly under him.

“What do you need Y/N/N?” He asks sweetly, a stark contrast to his vicious attack on your chest.

“Anything. Just–” You try to say, your words catching up in your throat as your desperation for release clouds your logic and makes you sound stupid.

So you rely on grabbing one of his hands from your hips and guiding it down to where you’re aching. The simple graze of one of his fingertips on your swollen clit eliciting a pathetic mewl out of you.

“Oh sweetheart,” George tuts “Made quite a mess, haven’t you?” His pointer finger runs up and down your clothed core slowly and so faintly you don’t even know if you are imagining it.

Applying a bit more pressure assures him to hear every one of your needy sounds and feeling like you had waited enough, he leaves a light feather kiss over your center.

“Need help cleaning up this mess, yeah?” His words are sweet, like he’s finally taking pity on you. The thought of him doing absolutely anything at that moment sounds so fucking good your hum in agreement sounds more like a whine, barely able to make eye contact with him in your hazy mind.

His long tongue runs flat over your underwear, wetting even more than it already is and he moans at the taste of your slick soaking through it. His fingers tug the fabric down your legs and throw it somewhere behind him in record time. He finds himself almost drooling at the sight of you completely exposed to him.

If you had any hint of inhibitions left in you, you would’ve tried to close your legs under his attentive gaze but he’s entranced and you’d had it with waiting any longer so you prop your legs wide open and squirm in your place.

“George, please.”

Your pleading is so sweet, so desperate, he can’t deny you any longer. So he dips his head in between your legs and starts lapping at you like a starved man. At the first proper taste he has of you, he moans loudly, tongue running up and down your slit to gather as much of you as he can and enjoying every drop of your arousal on his tongue.

“Are you not gonna continue taking my picture?” George interrupts his task to tauntingly ask, going back to using his tongue on you, this time flicking it up and down quickly on your clit and making you shiver.

Your words are caught in your throat when he doesn’t relent his actions but still looks at you expectantly through his lashes, “Right– F-fuck! Right now?”

He only allows himself to stop for the amount of seconds it takes him to nod and say, “Yes baby, be a good girl and take my picture.”

That ‘good girl’ makes you roll your eyes in utter pleasure, and all you can think of is doing as he’s telling you to earn his praise; because you want more, you need more.

Your head turns quickly to see where he’s left the camera, and you bring it to your eyes to take a picture as fast as you can. Your thoughts are already becoming clouded by the tightening coil in your lower belly.

His disheveled dirty blonde hair in between your legs, his arms underneath your legs and hands clutching your thighs in place is all that you captured in that frame. The shutter goes off letting George know you have done as he’d said and he congratulates you by praising you with a proud, “Such a good fucking girl.” and a few kisses to your clit which make you jolt.

He goes back down, trying to clean up the mess of slick and saliva that’s dripping down your inner thighs and onto the duvet, but you’re so desperate so you start rocking your hips against his face, trying to steer him back to where you wanted him to be and, to your satisfaction, he follows the silent instruction by going back to your center and this time pointing his tongue and dipping it inside your sopping hole.

Your legs instinctively close around his head, eliciting a breathy laugh from him that hits your core as he continues tongue fucking you. His hands come to spread your legs open again, holding your limbs down on the bed strongly, not allowing you to move any longer.

The feeling of his wet tongue dipping in and out of you has you growing increasingly louder, begging and pleading with him not to stop, your orgasm so close you can feel it.

But despite your words, he stops.

At that very moment, you swear you can cry, knowing you had just been about to come undone on his tongue. But just before you can pathetically let your frustrated tears roll down your cheeks, his lips wrap around your throbbing clit and he sucks on it. The perfect amount of pressure for you to thrash around beneath him as your pleasure resumes and hits you with an incredible force, making you let out a string of moans of his name and then a bunch of “Yes! Fuck yes!”, hands flying down to tangle your fingers in his hair and keep him in his place.

“I’m gonna cum!” You yell out loud, eyes shutting tightly since the pleasure impedes you from keeping them open, and when George starts humming as he sucks your clit, you are done for.

Your legs tremble under his hold, toes curling and your fingers tugging his hair tighter than you had been before. You black out as your orgasm hits you hard, the oxygen in your lungs leaving you entirely as your back arches off the bed and you only come back from your high when his incessant sucking becomes too much for your oversensitive self so you pull him away from you.

He giggles, completely entranced by your fucked out state. Watching you cum had been an experience but god don’t you look beautiful with your chest heaving, bruises looming on your skin, a flush to your face and chest, a thin coat of sweat making your body and face shine.

But before he can give you any more attention, his gaze falls back to your cunt and it’s glistening with arousal. You taste so fucking good to him that he wastes no more time to lick you clean. Your legs tremble at the resumed contact of his tongue on your sensitive core, whimpers stubbornly leaving you as he goes.

Your fingers leave his hair alone but your left hand cradles his head as he laps up at everything you have given him, and after a whole minute of him meticulously licking clean every inch of skin that had been wet with your arousal, he starts a trail of kisses from your mound until he reaches your belly button.

Flashing a smile up at you, George rests his chin on your lower stomach and you can’t hold yourself back from brushing his messy hair back almost adoringly, post orgasm haze making you extra appreciative of him and his skilled tongue work.

His fingers rub circles on the top of your thighs, “Feel good?” He asks before leaving more soft kisses on your lower stomach.

“Very.” You answered with a smile, fingers brushing through his hair.

He hums at the feeling of your touch, “Good to know, gorgeous.”

