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sugar-petals · 2 years

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boyfriend!KAI HAVERTZ: d u a l i t y (m.)

↳ ⎡ a chaotic headcanon all about kai’s sweet and sexy sides. 🌿

# word count. 7.9k

☼ genre. established relationship au, fluff/humor, smut

WARNINGS. ⚠️ hurt and comfort, x fem!reader, mature themes + explicit language (minors dni), romance mixed with thirst & possessiveness lite, oral sex: both receiving, pretty boy/prince kink (oof), sub!kai if you squint, brief mentions of alcohol and online harassment, body shaming

♡ 【ＮＯＴＥ】› every now & then i emerge from my cave to write for the sports fandom. i usually create football intro posts, today it’s plot and banter ✍️ featuring guess who: the supermodel incarnate. a handsome mf too fascinating not to create a detailed universe about (yep, sit back and snack a pretzel). since this football season couldn’t be any more stressful - holy hell 💀🤕 - here comes the soft!kai wholesomeness, some juicy nsfw distraction while we’re at it, and a big portion of unhinged crack. in that sense, hope this has something entertaining for everyone. enjoy!

read on AO3

being constantly head over heels for each other is your couple energy. my goodness me, the reaction of your friends is absolutely tell-tale. they’re either going ‚aww… never seen anything like this‘ or ‚oh my god just get a room, ye freakin’ lovebirds!‘. it’s always either-or, which is where the dual nature of the whole relationship already shows. it radiates the ultimate comfort, but also… hell yeah, electrifies. that just can’t get boring. the topic of having two sides of a coin is pretty much the red ribbon of kai and you being together, and there’s a lot to say about it.

kai is a model boyfriend in every meaning of the word. a textbook cuddly romeo slash elven king /and/ an actual model stunner (geez, all that body — he’s just a masterpiece). oh, lucky you. but, even if you’re always glued to one another, you are also decisively independent people by the sheer force of irony. this goes down at the flick of a switch to suit your individual needs. kai is always in the know. you figured out in mere weeks just how to respect each other’s me zone. you’re the type to run around attached at the hip with a couple scarf at the christmas market, but also stray apart for your own business all the time when needed. makes for a nice balance. no pressure, but also no sense of feeling desolate.

if you crave your alone time, your tall ass babe — who’s really good at picking up on those things — is suddenly busy with training, paperwork, or dozing off for days like he’s now sleeping beauty. cute, pretty, gorgeous, lovely, showstopping, never done before. that way, you can live out your hermit fantasy the way you want. going feral in nature, driving your bike around anywhere, or wrapping yourself into a blanket burrito to just live online for days and days. he won’t bother you. kai himself is the type to seek retreat for healing time with his animals, you’re similar in that regard. his social media is switched off for a day or two, the phone’s for emergencies: just for him to return back home with some hay in his hair, ready to be obsessed with each other all over again.

from the outside, this might seem like an on-and-off process to a perfect stranger, but it isn’t. you really yearn for one another in the distance, and never really part for longer than a week. if possible, with a schedule of that scale. the separation being involuntary… is a different thing. repeated away matchdays without you attending the stadium are hell for needy kai who’s gonna be in a terrible unkissed mood walking and talking and looking like he morphed into some kind of lovesick robot with the exterior of kai lukas havertz. the poor lil’ babycakes honestly, he doesn’t deserve that. his teammates are always gonna hear one sentence. i miss my girlfriend, i feel so bad. it’s common knowledge that he’s perfectly capable of being a productive citizen, but the no-gf days just put his brain into a blender. you do your best being patient and send pics of you nestled into his jerseys, or random memes to bridge the time. it helps for an hour, but not a whole weekend. when germans are feeling all alone, they turn into tragic broken 18th-century poets that ran out of ink. it’s the great havertzian existential crisis, oh boy.

this shit’s gonna eat him up from the inside. you have to be with each other in person. other people around him will also start to feel the longing as if it’s their own. kai is definitely wiping away some tears when he’s switching off the light by himself in a random hotel room. dizzy from jetlag and his body hurt, he then so painfully realizes again and again how it’s precious time lost with you. if he’s not already on video call, your woeful honey boy looks through his camera roll three times a day just to see you smile or prank him for breakfast, announcing you will stan fc cologne. every picture you drop on socials is a holy grail. without his gf brainrot, kai simply cannot function. truth is, he feels incomplete when there’s no ongoing comments to sincerely tell him he’s so sweet and pretty an obnoxious amount of times a day. at least ten times. sixty is your record. forty to go. you know the drill. records exist to be broken.

and don’t think you’re the only one, showering him with compliments like that. kai is always the first to interact — even when he’s on pitch getting axed by yet another witless defender, your man carries his phone in the other hand retweeting your latest one-liners. he often types out a whole emotional paragraph but deletes it before hitting send. kai’s gonna say it to you the next time you’ll sleep with each other (which is always under the category ‚very soon‘, so don’t worry). instead, his messages are to the point. he knows heart emojis you didn’t even know existed. this man is a walking notification squad, he’s whipped, he hypes you up, he needs you, he’s fanboying 24/7, he will do anything for his queen. if you asked him to volley kick none other than break-iano phone-naldo into the rings of neptune to forever keep him floating there for the sake of mankind, he will do it. and yes, he smiles and coos at his screen so unapologetically like he’s reading fluff on ao3. post some pics cuddling the dogs? he’s blowing up your devices with likes and excited yelling in two seconds.

and meanwhile, in your world: everyone in your social environment is gonna be bombarded with the ‚i miss my idiot so much, why is he not here‘ faces of yours on the regular. even if you don’t say it out loud, everybody knows. it’s incredibly obvious to all your friends that the lack of your favorite cuddle bug’s presence has left one giant spiritual void. at home, you turn into a cryptid couch potato for days on end, cry-masturbating to some arguably stunning kai nudes (somebody hang ’em in the louvre already) or having sad phone calls at 3AM when it really becomes too unbearable. if it weren’t for the dogs, that house would be too big and too empty. almost spooky, in fact. imagine then the splendid nights when kai returns.

this is gonna be a firework of emotion and rolling around in the sheets. unless the more heated phone calls are concerned, you bet your season ticket that kai has not touched himself otherwise. even under the shower it goes, this doesn’t work man, i just can’t. let’s be real and honest: he’s all wired to you. his dick is like, „not sorry! closed hours until further notice :3“ whenever it doesn’t sense the aura of the queen. he couldn’t get it up with ten blue pills an hour. havertz junior is fast asleep downstairs. kai solely wants his one and only couch potato cryptid and no one else. man, is he in love. the prince of habsburg will really do anything for his goddess. he’ll sell his leg hair. only the scent of your skin makes him flustered and safe, and lord knows kai will always ask to steal a hoodie before going on a journey. he once made the whole chelsea bus yearn for love when he wrapped the sleeves around his upper body in his deep sleep while talking to the sweater. he also mumbled something hot which we’re not gonna recite here. play sucker for you by the jonas brothers: that’s exactly the theme.

yeah, let’s talk about some more uplifting bits as well, all in good humor. when it comes down to it, one of the best parts of the famous kai duality is that he is both a consummate living glam boy toy straight out of a 2010’s haircut magazine, but also a 100% trophy boyfriend kinda type. all built into one person, shoutout to his parents. they really created something. taking the trophy part literal here: give it up for the big game player, he has a few. regardless, and goddamn, doesn’t he kinda qualify as a glittering trophy himself? because he’s bedazzled with wonderfulness and the whole world wants to win his heart, badum-tss.

you’re very proud of him always. he has you dishing out the cutesy forehead kisses for real. theoretically. his forehead is way up high there, and the bean already has back problems from bending to tie his shoe laces (his dogs decide to help him out frequently). not to mention from carrying the entire ‚only romantic guy in a 1000 mile radius‘ agenda on his back. so, kissing his knees is also okay. easy to reach. they need some TLC from all the running and bruises, win-win scenario. and who said knees aren’t attractive. you’re gonna be out there routinely flirting with your baby in his DMs like oh hello, setting another standard there my westphalian prince, god of all leg and foot, your revealed ankles would have truly caused a scandal in the victorian age tabloids. like come on, we have to dig up the truth: every proper wag has a full-fledged leg and foot fetish. legs are literally 90% of her man’s job. do you think she won’t notice? and even if you did not once think about shit like sexy blue football shoes and a perfectly fitted pair of socks before: your boyfriend’s body changed your mind.

nice leggies aren’t even the tip of the iceberg with kai. boy can just stand there and it tells anyone that 1) your flirting game is A+ and truly unhinged, otherwise you’d not be able to bring him along now, 2) your taste is maybe a tiny bit bizarre but most definitely amazing, and 3) the viscount of vampire castle aachen is quite clearly yours. he’s clinging to you all the time anyways. moth to the flame, white dog hair to black fabric sweater. people on the street are gonna assume he is in mortal danger because kai is the type to hold onto you for dear life just as a habit. he walks while hugging you. he sits while hugging you. not even the most oblivious person will be confused as to who he belongs with, and who he came with. oh well. i’ll say it. literally came with. you know exactly what i mean. this is one hell of a physical relationship.

anyway. more on that later, basics first. talk about clothes again: you always have matching couple shirts. eyecatching, fashionable ones. you were the one picking them out: because of your faultless sense of detecting things that look super exquisite, as evidenced by your choice of sexy partner. you seriously got a feel for it, though. i’m not kidding. anyone can tell from a fucking mile away: these people color coordinated the living shit out of their fashion game, it’s them against the world. kai’s instagram is plastered in ‚#dressed by gf‘ captions, january to december and back again. the unspoken rule remains: there’s no person more taken than this man.

you do style the fuck outta him. he is your canvas. a mannequin. a statue. the male kate moss in flesh. all-black paris fashion week coats or a sweet peach-colored hoodie, he can do both. his duality extends to everything. you can put some square glossy sunglasses on him, a zip-up jumpsuit, he can rock a fancy umbrella, golden watches, high maintenance felt jackets, sophisticated chelsea boots (ah, perfect) with pointed toes, or straight up cheeky see-through detail blouses like he’s sir lewis hamilton doing a track walk on his home circuit, ready to take pole position. kai looks so good and fucking stylish.

[important editorial note: let us be perfectly distinguished and not cause a shitstorm. subject sir lewis is still the superior power dresser and undisputed sports world fashion king. we live in a democracy, and this is a football post, but nobody can contest this objective fact. he showed up at the met gala dressed as a fancy groom with an entirely transparent bridal lace gown layered underneath. he accepted his GQ award in a sexy grey bdsm harness (omg, can kai please start wearing things like that). he wears a different color every day of the year, no exceptions. he goes the extra mile for custom tailoring. he gives us something to look at. he is a spectacle. he has the best ponytail in formula 1 history. he even makes his own fashion and it’s all vegan. plus, in this dead boring day and age, lewis seems to be the only person left on the planet who knows what a proper pattern is and is not afraid to use it. do i need to go on? i rest my case. i solemnly swear i did not intend to overshadow the sparkling beauty of sir lewis by praising the venerable subject kai lukas havertz in the same breath.]

you encourage kai to take risks with his outfit and dress gentlemanly, or experimentally, not just in athleisure. kai can go pretty polished. he’s interested in how you select an outfit and goes right along (adding his favorite perfume, kai is the best-smelling person in history). you don’t have to guess: he bodies these looks so hard, serge gnabry was left shaken. the fashion chef himself. and let me tell you. the lovechild of anna wintour and the weeknd is truly the judgiest mf to ever walk the german national team ever since toni ‚beast mode‘ kroos retired, so his approval truly means something. serge likes all of kai’s fashion insta posts like it’s his morning newspaper. as if he wasn’t famous enough, kai attracts some major clout for how he is your haute couture muse, and turns even more heads than he usually does. everybody wants to sneak a peak. kai can deliver some major en-vogue moments because he has the combination of build and attitude, and the gorgeousness of the face simply cannot be hidden. facts.

kai has no problem that you’re a wee bit possessive at times, the „that’s my lovely man right here“ style. it’s charming to him. loyalty and a clear sense of belonging are super important in kai’s little private world, always, always, always. you’re never gonna give up on him, and so will he. don’t even think about him abandoning you for an arbitrary influencer from california beach so-and-so. remember, his favorite words are my girlfriend. he drops that a hundred times a day in any conversation. anyone from the outside would be hard-pressed to ignore his devotion. and you? will bust anyone’s ass if they tried to harass him and steal kai from you. when your prince gets fouled, the spirit of manager tuchel enters your body, making you run onto the field to book the player yourself. pardon, that was a joke. it’s the spirit of manager /kepa/ that enters you.

kai needs a strong hand to begin with, but a gentle one, which is another paradox about him. your resident vampire prince without caring physical affection is like cherry pie without the cherries, timo werner without the speed, jorginho without penalties, and lukaku without inter. listen, this man is touchy touchy. he needs his curly hair stroked and his tiny waist hugged all the time, he needs someone to fend for him, stick up for him, and warn him not to hit his head when the door frame is low. when you’re not home to smooch his marks and sore spots, he feels terribly isolated. but he also doesn’t want to be patronized, or be a manchild to you. you doubt the latter is achievable, but you’re not gonna aggressively direct his life, that’s not gonna happen. your philosophy is, gotta observe the person how they treat beloved animals and close acquaintances, and that’s how they wanna be treated. it’s obvious as fuck by how kai goes about handling his interest in donkeys or dogs.

one day he is shy and unsure, needing nothing short of your protection; your five minute embraces and kisses and tender words, your advice and your strength and your guidance. the other day, he’s confident and enduring, that goes for anything. he will shoulder all of your troubles, he will rebuke the haters, he is wise, he stands tall and sexy. this aspect of his duality is the most insane. how kai can go from let-me-stand-behind-you pupper to silky radiant wonderboy with the hands on his hips pose. kai’s duality in terms of esteem is pretty interesting and keeps the two of you on your toes, that’s for sure. a lot of people can’t handle someone who is both so seemingly vulnerable yet glamorously poised, but you chose kai and you own that shit.

he has an unbreakable calm (with a mind as empty as mendy’s goal), but is also batshit crazy. your camera roll is proof how there’s no limit to king kai’s facial expressions, nor is there a limit to how far he can stick out his tongue. lord have mercy when his weird ass meme-ing mimicry turns sexual and picks up on what you did together last night. he has one um unique o-face rendition he’s pulling to make you laugh, but don’t tell anyone. meanwhile, the chill he has in front of the goal translates to everyday conversations as if nothing happened. his sexual side is strictly bedroom and strictly texting. other people won’t catch him saying something explicit to you or about you in interviews or locker rooms.

kai is very ardent, stubborn, bitchy, and cranky when it comes to moral and ethical issues. it’s always clear to you he already made up his mind and stands up for what is right. this dude got a major backbone (literally. his spine is just so fucking long, oh christ). and on the other hand: kai is the most unbothered babycakes on the planet. when the situation calls for it, he looks like he doesn’t give a fuck, and he talks like he doesn’t give a fuck, he says that he doesn’t give one either, but ironically, he often does. he can’t pretend, he can’t lie to you, you see right through anyway. but the unbothered part is still true to some degree. sometimes, he always asks you to decide the most random stuff for him because he has no stance. he’s either 100% decided (e.g. on the fact that dogs deserve the world) or a floating blob with no preference at all (die or das nutella. classic german grammar debate. he shrugged it off as unsolvable.). it’s hilarious how his mentality works.

a trouble-rousing part of his duality has to do with age. after all, kai is still very, very, very young, a duckling fresh out of the pond — but seems a whopping decade older than being actually 22, especially when combined with his on-pitch mannerism or a nice black suit. people make fun of you because your boyfriend is so extremely skinny and taut in the face, or has the type of heavy glance that’s easily dubbed as uninterested, haughty, or weak. that he comes across as ‚completely spent‘ or ‚comes around looking fucked up‘ is something that gets thrown your way pretty often. you know he’s not built like leon ‚the rock‘ goretzka or glows with beaming joy like n’golo kante’s soft cutie cheeks. that’s obvious. he’s just born that way, his way, duh. but the whole critique still doesn’t sit right with you, especially since the jab is aimed at you as a couple, so the insult is double. attacking your boyfriend’s appearance is a no-go. that gives you fury.

you like that kai has a mature look to him. being a babyface heartthrob wouldn’t really suit him, let’s be realistic. his look is unique. actually, you didn’t even think too much about that until people brought it up. a face like that, why not, though? and why is it up for debate? in your eyes, kai is just kai. your cuddly boyfriend with the nice curls. he doesn’t have to look like a disney breakout star, or be ‚easy on the eye‘, or be an SLB (sweet liddol bean) at the beginning of his journey. if people want something like that, they should look elsewhere and consider the living SLB embodiment that is none other than jamal musiala. stan jamal, people.

kai’s no longer a teenage dream either, he’s of frickin’ age. he still needs a bit of bubble wrap, mostly to protect him from stumbling over his own legs, but not a fuckton of it. and, vice versa: that he’s not endless decades older than you is something you consider a pro to begin with, not a vicious con. what’s wrong with a man not being settled in life, you don’t even know what the standard is supposed to be. césar azpilicueta? and he’s a godly stupendous unmatched ideal 99% of the population can’t even remotely reach! loser or winner, you want kai.

everyone is in their own phase, all generations need one another. you enjoy that kai is young and new to the wide world out there. you don’t shame him for not being perfectly experienced, or super bossed up like he runs everything. it’s what is nice and endearing about him. he’s edgy and sexy and he learns from mistakes, looks up to others, works hard on himself, is on eye level (unless it comes to knowledge about donkeys, but you give that one to him). and, the elephant in the room when it comes to long-term relationships — him being very young means, hello: a lot more years to spend together! best believe your boyfriend’s not going anywhere anytime soon. kai hates relationship instability. he’s already made up his mind to go the distance. is his name manuel neuer? because he’s a keeper.

his age also softens any power imbalances, and: he’s in the best possible hormonal phase to be in love with making out. kai's really affectionate. what’s not to like. his age is an all-around advantage. you can come up with 29 more reasons on the fly. but also, how old he is doesn’t have to be a topic day in and day out. in your couple time, you haven’t talked about it at length more than once or twice. it’s not an earth-shattering fact to you, and everybody ages every day anyway, time flies. baby kiki (that’s how his mom calls him, you learned) will be adult kai havertz in a blink of his handsome eye anyway.

if people think he’s just a useless gay gen z bitchboy or a james charles football copy with acne, it’s on them: and you can enjoy the very fact that you’re dating a dashing cutie for yourself at the end of the day, and he dates you. that’s what it’s all about. you like him with the scarring and not just without, you think it’s sweet how he’s popular with guys wherever he goes, and that he has a structured face a camera broadcasting him to a world audience would love… is absolutely a compliment. oh honey you got all of this, and all that stellar body, too. 190 centimeters of good boy, 6’3 of sex god. who wins.

you get super defensive firing out arguments to protect kai regardless. admittedly, and that’s a guilty pleasure, you have slayed many a twitter troll like you're thiago silva’s wife. if you see some vitriol blowing up in the fandom and it crosses your feed, you’re suddenly the danny devito meme that goes so anyway i started blasting 😏💥. last week you got into an ugly tweet fight about kai's physique and began ranting that how he won’t gain weight or superhero level muscle is neither his fault nor his obligation, and if his face is exhausted, well, who’s working hard! and, while we’re at it, guess who stays up extra time at night to make his girlfriend very loved and happy? taking both his job and his relationship seriously, you know, like a great person.

you just kept dragging people left and right all day like, just get out, the uninterested look is a damn sexy bedroom gaze, by the way, learn to differentiate. kai just knows how to be seductive all the time, got a problem with that? also, no, he’s not a plastic prince, that bone structure is very real and not some wobbling derma filler shit, you tested, officially, with kisses, that’s a real fucking jaw. the brows are naturally this way, too, kai slays, he looks just fine, thank you very much. you can feel not attracted to him, but that’s no excuse to critiquing his health from your limited standpoint.

and hey, maybe, coincidentally, you know, he’s not like uh ‚radiant‘ or whatever because you sitting on his face all the time blocks out the sun with all those essential vitamin d nutrients so that’s on you. let it be known to the plebeians that the royal viscount of aachen prefers to live in the shadow. so there’s that. the raving mob of king kai fangirls and fanboys agreed and hit retweet, the haters ran for the hills after you dropped your tirade, news outlets just loved the fodder, kai felt very assured and honored, and you were moving on. no time for body-shaming. you think he’s as handsome as it gets, and not „despite xyz“, but „because xyz“. and anyone who tries to devalue his red hot appearance needs to mind their own messy biz. in a perfect world, kai would be flamed for his strange t-rex arm posing and wild rolling eyes in other people’s instagram videos, and yet he gets shit like that! this is just draining.

