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ahtae · 4 months

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Just this once... (c.s)

You and Soobin have been friends forever...so one little kiss shouldn't hurt...right?

warnings: sub!soobin, use of nickname (binnie), heavy petting (no actual penetration), dry humping, friends to ???

You and Soobin were friends — plain and simple. A pair of friends who'd known each other for an unfathomable amount of time they can't even remember how they met. Growing up together has led the two of you becoming close, so much so he's staying over tonight because his family is out of town.

"Soobin can you shut the fuck up for two seconds?!" you shout from your computer desk. Soobin has been singing off-pitch (on purpose) for twenty entire minutes. You would've joined in normally, but you have a project due at midnight you're currently trying to finish.

"Memememe!" He echoes, making his hand into a mouth. You slap it away before he starts giggling.

"Seriously though, I need to finish this fucking project," you groan, rubbing your temples.

Soobin groans loudly before flopping down on your bed. "Come onnn," he whines, wiggling. "Hurry up."

"Yeah? Well you're too dumb to even have projects so don't whine because my stuff is tougher than yours!"

"Nu-uh!" He sits up, pouting like an insolent child. "Your mom always said I was the smartest out of all your friends," he argues.

"Then again, it's not that hard when you barely have any!"

You roll your eyes and throw the pillow you were sitting on. Soobin howls, catching pillows as you begin to type on your computer. You ignore the creaking from your bed. Soobin could entertain himself for one goddamn second.

You move your hand to the mouse, and are met with a different hand already there. Looking over you shoulder, you see that Soobin is leaned over you, look straight ahead at the monitor. Black glasses framing his face and sinking into his strands like magic.

"You forgot a period here," he says, voice rumbling by your ear. Soobin taps your hand away from the keyboard and begins to type on his own. The two of you are silent like that for a moment. Only the warmth of Soobin's chest above your head, and the air brushing your ear as he speaks to you.

"This is good but you can add— are you...okay?" Soobin asks, pushing his frames onto his nose.

You jolt out of your trance and push Soobin's hand away from the mouse. "Yeah, I think I'm just seeing things..." you say.

There's a brief silence as you finish up your project. Your heart is thudding in your ears. And for what? Soobin? Choi Soobin? The same little tot you knew to eat sand and cry on rollercoasters?

Out of the thinness of the air, Soobin breathes: "like seeing me differently?"

You hear him loud and clear, but don't process what he says until you fully let go of the mouse, and spin your computer chair around to face him. Soobin is sitting on your bed, leaning back with his arms behind him, facing you. He looks above his glasses with a stare to make you breathless.

"What?—"

"Don't do that," he shoots down.

"Do what?"

You see a jolt of frustration tick in his jaw. "Get up," Soobin commands.

"What?" You ask, confused by his sudden mood change.

Soobin steps towards you, wraps both hands around your shoulders, and pulls you to standing. In a blink you are met with his brown eyes, deep and dark like midnight chocolate.

He steps towards you, eyes flicking over your entire face before settling right under your nose. The heat of his glare now on your lips.

You feel something in you jolt, writhe underneath his staring. As Soobin changes his gaze to your eyes, yours lands on his lips. Pink and shaped like they're made to feel good. Like warm velvet against your skin.

You blink up at him, "Soobin. Soobin we can't, we— you are my friend—"

"I am a boy who has liked a girl long enough to not feel desperate to ask her for a kiss," Soobin blurts, the words coming hot and fast for him.

"Just this once...please."

All it takes is that last little word for you to wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into you. Soobin hands cling around your waist, grabbing at the fabric of your shirt as if he can hold this moment in his bare hands.

He's so soft. Smooth and buttery like he was made in a bakery. Soobin breathes against you, warm breath fanning against your cheeks making you moan and press into him. With the contact, Soobin trails a hand to your upper back, and the other to your lower. Full in contact with the heat of each other.

You pull away. Lips still tingling and heart hungry. Soobin's eyes are full of shock from the sudden lose of contact. They search for a sign, a reason why you stopped, and come with nothing.

"Did...Did I go to fa—"

You grab him by his shirt and shove him towards him on the bed. Soobin squeaks, tumbling onto his back. You crawl over him, sitting right above his pelvic bone. He bites his lip, shutting his eyes as you feel a tent beginning to form.

"Excited?" you voice lows, quipping an eyebrow.

Soobin lets out a breath, "I just...never expected you to be so...in control?"

"You thought you were going to be calling the shots?"

"N-No Ma'am."