Turning to see where you’d left it, you reach out to grab your discarded camera. Melting into the duvet under George’s gentle touch and his lips pressing on your skin leisurely, you really make an effort as you lean on your forearms so that you can get a better look at him to take a picture. He looks up at you with a dizzying smirk that you manage to capture, and you know that you’ll adore that picture no matter the outcome of this day.

His lips tickle the skin of your lower stomach when he points out, “Didn’t even have to tell you this time.”

Putting the device back down on the bed, you shrug with a grin sneaking onto your lips, “You look good.”

“Do I, now?” He teases, dropping his hands from your thighs and pressing them on the mattress so he can slowly push himself up and crawl his way up to hover over you again.

“You always do.” Your words come laced with lust, his eyes darkening as he gets closer and you just can’t wait any longer to have him in more ways. “Come here.” You instruct by wrapping a hand around his neck, fingers pressing on the sides of it until he groans loudly in pleasure and when he lets the sound leave his lips, you smirk and warn, “My turn.”

Pulling him in by his neck means that your tongues meet instantly when you start the kiss, and when you taste yourself on his tongue, you moan so loudly George growls just as loud in response.

The kiss is all teeth clashing, spit dribbling down to your chins, noses bumping, deep exhales sounding loudly and trying to overpower the sounds of your swollen lips moving together.

It’s George the one to grow louder when your hand drops from his neck, down his naked torso to the button of his jeans, which you undo with quick fingers and pull the zip down before you can palm him over the fabric of his boxers.

“F-fuck…” He lets out when your nimble fingers squeeze him and stroke him up and down. He’s so hard that your touch makes him shiver.

You can feel him so swollen and heavy under your hand, your mind already spinning about how big he is but you want to have him unravel under you so badly, you push any worries about his size to the back of your head.

His hips move slowly, helping with your movements, clearly wanting to reach his high but you want to taste him and you want it now. So you leave his cock alone to instruct him, “Lay down, baby.”

You switch positions, George laying on his back and you’re kneeling between his legs. He pants as he watches you shamelessly gawk at him, your mouth going dry at the clear outline of his cock.

“Fucking hell, George.” You curse as you tug on the top of his jeans so he can lift his hips up for you to take them off him.

He does as instructed and you’re just too impatient to wait any more, you want to feel him heavy on your tongue already. His boxers come off quickly after his jeans, his hard cock springing up to touch right by his navel.

You gulp. He’s thick, angry red tip already leaking from how aroused he is. Intimidating but so inviting.

Dipping your head down, you start kissing his hips. Leaving kisses that go from sweet to wet and messy the more he squirmed under you.

“You…” George pleads, hand coming down to cradle your head. Not to push it towards where he wanted you but to have you look up at him and see just how fucking desperate he is for you.

You feel that look go down straight to your core, clenching your legs together at the feeling. “I know baby, I know.” You say in a coo.

Your fingers wrap around him, the pressure of them making George huff in pleasure with his lips pressed together. He feels so heavy in your hand, veins popping for you to see how pained he is.

“You’re so big.” You trail off, a bit of wander in your voice. You have no idea how he’s going to fit in your mouth, he’s by far the biggest cock you have ever come across but you like a challenge.

Your tongue licks a bold strip from base to tip, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you taste the salty arousal that has already been leaking from him. He curses under his breath at the feeling of your wet tongue on his cock, but the breathy words turn into a loud moan when you wrap your lips around him and sink your mouth down onto him.

Barely able to fit half of him in your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, you pull back to catch a breath, your hand taking over for a few seconds as you inhale deeply and go back in. You gag around him when you manage to get him deeper, George moans loudly as you do so, trying his hardest not to buck his hips upwards into your tight throat.

His hand goes back to hold your head but this time, his fingers tangle in your hair, only to pull you up so you can breathe. But you don’t want to have it easy, you want to see how much of him you can take and hear every one of his pretty moans.

So you go against his hold, sinking your mouth further down and gagging around him again. Your hand stays at the base of his cock, stroking the rest you can’t get to, as you continue bobbing your head up and down on him.

George is a mess of groans and moans, whimpering whenever you gag and moan around him, your throat tightening around him driving him insane.

He lifts his head up slightly to look down at you, pulling on your hair so you come off him and meet his eyes. George is met with you panting, pink wet swollen lips, saliva dripping down your chin and neck, tears falling out of the corner of your eyes, hair disheveled but pupils dilated and a satisfied smirk at it all.

Your hand keep stroking him up and down, fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure and he moans at the combination of your touch and the glorious view of you like this, “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect.”

The praise only encourages you more, so you lean back down and lick a strip up his cock again, this time looking up at him through your lashes. An innocent look in your eyes as you lap at the tip of his cock eagerly.

He exhales in awe, “Look at you– Shit!” He curses loudly when you sink slowly back down until again he reaches your throat, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily and making you gag loudly.

You gasp out for air for a mere second before you do it again, until you manage to control your gagging a bit better and encourage George to fuck your mouth with a simple squeeze to his hip.

“Oh fuck– Such a pretty filthy girl.” He praises as he obeys the silent instructions and rocks his hips forwards slowly and ever so slightly. “You like it when I fuck your throat?” His question is thrown out into the air in between groans.

You answer with a hum that vibrates around him and that’s when George starts feeling like he’s losing control. His hips grow erratic and you notice so you hum and moan around him even more, causing him to get closer to his high.

“Y/N/N m’gonna cum!” He warns you loudly, the wet squelching sounds of him going in and out of your mouth and your moans bouncing off the walls in a pornographic symphony that makes the scene even better.