alas, you concede one thing. at one point, you had to admit that kai is a questionable dancer. jorginho will beat him in any tiktok battle on god, and rüdiger will shake his hip literally once and obliterate kai in five seconds. at the same time, kai is gifted with levels of foot- and leg-related skills that most other human beings can and will never even fathom. add even more hand-eye-foot coordination since he’s playing the piano… he’s gaming… he’s into formula 1 simulation… he has a lot of sex with you to practice getting really great at it… there i said it, the list goes on. he’s a physical wunderkind but also the world’s worst twerker.

last week he uploaded a recent ass parade on reels. people took to the comments writing stuff like, nothing jiggles here omg, you think your ass is austria but it’s actually the netherlands. kai replied c’mon, i’m working on it! he hates the gym but honey boy will go and try to conjure a 3D booty. tell mason to go join him and kai will stay motivated, as well as have a frame of reference. on the other hand: as i said. you like kai the way he is. everything is already in place how it should be. no improvement necessary. he couldn’t walk around flaunting a massive eden dumptruck without looking a little weird and unbalanced, could he. the only person who can pull off those #insane (hint, hint) legs and a great behind at that height is who? leroy sané. he gets a free pass. leroy’s ass and figure are top-notch. he is the moment. but we digress. the old rule remains, kai looks pretty head to toe. his name is fine. mighty fine.

more duality in the house of havertz… we’re getting more nsfw here. surprise surprise, you love to be very sexually active with him. he’s too hot not to be. the release is amazing, the couple time perfect. you are beyond infatuated with this man’s vibes and body, there’s no way you’re not fucking him back and forth all day every day, from deep and loving to wild and passionate because he is just sizzling and stunning and delicious. and when i say wild, i mean wild. kai is gonna forget in which direction the opposing goal stands after you fucked him brainless shortly before kickoff. you’re gonna scream from the edge of your stadium seat, oh god, my prince, please run the other way, your name is not mats hummels!

and then, oh wonder. kai is the most monk-like person in the world. hell, the pope himself. pater havertz innocentius XXIX (= the 29th). someone who’d rather be a farmer, a fisherman, a shepherd. no thoughts of sex in sight sometimes. his pronounced softie side cannot be underestimated. remember: even if the sky is falling down, even when n’golo kante ever stopped smiling (a truly apocalyptical scenario, not even the gods above could save us), even when tumblr wouldn’t know who mason mount was anymore, the day that thomas tuchel became an incompetent manager: kai would remain the last romantic. much like his chiseled bone structure: this is set in stone and marble.

touchy-feely is the word. hugs before fucks. smoochie before coochie. petting before sweating. no dreamy physical contact and a lot of laughter for kai is an absolute libido killer, if not the ultimate deal-breaker, the #1 reason to nag, his princely pet peeve. he needs something to smile about, and he needs comfort. both for the soul and body. you embrace him a lot, cheer him up, and make sure he feels very warm. kai gets cold so easily, it’s ridiculous. heated blankets all the way, baby. the DFB socks stay on during sex. heating bill off the charts. kai wants to have sex not to go from feeling unwell to elated, but he wants everything to feel nice throughout. it’s an extra effort to make sure the atmosphere is perfect, but your boyfriend needs his safe haven like that.

on top of that, he simply cannot have a good romp if he’s worried and preoccupied. kai lukas havertz turns into a sexless creature whenever he’s got a lot on his mind. the stress just kills his boner, and a person who would dismiss him emotionally? wouldn’t even get in the proximity of his pants. he loves you because you get his feelings and opinions most importantly. kai would not go to bed with someone who gave him real weird vibes, even if it was just all carnal, no strings attached. like picture someone who would mistreat animals in front of his eyes. oh my god. or someone who didn’t think about the environment, or tried to be pushy taking advantage when he was feeling messed up. kai is often level-headed, he tries his best thinking positively, but he has his ups and downs, too. he’s your hero for overcoming them. it would suck ass if someone was manipulating that for their own benefits. kai knows he’s someone who has something to offer, so he has to give it very carefully. if you think about it, he has a lot to lose, and it would be easy to break his heart. his sarcasm can only shield him so far. i know this sounds like a lot but yes, kai needs to be touched with velvet gloves; his feelings have to be protected from being played with.

if he were single at this point in time, he would go as far as being drunk and allowing someone to grind up on his lap, but… as soon as he’d trail to a backroom with them and a moment of sobriety would hit, kai’s mood would be ruined if they were not having a working conversation. if he asked them what they would like him to do and got an ‚umm… whatever you want!‘ in reply, he’d feel frustrated. maybe it has something to do with how he’s used to having managers and mentors all his life, since day one. he isn’t wired to say, „that’s how it’s done, deal with it“. to a certain extent, kai needs a partner who tells him what to do. that turns him on. all else is just the cruel underchallenging of a pretty bottom (perfect title for his autobiography so far, would be a million seller).

monk havertz innocentius also descends from his cloister when the weather is too sunny to be ignored. leaving the house and fooling around outdoors together is really important to him. he’s a dog person, remember. if the rain stops in england, the sex can wait. he’s gonna take his less expensive football with him, the one you can kick into some river or a pit of mud from hell. you drive to a hidden place without paparazzi and have endless fun practicing super long passes on a random meadow, somewhere out there. that’s his next best-kept secret: because he can pick up your wonky crosses and strangely angled shots, kai is perfectly prepared to outsmart and anticipate even the most difficult rival teams. like. kai can run after any mile high shot you’re giving him, and even throws himself into said river to retrieve the ball (sexy. he’s hotter than daniel craig crawling back on land with that shirt sopping wet).

mind you: even if it’s tempting, you’re not mad that kai is arguably a hundred times better than you. who cares. you allow each other to shine in your own ways. there are plenty of things and situations where kai needs your input. for instance, when it comes to telling an actual, well-crafted dad joke. his are still a little lame, he admits to it. in any case, i know, this bullet point escalates into a drag-em-all buffet like it’s atleti’s defense. what i wanted to say is that sure, kai is easy to envy, but also easy to cheer on. he doesn’t roast you for looking like the harry maguire to his kevin de bruyne, but works with what you have, and it’s just outdoors football for fun anyways. you’re not a professional player, he has to be the one downsizing his skill here.

talk about envy. you might be playing outside a lot, but you also play… inside. all your friends wish they had their own personal habsburgian heir to go down on them like it’s a won world cup final. everybody wants a kai clone. oh yes. the sexual duality extends to oral in particular. admit you’ve noticed this about him already, you perv. he has a thing for that. one hundred percent. this guy is so possessed by the holy spirit of saliva, blink twice and he’s scoring with a header two times a night. we know that’s kai’s specialty. that’s why everybody wants a piece of your bf, bestie, haven’t you noticed. his rowdy daring tongue knows no time-out.

like. it begs to see the light of day all the time. why is it always hanging out right in everyone’s face, oh my god. it’s naughty, i told you he’s havertz thee stallion. but to your knowledge, that’s his intricate courtship ritual. the more he sticks it out: the more he’s down bad. hold on to your labia because santa kai is coming to town, ready to bestow you with the gift of being a slobbery maniac at cunnilingus. everybody knows that kai is not a coward. and anyone can guess he’s really unusally messy. and even if he was all neat and virginal in the beginning. that the royal ruler of havertia is in the vicinity of crazy people that radiate „i give so much head, it made me nuts“ energy — and i mean the likes of kepa, and out-of-control specimen going by supposedly biblical names such as joshua — literally does not help. one day, kai is gonna feel inspired and lose his mind completely as well.

someone’s gonna go all out between those lovely legs of yours. not an ounce of hesitation from the very start. he’s konfident with a k like kai. he literally knows he’s not gonna embarrass himself. zero performance anxiety, let’s-a-fucking go. this face is an expensive sex toy, and this man is a pussy worshipping machine. at full throttle. how much more can he scream at the top of his lungs that he wants to please and spoil you so fucking badly. his eye contact is going to drive you up the wall, the feel of his nose, the curls between your fingers. oh, have mercy. the curls. the curls! the waves at the shore of the habsburgian empire. he wants you to grip and tug at them, how else are they so long and grabbable. thanks, you’re dripping wet by that thought alone when he’s not home on saturdays.

and that’s only the beginning. he pulls out every ace from up those long ass sleeves he got. kai is gonna wind his whole face around to get fucking covered in you. you know what i’m talking about. he really does that. jesus christ my sire, please don’t get an eye infection. he really knows no bounds to his debauchery. the man who routinely wants to be held carefully in your arms for the entirety of a bus ride is really gonna suck and nip and dip at your clit until you’re screaming out loud. oh, kai. you relentless bitch. but as beyoncé sang. it feels so good to be alive.

a toast to this oral aficionado. this is truly the hardest-working mouth at cobham and we all know it doesn’t mean talkativeness, kai is just impossibly eager to feel you writhe and cum on his tongue between matchdays. yep, i said it. he is that type. he can’t imagine life without giving head. he would just give up, retire himself into a remote barn in the west german countryside, and dry some straw for donkeys to chew on until he’s old and grey. no head, no fun. even if kai’s a little tired, he won’t let that shit stop him. he’s firmly convinced you always deserve your treat, and he’s gonna carpe diem with the limited time you have together. definitely an orgasm chaser here, louder harder stronger, that’s not for everyone. but he’s always aiming high because he wants to make you blissful, and knowing his lil’ weirdo brain inside out: you date him exactly because he works that way. what counts is, you’re moaning and you’re ascending and you’re getting noisy as hell, saint joshua would be so proud of you.

in comes the uno reverse card! you almost forgot this post is about duality, did ya. kai is also one hell of a bj enthusiast like no other. there’s no denying. he’s no less capable on the receiving end: and yes, he considers it hard work. pun intended. boy can keep it hard for minutes and minutes and minutes. the rest is up to you. do whatever you want on and with and to that dick. he does not care. whatever outlandish kinky things you’ve read about in this or that pseudo-scientific article, he’s there to satisfy your greed. come on, i told you he’s a boy toy bottom. kai has huge standards for his own methods, but here? even being completely off with your skills doesn’t faze him. extraterrestrial sounds, bad technique, awkward speed, fuck it. kai says who cares, the fact that it’s resembling a blowjob is enough. if it’s your lips, your throat, your tongue, your chin, your spit, going all over him — he’s in habsburg heaven. his arms are limp on the bed as are his legs, a starfish par excellence. prince kai havertz is actually /pillow/ prince kai. it’s kinda cute, but also hot how he surrenders.

just do your thing how you see fit. he’s dying. crumbling. suffering. disintegrating. corroding to igneous dust. people think that supposedly, kai’s inner spirit already left his body anyway, but this is actually where it happens. he’s very sensitive to having someone really suck him off, especially after a shower when he feels nice and warm and comfortable. and, just so you know, like a true german: he will nitpick with the terminology (ah yes, the return of bitchy kai): „a blowjob is not a deepthroat session is not a facefuck!“ mh, very true, king, very true. these are all different disciplines. you can show him you know which one is which. nuance scores the goal, as does strawberry flavored lube. eureka, what a nice invention, makes the ample buffet even tastier. he’s all groomed and shaved, imagine the glide.

by the way. you will find firsthand factual evidence that he can work his hips for 45 minutes times straight. like not just bucking. really all-out moving like a serpent because this man is a desperate grunting hoe for you. he’s terribly, terribly slutty, like… look at him. your honor, he is thirstier than thomas müller after a match of carrying the entire national team on his back. they’re paying the prince a lot of money so he is able to muster that stamina on the pitch, so you can hold it against him (well — playfully of course). no problem: kai likes a challenge. a good facefuck that lasts a halftime? let’s plot out some stable positions and take it slow. his arms are long enough to reach your clit, he’s gonna have you soaked on either end. he has figured out the right amount of being all inside of you rested across your tongue, or pulled out in the right moments so you can toy around with all the length he’s giving, and kiss it, and lick it good, and tell him exactly how he should move. duh, he’s gonna be like say no more, let me do it for ya.

kai havertz 29 should be kai havertz 69, i’m serious. for a madman sucker of this scope, eating you out while feeling your lips on his tip? he’ll never be the same. 45 minutes, jot that down. to be entirely truthful, yes, he’ll look like you murdered him in cold blood afterwards because he really puts his heart into the flow. but it’ll be worth it. even if that’s going to surprise you, he’s gonna cry his eyes out because it was so unbelievable, and needs some major personal attention, you know, ASMR time. kai and aftercare are inseparable.

and on your part? perfectly happy. you never had to chug this much water in preparation, you never tasted that much prime dick all your life, your lips have never felt stimulated like that, and you haven’t heard a guy moan and gyrate his soul out like this. you’ll never catch yourself mumbling „mh, mh, so good“ like that elsewhere. if you can mumble at all, that is. no time for talk, you want to be busy with your mouth in a different way. that dick is so hard and pretty and flushed and basically „hi, working hours open again!“ because hey. he loves you so much.

all tension will have left your either bodies and you can sleep tight like angels after cleaning up. second shower for kai? even better, he’s snug and warm again. but don’t you think it has to be a marathon every time, okay. here goes the duality all over. if you want ten minutes of intensity and rush, kai will sweetly oblige and ask, „so what’s on the menu, then?“. tongue in cheek, ever the pleaser, ever the teaser. i told you way before, you’re so lucky. quickies are not his top-most specialty, usually because he is the deep and steady type, and calm as you like. it’s you who’s going a little rougher sometimes for good measure, and he’s down for that. kai likes upbeat and energetic people. he won’t accuse you for losing your nerve, he knows he looks like a hottie. but he can catch up with you, i promise, five minutes and he’s giving you a whole damn bucket load to do whatever you want with: gotcha. the german punctuality of it all. with a schedule like that, kai has to learn being organized.

cum play is only the next conclusion to arrive at. the nasty brat is gonna slurp it all off your fingers. the duality of him means he’s not just a romancer but also, kai’s dirty, you can swap it around on your tongues and enjoy the amazing texture. this man has the most controlled diet in the world, baby. of course he tastes astoundingly good. and kai doesn’t have a major gag reflex, bless his horny soul, so you can shove your fingers in his mouth as far as you please. he’s just gonna glare you down and stick his tongue out like it’s nothing. he knows the shit he can take. pity there’s no endless supply of his cum, so he has to practice recovering quickly every round. but we know he’s the prince of recovery, so don’t worry too much about it.

if you really want to know the details. kai has one long veiny dick for the taking, grower not a shower. he has a tendency to cum in waves at once, six to seven slow twitches, with a silky — hah, got ya, this one you won’t ever forget — clean texture. you quickly discovered his favorite way of cumming. that would be you gripping hard above the base, sort of around the middle actually, and working with the upper third, without the lips fully closing so it makes a satisfying wet noise. he doesn’t need you going balls deep. the stimulation and teasing and lip friction are enough. so, among the big three, he likes plain blowjobs the very most, with enough spit and handwork involved. brace yourself, the moans will be heavenly soft and desperate. yeah, he’s extra, and he’s vocal. unless we’re talking safe word system, of course. not many words. they’re not needed. he’s an athlete, he feels it all in his skin and bones, and his kisses will always tell you what you need to know.

the afterglow is exactly as you’d expect. after a ton of shampoo and water went down the drain, you are the classic two-big-towels-wrapped-around-us couple on the living room couch. drying off, the dogs will still stay in the different part of the house, and you will lay there humming and murmuring in silence for a while just to cuddle it all out. but they will join for bedtime when you’re both tucked into each other's serge gnabry-signed stylish PJs. now’s the time to cling and smooch for like half an hour plus. after he’s done making some silly faces, kai keeps talking and talking, staying pressed firmly against you with his eyes closed. then you keep talking and talking, until you’re both drifting off into the twilight zone. it’s just a nice and protected atmosphere. the dogs are curled up on the duvets, and so are you underneath. sleeping beauty kai is back.

you went crazy in the sheets, and now you’re right there glued together. as the germans love to say: same procedure as every year. well, every week, in this case. when you look at him doze off next to you, kai’s so cute, like the senior puppy in this bed. like, a comically elongated pupper, 6’3 is one hell of a doggo if you think about it, but since he’s in a fetal pretzel position now, it sort of counts. it’s easy to snooze that way when you spoon him, and there’s nothing left to be desired. oh, he’s the bestest boy, you can attest. and you do realize. kai is an amazing boyfriend in more ways than just being really soft on the one hand, and super sexy on the other. it’s the whole package deal we’re talking about. it’s the truth, your tall loving prince just has a lot of good things to offer.

ao3 crosspost

››››› ♥ multifandom masterlist ♥

【 final note.】my contribution to mending the chelsea heartbreak, i hope you liked this wild ass ride and enjoyed your snack. excuse any editing/spelling mistakes or related grammar issues, i happen to be german myself 🇩🇪 thank you for reading, i’m sure i’ll post some more football stuff during world cup season, in the meantime leave a comment/tag or so 👋 - caro

#kai havertz #kai havertz x reader #germany nt #chelsea fc #kai havertz headcanon #kai havertz x y/n #football imagine #kai havertz fluff #kai havertz smut #kai havertz memes #football #cfc #german national team #kai havertz fanfic #kai havertz imagine #chelsea imagine #chelsea memes #long post #hope the tags work so the kai squad will find this

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

this is so completely random and unprompted (sense the sarcasm as the tommy thighs live in my mind rent-free since the first pic of pants-less tom content) but would you please indulge me with a thigh riding blurb with some dom!tom vibes? maybe a bit of praise k*nk in there, too, if that floats your boat? soft!dom!tom...oui. anyways love u + thanks for letting me sin bye <3

his thighs... they’re just something else. i think i was possessed when i wrote this lmao. wc: 2k // 18+ content minors dni!!!!!!

extended warnings ↠ slight dom!tom + praise kink, thigh riding. tom holland’s thighs, because they deserve a warning of their own.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’re bored.

Tom’s house out in Atlanta is huge, and when he’s not stowed away in the office doing online press, there’s never normally a dull moment. You usually find some way to entertain yourself, be that pestering your boyfriend for attention or filling your time with work. Just, it’s a Saturday, and you have nothing to do, and Tom’s been away all day.

After spending the morning catching up with friends and refreshing social media until you have the spinning reload sign flashing behind your eyes, you resort to texting Tom. Down in the office—or the press room, as he’s come to call it—his phone is on silent, so you don’t need to worry about interrupting something. He’s been trading selfies with you all day, providing small snapshots of his socks, his hair, his setup whenever he catches a break. The little teases have only made your yearning worse.

Y/N: when do you finish? Y/N: I’m bored and I miss you :(

You lay back on your bed as you wait on a response, chewing your lip slightly as your hands play with the sheets. Your expression darkens as you look to the side, seeing the throw pillows discarded on the floor and remembering intimate times gone by.

You’ve been in a mood all day, the space between your legs warm. Every time you get bored, your mind wanders, and you’ve been very bored today. The front of your panties feels damp, your body tortured by the memories of last night. It’s a never-ending montage of Tom’s hair brushing your neck, his lips on your breasts, his greedy hands grabbing at your waist. You almost moan as you remember how he’d held you down last night and made love to you until you’d cried, your skin slick with sweat and your mind gone too. He never fails to bring you to the heights of pleasure you’d never thought existed.

Tom: on a break just now if you want to come down Tom: think there’s ten minutes before the next one x

It doesn’t take long for you to get to the office, your feet moving of their own accord. When you open the door, Tom glances back, and you feel your breath catch in the back of your throat.

He looks good. Tom is handsome, and you always enjoy looking at him, but with his torso covered in a tight black shirt and blazer and his hair styled in loose waves on the top of his head, he looks incredibly dashing. He flashes you a mischievous smile as he reaches up to pull the AirPods from his ears, his Rolex glinting beneath the bright studio lights that illuminate his setup.

“Afternoon, darling,” he says. He turns in the chair, swinging an arm over the back of it as he watches you enter the room, closing the door behind you. “How are you?”

You bite your lip, shameless eyes skating over his form. Tom stands to greet you, and your eyes widen, falling to his bare legs. “Why are you half-naked?” you ask, the tip of your nose scrunching up as you chuckle. You meet him in the centre of the room, wrapping your arms around his warm torso before pulling him in for a light hug, being mindful of his pressed suit.

“Comfier,” he explains. “Too hot in all of that. Gets fucking boiling in here.” Tom’s hands smooth up to your hair, and he gently coaxes you from his chest, peering down at you with those brown eyes you love so much. “Gimme a kiss, lovie.”

Eager to feel him, you step closer and lean in, finding his lips in an easy kiss. The moment your mouth makes contact with the soft warmth of Tom’s pillowy lips, you feel yourself melt, the heat coming back to your core almost immediately. You reach up and drape your arms around his neck, getting in as close as you can as you part your lips, licking over his lower lip until he takes the bait and easily slips his tongue into your mouth.

Tom grunts when you play with the back of his hair, tugging on his strands as your tongues glide together. His hands are on your waist, and you find yourself moaning into his mouth when he slips his fingers beneath your shirt and lets them roam all over your figure. As he kisses you, his hands shift up your torso, lingering at your breasts and groping them eagerly.

“No bra?” he moans against you. You whimper as he brushes his thumbs over your nipples, making him chuckle. “Fuck, love,” he murmurs, “eager today, aren’t you?”