And when your hand drops from around the base of his cock to play with his balls, he’s sent over the edge. He pushes his hips forwards and stills then as he comes, cock twitching in your mouth and his cum coating the walls of your throat with a warmth you appreciated with another low moan.

His hips fall back on the bed but you don’t relent just yet, sucking him off for a little longer to take everything you can. But he has to pull you off him by your hair when he can't take it anymore, cursing and calling out your name like he was scolding you.

“Fucking hell.” He mumbles, still dizzy from his orgasm but completely entranced by the way you come off him with a whimper and a satisfied smirk.

You wipe the drool off your chin with the back of your hand and slowly crawl up until you are laying on your side right beside him, staring right into his eyes with hunger still darkening yours.

“Feel good?” You ask, just what he’d asked you after he made you cum but in a mocking manner.

It gets you a chuckle in response before one of his big hands comes to cup your jaw and crashes your lips together.

Kissing George has you dazed. His lips are soft but firm when moving along with yours, they’re wet and swollen, warm exhales leaving his parted lips for your to swallow, tongue peeking through them to meet yours. He whimpers so loud when he tastes himself on your tongue, fingers digging into your cheek and making you mewl in response.

Your skin grows hot the more you kiss. He doesn’t even let you get a proper breath whenever he pulls back for a brief second, because he’s back on your mouth with desperation—lips smacking and tongues licking at each other.

Your hands go on a path from his face to his head, the back of his neck, his shoulders, and eventually to his back, nails digging into it when he starts nipping at your bottom lip, at the same time as his right hand drops from your jaw down to pinch your nipples, eliciting gasps out of you.

“George…” You let out in a gasp when he has your nipple pinched and twisted between his thumb and index finger.

He’s smirking right over your parted lips, amused at the way you shiver every time he goes from one nipple to the other. Your nails claw at his back when you feel the electric shocks that his touch gives you travel all the way down to your center, feeling yourself growing wetter and that familiar knot in your lower stomach forming.

His lips slot between yours again, distracting you from his touch going from your tits down to tease your cunt.

With his thumb, George starts rubbing circles on your clit, making you pull back from the kiss with a loud gasp that turns into a cry of pleasure. You could feel yourself throbbing already, and it gets worse when he picks up his pace.

He isn’t going too fast but not slow either, the speed in which his thumb rubs at your clit has you writhing your hips in response, subconsciously trying your best to get closer and closer to your high.

“George! Fuck!” You yell when he slides a finger inside you. It’s thick and long, curling inside you and making you see stars already, half lidded eyes catching him smirking at you and his breaths growing shallow when taking in your reactions.

“You like that?” He asks you teasingly, pecking your lips as your face scrunches up in pleasure.

You manage to hum in response, but he finds that not good enough, so he adds another finger, stretching you out easily and making your back arch as you moan loudly. “Yes! Yes!” You encourage, and when he curls his fingers again, knuckle deep inside your cunt, you felt yourself be completely overcome by pleasure and your words slip past your lips without even thinking of them first, “Oh my– Fuck! George, your fingers feel so fucking good.”

His fingers are slipping in and out of you with ease from how wet you are, your hips erratically moving as he thrusts them inside you to meet him in the middle. “That’s it, cum on them baby.”

The dirty talk has you completely fucked over, “George, I’m so– Fuckkkk!” You can’t help but scream out when he pushes a third finger inside you, feeling completely stuffed with him.

It feels so good how much he’s opening you up, and he’s loving the way whenever he pulls his fingers back your walls push him off so he has to slowly sink his fingers deep inside your cunt again. “I know, I can feel you clenching hard around them.” You’re squeezing his fingers so tight, his throat goes dry just thinking about how good you’re gonna feel milking his cock, “Can’t wait to fill you up and feel how tight you’re around my cock baby.”

You agree, so drunk in pleasure you just want to feel even more of him, “I need you. George, I need–”

But he tuts before you can complete your mumbled sentence, “You’re cumming on my fingers first.” You’re about to cry out like a brat, about to beg for him to stuff you up with his big cock but his words beat yours, “Come on baby, give it to me like the good girl you are.”

His voice is low in your ear, so sultry and inviting you feel it deep in your core and you just can’t say no. Not when you’re gonna earn his praise, those words he says that have you wrapped around his little finger.

So you let go. Your toes curl as his fingers keep pumping in and out of you, hitting that spot perfectly for your to see stars as you come, white heat enveloping you and taking ahold of your entire body as you cum, “Fuck, fuck! Oh– George!”

“That’s it, baby. So fucking stunning.” He encourages, watching his fingers continue to disappear inside your tightening cunt, your legs shaking and your hips moving clumsily to meet his hand. He gets impossibly hard at the sight of it all, biting his bottom lip as he moans.

You gush all over him, slick drenching his hand and dripping down your cunt onto the duvet. He can’t let it go to waste, so he pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean, moaning around them when he tastes you again.

So fucking sweet. He needed more.

You feel his fingers gathering your mess and you manage to peel your eyes open to watch as he sucks it all off his fingers again.

Shamelessly, you just watch as he dips down time and time again until he deems his work of cleaning you up done, the last one being offered out to you and you obey enthusiastically, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sinking your mouth on them to suck them clean the best you can. Your eyes stay on his as you do so, moaning loudly around them while you batted your lashes at him, just fully putting a show on for him.

The view makes George’s cock twitch, a bead of precum leaking from his head. He reaches out behind you for the forgotten camera and when you’re trying to catch your breath, eyes closed in bliss, he takes a picture of you.

Your eyes snap open at the sound of the shutter going off and you look at him all startled like you need an explanation.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” He quickly justifies, lifting the device back up to his eyes and adjusting the focus to take another one as he adds, “All fucked out. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Stop.” You whine when the shutter goes off again, hand coming up to grab at the lenses and forcing him to put it down, “I must look a mess.”

His head shakes in disagreement, tongue swiping at his bottom lip with his eyes drinking you in all over again, “You don’t. You look hot.” Skin glowing due to the thin layer of sweat your activities have caused, lips swollen and wet, your chest heaving and flushed, the gorgeous pattern of every bruise he’s sucked on your skin which are darkening more and more, hair disheveled and splayed over the pillows.

“I’m confiscating this.” It’s the brief ultimatum you give him, grabbing the camera and turning the action on him instead.

You take just one picture of him and he allows it, only to then complain by saying, “You have enough of me.” and taking the camera back.

Rolling your eyes, you fake being annoyed and kiss him quickly before pushing yourself up and off the bed, telling him, “Gonna go to the bathroom.” making a beeline for your wardrobe and getting yourself a new pair of underwear first, adjusting the cups of your bra so they hold your breasts again.

It isn’t longer than five minutes that you take, coming back to him wearing his boxers again and laying over the bedsheets—he’s discarded the duvet and left it a big crumpled knot on the floor by the foot of the bed—, a hand behind his head whilst the other is scrolling on his phone.

His position looks inviting, so you crawl on the bed and sit on his lap with a mischievous smile on your face. You reach out to get the camera he has placed on the bedside table at the same time as he drops his phone there and his hands go up to hold your hips.

“Put your hands behind your head again.” You instruct him softly, almost a mutter that sounds so shy, the corner of his lips tug into a smirk.

You take a picture of him like that and another when he runs a hand through his hair but you stop when his hands come back to grab at your skin, going from your waist until they softly come down to rest at your hips.

With a soft squeeze on your sides, he tilts his head to ask, “Am I allowed to smoke?” to which you nod and get off him to open the windows and get him a cigarette and a lighter.

Getting back on top of him, you place the cigarette between his lips but before you can give him the lighter, you grab the camera again just so you can capture the moment he ignites it alive.

George looks so fucking hot lighting it up: cheeks hollowing ever so slightly, brows furrowing, long fingers that make the lighter look minuscule in his hand, lips pursed around the stick.

You snap away and capture the moment he blows out the smoke upwards, before taking another drag and then blowing it in your direction.

The familiar scent of the tobacco and just how arousing you’re finding it all, impulses you to start moving your hips slowly on him. The sudden movement makes his breath hitch in his throat, causing him to erupt in coughs when the smoke goes up the wrong hole. He had been half hard beneath you when you sat on his lap, so you can’t really hold back from wanting to have him in a new way now.

That’s when you guide his hand to your mouth so he can place the cigarette in between your lips for you to take a drag. His mouth opens agape as you do so, the rolling of your hips only growing more intent and he starts twitching and getting harder in his boxers.

He can feel your heat, the way you’re wetting your underwear and starting to wet his own, the pulsing of your swollen clit. He can see how your nipples grow hard through the lace of your bra, and the way goosebumps rise in your skin as you go. Soft gasps that turn into hush whimpers that he wants so badly to turn into those loud moans of yours that he’s quite enjoying getting drunk on.

“Have you brought a condom?” You ask breathlessly, camera being once again forgotten somewhere on the bed for you to be able to rest your hands on his chest as leverage.

A flip switches inside George, the simple hint of him finally being able to sink himself deep inside you making his blood rush down to his cock.

“Yeah.” He nods eagerly and it’s a relief when you quickly get off him so he can rush to get it, not without going up to your dresser so he can put out the cigarette on the ashtray that’s laid there by your jewelry.

He had thought it was foolish of him to pocket a couple condoms before he left his flat earlier today, fully scorning himself for being so ridiculous as to assume you would want to shag after your date but oh was he glad he had still done it right then.

Condom in hand, George goes back to the bed but not without shedding himself off his boxers first. You bite your bottom lip as you get your bra off to throw it on the floor behind you, seeing him wrap his hand around his length and pump it slowly as he watches you almost naked figure. Your hands go down to your hips so you can quickly tug down your underwear, eagerly taking it off and throwing it on the same spot on the floor you had dropped your bra.

Crawling up to the edge of the bed, you hum as you watch him stroke himself up and down, your mouth watering for another taste of him. So when you get right in front of him, you dip your head down until your mouth is right before his hardening cock and sticking your tongue out, you lick at his head slowly.

He grows heavier on your tongue as you go, twitching in your mouth when you wrap your lips around him again, his head thrown back at the feeling of your wet mouth enclosed around him and sucking him off patiently.

But he has to use an incredible amount of self restraint to pull you off him, a hand delicately coming around your neck to have you let go off his cock with a pop and pull you up to face him.

“I’m fucking you now.”

George isn’t asking, he’s simply informing you and that makes you squirm under his gaze in anticipation. Thighs pressing together and eyes drinking in the way lust makes his behavior change. But you want a bit of control, even if it’s just for him to ruin you.

“Can I ride you?” You ask innocently, puppy eyes that you pray will get your a yes.

You take the way he pulls you in for a messy kiss as one.

In no time he’s laying on his back with his head resting on the pillows, teeth ripping the condom wrapper open while your hand wraps around him, waiting for him to put the latex on. The anticipation grows and hangs in the air like a heavy cloud as George rolls it down his length, sighing at the feeling of it around him.

You catch a glimpse of your camera through the corner of your eye and you can’t help but think there won’t be a better thing than capturing his pure ecstasy in a picture so you grab it before you straddle him again.