You pull away from him, panting for breath. “Yeah,” you admit, not even trying to be coy about it. Time is of the essence, and you know exactly what you want. One of Tom’s warm hands skates down your figure, and your abdomen flexes as his fingers trail over your skin, his blunt fingernails lightly tickling your stomach as he travels to your cunt. “Tom,” you say, voice catching. “Please.”

He’s teasing you, eyes on your face as he slides his hand beneath your shorts and teases his fingers over the front of your panties. With a torturously light touch, he rolls his index finger over the front of your slit.

“God,” he murmurs, leaning in to roughly kiss your jaw. “You’re soaked.”

Your eyes threaten to roll back as he rubs you over the cotton, touch light but enough to bring you the smallest amount of pleasure. You grab at his firm bicep, a choked whine travelling up your throat.

“Tom.”

“Mmm? What do you want, darling? You know we don’t have much time.” Tom’s got a dark glint in his eyes, and it only deepens when he finally shifts your panties to the side and lets his fingers envelop your silky folds. You gasp when he dips his index and middle fingers down to your entrance, pushing into the warmth of your arousal before spreading it up to your bud. He’s quick to tease your clit, cooing softly as you struggle to speak. “Use your words, gorgeous girl. I want to give you what you want, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what that is.”

“Fuck me,” you ask, voice catching as he speeds up his circles.

“No time, darling.” Tom frowns when he sees you pout, and with the hand not between your legs, he reaches up to play with your lower lip. After a moment’s contemplation, he slips his fingers into your mouth. You suck them in further, glad for their heavy presence weighing down your tongue and enjoying how their girth muffles your moans. “I have an idea. C’mere.”

Before you have time to complain, Tom has pulled away from you, leaving your aching cunt alone and your mouth empty. He walks to the green sofa in the back of the room and collapses onto it with ease, smirking up at you as he parts his legs. He looks wide and domineering, spread out, awaiting you, with his bare thighs rippling and on display. His muscles are clear and defined, packed tight in firm ridges against his golden skin. Just the sight of him patting one of them with his hand is enough to make you salivate.

“Ride it,” he encourages, beckoning you forth with a smirk. He tilts his watch towards his face, squinting as he stares at the metal. “You have three minutes to cum, or you’ll need to wait. I won’t be finished for another two hours.”

Eyes widening, you move over to him, pausing in front of your boyfriend to push down your shorts and your panties. Tom reaches out for you, his warm palms sinking into the curves of your hips as he helps you into his lap. He sits up against the sofa, reaching down to grab at your shirt as you work on straddling his thigh. You settle over his left leg, a loud moan trembling up your throat as you lower yourself and your slit presses against the firmness of his skin.

“Oh,” you moan, tossing your head back. Tom pulls your shirt over your head, his face dropping down until he’s able to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You cry out as you slowly grind down against his leg, his skin quickly getting coated in the arousal that covers your slit. Each time he nibbles your nipple, he follows up the action with a warm lap of his tongue, and the noises you elicit rise in pitch.

“Pretty girl,” Tom murmurs, leaving your chest and replacing his mouth with a hand. The other goes to your hip, and he helps you swirl your hips a little faster, his eyes almost black. “Look so fucking hot getting off on my leg, darling. So needy.” His accent is prominent as he watches you, smirking. “You’re my needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You fall forwards, panting into his neck as your forehead rests on his shoulder. Tom’s lips kiss the top of your head, grounding you as the pleasure starts to build. There’s an indescribable warmth spreading across your core, stemming from where your clit rubs up against his muscular thigh. The pleasurable burn of the friction makes you whimper.

“Yeah,” you pant, after taking a few moments to muster your breath. You gasp when Tom tenses his leg, his muscular thigh pressing up against you. “Fuck,” you whimper. “Feels so good, Tom. You’re so strong.”

He’s rolling both hands over your hips now, and one of them slips up to trace across your bare back. He holds you tightly to his chest, even as your breathing becomes irregular, continuing to guide your movements as you grow uneven. You can feel your orgasm twisting in the pit of your stomach, feel the temperature of your blood rising as it builds between your legs. With each grind of your wet cunt against his thigh, the pressure builds, every part of you aching for release.

“My darling girl,” Tom murmurs. “Are you going to make a mess all over my leg?” When you release a clouded moan, he chuckles. “I know you are. It’s okay. I can feel you squirming, baby. I know you can’t wait.” He drops his voice, rasping into your ear as you shake in his lap. “Go on, love. Be a good girl and let go. Get my thigh all wet. There you go.”

Your jaw slackens, and his words push you over the edge. You squirm over Tom’s sturdy thigh, glad for his strong hands on your hips as they guide your movements when you get lost in the pleasure. Your moans intersperse with his name, and you collapse against him as your high rolls across you, flooding you with intense, pulsing pleasure.

“There you go,” he murmurs, kissing over the side of your face until you eventually pry yourself away from him. Tom smiles at you, dragging his lips across your cheek to find your lips. It’s a sweeter kiss, and you pour in your gratitude. “Sweet girl.”

Your lips twitch into a smile as you look up at him, appreciating the lines of his handsome face and the adoration that sparkles in his eyes.

“Thank you,” you say. “I—”

Both of you startle as a ringing sound cuts through the air, and you turn around to see the computer on the desk lighting up with an incoming call.

“Oh, fuck,” Tom mutters. He kisses you, briefly but with intention, then stumbles to his feet. “How do I look?”

You follow him to your feet, quickly pulling on your clothes before walking to him. “Perfect,” you say, once you’ve adjusted the collar of his suit jacket. You press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Good luck, handsome.”

Tom nods, eyes skittering across your form. He shoots you a wink before falling back into the chair, looking over his shoulder at you as you walk towards the door. “Be ready for later,” he calls out. “I’m not done with you yet.”

#suffering #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #smut #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.filth

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calpops · 3 years

Text

missing pieces | c.h.

A big family gathering before Christmas leaves you contemplating the missing pieces in your life. The people who matter most help you through it.

2k words

Day 10 of 12 dates with calmas | dates with cal masterlist

❅ ❅ ❅

Everyone is gathered around the table. Calum’s parents, Mali, Ashton, Luke, Michael and their respective partners. Mila sits in her reclined high chair right next to you and Calum; she’s still too small for a proper high chair and too young for solid food. But everyone loves her company at the table and fawns over her without faltering. Calum reaches for your hand while he keeps one on Mila, the near six month old entertained by her dad’s little tickles and boops on the nose. There’s a happiness inside of you as you take in all of the guests for your Christmas celebration. But as you keep looking around a hollow wound begins to open and ache again. Not everyone is here. You bite your lip and bite back emotions threatening to bubble over. You don’t want to ruin the evening.

“I can’t believe how big she’s gotten,” Calum’s mother coos from across the table.

Both you and Calum don’t see her as growing. You still see the baby fighting for life in an incubator, your daughter that could fit in one hand. You know she must be growing, getting stronger and smarter and more adept to the world around her. But you don’t see it yet. The changes are so gradual that when you’re with her everyday they slip past your eyes.

“She’s still my little girl,” Luke says and everyone shoots him a look.

“No, she’s my little girl,” Calum corrects around a laugh and shaking head. “Someone needs to get you your own baby before you try to take mine.”

Luke blushes but not in the humbleness of trying to claim Mila. He shrugs and waves a hand through the air to downplay Calum’s suggestion.

“If she’s anybody’s…” Mali says and trails off to look at you with a smile.

That warms your heart though you know it’s only half true. As much as Mila is yours she’s Calum’s too. You both love her with all of your hearts and as far as you can tell she loves you both equally. If she’s not with both of you she’s with one or the other. Calum pulled her first laugh from her but he often reminds you she first smiled at the mention and sight of you. Everyone simmers back into Christmas conversation, asking about presents for Mila and plans for the big day. Calum goes nonchalant and you catch the forced casualty but don’t question it; so much else is already on your mind.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” Calum asks in a whisper pressed to your ear.

You nod, downplaying the fact that you’re not sure about that answer. It amazes you he can pick up on the subtleties in your mood even when you try to mask it with all of your might. You steel yourself, try to shake away the crushing feeling pressing down on you at two empty chairs. You squeeze Calum’s hand and quietly stand to get Mila in your arms.

“I’m gonna go feed her,” you explain and gently take her to you and quietly disappear down the hallway.

Calum sits back in his chair and quietly muses over what to do. He thinks he knows what’s going on, eyes trailing to the same two chairs that were once in your sights. He knows you have Mila and wonders if maybe you want space from the event around you or space from everyone.

“Everything alright?” Ashton asks, his seat diagonal to Calum’s, his ability to pick up on his best friend’s distress a natural talent.

“I’m not sure,” Calum answers honestly and stands to excuse himself and go figure it out. “I’ll be back.”

He roams down the hall quietly but quickly. The door to the nursery is open and the room is empty. He moves past it to your bedroom door that stands shut. He doesn’t hear anything and while it would normally be a sign of relief a little tremble of anxiety slices through him. Usually you’d be murmuring to Mila, giggling with her or if she wasn’t hungry already back out to join the dinner. He taps his knuckles softly against the door and calls out to you to announce that he’s entering.

He stops short as soon as the door is open. You have Mila in your arms but you’re not feeding her. You’re sat on the edge of the bed cradling her against your chest, rocking slightly back and forth as silent tears fall down your face. Calum can feel his heart shatter at the sight and moves on instinct to the two of you. You look up and meet his gaze but don’t say a word, both of you communicating silently; always knowing what’s on the other's mind and in their heart and worries. Calum gently coaxes Mila from your arms to put her in her bassinet by the bed. She seems mostly unbothered, not able to understand anything but the comfort of your arms. She stirs a little bit as she settles in but is okay enough for Calum to seek you out and offer his arms for you to fall into.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks as he wraps you up in his hold and runs a soothing hand down your back.

“Yes, no, I don’t know,” you answer in a shaking voice. “I just feel so stupid. I should know better by now.”

Calum shakes his head at your words and the fact you genuinely feel that way. It wrenches at him. He knows exactly what you’re talking about and though he wants to defend you to the bottom of the ocean and back he wants you to come to some realizations on your own as well.

“They should do better,” Calum simply mumbles and runs his hands through your hair. He hopes you understand what he means. The struggle you’ve had with your parents being life long. You deserve better than empty promises and last minute cancellations.

“I thought maybe with Christmas and Mila it might be different, I thought they might try a little harder,” you finally manage to get out after a moment of prolonged silence. “It’s okay for them to cancel on me. I’m used to it. Mila deserves more. They haven’t even met her yet.”

Calum can hear the heart break in your words. He knows how heavily their absence in Mila’s life has hung over you. He sees the way you look at his parents interactions with Mila and the way you wish your parents would do the same. So many times you’ve tried to reach out to them and so many times they’ve let you down. He always reminds you that you have him and Mila and his parents and Mali and the guys as family but he understands it’s not quite the same and that a little hollow piece of you still yearns for your parents approval and care.

“You deserve better too,” Calum says and hopes you’ll believe it.

“It stopped bothering me for a while, I accepted they didn’t want to put in effort for me,” you explain around a few sniffles, face firmly planted against Calum’s chest as rogue tears stain his shirt. “It was pretty clear when they didn’t show up to meet you or to our wedding. I thought I was over it. Then we had Mila and almost lost her and it’s like they didn’t even care. Now it’s Christmas and they still don’t care. She’s the sweetest little girl, she deserves grandparents, she deserves everything. It breaks my heart. Why don’t they care?”

Calum has no answer to the shattering question you pose and even if he did he knows nothing—no answer or explanation—will ever justify their absence. He stays silent and holds you. Rocks back and forth with you in his arms almost like you both do with Mila. He can feel with every little motion that you’re trying to pull yourself together but he’s always been the place that you can fall apart. He doesn’t coax you to do anything. Just stays with you, becomes a presence to help fill the void.

“Sweetheart,” he finally mumbles after minutes of quiet. He feels your clutch on him tighten as you slightly shift to meet his gaze. His fingers lightly settle under your chin to keep you with him. “She doesn’t need them. They don’t deserve her or you.”

“What?” you mumble out the one worded question; clearly hearing the words but unable to grasp them fully.

“She doesn’t need them, she has me and you. You give her more love than imaginable,” Calum explains and you nod to show you understand. He lets out a breath and so do you though it shakes. “If they don’t care to try they don’t deserve to have you keep trying. You’re too good for them. So is Mila, look at her,” Calum explains further and coaxes you to raise your head and find your reason for everything. Mila smiles when you meet eyes with her and it’s enough to convince you of Calum’s words.

“I just feel bad she’ll grow up missing part of her family,” you finally admit and maybe it’s more or less about her and you.

“With all of those people out there who love her, she’ll never miss a thing,” Calum says and grins to himself as a thought enters his mind. “And I mean, Luke did walk you down the aisle so that kinda makes him her pseudo grandpa?”

You erupt into laughter and shake your head no. “Don’t even joke about that with him. He’s already vying for favorite uncle. We don’t need him fighting your dad to be the favorite grandfather.”

Calum purses his lips as he contemplates the very real possibility of that before laughing with you. He wipes away remnants of tears on your face and gives you another moment to collect yourself. Once he finds that you’re back together he gives you a little nuzzle. “Ready to get back out there?”

You nod and stand. Mila lights up and lets out a little noise as you bring her back into your arms. You keep her close and Calum stays by your side as you head back out to the dining room where your family waits. They all greet you warmly but don’t comment on or question your disappearance. You keep Mila in your hold instead of putting her back in her high chair. Small talk resumes and eventually Ashton proposes a toast.

“To a good holiday season,” he finishes.

“And to family,” you pitch in and make everyone agree. Glasses clink. “Thanks for being here with us.”

Everyone agrees with the sentiment and says there’s nowhere else they’d rather be. In that moment, gathered with those who love and care for you and your daughter, it’s easy to let go of those who don’t and to appreciate all that you have. When one of Calum’s hands grabs for yours and the other gently holds Mila’s you’re also sure there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

—

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just-a-quirkless-loser · 4 years

Text

Maybe We’re Not Meant To Be

Alpha Izuku x Omega Reader

Warning: Sexual Content Below

Word Count: 3.9K

Two years of dating Izuku was no easy task. As sweet as the man is, he often blundered when it came to the love life (or the lack thereof) the two of you shared. No one questions his devotion to you. You’re cold? Midoriya will give you the shirt off his back. You’re hungry? Midoriya runs to the nearest store to grab you something (he doesn't care if it’s miles away). Two years of dating the most considerate person in the world yet, you selfishly yearned for more.

A mating mark; a silent reminder to onlookers that you were taken by one of the most eligible alphas in Japan. You wanted your skin to be marred by his long fangs and you wanted to leave your own mark on him. But after two years of waiting, it felt as though maybe he didn’t want to mark you.

‘Maybe we’re not meant to be.’

At first, you didn’t mind that Midoriya wasn't quick to ask to bound you; it showed that he cared about you rather than force himself on you for the rest of your life. It was nice to have him court you but, you’re getting older. You never wanted to admit that biology was correct but, you felt yourself slowly facing the realities.

It’s easy to push the want away, hiding it deep in your mind to only ponder over every once in a while. But, every once in a while becomes every day. It makes you wonder if there’s something wrong with you.

You watch as all of your friends start to show off their marks, they start to get married, one by one having pups. And, you’re there for all of it. Silently cheering everyone else on from the sideline but, awaiting your turn to race.

You’re quietly bitter. All you can think about is having mini versions of Midoriya and yourself running around. What would they look like? What would they smell like? Would they want to be heroes? Your desire to have a physical manifestation of your love to care for and nurture grew. It seems like the closest you’ll ever get to that dream is when you're around other people’s pups.

“Wow, Y/N! How did you get her to be that quiet?” Uraraka asks you with an amazed expression. She watched you cuddle her close to your chest, rocking her off to sleep after her latest tantrum. “You're such a natural.”

“Thank you. I've always loved kids,” you're mesmerised by the rise and fall of the pups chest as she breathes. It’s nice having something so small depend on you.

“You’d make a great mom,” she doesn’t miss how you tense and, for the fleetest of moments, a scent of resentment seeps from your pores. Why should you have to sit and take care of someone else’s baby when you want one? “I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“No, no, you’re fine. I was just thinking,” you put the sleeping pup down to its duvet. “I want one. I want what you have so bad it hurts.”

“Why don’t you talk to Deku? I’m sure he’d love to have a baby with you,” she smiles to push your hurt away but, it only makes you grimace eternally.

“For us to talk, he’d have to be home for more than thirty minutes before he crashes out in bed,” that ends the conversation. You knew that dating a pro hero with ambitions like Izuku’s would be no walk in the park however, you didn't think it would be this hard.

You know he didn’t mean to but, Midoriya has inadvertently neglected you. First, it was forgetting date night due to the need to pursue a link to a villian. Then, it was forgetting your birthday to finish some paperwork. It seemed like something always popped up that Midoriya had to follow but, you couldn’t hold a grudge; he’s always been the type to help.

‘You knew what you were getting into when you chose to date him,’ you blamed yourself. You can't just expect him to change (and you grew bitter for that as well).

“Izuku,” you started across from him on the floor. He looked up at you with those dark green hues, giving you his full attention. “Izuku, why haven’t you marked me yet?”

“Y-Y/N, ahh you caught me off guard. I mean, do you want me to mark you?” he always does this; reverse the question when he doesn’t know the right answer.

“Izuku, I asked you a question,” you put your chopsticks down.

“Well, I don’t think I should bind myself to you,” cue the dramatic scent drop. “N-No it’s not you, it’s me. Okay, that sounds cliché but I just, I don't want to keep you from finding someone better.”

‘THERE ISN’T ANYONE BETTER THAN YOU,’ the words were stuck in your mouth. The conversation should have ended there but you were hurt.

“Y/N, please, say something. Are you mad?”

‘Yes.’ “No.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t take-”

“I’m fantastic. Just not as hungry as I thought I was. But, I’m glad you told me. Now, how was your day?” It hurts but your grin through it. The conversation shouldn’t end there but, you have no desire to see what other bullshit can leave the alpha’s mouth.

You know he doesn’t mean it in this way but, doesn’t that mean that Midoriya doesn’t see you as a life partner? Wouldn’t it be safe to say that he’d leave you if he found someone better? Weren’t you just wasting your time?

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can talk about it if you want,” he pauses to yawn. “Maybe, tomorrow though. It was such a long day. All Might was-“ ahh yes, All Might. You’re sure you know more about him than you do about Midoriya’s mother.

You feel unwanted, used, and taken advantage of. You do everything for him: cook, clean, support, help him with leads that stump him, drag him to bed, bandage him up. Yet, your efforts have only gotten you in a position where you’re positive Midoriya only keeps you around for entertainment. It’s a bad feeling.

But, you can’t bring yourself to pack your belongings and leave. Your inner Omega is intertwined with his, even without the mating mark. She wants to be with him till the very end; till either one of you dies and the other soon follows into the afterlife.

But, the feelings just keep growing. They’re in the back of your mind as you kiss Izuku, they’re in the corner of your bedroom as you cuddle with him, they’re blaring in the car as you falsely laugh. So, you suppose it’s half your fault that things have gotten to the point that they currently are.

Today, you woke up in a particularly good mood. Midoriya had made your favorite breakfast and kissed you roughly before he left the house.

“I have a feeling something’s going to happen today; make sure to call me when you get to work and when you get home,” his lips pressed down on you almost urgently, making your insides quiver. “And, make sure you check your surroundings.”

“I will Izuku. I’ll see you later,” and he went out to save the world. You got dressed in some leggings and a blouse and headed off to your café. While it wasn’t the flashiest job for a person with a powerful quirk like yours, you loved watching the little pups pick out what they wanted. Occasionally, you could even pick them up.

“Hai, Y/N. I have some fresh scones waiting to be put out,” one of your workers greeted you. You h/c colored hair was pulled into a messy game, a few tendril framing your face. There was a low gust of air from the door behind you. Another mother with her pup.

You got to work helping wherever you could, throwing powder sugar at your workers whenever they were being too impatient; you have a knack for doing things slowly till you get them perfect.

“As to be expected of such an analytical quirk,” one of your best employees, Kagey, tells you.

“You’re just mad because I won’t allow you to rush my beautiful cakes,” you stick your tongue out at him.

“No, I’m mad because you’ve made me wait for ten minutes just so you could place those fucking cakes. And they’re placed crooked. I could’ve been over there serving that hottie. Look at himmmm,” Kagey shakes your shoulders while fawning over some unsuspecting soul.

“Ummm, you forget I have Izuku,” you raise one of your eyebrows.

“There’s no crime in looking. It’s not like you’ve got a mark,” you crack your neck. “Sorry, I forget that’s a sore subject for you. “

“It’s fine. And, who’s the poor victim you’re staring at this time,” he points to a man you’re well acquainted with: Monoma Neito.

His blonde hair is still light but he’s grown it to be a little above his shoulders. Those beady eyes that used to be rimming with anger and discontent are finally happy and playful. He’s filled out, body-wise, and you can tell he’s bulging with muscle.