You lift the camera up to your eyes with one hand while the other gets ahold of his cock to line him up, rubbing his head on your clit and making yourself gasp at the feeling. You clench around nothing as you do so, and you can already feel yourself drenched.

Even after he’s stretched you out with his fingers, it’s slightly challenging for you to take him when you start sinking onto him.

Your jaw drops in a silent gasp when every inch of him starts stretching you out, eyes watering at the initial sting. Your eyes want to flutter closed at the feeling but you do your best to not let them close entirely so you can capture the way he groans loudly with his head thrown back as you let your cunt swallow him whole.

Breath hitching in your throat, you sink down completely until you can feel him so deep a pathetic cry of pleasure slips past your lips.

You draw your hips up and back down on him slowly, testing the waters on his size and what angle is good for you to feel the best. You’re both a mess of loud moans at the feeling. He’s so big, he’s filling you up in a way you’ve never felt before so your walls are clenching hard around him which has his head spinning.

“You–” George breathes out, hands flying to your hips and clutching them so tightly just to show how bad he’s holding himself back from just thrusting up into you, or better yet just flipping you around and fucking you into the mattress.

“Fuck–, I know. I know.” You say in a high pitch tone. One of your hands falls to rest flat on his chest and use as support, “I– oh, fuck…” You curse as you roll your hips forwards and then backwards this time, making you completely still at the insane sensory overdrive you’re getting from it.

George knows you need a second or two but you stay frozen for longer than he can hold so he pleads, “Baby– Fuck, baby, I need you to move, you’re so tight.”

“Just–” You try to say, rolling your hips again and mewling loudly. George moans back in response, his hands sliding down to your thighs as your head hangs in pleasure.

You establish a slow place, George’s fingers digging into the flesh of your upper thighs grounding you into the moment and allowing you to take another picture. A picture that captures your legs on each sides of his toned chest, his fingers digging into your skin, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps back a moan, the box tattoo on his thumb right next to the red ink of your ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.

But after you press the shutter on that one, barely being able to clumsily roll the film, you just toss the camera to the side mindlessly and use your new free hand to rest on his chest as well, and the second hand of support helps you start moving your hips faster.

It’s fucking delicious the way he keeps hitting your g-spot from that angle, and when he starts bucking his hips upwards, meeting your in the middle, you can’t hold back the noises you let out. “George, fuck baby! Oh fuckkkk.” You cry out, clit feeling a bit of pressure every time you roll down and hit your pelvis, so you’re fully drunk on pleasure.

His hands run up from your thighs to mercilessly grab your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and stinging just in the best way. “Just like that baby. You feel so fucking good.” He praises you with a groan, helping you actually lift your hips up and down on him.

“You’re so– Oh fuck–” You’re so cock drunk, your thoughts are all stupid and leaving you without even being able to finish a sentence.

“Tight little cunt, can barely fit inside you.” George can feel himself meeting the hilt inside you every time, your cries growing in volume the faster the pace gets. “You love it huh, being filled to the brim?”

“Yes, fuck! Yes, I love it, love your cock!” You’re dripping all over him, the noise of the wetness and your skin slapping every time you meet bouncing off the walls and, combined with your moans, makes for a pornographic scene you wish you were recording.

“I know you can go faster. Can you do that for me, baby?” George genuinely can feel himself not lasting any longer with how tight you’re squeezing him.

“I can, I can.” You promise desperately, wanting to be good for him. So you pick up your pace, your hands moving ever so slightly so you can straighten up a bit and when you do so you curse out loud at the new angle, “Ah fuck!”

Your hips grow erratic, your knees helping now when you bounce up and down his cock ever so more intently, enough for you to incessantly gasp in a high pitch every time he hits that spot.

“Such a good girl for me.” His hands stop groping your ass to spank you, making you jolt forward with a loud gasp that turns into a mewl and a whine that tries to pass as a ‘yes’. His cock twitches inside you at that reaction so he does it again and again, feeling your walls flutter around him with every hit, “You're squeezing me so fucking tight, baby. Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yeah, yes…” You gasp, and if you hadn’t been so adamant on chasing your high, you would’ve noticed George quickly getting the camera and snapping a picture of you riding him. Hair a mess covering up your face but your mouth wide open in a moan, tits bouncing as you ride him, hands on his chest as support.

He’s just about managed to put the camera back down when he feels you squeezing him the tightest and that’s when you finally cum. “George! George! Ge–” You cry out his name like a prayer until it breaks down into a loud moan that tips him over the edge along with your cunt milking him dry into the condom as you sloppily continue to ride him.

“Fuck! Y/N!” George moans loudly, his hands going to your ass again to help you continue as he cums, his cock twitching the more he spurts into the condom, sweet relief making him see stars.

Unable to uphold yourself any longer, you collapse over him, chests heaving in sync as you both come down from your highs. It’s hard catching your breaths when your skin burns from the heat and sticks from the sweat. And George knows you’re rather uncomfortable from the way you groan into him, your fingers lazily trying to brush the hair out of your face but huffing as it sticks to your sweaty forehead.

He brushes your hair back, fingers delicately grazing your face and earning a soft smile and a sigh from you. But then his hold goes down to your hips so he can lift you up and off himself to set you beside him. You whine and pout at the loss of him, feeling so empty after he’s stuffed you to the brim.

You don’t even try to open your eyes, completely spent from your activities and snuggling into the pillows to find some comfort in your post orgasm haze.

George sits up on the edge of your bed and sheds himself off the condom, tying it so he can throw it away, and groaning as he pushes himself off the bed to make his way to the bathroom.

He takes about five minutes there and when he comes back into the room, he smiles, finding a sleepy you struggling to keep your eyes open and smirking at him. He giggles as he walks up to bed and after taking your camera and placing it on one of the bedside tables, he carries your bridal style to take you to the bathroom.

Yes you’re still on cloud nine after that orgasm but you still have a bit of sense in you then so, after thanking him with a kiss, you tell George you’re alright from there and he can wait for you in bed.

You only realize what you’d said as you wash your hands after peeing and you’re cringing just thinking about him being gone once you go back into the room. But you find that he hasn’t left and instead, he’s gone under the bedsheets and is waiting for you to cuddle up to him so you can get some rest.

You giggle like a fool when you get under the sheets and he hooks his arm around your waist to push you flush against him, your back pressed to his chest and he nuzzles into your neck from behind. Your legs tangle together and your breaths sync and slow down as the minutes go by until you succumb to their slumber.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

It’s bright outside when you wake up with the horrendous need to go to the bathroom, one that you’d been sleepily ignoring for a while but that had become too unbearable to endure anymore.

George has his hand around your waist and his leg thrown over yours, effectively keeping you trapped in his hold in bed, so you try to very slowly peel yourself away from him to escape to the toilet.

You’re careful so that you don’t wake him up just yet, but when you manage to get your legs untangled from his, he stirs and grumbles, “Where are you trying to go?” throwing his leg over yours again, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist making you chuckle.

“Bathroom.” You mumble as you try to get away again but he’s stubbornly holding you even tighter to him.

You feel him shake his head as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, a soft “No.” falling in your ears that makes you sigh.

“George.” You say softly to not disrupt the silence in the room, but he doesn’t reply so you try again a little louder this time, “George.” Once again, no response, so you end up whining, “Babyyyy.”

To the nickname he does listen, but his response is just a muttered, “Mhm?”

You turn around in his arms with a bit of struggle, cupping his face and pecking his lips a handful of times so he takes it as enough bribery to listen to you, “Please let me go. I’ll just be a minute.”

George steals one last long peck from you before smiling loopily and nodding, “Okay.”

He lazily retracts his limbs to let you get up freely from the bed, and though he’s fighting his sleep, he manages to peel his eyes open for long enough to watch your naked figure walk away from the bed and into your ensuite.

Keeping track of time is impossible to him when his eyes close again after you leave his line of sight, and he only opens his eyes again when he hears you giggle softly at the sight of him in your bed as you walk back to bed.

“You took longer than a minute.” He points out with his eyes still closed.

You snort and half heartedly apologize, “Sorry, I’m sore.”

His hand comes up to rub at his eyes, and when he does so, he sees the state in which you’ve come back so he frowns and tells you to, “Stop right there.” He sounds so serious, an amused smirk shows on your face because you have no idea what he’s about to say. An accusing finger waves in the air in your direction and he calls you out, “Why are you wearing a robe?”

“Shut up.” You say instantly when hearing that’s what is making him frown, your eyes rolling playfully at him.

“Get that off now.” He instructs but you take another step towards the bed with no intention of taking it off and he grumbles, “Y/N/N…” with a more stern tone that makes you too flustered for this time of day.

“You’re annoying.” You complain with a roll of your eyes, still listening to him and slowly undoing the knot that kept your robe closed, making it a little show as you open it up and let it fall off your body and pool at your feet on the floor.

Of course, George smirks at the sight and he has no shame in looking you up and down with hunger now shining on his sleepy eyes, his cock twitches just by seeing you naked in front of him again. Fuck, you’re stunning.

“Come here gorgeous.” The drummer invites you back into his arms and you don't have to be told twice for you to go back to bed and be the little spoon for him. You’d had such good sleep being completely enveloped in him, heavy limbs acting like a weighted blanket on you and it was utter bliss.

But after seeing you naked again, skin littered with love bites he had left all over your, hair messy and tits perky and bouncing as you walked, George feels the need to show you a bit more of the appreciation he had shown you the day before.

His hand brushes your hair to the side so he can have access to the skin on the back of your neck. Goosebumps breaking on the skin there when he starts pressing open mouthed kisses on it, fingers ghostly running down your back and stopping right on your lower back that had your back arching into him. Your ass grazed his cock every time, making it twitch and start to harden.

In search of friction, he pushes his hips forward and you reciprocate by pressing your ass against him. He keeps his actions going and sets a pace that the two of you keep up, mewling out loud when his hardening cock comes in contact with your cunt, “Hmm, George.”

“Yes, baby?” His lips brush against your skin, a shiver running down your spine and making you shudder, “You’re so fucking beautiful, please let me make you feel good.”

“Yeah…” You nod quickly, it’s a no-brainer. Your breath gets caught in your throat when he pushes his hips forwards again at the same time as you do and the tip of his cock presses on your clit.

“Yes?” He moans in your ear, hand coming around your front to play with your tits, “Can I make you cum again, sweetheart?”

You eagerly nod, swallowing a moan as he pinches your nipple and when he cup your whole tit with one hand, kneading it harshly, your “Please.” came out in the form of a whine.

“Good girl. M’gonna make you feel so good baby, I promise.” His hand continues playing with your tits as you keep grinding on each other. When his cock is hard enough, you feel it come up to rest heavily between his lower stomach and your lower back, and it’s then that he lets his fingers trail down until they hover over your mound and he breathlessly asks, “D’you trust me?”

“Yeah, George…” You’re basically pleading with him to continue, hand coming to clutch his and guide his fingers down to your soaked cunt and when he feels just how wet you are, he groans and pulls away.