‘Izuku’s better.’

“Damn, that glow hit him like a truck,” Kagey pushes your shoulders forward. “Okay, bitch, stop being pushy.”

“Ofcourse, you know a beefcake like that. Introduce me to him! I’d love to get my tongue on him,” you shudder with disgust at that mental image. “Don’t look like that. My men always leave me satisfied.”

“I didn’t know that was how people describe STI’s nowadays. I really am a Boomer now,” he smack you upside the head. “Okay, okay, I’m going. Just stop hitting me.”

You wander over to Monoma, trying to decide what’s the best way to approach him. You decide on being direct.

“Monoma,” he turns and his face lights up with recognition. “Hai, it’s been so long. Welcome to my shop”

“Y/N!? You own this place? I would’ve thought you’d want to be a hero. It’s good to see you,” he grabs your hand in his. His hands are warm, no doubt he’s probably feeling the strength of your quirk. He’s always been the handsy type. “You’re single? What happened to Izuku?”

“We’re still together. We’re just taking things slow,” you shrugged off his gaze. “Plenty of people do it.”

“So, no mark and no ring. You’re basically single,” you ruffle up and his tone. You had forgotten he can be as blunt as yourself, one of the main reasons you had been good friends.

“You could say that if that’s what you believe. But, this isn’t about me. My friend over there, Kagey,” you point your thumb over at the fool. “He wanted to know if you’d like to go on a date.”

“You and I both know I’m straight. But, I appreciate the offer,” Monoma raises his voice so Kagey can hear. You can hear muffled cursing about straight men behind you following his statement. “But, I’d love to take you out sometime this week.”

“I have Izuku.”

“Do you really? You know alphas are preconditioned to mark what they feel belongs to them. What does that say about you?” He knows exactly how to manipulate your mind.

“...when are you free?”

***

You were shaking as you applied your makeup. Today was the day that you were going to go on a small date with Monoma. Nothing too serious; just an outing with a friend that just so happens to be an alpha.

Why were you shaking? Well, you hadn’t told Izuku about your plans. He normally gets home later in the night and you had planned on getting back from your date earlier than him. But, what if he found out? Well, it shouldn't matter, right?

He did tell you that you could find someone else (although, now as the moment was nearing, you started to doubt how serious he was when he told you). So, it shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not like you were planning on running away with this alpha. But, would Izuku understand that?

‘He’s not even going to find out. No point in worrying about it,’ you hissed as you accidentally poked your eye with your makeup brush.

The soft material of the skirt stretched across your thighs as you paced through the halls. Were you really going to do this?

“Y/N, I’m home baby. I picked up some pizza for us,” you froze. Out of all the times for Izuku to come home early, he chose the day when you were going to converse with another alpha. You thought about trying to run back to the bedroom but he was already halfway to the kitchen and he would most likely hear you.

“Ohhhh that’s great. Really great,” you inched towards the couch to try to cover yourself in the pillows.

“Yeah, why are you covered in the pillows? Are you building a new nest here? Want me to go get my shirts?” You immediately felt guilty all over again. Here you were about to betray him and he’s being selfless.

“NOOO, no, just, stay right there,” you sink in further as you hoped he’d leave you alone. Unfortunately for you, Izuku doesn’t leave anything alone if he thinks something is wrong.

“What’s wrong, omega?” He gets closer and sniffs the air. “Are you wearing perfume?”

“Yeahhhh, wanted to try something new,” you avoid eye contact.

“Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“...”

“Omega, look at me please.”

“Izuku, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Look at me.”

You look at him with small tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Awww, omega. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He starts to emit a soothing smell for you.

“Izuku, I have a-“ the doorbell interrupts you. You know it’s Monoma. You know you can’t get up to get the door. You know that you are fucked.

“I’ll get it. But, when they leave, we are talking about what’s wrong,” you gulp. You hear Midoriya open the door.

“Midoriya, it’s nice to see you. Is Y/N ready?” There’s the nail in the coffin.

“What do you mean?

“We have a date tonight.”

“No you fucking don’t.”

“Um, we do. I asked her out the other day at her café,” you hear silence till you hear the unmistakable sound of Izuku’s growl. The air becomes stiffling as his pheromones threaten to choke you to death. You cower in the pillows, listening to Izuku grab Monoma and pull him into the room. No matter how much he told you he’d be fine with you finding another alpha, you should’ve known your actions would drive him feral.

“Why the fuck is he here?” Izuku snarled in your face. You were silently sobbing, ashamed of what your actions had caused. “FUCKING ANSWER ME, OMEGA.”

“Y-you’re the one that said you weren’t mating me in case I found someone better,” you pushed the pillow into his face as you stood to defend yourself. “Why are you so fucking mad? You drove me to this.”

“Don’t try to fucking blame me. You should have told me. So, you really want him?” You nodded your head to spite him. “No, you don’t. You just want to piss me off. Well, if that’s the objection, you accomplished your goal. Now, strip.”

“What?” The false confidence was wearing off.

“You wanted to make me mad and you did. You want a mating mark? I’ll give you one. Now, strip for your punishment,” you shakily point to Monoma that was wide-eyed in Izuku’s grip. “Yes, in front of him. He needs to see you belong to me since he’s clearly a visual learner.”

You slowly reach behind and unzip your skirt. You push the fabric down your legs to bunch at you ankles, step out of them, and shakily pull at the hem of your shirt. You lock eyes with Monoma as you pull it above your head. The air feels cold against your soft skin. You stand there in your bra and panties, awaiting Izuku’s next command.

“I said strip. Keep going,” you gulp.

“I should leave,” Izuku slams Monoma into a chair. He grips his shoulder so hard you can hear a small crack.

“Nahhhh, stay. I’m sure you knew she belonged to me but, this is a good reminder,” Izuku turns back to watch your breasts spill from your bra. Your nipples pebble from the attention you’re getting. You slip your panties down your legs, reaching for a pillow to cover yourself.

“No, show him what belongs to me. Turn around and bend over,” you slowly turn, placing your hands on the sofa behind you. You clench your legs together. You bend at the waist, hearing two sharp intakes of breath.

You stand there like an exhibit, slick pooling in between your legs. You’re sure they can see your nether lips glistening with arousal as well as the wall, your breasts hanging from the position.

“Look at how wet she is for me, Monoma. I bet you wish she was like that for you,” Izuku’s breath fans across your ass. His hands gently cups your waist, tugging you backwards so he can muzzle your ass crack. “Such a beautiful body. All mine.”

“IZUKU,” you scream out as he suddenly slaps your ass. It makes more slick fall between your legs but, it still stings as a punishment. “I’ll be good omega.”

“I know baby. You’re always such a good girl. You just need to be corrected. I’ve been giving you a little too much free reign. Wanted to be sensitive alpha. Wanted to give you time. No more of that,” you shivered at the promise. “Gonna give you exactly what you need.”

A tirade of smacks rain down on your behind, lighting up your backside. You yelp and try to pull away but are restrained by Izuku’s strong arms. He’s the one supporting your weight as you crash down against the couch, the front half of your body slumped down.

“Awww, is Omega tired? But, we’re just getting started,” from behind you, you can hear Monoma’a breathing get heavier. “Let’s give fuckface a good show baby.”

You’re about to question what he means when Izuku stands up, walks over, and rips the tie from Monoma’s neck. He walks back over to you, tying your arms together.

“I’m in control,” he says. You quiver when you hear Izuku’s knees hit the floor behind you. Only moments later his face is buried in your heat, lapping like a dog. It sounds so lewd to hear him slurp at your juices.

He starts off slowly kissing the backs of your thighs, gripping you by your ass cheeks as he pulls your globes apart. You feel exposed when he takes an exaggerated sniff. “I’ve missed this. Need to start being more attentive to my baby.”

He licks up and down your slit, lightly nibbling on your clit as he circles it, pulling it between his lips to give it a harsh suck. Your hole clenches around nothing as you moan and try to cant your hips into his face. Your efforts are rewarded with a warning smack.

“Just enjoy my tongue,” he positions you to be on your knees as he continues to eat you out. He first slips in one finger to the knuckle, reveling in the debauched groan that leaves your beautiful lips. Your lips are parted as drool rubs down the left side of your face. Your eyes go crossed eyed from Izuku slipping in another finger and curling them upwards, those two fingers touching that spongy texture inside of you. The perfect Ahegao face. A vision of wrecked.

“That’s it, cum all over my fingers,” he continues to finger fuck you through your orgasm, latching back onto your clit. You shiver from the overstimulation, wanting to run with nowhere to go. You’ve forgotten Monoma as you whimper.

“Zuku’ too much. Please,” you’re shaking as you bite into the sofa to mute your screams.

“Aht aht aht, I wanna hear you fucking moan for me. Let him know who’s making you feel this good,” he allows his lone hand to stroke your stomach, knowing that was one of your sweet spots. You whine loudly as you cum once again, mascara running.

“Nooo more. Izuku. Please. Alpha,” you’re stuck there. Forced to take all the pleasure he gives you.

“I think you can give me more baby,” he removes himself from you as he unbuttoned his jeans. “Monoma, you wanna know something funny.”

“What?”

“I bet you thought you’d be the one to fuck her pretty pussy tonight,” Izuku laughs with no amusement behind the sound. “Never thought you’d be forced to watch.”

Izuku pushes his hard cock between your legs, smearing your juices across his shaft. He grabs his cock as he toys with your entrance, pushing the tip of his cock between your lips and groaning at the sight. Your pussy grips the tips in a vice, trying to suck him in further.

“Alpha, stop teasing me. Please. More. Give it to me.”

“I thought you couldn’t take anymore,” he teases.

“Pleaseeeee ohiuuhhh yess,” you throw your head back when you feel him push all the way in in one motion. Your toes curl as his cock strains against your walls, forcing you to take it all. He expertly pulls back and gives an experimental thrust.

“Look at that pussy, Monoma. Isn’t it nice? Too bad you’ll never get to feel my pussy,” he sets a bruising pace, never giving you a chance to recover. You hear your own whines mixed in with his pelvis slapping against your ass, your body rocking forward from the force of his body.

He wraps his hand around your neck, lifting your body so he can make you meet his thrusts. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum around his cock but, you’re okay with being used like a cocksleeve.

“I’m gonna fuck my babies into your tight pussy. Gonna breed you,” you mewl. “Is that what you wanted? Pups?”

You nod as you cry, partly from the overstimulation but also from the emotional state you’ve been reduced to.

“I’ll give you as many pups as you want. Looks like I’ll have to fuck you out of your mind more to get you to talk to me,” he growls beside your side and he leans over you, crushing you beneath him as he pushes your body to scrunch beneath him, pounding you like he hated you.

“Are you gonna cum again,” you nod due to your raw throat. You’re clenching and the pleasure starts to build but, this time, it feels different. Your vision goes out as you spasm, stars coming across your eyes as you squirt all over his cock, making a mess on the cock bellow you. Your tightness pushes Izuku into his orgasm.

“Cum for me, Omega. Cum for your alpha,” you whine as you spasm but nothing comes out. He’s pushed you into a dry orgasm. You feel his hot spurts of cum enter your pussy, coating everywhere inside of you. His teeth sink into your neck, making you his forever.

“Izuku,” you whine.

“Feels good, omega?” You nod. He slowly pulls out from behind you, tapping your ass like a horse.

“Get the fuck out,” Monoma doesn’t have to be told twice as he runs out. Izuku grabs a few baby wipes from the kitchen and comes back to wipe your pussy.

“You’re mine. Never forget that.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you all enjoyed this. I was asked to write this a longgggg time ago and I’m so sorry for it taking so much time to complete. I rewrote this a total of three times and I’m finally happy with the end result.

Tag List: @sakurashortstack @sinclairsamess

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freebooter4ever · 3 years

Photo

Eugene follows Snafu Back To See The Caboose

After the girl on the train rejects him feistily, Snafu disappears once lunch is finished. So Eugene decides to hunt him down...

A short enemies to lovers 'missing scene' type oneshot that is basically a fanfic of a fanfic because the UST in @badgerms's F.M.L was too high, I needed them to kiss...so I wrote this using lolki's "what are you gonna do about it?" moment:

The back of the caboose is as deserted as Snafu expects it to be. The door to the outside deck shuts behind him with a literal and metaphorical heaviness. Snafu hopes he remembered to unlock it first. He slides his tie loose, unbuttons the top of his shirt, and slumps against the rail. After years of no real need to dress nice, Snaf starts getting antsy all dolled up among polite company. There was an ease in wearing his ratty service uniform everyday that he kinda misses. It was like a second skin, really. And eventually, when he wore it long enough, he stopped noticing the grime.

He lights a cigarette and sighs, watching the railroad ties pass underneath his feet as the train chugs along. His head feels so heavy slung between his shoulders, he could almost join them.

Watching the track is hypnotic, something to think about without thinking. Because the one thing currently filling his entire mind needs to go away.

Eugene Sledge.

Take necessity out of the equation, and he and Sledge are barely left with a friendship. Eugene doesn't look to Snafu for guidance like he used to, he doesn't look back to make sure Snafu is still running behind him - he doesn't look at Snafu much anymore period. Unless Snafu is acting like an ass. Or a fool. Or both at the same time. Like Eugene considers him some form of mild entertainment.

It hurts more than Snafu would like to admit. It hurts even worse when Snafu is forced to listen to Eugene's talk about 'when they get home', as if 'home' is a concept Snafu is expected to relate to.

Eugene and his ridiculous posturing about 'no plans'. Snafu knows better. Sledge is gonna leave K company behind, go back home to mama, get pa to get him a job, work his way up the social ladder, become successful, and forget all about the war.

Goddamn asshole.

Goddamn beautiful fucking asshole.

With perfect timing, the door to the caboose opens. "Hey," Eugene's shy voice comes up behind Snafu.

Snafu glances at the door. Without making eye contact he holds his cigarette carton out to Eugene.

"No thanks," Eugene says quietly, "Been trying to cut back."

That makes Snafu pause. He pockets the carton, and retreats from the usual cloud of smoke surrounding his head. Waving his hand through the air to try and disperse it, he backs up into the farthest corner of the caboose deck till his butt hits the cold railing. He's trying to put as much space between them as possible. Not that there's much space to begin with. The train is probably less than five feet wide.

"Am I interrupting?" Eugene asks politely, though his tone says he doesn't give a shit if he is.

Snafu just smirks at him. He flattens his cigarette between his lips, grasps onto the ladder attached to the caboose wall, and hoists himself onto the rail. He sits there and smokes, with one leg wrapped around the corner pole to keep himself stable.

Eugene eyes him warily, looking minorly concerned for Snafu's wellbeing if he falls off the train, but says nothing. He walks to the opposite end of the deck and leans over the rail there.

It gives Snafu a pretty good view of his ass.

The silence over them is awkward. They never had to fill silences like this during the war, in foxholes or on the roads. Back then they had too much noise, too much exhaustion for words. Now Snafu wishes Gene would just fucking say what he is thinking.

"Sorry," Eugene says.

Snafu grunts. He's gonna need more than that.

"Sorry for that girl stickin her nose up at you," Eugene continues.

"Only to be expected," Snafu mutters, petulant, "You didn't see her making her way back here, did you?"

Eugene shakes his head. "This happens every time. Anybody would be better than you at talking to girls. Even me, and I've never talked to a girl who wasn't Sid's kid sister in my life," Eugene complains, "You've got the looks but as soon as you open your mouth you step in it, Snaf. There's no way that girl was ever gonna show."

"Never thought she would," Snafu drawls. He wonders why Eugene is even bringing this up.

"So why do you do it then?" Eugene asks, sounding annoyed, "Antagonize those girls?"

Snafu shrugs even though he knows Gene can't see it with his back to him. "No reason," he says. 'To make you look at me again, to get your attention back on me where it should be,' he adds inwardly.

Eugene bristles. Snafu swears he can see the hair on the back of the guy's neck stand up. "You sure you don't do it just to mess with me?"

"Why the fuck would me talking to girls mess with you?" Snafu scrunches his face up in confusion.

Eugene falls quiet. Like he only just now realized what words fell out of his mouth.

Sensing Eugene isn't going to explain himself, Snafu shrugs and says, "I dunno, Sledgehammer." By now his cigarette is finally finished and he's ready to get back inside and away from whatever weird mood Sledge is in, "I just say shit. I don't mean any of it."

Eugene turns to look at him, and takes a few steps closer to lean against the rail nearby. He doesn't say a word, he just stares at Snafu with those soft sad eyes, and instantly makes Snafu feel like the biggest piece of shit to walk the earth. "You don't mean any of what you say?" he asks, his voice strangely vulnerable.

"Nah," Snafu throws the cigarette butt off the end of the train.

Eugene looks like a kicked puppy.

"I don't think about shit I do before I do it, Sledge," Snafu says, "Too much fucking work. Who does that?"

Eugene rolls his eyes. He's growing increasingly surly, as if Snafu is pushing him into this bad mood.

"Why do you care anyway?" Snafu asks.

"Remember what you said to me, the night of VJ day?" Eugene asks, "After Burgie left us alone on those rocks to go get drunk with the other guys and I said to you, 'looks like it's just you and me again'?"

"Yeah," Snafu says.

"Did you mean what you said?" Eugene demands to know. Eugene goes all haughty and poised as if he deserves every right to be putting Snafu on the spot like this.

"I ain't the one reading anything into it," Snafu retorts.

"Is that a no?"

"No!" Snafu snaps.

"So you never mean any of the shit you say?" Eugene demands.

"Nope."

Eugene turns away from him, presents Snafu with a cold shoulder.

Snafu wishes he could kiss that sour face better.

Instead Snafu scoffs, "-And yeah, what if I did mean it? I ain't the one reading into things, and I ain't the one who's been avoiding the other. You're the one who thinks you're better than me. What's it matter if I did mean something six months ago, if it's changed now? What are you gonna do about it?" He says it like it's a challenge but judging from Eugene's change of expression, Gene takes it as an insult.

Eugene stares intently down at the tracks, his posture an exact replica of Snafu's earlier. There's a stubborn furrow in Gene's brow. His shoulders are tense. He's wound up tighter than a spring.

Snafu laughs at him, mocking him. It's a relief, to finally get the meanness out, how much he hates not being under Gene's skin - so much that he's come to dislike him. A string's been snapped in Snafu's brain, he lets loose, he laughs and laughs. He gets caught up in his own amusement. He doesn't see what's coming for him.

Not till Gene's hand darts out and grabs the knot in Snafu's tie. Eugene yanks him forward - it takes all of Snafu's concentration not to slip backwards off the train - and crashes their faces together. Eugene's teeth hit Snafu's chin and Snafu gets the tip of Eugene's nose half in his mouth. Eugene quickly adjusts and this time when they reconnect, Snafu's lips fuse to his.

Eugene takes this as encouragement and shoves his hand into Snafu's hair to better control the kiss. He threads his fingers through and pulls, hard.

Snafu loses his balance on the rail and tips forward, stumbling into Gene's space.

Still focusing on the kiss, Snafu blindly grasps onto whatever part of Gene he can reach. The minute his hand touches Eugene's hip, the other guy gets spooked. For one wonderful moment Eugene is licking into Snafu's mouth and their hot, alcohol laden breath is mixing together, and the next minute Eugene is retreating like a shamed schoolgirl.

Eugene folds his arms in front of his chest, closes himself off, and turns his face resolutely to the door, away from Snafu. "Sorry," he breathes.

"Jesus christ, Gene," Snafu groans. He shares Eugene's sentiment in being unable to look his buddy in the eye. He doesn't want the physical contact to end, though. Snafu moves his hand from Gene's hip to his neck and leans his forehead against Eugene's soft shoulder, "Warn a man next time." He rests his head there, keeps his eyes closed, and takes deep calming breaths.

"It wasn't true," Eugene says hotly, "What you said - I wasn't avoiding you. I don't think I'm better than you."

"Okay," Snafu says, his heart still pounding.

"I have been distant…" Eugene admits, "Because I was afraid if I wasn't I might

…" He trails off.

"...do what you just did?" Snafu helpfully provides an end to his sentence.

Eugene doesn't say anything.

"God, Gene," Snafu sighs, grinding his forehead into the bone of Eugene's shoulder. Saying Eugene's name feels different now. He's no longer choking down all that fucking batshit yearning. He can say it like he wants to. With everything he wants behind it. Like how he wants to slide his hand up to Eugene's cheek and turn Gene's stubborn head so he can kiss his blushing face. And keep kissing him till Eugene's as desperate and clingy and horny as Snafu feels. "Eugene…" Snafu whispers. It's almost begging really. Begging this dumbass to please please stop fucking with him.

Eugene turns his head and draws Snafu in a little closer so he can press his face into the top of Snafu's curls. "Why is your shirt unbuttoned?" Eugene mumbles.

"The fuck does it matter that my shirt is unbuttoned?" Snafu asks.

"I was just asking…"

"It's fucking hot…" Snafu claims.

"No, it's not," Eugene counters.