“Wait.” George instructs you, leaving you alone on the bed to get a condom. You hear the wrapper rip and him moaning as he puts the condom on, stroking himself up and down a few times before he tugs the sheets off you and turns you from your side to your front so you’re face down and he can hover over you from behind.

His knees are on either side of your hips, forearms pressed on the mattress next to your shoulders and he kisses and sucks all over your back as he praises you for how gorgeous you are over and over.

He keeps bruising you up until you push your ass up and beg him to do something, the ache in your cunt too unbearable.

So George lets go of the patch of skin he’s bruising and does as you ask for, spreading your legs open as he kneels in between them and rubs his tip up and down your slit.

“Don’t tease, please.” You cry into the mattress, your cunt fluttering around nothing and it’s painful knowing just how good he felt inside you but he isn’t allowing you to feel it yet.

But then he just let himself slowly slip inside you and his jaw falls at your tightness in that angle, “Oh Y/N/N… Fuck me.” He feels like he can barely fit in, but you’re dripping with slick so it makes it a bit easier for him to slowly bottom out.

“George–” You choke out, head turning to the side to catch a glimpse of him. Your fingers clawing at the sheets beside your head for dear life.

“I know. You’re so tight.” He whimpers in pleasure, barely able to move an inch out of you because you’re so snug it feels like you’re pushing him out.

“Move baby, please.” You beg again and he starts going then, a slow pace at first that grows in speed rather quickly and has your cursing out loud, “Fuckkkkk!”

He gasps into your ear with every thrust, and it’s soon that the sound of your skin slapping drowns the room along with your moans. “Gonna miss this tight little cunt so much.” He says into your neck, sucking a bruise on the back of it before asking, “Gonna miss me too?”

“Ye– Yes! Oh shit baby!” You gasp when he hooks his left arm under your leg, pulling it upwards slowly and allowing you to stretch a bit more so you feel him even deeper, “Gonna miss you so much!”

He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”

“Oh fuck!” You curse as he hits your g-spot perfectly from that angle, his hips hitting your ass and reminding you of how sore the skin there is from the spanking he gave you the night before. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, please!”

“If you could only see yourself right now!” He curses under his breath when he looks down to see himself disappear into your cunt, over and over. If he keeps looking at how he keeps sliding in and out of you so easily, he will burst right then so he looks back up to your face and praises you once more, “Taking me so well, baby. You’re such a good girl.”

“Harder, please.” You ask in a whine, and he stills for just a second to get a better standing on his knees before giving it to you like you were begging to, making you instantly get even louder when he hits that sweet spot with more intensity, “Oh my– Fuck! Right there, yes!”

“Just like that, yeah?” His smirk grows on his face, feeling how it keeps getting easier to slide inside you which means you’re fucking drenched and dripping all over him, your walls fluttering around him already making him see stars.

“Yes! Yes!” You chant like a broken record, the coil in your lower stomach tightening by the second and threatening to snap at any moment, “I’m so close!”

His left arm lifts your leg even higher and then leaves it there to be able to bring his fingers down to rub at your clit and send you over the edge, “C’mon baby, cum for me sweetheart!” He encourages you as he rubs fast circles on your throbbing clit, which earns him choked out moans that turn into a throat ripping moan of, “F-fuckkkk! George!”

George feels you squeeze him so tightly as you cum, making it so much harder for him to continue thrusting in and out without losing the rhythm he’s set, he can’t hold it any longer, his hips stuttering as he cums and stilling as he spills his seed in the condom, “Ah shit! Y/N!”

His thrusts become sloppy and messy as he tries to ride out your highs while you spasm around him, whimpering as the aftershocks of your orgasm have your legs trembling under him and your white knuckle grip on the sheets falters.

Letting his weight fall over you almost entirely, George sighs in complete bliss and he kisses the back of your head and your cheek multiple times to say, “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” He drops a kiss on your lips and praises you once more, “My good pretty girl.”

The way he speaks to you makes your stomach flutter, and he feels it when you clench around him. “You like that huh?” He teases with a smirk, his nose brushing up your neck until he comes up to your ear and bites your earlobe to which you mewl in response.

He pulls out, hearing you whine when you feel upsettingly empty again but he rubs circles on your hips soothingly and asks, “Shall we go take a shower? Do you want me to help you up?”

You barely manage to reply with a quiet, “Mhm…” when a loud ringing snaps the two of you out of your wonderful post orgasm bubble.

You don’t really recognize the ringing so you figure it’s George’s phone. Yet, the drummer doesn’t make an attempt to go and get it, as he flops beside you in bed for a second before pushing himself off the bed and sheds himself off the condom you just used.

He gets up to discard it in the bathroom and just as he crosses the threshold of the ensuite, he hears his phone start ringing again. He fully ignores it again, taking his time in the bathroom until he hears you call out for him to pick up the unrelenting calls.

A grunt leaves his lips when he comes back to the room and picks up the phone only to read his sister’s name on the screen so he answers with a meek, “Y’alright?” to let her know he isn’t in the mood for the constant ringing.

You hear pure silence surrounding you for a good half minute before George sighs out an annoyed, “Fucks sake.” Opening your eyes to see him, you move onto your side to watch him as he speaks. “Right now? Really?” He asks, entirely unamused. “Yeah, really busy actually.” He says sternly, looking at you naked in front of him with wide eyes. That makes you purse your lips not to laugh but what gets the giggles out of you is when he sighs loudly and mutters, “I hate you.” to whoever it is on the phone.

It’s barely another half minute that he listens to whoever is on the other side, before he ends the call with an impatient, “Yeah, yeah. Sure. See ya’.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask curiously, your fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

George rolls his eyes at the situation, “My sister needs me for something. She says it’s urgent but I doubt it.” He shrugs then, ignoring the importance of whatever it was his sister needed him for, he had only been half listening really. “I can stay though, it wouldn’t be the first time I ignore her.”

That has you snorting in laughter, “Go, you idiot.”

“But–” He tries to argue as he comes to hover over you, head dipping to steal a kiss out of you which you break after a few seconds by pushing his shoulders softly so you can reassure him it’s fine. After all, you had really enjoyed yourself so you’re genuinely considering another date with him.

“It’s okay. I had the best time with you, and that’s all I wanted.” Your hands come to the back of his head, fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck and scratching his scalp softly.

George clicks his tongue and he pouts to joke, “Knew you only wanted me for my body.”

You cackle at his antics and tell him to “Shut up.” only to do it yourself by pulling him into you so you can share one last kiss. It’s sweet but it isn’t soft, your lips moving together with intent as if to prove you need to do it again because it’s just too good.

But you have to stop it before it can turn into something more. You pull on his hair so your lips separate with a smack and, with the sweetest smile and looking at him with doe eyes, you say, “Thank you, George.”

“I had the best time Y/N/N.” He replies wholeheartedly then, agreeing with your previous point.

“Me too.” You nod softly to reiterate, your hands coming back down to cup his jaw, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin.

One last short kiss is all you get in that bed before you both stand up and get dressed. Well, George does, in the same getup as the day before, while you put your robe back on and tie it around yourself slowly as he finishes getting his shoes on.

“I’ll see you soon for a second date, yeah?” He says when you walk him to the door, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“You definitely will.” You assure, knowing you’d be texting him very soon about a second date if he doesn’t text you first about it.

He winks right as he opens the door, stealing one last peck from your lips before walking away. Leaving you with a stupid smile on your face that only gets bigger when you close the door behind you and go back to your room, seeing the mess you had left the bed looking like.

Yes, you were definitely going on a second date with him.

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A/N: What did you think? Hope you lot enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, I'm so excited to see your reactions! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @drinkurkombucha @vinylandcoffeecollection @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

[luffyvace]

Chrollo Lulcifer x outgoing reader

no gender specified here so i guess you can count it as gn. btw this is separate from my phantom troupe hcs i’m planning on grouping those :)

(for the record I will still do the rest of the poll results just wanted to post some hxh content as I haven’t in a while <3)

enjoy<3

seeing as though your outgoing if you didn’t meet from the troupe you probably came up to him first

but for these headcanons im gonna go with a reader who’s in the troupe

and childhood friends troupe too :)

ngl your special

your just as important to him as pakunoda

and canonly she was dear to him

so when you came up to him all excited about those tapes they were doing

something sparked in him and he wanted to be your friend instantly

back then you had to be careful who you trust

so he didn’t rush in and become best friends with you overnight

but he definitely enjoyed the time he spent with you

you even got a few episodes in the tapes!!

that was the happiest moment of your childhood

back to present 😋

Chrollo doesn’t mind your need to be active and in fact it’s motivating to him to be as well

he takes you out to as many events and outings as you want

although i’ll say he’s more reserved so your doing the talking and he’s doing the nodding and smiling

he doesn’t mind when you have plans with your friends but just make sure to make time for him

it’ll make him feel lonely if your out having fun and he’s just sitting around with the realization that he has no friends

that’s not in the troupe anyway

its like despite being in the troupe you’d still manage to find a somewhat normal life

he kind of envies that

to be able to still have a sort of morals and such

and not be alienated, y’know?

having a sense of self, in a way.

he does suggest more indoor or private dates and activities

and as much as you love him you just would prefer going out and doing something fun

so he finds loop wholes :)

mounting climbing! your still out and about but your alone!

and since your in the troupe he doesn’t worry about falling much

seeing as though you can handle your own

still keeps and eye out for you though

especially if your not the strongest physically

you also put forth effort for more one on one dates

like watching movies in the bed

its perfect for when your sleepy especially

like you have a whole routine of fun yet tiring mini adventures

and then you get to come back and cuddle with your lover 💗

isn’t that sweet?!

your probably a physically affectionate person

you can give him as much affection in private as you want

with just you two, you can kiss on the cheek, lips, forehead, hands, neck, hug him, cuddle, whatever!

in public it’s more so just occasional cheek kisses, holding onto his arm and holding hands

sometimes you turn things into a game or your just really playful

splashing in the supposed to be a romantic bath

hoping on his back and making him give you a piggyback ride on what was supposed to be a romantic walk

he loves you though, so he never says anything about it

it doesn’t really irk him like that anyway

its another one of those

‘it’s you, so it’s endearing’ moments

buys you all kinds of gifts

typical for chrollo headcanons but i just had to mention it

oh did i say buy?

i meant steal

its not like you don’t know or anything

especially since your in the troupe yourself

i will say pda is hands off in front of the troupe

hes the boss, and your boss, and needs to keep up a reputation

he’s cried in front of the troupe before in that one scene

so it’s not really him being afraid to be vulnerable

it’s just that this is business

he needs to focus

not kisses and cuddles right now. okay honey?

he talks over the troupe’s next moves with you before telling the other members

even more so if your highly intelligent or good at planning

alr im gonna end it here<3

it’s a little bit short but i think it’s a decent length🧍‍♀️. anyway i’m gonna work on some more drafts now cyaa! hope you enjoyed💓