"It's boiling. I'm sweating like a stuck pig in all these layers," Snafu says.

"It's March," Eugene argues, "We're still in the dead of winter."

"No we ain't," Snafu whines, "Don't you see that bright sun up there?"

"You just shivered, Snaf," Eugene says, "I felt it…"

"Maybe you're feeling something else," Snafu smiles and raises his head enough to nose along Eugene's long neck. He kisses him there, relishing in the way his lips stick lightly to Eugene's flushed skin. Snafu leaves his open mouth pressed against Eugene's neck and just continues to try and breathe.

Eugene appears entirely unaffected. Despite the fact that he was the one who fucking started this.

Snafu gives up. He drops his hand off Eugene's shoulder, lets it fall to Eugene's waist, where he slides his fingers along Eugene's tightly cinched belt before letting go altogether. Snafu disconnects from Eugene and takes a single step towards the door.

Eugene stops him. Eugene's hands find their way to Snafu's hips and he shoves Snafu against the platform rail. The cold bar digs into the small of Snafu's back. Snafu squirms against Eugene's body as Eugene presses in close. He almost bends Snafu backwards over the rail in his efforts to touch as much of Snafu as possible.

"Eugene…!" Snafu says with an embarrassing amount of longing.

Eugene kisses him silent.

Snafu's arms go around Gene's neck, and he holds onto him for dear life. Gene's hands stay strong against Snafu's back. Till Eugene slides them down, digging into every inch of Snafu's spine.

That makes Snafu shiver as much as the cold does. He loves him. Snafu loves this asshole whose hands and thoughts are all over him, inside and out…and maybe, just maybe, Eugene likes him back.

Eugene drops his hands from the small of Snafu's back to Snafu's ass and smoothly brings their hips together. As if Eugene had all this planned. Like he's taking it one step at a time, going down a list he had all mapped out.

Snafu briefly breaks the kiss to take a breath and tells Gene in a shocked whisper, "Thought you were a virgin?" Cause Eugene seems like he knows what he's doing.

Eugene steps back.

Snafu immediately regrets opening his big mouth.

"I am," Eugene scowls. He leans in and kisses Snafu one last, glorious time. "Funny...I thought you were better at this...with all your big talk about getting people," he says in Snafu's ear. And then opens the caboose door, walks through without looking back, and slams it shut.

"Fuck," Snafu swears and drops to the deck because his legs can't hold him up anymore. He's not sure what kind of game they're playing, but he's pretty sure Gene just won.

SLEDGEFU MATERLIST

(Thank you @edteche2 for editing!)

#Sledgefu #Bad germs

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kylosupremeimagines · 4 years

Text

Clyde Logan A-Z Fluff

(Special thanks to @driversmutbucket for helping me with this!)

A = affection (how affectionate are they in day to day life? Do they show affection publicly or keep that more in private?) Pet names, oh god, the amount of pet names that man has for you. At the beginning of your relationship you actually thought he had forgotten your name. Darling, sweetheart, baby, doll, sweetness, sweetie, honey, precious, angel, pumpkin, sweet pea....etc Clyde Logan is one affectionate teddy bear. He is so sweet with you that he gets teased about it by his friends and family- Jimmy often pretends to vomit. In public he makes it know that you are his woman.

B = best memory (what is the best memory they have with you) Even if it’s a little cheesy, one of his best memories would be his first date with you, no matter how long he knew you beforehand. It shows that you have an interest in being more than just friends with him and gives him hope for a future family. He will remember even the smallest of details such as which way your hair is parted.

C = cat or dog person (this is pretty obvious) Dog, he loves their loyalty and unwavering affection, although he doesn’t have one of his own, he would love to have one eventually. It would be comforting to know you had a protector when he was working long nights at the bar.

D = dreams (what do they want to do in life?) It is simple, really. A big family. With you.

E = evenings (how do they spend their evening? So they go out? Do they read?) If he isn’t working, Clyde loves having dinner with you, then snuggling up on the sofa with you and reading. Enjoying the peace and just being with you.

F = first date (what was it like?) He wanted to do something extremely special so he brought you out to a lake, planning a cute little picnic. There wasn’t really anyone else around and he brought your favorite foods, so it was perfect. He even brought some wine, but wouldn’t make you drink it if you’re not a fan or don’t drink alcohol. He manages to kiss you, and stars was it the most loving kiss you could ever share with someone.

G = giggle (what is their laugh like? What makes them laugh?) He’ll laugh at just about any hilarious thing someone does, and certainly shows his teeth in that wide, amazing grin of his. His laugh sounds genuine to his entertainment, coming deep from the chest.

H = hugs (do they like hug? What kind of hugs do the give?) Clyde Logan is a goddamn teddy bear. He gives the best hugs. Warm, firm and enveloping. He loves cuddling you, he could all day. Sometimes he does. He isn’t particularly cuddly with other people, being a bit shy. You know once he has babies of his own he will hardly put them down due to all the cuddles he will be giving.

I = instrument (do they play an instrument?) Considering that he only has one hand, he can’t exactly play any instruments. But if he used to play, it most likely would’ve been an acoustic guitar. Though now he still can sing pretty decently.

J = joy (what brings them joy in life?) Family. It’s all he really needs to be happy in life. He would give every ounce of love to his family to the point some people believe it’s a bit excessive. However he would not care about their opinion as his family and the ability to love them gives him more joy in life than he knows what to do with.

K = kisses (what kind of kisser are they? Shy? Passionate?) Clyde can be quite the mix with his kisses. Usually he will be loving with them, not afraid to show you physical affection. He’ll run his thumb over your cheek as he leans down to deepen it, lips dancing passionately against yours. He loves that one second yet meaningful good morning kiss.

L = love (how do they act when they have a crush) Jimmy once referred to it as “love drunk”. When he met you he was completely distracted, couldn’t think of anything else but you, and he told you as much. He would mess up drinks at work- something he never did, trip over his own feet when he saw you and be unable to form sentences.

“My brother is damn love drunk on ya y/n, it’s like aliens have removed half his brain.” Jimmy Logan

M = memory (what’s their favourite memory?) Over your time together, his favorite will end up being your wedding day. It symbolizes that you truly will spend the rest of your lives together. And it would make one great day. Imagine the sex that night with Clyde 😉

N = no (what is their pet peeve?) Clyde likes to know where you are and that you are safe. He hates it when you don’t let him know your plans, or don’t answer your phone or reply to his messages. He will work himself into a state, thinking the Logan curse has struck again if you don’t get in touch in a timely manner.

O = occupation (what’s their dream job?) To be a father. That’s the ultimate for Clyde. He is happy running Duck Tape, and doesn’t yearn for anything beyond that in his career but being a father? Dream job.

P = parent (what kind of parent would they be?) An absolute bloody pushover. He will spoil his kids rotten, shower them in love and affection and let them know they are goddamn miracles to him. Clyde will be the kind of dad that has your children’s friends wishing he was their dad. Your place will always be filled with your children’s friends, noisy and happy.

Q = questions (do they believe in the super natural? Aliens? Anything along those lines) He isn’t too sure what to believe but considering he’s a firm believer in the so called Logan Family Curse, it’s probably safe to say that he does believe in something. He gave into the old ghost stories his siblings would tell him as a kid and it would scare him shitless. He refuses to deny the existence of some intelligent life out there in space. And the list goes on.

R = romantic (are they romantic during the relationship?) Clyde May doubt how well he can express his love, but sometimes he can do so without even trying. You can see the love in his every action, ever facial expression, every gesture. He will remind you how much he cares and do little things for you. Although sometimes it’s with advice from Mellie, he plans the best dates for you. And man the list goes on.

S = smile (what makes them smile without fail) You. It doesn’t matter if he’s physically with you or you pop into his thoughts, you will make him smile each time without fail. Overall his family will do the same as it’s the most important thing to him.

T = together (how clingy are they? How long do you two spend together per day on average) Clyde adores you beyond belief but he knows how to keep his boundaries. He wants to be around you as often as he can but knows when to back off. It’s not like he can’t handle being away from you as long as he knows that you’re doing alright and are safe.

U = unbearable (what habit do they have that’s unbearable? What habit do you have that they find unbearable) Clyde has the tendency to pay more attention to how others are doing before he checks in with himself. He asks you a lot how you’re doing, sometimes to the point where it’s a few times an hour. It can leave you to worry about him when he’s neglecting himself.

V = videos (do they take lots of videos or photos during your relationship?) Opposes to video, he’s more likely to take photos. Why why put together a whole photo album that you can look back on years down the road and reminisce about your life together with the family?

W = wedding (what was the wedding like?) The wedding would more than likely be out in the woods right by the family’s cabin. All your friends and family would be there, Little Sadie would be the flower girl, and Clyde would be more handsome in that suit than he’s ever been. Overall it would be a great time, and you’d even be able to stay at the cabin for your honeymoon if you wanted. Though, he will feel a little off not having the ring on the traditional finger so you two decided that you too would wear yours on your right ring finger.

X = eXtra (what’s an interesting fact about them that they don’t tell anyone about?) Not that it should be anything for him to be embarrassed about, but he has a huge soft spot for animals. He had a dog he adored in his childhood, and a lot of other pets that came in and out of his family’s lives. He wouldn’t be opposed to having a few animals with you; though he wants to get at least one dog.

Y = yuck (what do they hate? Could be a food, sent, word anything) Other men perving on his woman. RIP them, cause he will go straight up feral on their ass.

Z = zzzz (how heavy of a sleeper are they? How do they sleep? What mood do they wake up in? Really any sleeping headcanons) Clyde is always happy to wake up when you are in his bed. He loves those slow lazy mornings where you cuddle and make love lazily. His sleeping is a bit all over the place. Sometimes he sleeps incredibly heavily, other times restlessly, especially if you aren’t there. He still has occasional PTSD nightmares from his service. Luckily they are becoming less frequent.

#Clyde Logan #Clyde Logan X Reader #Clyde Logan Reader Inserts #Clyde Logan Headcanons #Adam Driver

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ezrasarm · 3 years

Note

I'm kinda new here, but I wanted to tell you that I really enjoy your writing. Thanks for bringing all of his characters to life! 💕 If you're still looking for blurbs/HC rqsts, I'd love to know how all The Boys would react if they came upon reader while she's playing some fun music and dancing like no one is watching. Would he start dancing? Could he be coaxed into dancing? Would he roll his eyes and leave the room? P.S. This is my first ever ask. It's probably silly. 😬

Dancing

Warnings: Fluff!!! the boys being too sweet to handle and a lack of proofreading because I was excited... I think that just about covers it 😂

A/n: Not silly at all and thank you for reading and welcome to our little corner of this hell site!!! I had a great time writing these and I hope they were sort of what you had in mind! I’m a nerd and wound up linking the songs that came to mind as I wrote each of them but of course you’re welcome to interpret them as any song you would like! I may or may not have taken some liberties with the request because I didn’t want to get repetitive so I hope you’ll forgive me 😬

[ masterlist ]

Javier

Hate Street Dialogue - Rodriguez

Javier had just had a very long and exhausting day at work. His patience had been running thin since his meeting that morning and now it was 7:30 and he finally got to do the one thing he had been wanting to do all day. Go home. He was in the hallway when he heard the music, it wasn’t uncommon for you to blast it if you were the designated chef that night. With a headache coming on he really thought he wasn’t in the mood for all that energy tonight. All he wanted was some food in his stomach, maybe a drink in his hand and to curl up on the couch with you and make fun of whichever soap opera had decided to possess your TV screen that night. What he hadn’t been expecting was to wonder into the kitchen to see you absolutely gunning it on what you had now designated as the dance floor. With your back to him and the music so loud it wasn’t until you spun around on your heels to pick something up from the island that you saw him and just about jumped out of your skin. At this point he had a smile from ear to ear and he realized what he had been yearning for all day wasn’t to go home, it was you. You would look at him, a little bashful about him catching you in the act before he would pull you into a toothy kiss and tell you how much he needed that today.

Din

I Know What I Am - Band Of Skulls (how do you choose a song for Din???)

Things get boring when you’re stuck on the Crest alone for hours on end. So yeah, maybe you came across an old transmitter that just so happened to have a data card packed with music on it on your last supply run, and maybe you snuck it onto the Crest, and maybe you listen to it whenever Din’s off doing bounty hunter things so you can keep your mind busy while you tinker around the ship and try to keep the kid entertained. Maybe, every once in a while you just get carried away and start dancing along in a very uncoordinated fashion, but who cares? Because you like it and it makes you feel good and no one is there to judge you except maybe the baby, who just so happens to think you have some sick moves. This had become your routine for quite some time now. Din would leave, you’d put some tunes on and just let loose for a bit. It kept the kid happy and let him have some fun and who were you to refuse him that? You had gotten used to predicting when the mandalorian would come back so you would shut it off and get back to work like nothing happened... except this time. He must have come back early or you had gotten carried away and lost track of time, either way, one second you were alone dancing to your hearts content and the next there was a mandalorian standing in the doorway and you had stopped in your tracks.

“What are you doing?” He would ask with a slight tilt to his helmet as you let your gaze wander the cabin, settling on anything but him. What you couldn’t see was the entertained smile toying at his lips behind the mask.

“...nothing.” You shrugged, leaning over to turn the music off and feeling your heart drop in your chest at the way the child’s ears drooped.

“You don’t have to stop.” Din said and for a moment you thought you had misheard him.

“What?”

“I said you don’t have to stop on my account.” He shrugged, pushing the button on the transmitter as he passed to climb up the ladder and into the cockpit. Well that, you were not expecting.

Ezra

We’re Only People - Father John Misty

Ezra had noticed your glum mood today. He could understand that spending your days digging for gems you weren’t exactly sure you would find wasn’t always the most exciting existence but, once settled into your usual places for the evening he caught sight of the slight tapping of your toe as you listened to music through your headphones and an idea popped into his mind.

“Care to share?” He asked, gesturing to the music playing device in your hand and unplugging the headphones. For a moment you were confused but when you caught sight of the look in his eye you knew he was up to something and it made you curious to find out what.

He extended his hand towards you, a slight bow to you in a silent question before you took it and let him guide you up, leading you into a spin before pulling you close and giving you a toothy grin. It was a little awkward in the cramped tent, with only a few feet of space to accommodate your movements you found yourself being forced closer together but you weren’t one to complain when you had an excuse to press yourself as close to him as possible. You could already feel your worries from the day washing away as he dragged you through a few elaborate dips and swings just to get a giggle out of you.

“Thank you,” You whispered to him quietly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and pulling him into a hug as the song came to an end, your bodies still swaying to the rhythm despite the fact that the music was long gone as you took one another in.

Frankie

Easy Rider - Eddie Berman

Frankie woke to the muffled sound of music playing from the kitchen. Sunlight was streaming in through the window and casting the room in a bright warm glow as he padded out of the bedroom. His hair sticking up in every which direction and his eyes still bleary from sleep when they fell on the sight of you, an energetic bounce to your step, hips swaying and head rocking to the music when you caught sight of him. The smile on your face widened when you bounded over to him. “How are you so awake this early?” He asked, an entertained grin tugging at his lips when you kept swinging your limbs around in no particularly coordinated fashion.

“Dance with me and maybe you’ll find out.” You beam up at him, giving his hips a slight jostle.

“Too early,” He groaned back facetiously as you dragged him into the kitchen and hopped around on the spot.

“C’mon, no coffee until you dance with me!” You exclaim and he shakes his head despite the smile betraying him.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” He asked and you purse your lips, feigning contemplation of his proposal before that devious smile flashes across your features and you give him a quick shake of your head. Eventually he breaks down when you grab his hands and drag him into a twist. You were right, it did wake him up faster than his usual slow mornings with a coffee and the news.

Marcus

Your Moon - Rosie Carney

It was more of a gentle sway at this point, your playlist had gotten shuffled around and instead of the usual upbeat and energetic music you would normally listen to when you were cleaning, you had fallen into a gentler rhythm as you swayed around, dusting the living room. You let out a slight squeak when a strong pair of arms wrapped around your middle and a solid chest pressed against your back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.” Marcus would mumble against your shoulder before placing a trail of kisses up your neck, jaw, cheek and to the corner of your mouth. “Watcha listening to?” He would hum against your temple, loosening his grip only to allow you twist around in his embrace and sling your arms over his shoulders before handing him an earbud, the thin cord connecting you to one another as he fell into the same subtle sway that had over taken you.

His forehead would drop to press against yours as your fingers played with the overgrown hairs at the nape of his neck and his nose would brush against your own slightly when he nuzzles into your touch. Theres a tired, blissed out smile on his face as his eyes fall shut, his grip on your waist tugging you a little closer, the world seeming to fade from around you when he presses a kiss to your lips and murmurs a quiet “I like this song.”

[ masterlist ]

Permanent Taglist: @agirllovespancakes @chaoticspaceidiot @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @dreamgirl-67 @wickedfrsgrl @hillarymurray4 @din-damn-djarin @yespolkadotkitty @wille-zarr @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @opheliaelysia @cryptkeepersoul @prxtty-boah @aliciaxglasgow @elena-myth @theocatkov @bioticgoddess @edencherries

Pedro Boys Taglist: @theravenreads @mrschiltoncat @seasonschange-butpeopledont @deafspaceperson

#javier peña x reader #marcus pike x reader #javier peña x you #marcus pike x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #din djarin x reader #ezra x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #din djarin x you #ezra (prospect) x you #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales x you

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itsgrishaverse · 3 years

Text

SINS.

♧. A thing for vampyre!Michael, this was one of my first writing and I’ve seen I never really posted it here!

♧. Summary: Michael is shown his past or future, an inevitable death laced with a romance he hadn’t met yet.

♧. Word count: 2169.

♧. warnings. blood and death.

drvgonspells.

There were tragedies disguised as dreams and dreams that tasted of heaven in the form of tragedies. An oasis for the starving soul, that one man who dared to look for the forbidden fruit, greedy enough to keep it for himself. Doomed by, it was told that he was the walking sun. Rumors referred to the golden long curls which, remarkably, complimented his pale features. Others dared to be blind to such expectations of a striking beauty and swore it had nothing to do with it, but his corrupt soul. Someone who burnt their surroundings without a second blink. An intelligent and vital serpent, one of them exclaimed with wide eyes and one hand clung to his heavy chest, after leaving the mansion that belonged to Langdon. Claiming he’d prefer to meet death than dealing with such a man again. The guests laughed it off, believing his thoughts were clouded by jealousy or a possible rejection coming from the man himself, it wasn’t a secret that Michael took a certain liking for men as much as they did for ladies. After all, it was Langdon's name that was spoken with respect and admiration, not theirs.

Three days later, he was found dead by the lake, blood drained. No one else kept laughing.

Death respected no youth or innocence, but it had a certain liking for its son. Michael Langdon was not only favored by occultism, but people that followed him, looking forward to their approval by the smallest of things. It was the attention he bathed in, superficially. In the presence of ladies or gentlemen, he wore a bright smile as if painted by the sun itself. A glint within eyes and the eye contact which he, desperately, held to others. Often coming as intimidating. His manners were often shown, having a particular liking for the guest’s pleasure. If they were pleased so was he. In every sense.

And how deeply he relished in the feeling.

“Mr. Langdon. Pardon my boldness, but this is the first time I have seen someone,” The young lady, dressed in a silk white dress, held the wine bottle closer to the bathtub. Until emptied inside. It was the last one after awhile, and now a reddish liquid filled it. “Someone taking a bath with no water, but wine.”

As if a joke itself, her response was a gentle yet deep in tone chuckle from the standing male in front of the mirror. Amused blues didn’t bother to look at her, but her gaze didn’t bother to look away from him either.

There was something about him that made such a common thing as unbuttoning the ends of sleeves, interesting. Perhaps alluring to keep looking — for sight of skin. For sight of all of him.

Thoughts read. Langdon’s gaze lifted from his hands, gazing at her through the crystal. The ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.

“I do it because no one else does.” He answered with a lighter tone. Obvious from its own perspective. As soon as his white shirt was discarded, he turned to face her. A not-so-true answer, with hints of a lie. “But you’re not here to see me bathing, are you? Your gaze speaks of curiosity.”

She shook her head, rising to her feet. Once again he had found a way to get in her thoughts.

“I’ve heard things.” Added shortly after. “About you, Mr. Langdon.”

“Where would be the fun if people didn’t speak my name? That’s what they were made for, after all. To be spoken.”

He knew where this conversation would lead, neither did he have the mood or time to unleash all the questions that came with it. In other circumstances, Michael would’ve found himself bothering to go with this process alone, but this wasn’t it. He was stuck in a long mirror which held surrow and confusion. Something that began as a feeling a couple of weeks ago. Out of nowhere. At the beginning assumptions that it would leave made him not pay attention to it, but it didn’t happen. It became worse. Such an odd feeling that would send an certain shiver through his spine was soon followed by mornings without sleep. It was clinging. Clutching. Digging inside in pain. It felt as if mourning, but there was no face or name he could make sense of. There was no one he would care enough about other than himself.

And so with the uncertainty of what would happen after he attempted to do a reserved spell in an attempt to look for answers, the odds of being lost in time or inside his mind crossed his thoughts. The spell was destined to only see and live the past— not the future. The past was no use to be unburied, but the future was promising.

However, the feeling was heavily known. It was a loss. Langdon’s heart was mourning and he didn’t know why. Not yet. Tonight the decision to look for unknown answers was made.

“And you haven’t denied them either.” Her voice brought him back to reality, blinking from himself ( how did he get inside the tub without noticing, lost in thought? ) upon the female, now sitting in the nearest chair. One long deserved minute was taken to stare, tracing the curve of her body, complemented by silk. He noticed it was shorter — and in fact, she has rolled up the ends of it, folding it into her lap. Allowing him the sight of inner thighs. “Is it true about the things you make us do?”

He shouldn’t have allowed himself this distraction and yet there he was, with a tilt of head ( long blond curls falling over one shoulder ) daring her to continue. “Why don’t you find out by yourself, if you’re so interested?”

“Even those rumors. That you encourage them to do questioning ways to please you?”

The glint shown without oceans of blue, clouded by either lust or warning made her swallow. One hand had already reached out for her top buttons, unbuttoning one by one. There was no shame in revealing herself to him, for she already felt bare before him long ago. He undressed her in his mind or so that’s what he wanted her to believe.

“I never make them do anything they don’t want to.” An inner mocking gesture. The young male took another minute to admire her figure. “Close your eyes for me, will you?” Upon noticing the confusion on her face, he added. “I will not touch you until you do it yourself. You want me to crave you, but nothing will make me crave it more than a woman who knows how to please herself. Show me that you don’t actually need me to do such a thing for you, that you just want me to.”

Anything else would make her believe he was playing around, wasn’t so everyone? A gentle squeeze was given to her left breast by herself, it was small enough to fit perfectly into the palm of her hand as the tracing of her free hand lowered to her bare core. Was it a little pleasant show he desired? The thought made her release a low breath, legs spreading for him. Intimate and bare before him, like a delicate petal, yearning to be touched and admired. Fluttered closed eyes allowed to picture herself laying on the silk white blankets, with dim light shadows above her. Figures in the dark when she’d take the time to spoil, love and touch herself like no other man did. There was no shame in it, why would she feel sorry for the lack of others? Fingertips, slowly, circled around her folds. Finding that pleasure spot easily. It was the deep gaze that Mr. Langdon often had on her that encouraged that tingling feeling inside, hips raising to chase and seek her own bliss. By then lips had parted, soft whimpers followed.

How sensible they felt.

“Use your fingers.” His huskier voice didn’t make it less pleasant. It felt close enough to her ear, breathing in her neck— but she knew that was not the case. He remained inside, leaning back against the material of the cold marble. Two delicate fingers slid in, pleasing his sight. “Come on, love. How do my fingers feel inside you?”

Her teeth caught her bottom lip, preventing any further noise. The female’s body kept on seeking her reach, clouded by arousal. “It feels —“ It gave her chills. The form of his name came out in the sweetest of low moans, mind attempting to settle as a wave of satisfaction greeted her. There was no time to recover by the moment someone else’s steps walking in the bathroom were heard, startling her. Her eyes opened to meet Langdon’s gaze. He wore a grin. As satisfied as she felt.

“Well?” He inquired. Unbothered by third one in the room.

“Satisfying.”

Only then, his attention turned to the male around his thirties, who didn’t seem phased by such an event before his eyes. His strong accent arose with short words. “It’s time.” And it was indeed time to know the truth. Part of him wanted to, the other part just wanted to ignore it all and move on.

“Very well. You have been entertained enough. Why don’t you lead the way towards the lady’s room?”

It was spoken towards the male with stubble, who was interrupted by the female as soon as she arose, already dressed. “I know my way, as every night. Thank you, Michael.” These little games they often played between them ( often initiated by her ) whenever she’d feel herself unsatisfied by others. Michael never touched her himself, but he made it easier for her to feel as if he had. Neither side complained. Instead of taking steps towards the main door, she did the expected for him. Finding herself by the side of the bathtub, she brought her wrist close to his lips. An invitation. His gaze spoke of amusement and yet, desire wrapped up as one. Sharp teeth dug into the skin yet before he could find himself attached to it, she withdrew. Holding her hand out; drops of blood fell onto the man’s bare chest. As a response, a sound of pleasure came from him. His head tilted backwards; waiting. Tasting on his tongue now the blood tainting his lips.

A moment that was shared simply by glances and deep thoughts. When the room was left alone, except for himself, he took a deep breath. The little games between them would perk his interest, but not tonight. He couldn’t stop thinking. Assuming. Overthinking. If the truth was known, where would it lead him?

Both hands gripped both sides of the bathtub. The moonlight through curtains bathed most of the room, making the reddish liquid seem darker. Matched with dilated pupils. Once someone asked “Is it blood or wine?”

He never answered it.

“Father. May I arise with your guidance, your wisdom. Open my eyes to the unknown, let me see what has been hidden from me.”

The self made cut along the palm of his hand through praying made him release a brief grunt, his own blood dripping into the darker water.

He sank.

[ ... ]

It felt like a blurry dream, only that he was allowed to take his own path. Surrounded by nothing, but blackness, Michael found himself stepping forward. Aimlessly. It wasn’t the sight that would lead him, but the feeling inside his chest. One hand held up, slightly, as if attempting to prevent himself from bumping into something — nothing. It was the brief yet remarkable sound of a whimper that caught his attention seconds later. From behind. Turning on his heels, he was caught off guard by the sight of himself on his knees, holding a smaller body on his lap. The other boy in agony choked on his own blood.

Walking around the scene, he caught the glimpse of the boy’s face. A younger-looking Michael Langdon laid out, being chased by death. The current Langdon, watching both versions of himself, found himself confused. Shown in the way his eyebrows furrowed.

“Take me.” A lighter tone, drowning in pain. Blues widened almost innocent-alike. It wasn’t innocence, but fear in the younger one. “to the house. With you. Forever.”

The view changed within the blink of an eye, and he was struck by the same pain in its fullest. Worse than the pain which didn’t let him sleep at mornings or had his paranoia carrying along. It was surrow, in its truest nature, blooming with loss. Taken caught off guard, the older Langdon fell to his knees, mimicking the sight before him.

This time, it was him in the vision who found himself crying. Another Michael. Just the same way he looked currently, dressed with the same silk clothes. He held another body in his arms. It was no longer another young verse of himself, but a stranger. Something blocked out the sight of their face, no matter how hard he attempted to focus, he was only allowed to see their hair. Such a person gripped the other Michael’s clothes, a small gesture. They were bleeding out, also chased by death itself.

He rolled fingers into a fist against his chest as if it would erase the pain he felt and yet didn’t understand. It didn’t. That other Michael loved whoever they were and they mourned, cried in surrow. Shared pain which was interrupted by a softer tone reaching his ears, it came from the stranger. Barely a whisper. Feminine, young, lovingly. No words were caught. Another blink made him notice the vision of him was bleeding as well — and that they weren’t clinging to his clothes. It was the stranger’s hand burying a dagger into his chest.

Everything else faded.

[...]

“Michael.”

An known voice echoed in the room, but the young male found himself too occupied catching his breath to acknowledge it, leaning against the side of the bathtub. His friend hunched down, worry in his tone within the same second he helped him out. “What did you see?”

He wasn’t certain about it.

“Someone’s death.” Langdon spoke between breaths, the effect of the spell had forced his true nature out, dilated eyes cast by darkness, highlighted veins beneath, scars that erased the sight of a youthful beauty. “And mine.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #cody fern #michael langdon imagine #duncan shepherd #ahs fandom #michael langdon x you #ahs apocalypse #ahs fic #writing #duncan shepherd imagine #michael langdon fic

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inscribeddiatribes · 4 years

Text

Steve Rogers Fluff Alphabet

—

A/N: I decided to change the template that I used for the Paul Lahote alphabet to this one. I hope you enjoy it! This template is by @snk-warriors.

I redid this, so hopefully my tags will actually work this time.

—

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Since Steve is so well known, he tries to steer clear of popular places. One of his favorite things to do is take you to hole in the wall restaurants. Steve’s also a big fan of staying home with you and having you show him entertaining stuff on the internet.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Steve loves how you’re willing to stand up for what you believe in. People often tease him about being “too moral”, so he feels like you’re the only one who understands where he’s coming from.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Steve himself has had a few breakdowns, and has spoken to a therapist about it, so he often uses what his therapist has said to help you. If that doesn’t work, he’ll stay with you and try to distract you.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Steve definitely wants to get married. It’s one of the customs from his time that he’s still holding on to. He’d want to have kids and pets, but his job at Shield and being a superhero doesn’t really leave enough time to raise a family. Eventually, he’ll pass on his title and will be free to go wherever and do whatever you both desire.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Steve is more in the middle. At times he feels like he should take control because that’s what men did in the 1940s, but he gets tired of being dominant because he’s constantly in control at Shield. He’s very adaptable, so his role depends on yours.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Steve’s very forgiving. In his line of work, he’s had way too many close calls to hold a petty grudge. He wants to make every second with you count, so he doesn’t want to waste them fighting. He always tries to diffuse any arguments before they can become too serious.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Steve is extremely grateful. He knows what it’s like to have people who only want him because he’s famous or for his appearance, so he was very pessimistic about finding the right one for him. However, you completely changed that. You showed Steve genuine kindness and loved him for him. You allowed Steve to experience actual love for the first time in years, and he’s forever grateful for that.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

The only secrets he hides are about missions and some of his feelings. Steve could get into a lot of trouble by sharing mission details with you, so he tries to keep the missions to himself.

Steve comes from a time where showing certain emotions were considered “unmanly”, so he’s used to keeping his emotions to himself. However, he started opening up more to you after you proved to him that you wouldn’t judge him.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Yes! Prior to meeting you, Steve basically put on a show for the public by behaving the way that they expected him to. You showed him that it was okay to be whoever he wanted to be, which no one had really done after he woke up.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Steve does get jealous easily. At times, he still views himself as a skinny, little kid from Brooklyn that no one took a second glance at. Steve would never bring up his jealousy and tends to suffer in silence (until you reassure him).

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Steve is freakishly good at most things, kissing being one of them.

Your first kiss was very gentle and sweet. Steve had asked for permission to kiss you after your first date, so with your approval he proceeded to kiss you at your front door.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He confesses that he loves you when he’s in the hospital. Steve had gotten hurt on a mission and you went to visit him. He knew that he would heal quickly, but the thought that he could have died before he got to confess made him want to immediately tell you. So, he told you that he loved you as you held his hand.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He wants to get married, but actually settling down and living a slow-paced life might not be an option for him at first.

Steve proposes at home because he felt like a lot of good memories were created there, and not to mention that it was away from prying eyes.

You both decide on a small wedding. Steve manages to find a not well known chapel for your wedding. Bucky even gets ordained to perform the ceremony!Overall, it’s very quaint, but full of love.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Doll. It was a popular nickname in Steve’s day that he found to be pretty fitting for you.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Steve may not think he’s being very obvious, but it’s quite clear to others. He looks at you a lot and often gets distracted. Steve expresses his feelings through acts of service. He believes one of the best ways he can show you he cares is by being useful.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He lets fans know that he’s taken, but he never mentions you by name. He’s way too protective to want to risk you getting hurt by a crazy fan or villain.

Steve is pretty shy about kissing you in front of others, but he’ll never reject a kiss.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

His remembers everything! It’s made for some embarrassing moments for you, but it’s ultimately done more good than harm.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Steve loves going all out for you. He never really had any partners growing up, so he feels lucky that you actually like him. He’s more cliché... roses, chocolate, jewelry, the whole nine yards! He’ll definitely tone it down if you ask him though.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Definitely! Steve is your biggest fan. He’ll often motivate and encourage you to continue pursuing your goals when you feel like giving up.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Steve is a huge fan of routine. He doesn’t mind switching things up from time to time, but he usually isn’t the one to initiate any changes. The only exceptions would be birthdays and if he thought you were getting bored.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Steve knows you very well, but whenever you have a sudden mood change it might take him awhile to pick up on it. However, once he does, he instantly becomes concerned. He’ll do anything to make things better.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Your relationship is extremely important to him. Steve feels like he doesn’t have many people he can call friends, but he knows that he can always rely on you to be there for him, which is one of the reasons he fell in love with you. So, he’s determined to maintain your relationship.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Steve essentially remembers everything you mention to him, which he often uses to his advantage. On your first anniversary, Steve wanted to surprise you by recreating your first date. The food and music were exactly the same. You ended up in near tears from laughing after witnessing Steve’s attempts at serenading you. By the end of the night, he most definitely scored major points in your book.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In public, Steve is more reserved, but he’ll gladly hold your hand.

When alone, he definitely loves to kiss and hug you. He often tells you he loves you out of the blue.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

If he’s missing you, Steve will usually try to call you. If he’s unable to, he’ll bust out his sketchbook and draw you. That way he’ll at least have a piece of you with him.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

If you’re at the beginning of your relationship, then he might not. If you’ve been dating for awhile, then he’ll definitely do whatever it takes to keep the relationship going. He basically went to war for Bucky, so he’d definitely have the same energy with you. I feel sorry for the person who tries to get in the way of your relationship.

—

I don’t own these characters, songs, or lyrics, nor did I create any of them. This work is strictly for fair use/ entertainment purposes. No money has been received from this work.

Check out my masterlist, you might find something you like! Reblogs are welcome!

Masterlist

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#marvel #marvel headcanons #marvel imagine #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x y/n #captain america x you #captain america x reader #fluff alphabet #marvel fluff alphabet #steve rogers fluff alphabet #captain america fluff alphabet #captain america headcanons #captain america imagine #Cia’s Writing

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kkruml · 4 years

Text

STAY CH 15

A/N: My word. I’ve written about a dozen iterations of this chapter and deleted them all. Nothing felt right, no next step seemed logical or natural in moving these characters to where I want them to be. With some serious hand holding, love, and, encouragement by @abreathofsnowandwaffles, @missclairebelle and @ecampbellsoup I hope I’ve managed to stay true to these characters and this story.

A sincere thank you to anyone out there still reading this story. 9 months is an insane amount of time to wait between chapters so I am really grateful for anyone who still finds this story worthy of their time.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

AO3

Mood Music

Previously

“Ye’ve spent sae many hours scouring my bookcases looking for Laird knows what- this is a better- and more entertaining- use of yer time.”

“More entertaining, you say? For whom, exactly?” Feeling the smile in her voice, he let out a heavy sigh and nuzzled his nose into the curls at the nape of her neck. Her voice was shy as she asked, “Would you show me a few more?”

This just might work.

Slowly, and carefully, he showed her cord after cord. Pausing occasionally as her crude British tongue broke his concentration, he watched her fingers move slowly from string to string. Kissing her shoulder, and feeling confident he had shown her enough cords to pique her interest, he reluctantly disentangled himself from her.

Slowly shuffling to the hall, he turned at the doorway for a final look. He stopped to take her in.

A look of determination set on her face. Her left hand was rotated and gripped the guitar’s neck with purpose. The loose white shirt, his shirt, hung off her shoulder- exposing the faintest of black ink on her shoulder.

Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he swiped the screen and held the phone up. He watched her form come into focus on his screen and hit the shutter button, watching a freeze frame of this moment flicker and disappear.

CLAIRE

Visualize the movement. Breath on the down-stroke. Focus.

You can do this Beauchamp.

Fingers trembled in place as they spread over the strings, stretched and suspended- waiting.

C. G. Am.

Her fingers struggled to steady as she found the last chord.

“Ha!” she exclaimed triumphantly as the strings hummed pleasantly under her fingertips.

“Ye’ll be chargin’ folks to hear ye play before ye know it, Sassenach.” Deep yet playful, she heard his cautiously optimistic tone seep through his breezy banter.

“Don’t distract me,” the words came out but there was no real weight behind them. Just beneath the surface, she could feel- almost touch his eagerness to be near her. He hadn’t broached the subject of sex or intimacy since the accident, save a few small reflexive nuzzles and small kisses into her hair.

And of course- those three words.

They hung suspended between them. An intimacy she never dreamed of and yet, there it was. Since that proclamation, she’d felt shy. Unsure of herself and whatever recollections she lost- and with them the moments between them she couldn’t get back.

She pried her eyes open long enough to see a tautness to his jaw, his stubble lining the curve of his cheek, the line beautiful and potent and all at once innocent. A foreign yet familiar sensation pulsed just below her navel.

All at once, her mind drew vivid images of them tangled in a sea of white. Like the shutter of a camera, flashes of movement filled her vision- her hands locked in his above her head, the motion of his hips against hers, the line of his lip that curled with each pulsation. Feeling like a voyeur into the memories she already had and the dream for the moments she wished to be true, she blinked and looked away.

She’d noticed him observing her for a few days now. At first, he was watching rugby but the volume was a low hum instead of a raucous roar from the living room. Then it was his finding every excuse to meander to and from the kitchen- offering to refill a barely touched water glass or to inquire about a dram of whisky.

Finally he set about cleaning the bedroom or rather, shuffling piles of his laundry from the bed to the chair, studiously inspecting the contents of each garment with great effort.

Her eyes would linger on the nape of his neck, auburn curls kissing the skin as the ripples of muscle flexed under the cotton of his shirt. Like the night they met. A flicker of a memory- or was it a memory? The thought lingered just long enough before fading into the deep like a wave receding from the shore.

Right on cue, Jamie sauntered into the room- whisky in hand.

Eyeing her glass, he paused before uncorking the bottle and splashing a few drops into the tumbler. Setting the whisky down onto the nightstand, he waited. His hand dropped to his side, index finger drumming against his thigh. Every line in his body was tense and unsure, searching for something. His voice was hoarse but warm, “Did ye… need anything?”

Neach-gleidhidh.

Guardian.

Cocking her head to the side, her eyes shifted to his face. Smiling, she said, “You call that a proper pour?”

_________

JAMIE

They were awoken by the melodic whistle of a small Stonechat just outside their window, and the soft sigh next to him that accompanied it filled the room.

Instinctively, he stretched his limbs to the corners of the bed. Feeling her form next to him, he paused. Still hesitant and unsure, he resisted reaching out to her. He felt her warmth, thrumming and inviting. He thought he felt her sharp intake of breath.

“Oh-Jamie!” Soft, delicate fingers reached for him and settled on his forearm with a gentle ease. Her voice, clear and awake despite the early hour, hummed with a verve that pulsed between them. “I saw there was a pick your own strawberry patch just a few towns away. What do you say to a bit of fresh air?”

Her fingertips burned into his skin.

Sorcha.

The sensation was intoxicating. His flesh buzzed with an almost dizzying energy.

She’d resisted leaving the flat for more than her medical follow ups since the accident. A cloud had hung over their flat, a quiet melancholy that melded with moments of comfort. Long stretches of rain cast a shade over the apartment, but this morning was a most welcome hint of spring breaking through.

“Oh,” he started, trying to wrestle with the excitement in his voice. “I suppose I could.”

“I would kill for some caffeine,” her voice was suddenly small, quiet. “Could we stop for a cuppa on the way?”

Small steps forward, lad.

“Aye Sassenach.”

_________

CLAIRE

Where the bloody hell are his keys?

Fingers impatiently swept across folds of material as they searched through his satchel. A solid metallic rectangle shuffled loose and made a thud against the worn wood floor. The screen lit up and her eyes caught the distinctive pattern of a brick wall, a swirl of curls, and white chucks.

The night they met.

The image, his view of her, was staring back at her. Seemingly meaningless but yet, he wanted to take it. To keep it. To keep that snapshot in time, forever.

Her fingers twitched as she carefully picked up the device, trembling slightly as she swiped the screen as a new image came into view. A profile of her shoulder, a mess of curls interrupting the white ivory skin. Peeking through a tangle of brown, stark lines of black wings seemed to dance across the screen.

The heron.

A whisper echoed in the room, a faint but distinctly familiar voice, her father. When in doubt, love, remember the heron.

Carefully, she set the phone back on the table, face up. Watching the screen dim and fade to black, she let out the breath she had been holding.

“Are ye ready, Sassenach?” His voice echoed from the hallway and snapped her from her thoughts.

Ready. Was she ready?

She wasn’t sure. But she needed to get out of their flat.

Their flat.

The thought made her smile, and slowly she felt the tension between her shoulders recede. Shoving his phone and keys back into his bag, she grabbed the leather straps and clutched it close to her chest. With a new resolve, she strode towards the door and into the sunshine.

_________

JAMIE

With a new cup of Oolong in one hand and black coffee in the other he hurriedly made his way back to the car, muttering a few course words for the barista- and the fresh and still steaming stain on his pullover.

This is no’ the time to be mussed up or late… again.

“Thank you,” she said softly, reaching for her tea. Her fingers grazed his and she paused. Like a bolt of lightning coursing through his veins, he flinched but did not draw his hand away. “Though… you were gone so long I feared you had stood me up… again.”

“Och ye see…” he started before he caught the bite of her lip as she smiled. Their second date. “A witch are ye then- able to read my thoughts?”

“A witch- as in green with ruby slippers?” she said with a smirk and fake indignation. Her eyes gazed down at her hand- smooth ivory skin taught the lines on her palm. Her voice softened, “Well no but… perhaps a white one.”

A white witch.

Ban-druidh.

_________

CLAIRE

“Did ye ken the surname ‘Fraser’ isna Scottish?” His voice was wistful, thick with centuries of history behind it.

She paused, watching the sun light his hair in a soft afternoon glow. Meandering through another row of bushes, each step was more tranquil than the last. “Oh wot- no ‘History of Scotland’ lesson today then?”

Letting a most decidedly Scottish grunt speak for him, he crouched down to a nearby plant. Inspecting each strawberry with a nimble index finger and thumb, he turned back to look at her. “There’s nothing more Scottish than yer clan’s history, ye ken.”

She could see the story bubbling from within him. She longed for the lilt of his voice as he expounded centuries of Scottish history. Yearning to hear more yet reticent to seem too eager, she exhaled and gave an exaggerated eye roll for good measure. “Oh aye… And?”

A deep hum rolled in his chest and his lip pulled at the corner, giving way to a heart stopping smile. It took her breath away.

This man.

The cock of his head, the set of his shoulders. The look in his eye. She’d seen that look before. A heady stare, behind it held whispers in the dark and promises made between them in early hours of the morning. A truth between them. A promise.

This man loves me.

He settled back onto his heels, his knees pressed into the soil and his hands resting on his thighs. She recognized the posture- it was the same he adopted when regaling her of tales of his time in France with his brother-in-law Ian, and when settling in with a dram of whisky while telling stories of his time at Uni.

Pulled to him like a magnet, she knelt down beside him. Leaning forward with anticipation, an honest smile spread across her lips.

“Ye see, Sassenach… I am a Highlander- born and bred. But our name ‘Fraser’ is French. A Monsieur Fresiliere came across from France wi’ King WIlliam. ‘Tis a long story, but he took a piece of the Scottish mountains. Part of that land included what became Lallybroch.” His shoulders straightened with pride, his voice dripping with humor. “Even if our tower doesna have a face.”

North-facing tower.

She had studied that one. Had repeated it over and over to herself since he took her to his childhood home.

“Turarach.” She said softly to herself.

_________

JAMIE

Had he not etched that word into his heart as a wee lad, he might have missed it. But there it was- clear as day.

He taught her that word.

He took her home when Jenny had her bairn. They had spent the day exploring Lallybroch, and he had taken her to the broch- or what remained of it. He had painstakingly repeated the word to her, syllable by syllable. And he watched her English tongue stumble over the vowels in a most endearing way.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to collect himself. “Och, aye lass. I see ye’ve kept up yer studies.”

Her eyes widened and a soft shade of blush spread across her cheeks. “Well…there’s only so much Rugby I can watch without taking to your bookshelf for solace.”

Or my guitar.

His heart constricted as he watched her face struggle to maintain composure. “Are ye makin’ fun of me?”

Fighting a smile, she replied, “Oh I would never, Monsieur Fréselière.”

He shifted towards her. “Monsieur is it? I seem to remember ye called me Laird.”

_________

CLAIRE

A memory.

Safely tucked under dark linens and surrounded by the stone walls of his childhood room, she’d had a glimpse into the past. Splashes of tartan mixed with the heat of campfire and starlight filled her vision. In that moment she’d called him ‘Laird,’ and felt the prophecy behind it.

The weight of his gaze burned her skin.The safe haven of that room, the intimacy of that moment filled the space between them. Blinking her way into the present and determined to meet his stare, she countered, “Did I?”

“Oh aye.” The mood shifted as he breathed out the words, an almost palpable energy pulsated between them. A deep purr erupted from his chest, his accent thick. “I felt more whole in that moment than I had in a long time.”

Whole.

The word danced around the corners of her mind. Her eyes shifted from him to the golden hues splashed across the sky. Was she whole? Twisting her wrist for inspection, she felt no sharp pain, just a dull ache from use.

No longer broken.

Now came the recovery. As a doctor she had seen the scans, she knew the rehabilitation trajectory. Yet here, with him, the statistics and analytical journal findings faded from mental view. Here, in this moment, she was simply Claire. With Jamie. Her Jamie. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over her.

“I think I know exactly what you mean,” drawing her gaze back to him, she exhaled contentedly. Instinctively, her hand reached out for his, taking it gently. “Thank you, Jamie.”

“Och, ‘tis nothing lass.” Dirt-stained fingertips pressed into her skin. His warmth encompassed her.

“Jamie…” she started, her eyes lowering to see their fingers intertwined. Blinking hard and tilting her face to meet his, she finished, “I don’t just mean for today.”

An echo of a smile tugged at his lips and he exhaled.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” His voice hummed, soft and tender. “There’s the two of us now.”

His words were so simple. But there was something in the blue of his eyes that spoke to the depth of his meaning. Her breath caught as she felt the same weight of prophecy to his words.

#outlander #outlander fan fic #outlander fanfic #STAYfic #jamie x claire

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thethousandyearwitch · 3 years

Text

The Show Must Go On! Chap. 7

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 7 “Montero” out now!

AO3 Link

What could be worse than taking care of a teenage boy who is developing a steady video game addiction?

There was a loud bang coming from the room above the kitchen, followed by laughter and cackling. The boys were in Gons room and tried their hardest to set up the sleeping cod. They refused help, naturally, convinced that they are just as capable, confidence heightened by being in each other’s presence, hyping each other up, and the consumption of their own body weight in burgers.

Another bang. A shriek. More laughter. Mito sighed so deeply that she feared a piece of her soul might have left her.

Taking care of TWO teenage boys who are developing a steady video game addiction.

Her phone vibrated with a new message. Gon had sent her a selfie of himself and Killua on the cot, which seemed to be standing securely. The boys were flexing their arm muscles (or lack thereof) with proud looks on their faces, and the only caption was “#success”. Well, at least they are having fun.

Bellissimo<3: Good morning. I am going to pick you up at 1pm, be dressed by then, and pack your bag for tonight’s show. We are going for a brief detour.

Hisoka stretched out on his bed and squinted at the too-bright phone screen. It was 10 in the morning, though the rooms curtains were drawn shut tightly as a defence against harsh sunlight. A lazy smile spread on his lips.

Hisoka: Are we finally running away together to get married in Las Vegas? I thought you’d never ask~~❤️

Bellisssimo<3: I am trying to reward you for not getting arrested last night.

Bellissimo<3: Do not make me regret this.

Hisoka: I should avoid getting arrested more often ❤️

Bellissimo<3: 1pm Hisoka. See you then.

Hisoka let his phone drop back into pillow-mountain. This was certainly an interesting surprise, and an opportunity that the make up artist wasn’t going to waste. Getting One-on-One time with the Zoldyck was something precious and rare to him. Because Illumi was a rarity himself. In a world of increasingly bland and repetitive personalities, especially in his field of work, Illumi presented a challenge of raw potential. Cold and calculated to the masses, an obedient dog to his family, a revolutionary in his work. Hisoka knew that he must be hiding so much more, and the more walls he encountered with the man, the more he wanted to tear them down with his bare hands. Hisoka hated calling whatever this was a ‘Crush’. Sure, he was affectionate towards the other man, and at this point he couldn’t deny the pleasant twist of his heart whenever they touched. But he didn’t yearn for lazy Sundays in bed together, didn’t want the peaceful domesticity that seemed to be inherited in being a ‘couple’.

What do I want?

Hisoka pulled himself out of bed, and made his way to the shower, determined to abandon this pesky train of thought. There was no point in pondering the unlikely. Though… Illumi had been indulging him. And he was going to indulge him again this day. Maybe he wasn’t the only one getting soft, even if neither would ever admit it. The thought brought another satisfied smirk to his lips as he massaged his favourite shampoo into his scalp.

He wondered how Illumis family would react, hypothetically, if they were to end up a couple. The eldest son of the Zoldycks, not just gay, but in a relationship with a makeup artist who is famous for starting drama whenever possible. They certainly would be a more feared and adored couple than if Illumi were to marry some busty heiress who hooks up with her tennis coach when he’s away.

Silva Zoldyck would drop dead right on the spot if Hisoka would ask him if he should call him dad, he was sure.

He stepped out of the steamy shower and mustered his refreshed face in the mirror. Maybe that’s all he wanted. To form something with Illumi that would be even more powerful than the Zoldyck empire, to make everyone else envy/fear/adore them. They had the capacity and the ability to do so, no doubt.

Or maybe he just wanted to have something he wasn’t supposed to have.

Hisoka shrugged to himself, before he went over his usual beauty routine. Today could prove very interesting.

12:45 pm, Hisoka leaned on his kitchen island, absentmindedly scrolled through social media to beat time. Illumi wasn’t going to be late, but he’s never been early either.

He decided to go with a casual look, fitted beige khakis, with an oxford blue button up, sleeves rolled up just above his elbows, debated with himself on how far unbuttoned would be appropriate-yet-slutty (Top 3 Buttons unbuttoned, was the conclusion). Under his eyes, rested on his cheekbones, he had painted his signature star and teardrop, eyebrows plucked to perfection, and after 10 tries he managed to get a satisfying cat eye done. It was perfectly normal to want to look like hell on wheels while meeting with your friend-partner-associate-crush-insertsatisfactoryterm.

The afternoons were always the worst time to check social media, the calm before the posting-storm that comes during the evening and night. Hisoka had already reached posts that were done last night, a few screenshots taken here and there for future reference and roasting purposes.

Almost fed up with endless scrolling, suddenly it appeared. Hisoka had followed a twitch streamer on twitter recently, some kid who was definitely going to screw up in some point of his career (they always do, when the fame gets to their heads), and didn’t want to miss that mess. “Foxbeargaming”, what the fuck is even a foxbear, he had thought.

He had seen the brat before, in his profile picture and clips of his streams. But that wasn’t the problem with the newly posted selfie.

The problem was that he also recognized the second brat in it. Remembered the way Illumi boasted about his talented little brother, the same wild hair and blue eyes as he showed him a picture of the kid. Killua Zoldyck is currently in the middle of nowhere Australia, and his family most likely doesn’t know about it.

Oh, this will be delicious.

Hisokas day had been upgraded from surprisingly interesting to extremely entertaining if everything were to go smoothly. Immediately revealing to Illumi before their date that his little brother is out in the desert trying to tame himself a boyfriend wouldn’t do either of them good. Let it simmer, let it fester, keep Illumi away from his phone the rest of the day.

Lost in his scheming, he just barely noticed that the clock hit 1pm. He grabbed his bag from the floor and stuffed his phone into his back pocket before he headed out the door.

Hisoka wasn’t sure what he expected, yet he was taken aback by the sight in front of him as he exited the apartment complex.

Illumi leaned leisurely against a black sports car, as if that were his only purpose in life. His sleek hair was tied into a neat ponytail, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Hisoka let his eyes take in every detail of him. Peridot green jeans, fashionably washed out, paired with a simple grey polo shirt, the collar popped open just enough to reveal more neck than usual.

“Are you waiting on an invitation?” Illumi didn’t sound as agitated as he probably intended, giving Hisoka only more reason to push his luck.

“I was thinking about whether I want to pounce on you now or later.” He approached the other man, who in turn straightened up his posture in defence. But instead of any hostile movements, Hisoka simply took Illumis hand, and bought it to his lips for a caste kiss. “But I’d rather not spoil our date this early.”

Illumi pulled his hand away, though maybe with a second’s hesitation. “Not happening, also not a date. Get in the car before I change my mind.”

The car was equipped with fabric seats, which Hisoka was grateful for in the Italian heat. “Maybe I should film one of those Vlogs today, what do you think of the title ‘Partner takes me away for secret date’?”

“What about ‘Multimillionaire kicked me out of a speeding car’?”

“Touché.” Now Hisoka was sure that his companion had to be in a good mood, despite what he’d claim, he’d never go along with his jokes if he were feeling neutral-to-pissed otherwise. He rolled his shoulders back into the seat comfortably, golden eyes fixated on the way that Illumis elegant pale hands wrapped around the steering wheel. “I didn’t know you can drive, considering you always have someone to do it for you.”

“I prefer it over flying, and I still consider myself a better driver than half of our staff.”

“I’m sure you’re great at handling stick shift as well.”

“Of co-“Illumi pressed his lips together in sudden annoyance, he most definitely had caught onto Hisokas smirk as he waited for an answer. “That is repulsive.” That prompted the makeup artist to break out into self-satisfied snickering.

“No clue what you’re talking about, Tesoro.” This earned him an eye roll, and silence as the car made its way through mostly empty streets. Hisokas eyes fell onto Illumis phone that rested on the console of the car. “Ah, I’m sure mister multimillionaire has Spotify Premium, right? Let me turn on some music.”

“Use your own phone.”

“I ran out of data volume. Are you that afraid I’ll discover your disastrous music taste?” His teasing smirk was met with another, more defeated eyeroll and a sigh.

“Don’t play anything trashy. The passcode is 0707.” After a questioning silence, he added “It’s Killuas birthday.”

Hisoka replied with an appreciative purr, before he started scrolling through the others music library. No personal playlists, not even a profile picture attached to his account. He was almost offended at the man’s lack of care for something as deeply personal as ones Spotify account, something that surely could tell a lot about a person. “Tchaikovsky? I’m not sure if I am impressed or utterly bored. Oh-“ His eyes stopped on a familiar album cover. “Maybe you’re not a lost cause after all, dear.”

A button press later, and the familiar opening sounds to Tame Impalas “Currents” played. The faintest trace of a smile curled on Illumis lips, barely noticeable, but Hisoka wanted to burn it into his mind anyway. Never mind that he took the brief distraction to turn the others phone onto silent mode. No unnecessary distractions.

It took the rest of the album until Illumi pulled the car into the exit towards the nature reserve near Lago di Bracciano, the last notes of “New Person, Same old Mistakes” dying together with the engine as they parked.

Hisoka stretched at the warm sunlight that caressed his skin when he exited the vehicle. Birds sang happily in the trees that lined the path around the large lake, and the only other person in sight was an elderly woman walking a small white dog. As the second car door shut close, he turned around with a pleased smile that showed off his shining teeth. “I never took you for the kind to take afternoon strolls.”

His friend-or-whatever set a relaxed pace onto the path and looked out onto the deep blue water. “I can’t sit around the hotel room the entire day, can I? And Rome is crawling with sweaty tourists and noisy journalists.”

“So you wanted to get some quality time outside?” Hisoka absentmindedly ran his tongue over his own sharp incisors.

“Correct.” Illumi didn’t seem to notice, or at least ignored, the predatory gesture.

“With me.”

He missed a beat before a simple, “It seemed appropriate.”.

This earned him an appreciative purr, before the men walked in silence along the large lake. Italy still wouldn’t reach its heights of temperatures this time of year, but any breeze was still a welcomed change from the rising humidity and sting of the sun. Hisoka wondered how much the others pale skin would change if he’d expose himself for a bit longer to the sun, if he’d immediately burn up in red, or if he’d start to tan, even just the faintest bit. He’d definitely look more alive, less like a puppet on invisible strings.

They continued to walk in a comfortable silence next to each other, took in the different sounds and sights of nature and the others presence, until eventually they reached the border of one of the shore towns. Beautiful stone buildings climbed the side of a smaller hill, only interrupted by greenery sprouting up between them. The main path was lined with flower shops, cafes, and Gelateria, whose smells mixed into a pleasant sweetness in the air. But one store in particular stood out. It wasn’t super flashy, it could have been found in any city and any street, but Hisoka knew this one from memory.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the others hand, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Excuse me-“ Before he could free his hand, Hisoka intertwined their fingers and pulled him closer.

“Let me treat you to something as well, I promise you won’t regret it,amore.” As his flaming eyes were met with a wrinkled nose, the sunshades Illumi were as not-telling as his eyes, he added “If you do regret it, I’ll gladly let you drown me right here.”

There was hesitation as the other mans wrist twitched against his hold. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

The absence of a struggle was still taken as accepting whatever had gotten him so excited, and thus Illumi was quickly pulled and seated outside the small café. Hisokas attitude had changed from a lazy yet scheming happiness, to pure, unfiltered excitement. It became almost impossible for him to sit still, he rapidly tapped his fingernails against the small glass table, until a waitress (in her mid-40s, he assumed) stepped out. She handed the men a small, leather bound menu, though both were immediately snatched by Hisoka and held back towards her.

“Non sarà necessario. Ordineremo la Cheesecake alla fragola. Grazie.”

“Certamente.” The woman replied with a smile, before she retreated into the shop.

“Cheesecake?” Illumi asked with a raised eyebrow, he had taken off his sunglasses by now and placed them on the table.

Hisoka tutted, “Not any Cheesecake, dear, it is the best Cheesecake you will ever have. I will have it at my wedding, funeral, and every occasion in between that.”

“I take it you’ve been here before.”

“When I had just moved to Rieti, I’d come here almost every weekend, though I unfortunately stopped when weekends became workdays as well.” He considered carefully how much more he was willing to share about that time of his life with the other, though the decision was taken off him as the waitress approached with two plates, each adorned with a generous slice of cheesecake, topped with strawberry slices and strawberry jam dripping off it.

His jaw clenched in anticipation as he watched Illumi take the first bite of the cake, reminiscent of all the rituals he’d do for him whenever he visited. It felt degrading to admit that he wanted to impress and gain the approval of the Zoldyck, but not degrading enough to stop the attention seeking behaviour.

A bite. Some careful chewing. Averted eyes because Hisoka was staringbut he did not care. He swallowed.

Illumi didn’t look at him as he spoke, seemingly engrossed in studying the décor of the shop. But his eyes betrayed him, Hisoka swore he saw something within the dark orbs glisten and flash to life. He didn’t know people could smile only with their eyes, but Illumi continued to be different in the most intoxicating way. “It’s… really good.”

Hisoka tried hard not to pick up his train of thought from the morning, tried not to think about what he wanted from Illumi or a relationship, and he especially tried not to think about the growing urge to leap across the table at that very moment to kiss him until their lips were sore. Instead, he started to eat his own cake, and failed to supress his sharpened smile.

They ate mostly in silence, safe for Hisokas muffled crazed snickering, and ordered espresso to chase down the thick cake.

“Hey, let’s play a game. What is wrong with that woman over there?” Hisoka pointed at a blonde who rested against a railing near the lake.

Illumi seemed to consider for a second whether he even wanted to play a weird game like that, before he stopped mid espresso-sip. “Ah. Those red heels are obviously spray-painted on.”

“Bingo~! It’s super obvious, right? You can still see the black shine through.”

“I’m more concerned about the uneven stitching on her shirt. Either she did that herself, or she has gotten scammed.”

Somehow that conversation triggered them to analyse the fashion choices of every stranger they encountered on their way back to the car with increasingly devilish tones. Illumi Zoldyck was a surprisingly good gossiper, and Hisoka filed that fact into the growing corner of his brain that he reserved just for him.

In the car, Illumi informed him they would just head to his hotel room to get dressed for the show, and then head there together. Any attempt at a joke about spending hotel-room-time wisely was, expectedly, cut off.

Illumi had never focused on the road this much in his entire life. He tried to be grateful that they had managed to get ready for the show in his hotel room without any major incidents, but now Hisoka was seated next to him again, wearing the suit he made for him. He looked good, annoyingly so. Naturally, Illumi wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of telling him that though. He had indulged the man plenty enough for that day already and was holding back from chastising himself for it.

Last night had made him soft, Illumi decided. A brief waver of confidence and self-preservation that made him want to spend one-on-one time with Hisoka, in what may have resembled friendship to an outsider.

But his head was clearer now, cleansed from whatever foolishness had overcome him – the image of his mother recovering from a coughing fit and regaining her composure crept itself into his mind. Unrelated, he thought, though cleared his throat regardless.

“Machi says the crowd tonight is dreadful. Do you think she is just saying that to keep me from going~?” Hisoka tapped his long nails against the screen of his phone. Machi was a model they both have worked with in the past, though she was no where close to a breakthrough. A pretty face, objectively spoken, though smaller than most models, and the personality of royalty about to be executed. Do they always text each other?

“She’s there as well today?” He tried not to sound bitter. He didn’t have a reason to be bitter.

“Mhm, she’s modelling for a friend of hers it seems, though all the examples she sent me looked like someone with a priest-kink designed them, so it doesn’t hurt as much that she didn’t hire me as her artist.”

A moment of silence. “I see.” Illumi was not going to indulge Hisoka even more by inquiring about the nature of his relationship to the woman. It did not concern him; it wasn’t relevant to him or his work.

“Illumi?” Hisoka leaned over in his seat, golden eyes piercing into the side of his face.

“Yes, Hisoka?” Just now he noticed that he had been clenching his jaw uncomfortably.

“Are you jealous of Machi?” He didn’t need to look to know that Hisoka was smiling from one ear to the other, voice dripping with joy. He wasn’t going to look at Hisoka.

“You are insane. Why would I be jealous of her? I pity the girl, still having to work as a favour for acquaintances.”

Predatory eyes continued to drill into him, and a dangerous purr escaped the man, “Is that so?”.

“Yes, don’t be ridiculous.” They pulled into the valet line.

“Then you surely won’t mind that she’ll meet us in the entrance hall, wonderful!”

Illumi shouldn’t mind. It should be perfectly fine that instead of spending the evening alone with Hisoka, a good-looking young woman with an unclear relationship to him would meet them. He definitely couldn’t be jealous; it would be irrational and yet-

He threw the keys to the car at the valet and grabbed the number-marker without a word. His face wouldn’t give it away to others, that he was practically fuming, but Hisoka seemed to take pleasure in the subtle way that Illumis facial features tightened. “I heard jealousy can give you wrinkles~” Hisoka whispered cheekily as they approached the venue entrance, rows of reporters and interviewers lined at the sides, even more so than at the opening day before.

“You must have a lot of experience with that.” He hissed in reply and straightened his posture as they passed the crowd, mostly reporters who desperately tried to take pictures of attendees. Pictures, Interviews, all loathsome cries for attention that Illumi has always tried to avoid as much as possible without damaging the families reputation. He looked down the carpeted entrance and spotted the young woman known as Machi Komacine, clothed in a painfully tight black dress adorned with rosaries draped around her waist like belts, her messy pink hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her posture signalled boredom, but her eyes screamed murder.

Illumi was not a man who easily feared anyone, especially not a woman who stands at 5’2 proud; But he also was not necessarily thrilled to approach her. As he tried to hiss something in Hisokas direction again, something about not having much time to chat with their acquaintance due to meeting a client, he noticed: The other man had stayed behind, and was now busy posing for numerous cameras. Their eyes met, and with a mischievous grin, Hisoka held his hand out to beckon Illumi closer. For Pictures. Together.

Take pictures with Hisoka together in a public appearance that will most definitely set the gears of the rumour mill in motion; Or approach Machi alone and run the risk of uncomfortable conversation about our respective relationships to Hisoka?

He looked back at Machi, whose eyes met his instantly with a raised eyebrow. Fucking Hell-

Illumi made his way back to Hisoka, casually disregarded the hand that was held out to him and positioned himself as practiced – left arm leisurely to the side, right arm three quarters across his front. Not too strict, but not too relaxed either. In contrast, Hisoka had his left hand in the pocket of his suit, his right hand rested on Illumis shoulder as if were the most natural thing in the world. Journalists started to yell even more for their attention now, asking pesky questions that he tried to ignore, telling them to stand closer to each other, the likes. He kept the façade of his neutral face through the blinding flashes intact, even as Hisoka snaked his arms from his shoulder around his waist. “Do you wish for a public execution?”

“It looks better for the pictures~”

Illumi brushed a few strands of hairs behind his shoulder and used the motion to glance back to where Machi was waiting, her steady gaze on the two of them. “It’s rude to let her wait.”

“How considerate you are!” Hisoka snickered. “I know you aren’t jealous, caro, but I’d still like to reassure you of something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Machi and I look for, how should I say, very different things in a partner.” He tugged at Illumi waist and pulled him closer. “She’s looking for women and I am not.”

“Oh.” Illumi continued to look at the reporters cooing for their attention, as he tried not to think of the warm hand on his waist that felt searing hot and- Wait.

“OH.” He turned in Hisokas hold to properly look at him, who in turned grinned like the cat that ate the canary, then he looked back to Machi, and suddenly he felt stupid, which he didn’t experience a lot.

“Feeling relieved, even though you definitely weren’t jealous?”

“I think they got enough pictures.”

Illumi heard Hisokas snickering trail behind him as he made his way down the entrance. Machis eyes met his again, hands steady on her hips. Up closer now, he could observe the details of her dress, white seams stitched into crucifixes that crept up the sides, and the number “3” painted on every bead of the rosaries. It was cleanly executed, but Illumi was confident in the superiority of his own work.

“Miss Komacine.” He extended his hand to her, which she shook half-heartedly.

“Illumi. I’d like to get to business talk right away, so I don’t have to look at this clown longer than necessary.”

“Business talk?”

The young woman lit a cigarette for herself and shot a glare to Hisoka. “I assume you didn’t tell him I wanted to speak with him?” This granted her only a shrug and a smile from the man. “Fine, whatever. Illumi, I want to model for your next line, it would proof beneficial for both of us.”

“I don’t deal in women’s fashion. Furthermore, I do not see how I’d gain benefits from having you work for me.” Finally, a topic he felt comfortable to speak about, even it was only to criticize the woman for her awful attempt at business.

“I don’t mind wearing a suit, you should be at least competent enough to make smaller sizes, right?” She stepped closer to push a sharp index finger against his chest. “And about those benefits; Having me model for you would give me more exposure from a mainstream crowd, and thus exposure for my group. You would gain exposure to a wider audience of underground fashion-following, that isn’t influenced by your family’s name, meaning you could manifest a name for yourself. Unless you prefer being ‘a Zoldyck’ forever.”

The nerve. The audacity. Illumi considered just calling her a presumptuous cunt and leaving with his pride intact, but Machi looked like the kind of woman who knew how to slice car tires and break-wires.

A manicured hand curled around his shoulder, and Hisoka pushed himself between Machi and him. “What could be better than this; My two favourite people in this world, getting along, talking friendly business. Unfortunately, dear Machi, there’s some people inside that are dying to meet us tonight, so we’ll catch you later~”

Before he could object, Illumi was pushed through the entrance of the venue. The large runway was occupied by a high-end brand that premiered their women’s gala collection, mood-lighting engulfed the rest of the room, rhythmic beats of low music drowned out most of the talking crowd.

“Be a darling and just let her offer simmer a little. Machi can be very scary when she’s mad, and not in the way I enjoy.” Hisoka purred closer to his ear.

“Did you know she was going to ask?”

“What if I did?”

A waiter offered them drinks on a tray, and Illumi leisurely grabbed a glass of champagne.

“What does that even mean, ‘a Zoldyck’, as if it is something bad.”

“Don’t wreck your pretty head over it, you know how women are.” Hisoka laughed, and Illumi wasn’t sure how serious he meant that, considering that personally he had no idea how women are, and after newest revelations, neither did Hisoka.

But through the course of the night, Illumi couldn’t get it out of his head. He pretended not to notice how people approached Hisoka, addressed him by his name, first or full name, and talked with him about the content he has created, complimented on his most recent videos and looks. And he pretended not to notice how people approached him, addressed him only by his last name, and asked about the family business. “Mr. Zoldyck, are you going to write an article about this line?” “Mr. Zoldyck, about the next issue-“ “Mr. Zoldyck, tell my greetings to your father.”

No word about his own collection he had premiered. No one even uttered his first name.

He was ‘a Zoldyck’. Nothing more, nothing less.

“If looks could kill, we’d be ankle deep in a blood bath by now.” Hisoka snaked an arm around Illumis waist again and rested his hand on the tip of his hip. The designer took a long sip of the bitter champagne, casually slapped away the offending hand, and kept his dark eyes fixed on the crowd. “Still pouting because Machi was being a bully?”

“I am not pouting.”

“And you weren’t jealous either, got it~”

An eye roll, followed by “I have a headache, what’s the time anyway?” Illumi tried to reach for his phone in his pocket, though before he could grab it, Hisoka took hold of his wrist. They locked eyes, and even in the dim lighting of the venue, Illumi saw something wild glisten in those amber eyes. “Let’s leave, together, to my place.”

“Very subtle, Hisoka. I am not going to-”

“Indulge me, Tesoro, I want to show you something.” Determined to blame it on the repulsive atmosphere that had build itself up at the fashion show, Illumi let himself be swept away by Hisoka for the second time that day. The thought of getting away from noisy reporters and cockroaches of the industry who only knew him as the eldest Zoldyck.- former Heir to the empire, was pleasant enough, yet he also didn’t have to be alone and actively think about his reputation, name, and being a ‘lapdog’, technically a win-win situation.

The drive back to the apartment was oddly quiet, despite Hisokas prior excitement. The car tore through the dark night primarily in silence, only accented by the ‘The Velvet Underground’ album they agreed on after scrolling through Hisokas bizarre Spotify library. It definitely wasn’t the kind of music he was used to from the home he was raised in, didn’t fit between the classical music his mother used to play before her headaches made it impossible and the obscene noise music that Killua would play to trigger the same headaches.

“Could you check my messages for me?”

Hisoka hummed in response and grabbed the phone, manicured nails tapping on the screen, before dropping it unceremoniously back into the cup-holders. “Batteries dead.”

“That can’t be, I charged it before I went out this morning, the battery is supposed to hold for a minimum of 72 hours when idle.”

“Your dainty British batteries sometimes give out under Italian heat, invest in better engineering, and charge it at my place for now.”

“…This will better be worth the trouble.”

The streets of Rieti were expectantly empty, and Illumi parked the car right in front of the apartment (Was it a legal parking spot? Unlikely. But parking fines barely matter when seemingly half the world knows your families name.)

The stairs, the door, the entrance, Illumi knew all of these things about Hisokas apartment. “What is there to show me?”

“Patience. Come here~” Hisoka opened the doors to the balcony, white drapes gently tossed in the fresh breeze. The Zoldyck followed- with sceptical hesitation, but followed nonetheless.

He rested his hands on the railing, eyes turned sky-wards, a few strands of hair upset by the wind.

“If you took me here to just look at the stars, I’m not sure which one of us is the bigger fool.”

“Right, if we wanted to look at soon-to-be dead stars, we could have stayed at the show. But we’re not here for them. They are insignificant, always there to look at until one day they vanish and are forgotten. The real star of the show is over there.” He pointed a long nail at the night sky, and Illumi tried to follow where it pointed.

“The moon? Really?”

“Close, but also mundane and boring. Here- “Before Illumi could react, the strange man had placed their heads next to each other and started to correct Illumis position with a pointed yet gentle grip on his chin. “Look straight ahead.”

Just a little bit off to the left of the moon shone a star brighter than anything else, for a moment Illumi felt ridiculous for missing it.

“It’s Venus. Among all these long dead stars, she’s ever present, stands out the most, and is a rare sight to behold.”

“You took me away from the show to gaze at other planets?” Illumi turned towards the other man, suddenly all too aware of how close they were standing once again.

“I took you away from the show because no one there is capable of understanding your true potential. The way everyone there only sees you as an extension of your family is so infuriating, that it makes me want to ruin all their hopeless little dreams right in front their pitiful faces.” With a swift movement Hisoka had pinned the designer against the railing of the balcony. “You could crush all these people under your heel and make them beg for forgiveness. And there’s nothing I’d rather see than that.”

“I don’t need to make anyone beg, if I want something, I get it. It’s always been like that.” A cold thumb traced the line of his sharp chin, followed by a dark chuckle, and all of a sudden Illumi felt fatigued, all air leaving his lungs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers his mother recalling symptoms like that. It’s a sickness, nothing more nothing less.

“You get it because you’re a pretty show dog held on a short leash by your family.”

Fucking lapdog. The weight on his chest feels like it could crush his organs any second.

“I’m not asking you to bite the hand that feeds you. But I’d give everything to see what you could do if you were free of restraints.”

Feeling like he needed to hold onto anything, Illumi grabbed onto the back of the other man’s head, fingers buried in wild hair. “And why would you care so much? If you’re just trying to rile me up, there’s ways that don’t make me want to throw you off the balcony and watch your mangled body struggle for life.”

“It’s because you fascinate me, Illumi. You’re my Venus in a sea of dying stars. I want to observe you in all your glory as you outshine everyone else, in your full potential.”

“Who says I won’t crush you as well?” His fingers grasped harder on a few strands of hair. Everything in his body felt wrong, the way his skin was freezing all over, but searing hot wherever he made contact with the other man, the suffocating weight on his chest increased by the second, and in the back of his mind something about sickness echoes again.

They locked eyes, and just then Illumi noticed how close they truly were, Hisokas hot breath falling onto his lips.

And he should have pushed him away.

Should have slapped him, insulted him like the sorry maggot he was.

But he felt weak and sick and so cold, and Hisoka radiated pure heat.

Their lips met, softer than expected of either of them, and Illumi wondered if this is what it feels like to be saved from drowning.

A pleasant warmth seeped into his body, and his lungs felt weightless, like he could breathe for the first time in his life.

Hisoka kissed like each touch might be the last, and Illumi let himself be guided as he wanted, eventually wrapping his arms around the others neck, eager to steal as much of this intoxicating heat as possible.

The man kissed along his jawline, stopping just barely below his ear. “Stay here tonight, cuore mio.”

And Illumi placed a kiss to his temple, as gentle as a man who was never been taught gentleness with people could manage. “Let’s go inside.”

#hxh fanfic #hisoillu #killugon #hxh #hisoka marrow #illumi zoldyck #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #mito freecss #machi komachine #fanfic #fanfiction #I continue to have the worst update schedule known to man <3

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honeybunny-sawamura · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3: Misunderstandings

Genre: slight Angst to Fluff

Warnings: appearance by Tetsuro Kuroo

Word Count: 1.6k

It was like all the air and sound was sucked out of the room as Daichi and Nozomi stare at each other from across the restaurant lobby; both arm in arm with someone else.

The woman Daichi has his arm around is a beauty; fair and tall with perfectly curled hair wearing a stunning red dress that clings to every curve. She matches the man she’s clinging onto; Daichi dressed in all black with a crimson tie, looking all kinds of handsome. Nozomi feels childish with her own baby pink floral dress that just flares out; making her look like she should still be in high school. She clutches the fabric of said dress when she sees the other woman lean over to whisper something in the officer’s ear.

Daichi knows Kuroo is smooth, charming, and treats any woman he courts respectively. To see sweet and pretty Nozomi, with her starry eyes and soft pink cheeks, shower the once Nekoma captain with blinding smiles and twinkling laughter when they had strolled into the restaurant made Daichi clench his fists in jealousy; they look so… prefect together.

“Oya? Sawamura? Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” Nozomi bristles as the air and sound come rushing back when Tetsurou addresses Daichi, the soft jazz and small clinks of cutlery almost deafening now. The taller man waves at his captain buddy and pulls the figure skater along with him. Her legs feel like lead as they make their way over to the other couple and her heart is in a jumble of emotions; nervousness, jealousy, dejection, sorrow… Daichi’s stare starts to get more intense the closer they approach that it makes Nozomi look away in shame. She grips Tetsurou’s arm tighter and wishes she was anywhere but here.

Daichi’s heart aches when Nozomi looks away from him and his fist clench tighter. He greets her and Kuroo through a strained smile and clenched teeth then introduces his date. The other man smiles appreciatively and returns the introduction with his own and Nozomi’s. Daichi HATES how smooth the figure skater’s name rolls off his rival’s tongue; It sounds like it belongs in his mouth. “Nozomi…” he tries under his breath and frowns at himself. It sounds rough coming from Daichi; too rough. He watches her lift her head to look up at him when she catches him calling her by her first name. It’s always Miss Hoshikai; even when he’s off duty or texting her, he addresses her as such. Hearing him say her name so softly has her heart yearning to hear it again. Daichi and Nozomi stare at each other while their dates chat beside them; not knowing what to say but wanting to say everything. ‘My colleagues set this up on me.’ the police officer thinks. ‘Tetsurou’s just a friend…’ the figure skater tries telepathically.

“Table for two for Kuroo-san?”

“Ah, that’s us. Well, we’ll leave you two love birds alone. Let’s go, Zomi?” Kuroo purrs. Nozomi tears her eyes away from Daichi. She wants to tell Tetsurou, no… That she’s no longer hungry or in the mood to be out. She wants to tell him to take her home and let her cry about how much it hurts seeing Daichi with such a beautiful woman. She wants to tell Daichi that this thing with Tetsurou is just a dinner; That she’s not into him at all and she’d pick the kind police officer over and over again. But…

“Yeah… Okay…” Nozomi responds softly and walks along with the taller man. She spares a glance back at Daichi and her heart breaks when she thinks she sees hurt and dejection set on his face. Or was it just the lighting? She has to bite her lower lip to stop a sob when she watches Daichi turn to his date with a smile and a chuckle.

“ - a friend…” Nozomi hears and she whips her head back to keep walking away, clinging to Tetsurou like her life depends on it.

---

Daichi enters the skating arena and scans the rink for Nozomi. He couldn’t shake last night from his mind and when he parted ways from his date, he spent a good hour or two staring at his phone; contemplating what he should say to the pretty figure skater. It hadn’t been long since they’ve exchanged numbers and they were still getting over the awkwardness of it all. While Suga commended him for getting her number, he still berated Daichi for not taking the chance to ask her out. “What are you waiting for? You like her, she likes you! Ask her on a date!” the silver haired teacher nearly yells at him from the other line. Daichi would tell him and Asahi that he doesn’t know why he’s hesitating, but deep down he knows why. There was something about Nozomi that made him feel a tad vulnerable. He’s usually so composed around strangers; people can see and feel his authoritativeness by just his posture alone. But the moment he met her, he had been nothing but a bumbling mess. He wonders how a girl like her can fall for a guy like him?

His heart does a flip when he spots her sitting on the rink’s sideline; skates still on but swinging her legs idly as if in thought. He slowly makes his way towards her, a bunch of questions he wants to ask her running through his mind. How long have you known Kuroo? Are you dating him? Is he your type? Do you know how pretty you looked last night? Do you know you look pretty all the time? Daichi stops just a few feet away, unsure of how to greet her. The last time he came looking for her at the rink, he’d been on duty. Today is his day off and he’s got on a varsity jacket over a plain white shirt and jeans; looking plain compared to his uniform he thinks. Sensing someone behind her, Nozomi turns from where she’s sitting and Daichi watches how her eyes light up and how her cheeks turn a pretty pink shade. His heart does another flip.

“Hi.” He greets weakly.

“Hi.” She responds back just as much. They stare at each other for a moment searching the other’s face for the answers they needed.

“About-“ “How was-“ they both try to speak at the same time. Nozomi bites her lower lip and gives a bow of her head as an apology while Daichi motions with a hand for her to continue.

“How was your date?” Nozomi asks hesitantly, unsure if she wants to hear the truth or not. Daichi reaches up to rub the back of his neck before he answers her,

“It uh… It was okay. She was nice.” The figure skater bites her lip harder and looks away, so he won’t see her eyes starting to mist over.

“Don’t think there’ll be a second date, though.” He continues. Nozomi sucks in a tiny breath at that, hoping filling her chest.

“O-Oh?” is all she can utter as she looks at him again. Daichi’s reassuringly smile is what greets her.

“Yeah. I… She’s not my type. The guys at the precinct set me up with her. They mean well but… It just won’t work out.” He confesses, recounting last night on how he couldn’t pay attention to the woman across his own table and his eyes kept glancing over to where Kuroo and Nozomi sat. In fact, he cut the date short: not in the mood to entertain someone he didn’t fancy and his thoughts and feelings in disarray.

“How about you?” How did the date with Kuroo go?” Daichi decides to bite the bullet and ask. Nozomi, finally riding out the wave of relief when he confided to her about his date, looks at him with determination.

“We were celebrating me getting a big sponsorship. Tetsurou is a friend of mine and he’s been helping me find companies that would sponsor me for the nationals.” Nozomi admits; finally clearing the air once and for all. Daichi takes in all that she said and replays it in his head once or twice more. The skater watches him process his thoughts while a smile makes it was across her lips.

“I see…” Daichi let’s out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. It was like the sky over their heads cleared of any rainclouds that brewed from last night. Both of them could feel that something else was on the horizon; something good. Daichi takes a step… Then another… Then another until he’s standing next to where she’s sitting on the rink’s sideline. He’s staring at the ice, remembering the first time he saw her; gracefully gliding over the ice and enchanting him with her smile and blush alone.

“So… Just a friend you say?” he verifies, still staring into the rink.

“Yes.”

“Is he… Uh… Is he your type?”

“Mmm… Not really.”

“What is your type?” Daichi inquires. There’s a pretty long pause as Nozomi takes a while to answer so he peeks at her from the corner of his eye. Her head is tilted, and she has a finger to her chin as if she’s mulling over his question. He’d be nervous if it wasn’t for a playful smile she’s got on.

“Well… There is a very handsome police officer that I keep running into. He’s definitely my type.” She finally responds. Daichi’s face burns in red while the figure skater giggles at his reaction.

“I-Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.”

Daichi ducks his head to hide his red face and wide smile. Nozomi leans over to nudge his shoulder gently with hers.

“Maybe this police officer can take me out for coffee? If he’s free right now?” she suggests. Daichi’s head shoots up and he gives her a hopeful look. Her face is a pretty pink and there’s hope too dancing in her eyes.

“Do you… Do you wanna go grab some coffee with me?”

“I’d love to.”

Taglist: @tsumtsumland @ceo-of-daichi @daichis-kitty @karasimpno

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