You lean down so your mouth is pressed against is ear, "Good," you whisper. You take his ear lobe between your teeth and nibble, relishing in the way he writhes and wiggles underneath you. Trailing your hands up his chest, you begin to press more kisses into his collarbone. Cold fingers like icicles dripping onto his molten skin as your teeth bite harsh marks into his flesh.

Soobin is trying to keep up. His hands perch on your hips as he bites his lips to keep from moaning. Your mom is home after all. So he suffers as his hands grip your hips like a lifeline. But he can only take so much, so much before he loses it just thinking whether your mouth would feel the same on his cock.

"Pl-please," Soobin begs, voice growing higher. You look up at him. Foggy glasses. Swollen lips. Marks beginning to form around his neck. He's pathetically sweet looking.

"You're going to have to be more specific, Binnie," you say, beginning to grind against him.

Soobin groans, forcing your hips further down as he bucks into you. You gasp, stabilizing yourself on his chest. "S-shit, Binnie..." you whisper. You hum your next moan, gripping onto his wrists as Soobin grinds the two of you together.

"I've wanted...shit...you for so long..." he groans, "fuck this I can't," he blurts, whipping the glasses off his face before speeding up. Soobin moans, loud, louder than he promised himself he would. But he can't help it when you feel so good and — fuck — you don't even have any clothes off so why is he so close already?

You can feel how his rhythm is getting choppier and caress his cheek, causing his tear filled eyes to catch your gaze.

"Come for m—"

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

"Hey you two! Dinner is ready!!"

You throw yourself onto the floor faster than you can think of how badly it would hurt. "Okay!!" you shout back, rubbing the pain in your hip.

Soobin is dumbfounded. He lays there on the bed without a thought in his head. Not a singular one but how badly he needs to get off right fucking now. He grabs your pillow, laced in your lily perfume, and sniffs it, beginning to jerk off in his pants. Imagining that he's drilling into you again and again. Seeing the back of your eyes roll in pleasure. Fuck does he love the way you look. The roundness of your tits, the swell of your ass. The look you gave him when you were on top. The whole thing has him panting and whining like you guys never stopped.

You watch him cum in his pants. In a way, you were just as dumbfounded as he was. Except, at how...whipped you had Soobin and didn't even know it. His mouth drops into a slack 'o' as he groans, his whole body tensing up while he finishes, panting and sinking into your bed.

"We...we should...uhm...eat Soobin," you nod, avoiding his gaze and gesturing towards the door. You can't look at him right now, but you're unable to tell if it's because he's too hot — sitting there in his own cum — or if that line between you shouldn't have been crossed.

He nods, still sprawled out on your bed. "Just...just tell her I'll be down in a second," he breathes, chest rising and falling.

You nod, still avoiding his gaze. "I'll see you downstairs."

~~~~

Hey y'all ! Tell me how you liked this!! This will most likely be pt 1 in a series (idk how long maybe one or two more) because I have a couple ideas for this hehehe~

Update: here's pt 2!

#choi soobin #txt fanfic #txt smut #soobin hard hours #soobin x reader #soobin x you #ahtae #soobin smut #txt scenarios #txt #tomorrow x together #tubatu

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giggly-squiggily · 9 months

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Hey there! I’m back yet again with more scarvio headcannons for your event! I recently started replaying the game and have so many thoughts but! I’ll keep it limited lol. I’m getting kinda close to the end of starfall street and have decided that despite his bratiness Ortega definitely has a super sweet and soft side! Wether this is canon or not I’m not sure (it’s been awhile since I’ve done the story and don’t remember) but I still think it’s a nice concept! And if possible can you do a reader insert? (platonic please!) if you don’t feel like it it’s all good, I know I send in a lot of reader stuff and it can probably get boring after awhile. I’m just a huge sucker for self insert stuff lol. Thanks in advance and I hope you’re doing well!!! -⚡️

{Headcanons to Dabbles: CLOSED!}

ORTEGA!!! Oh man- I freaking love him! While not my favorite of the Starfall crew (admittedly I don't have a favorite as I love them all so much Atticus) I adore him with my entire heart and soul! This was a joy to write for you friend! I've gotcha covered! :D (And don't ever worry about your requests/headcanons being boring! On the contrary I think they're freaking awesome! You always give me the best characters to write for!)

Ortega was…a lot.

Mechanically speaking, he was brilliant- his hands were golden as they turned simple shapes into incredible machinery for Team Starfall to use in battle. He was meticulous, thorough, and still somehow remained ridiculously cute smudged in motor oil.

“Careful, you klutz!”

He was also a bit of a brat. Okay- a full brat.

“Sorry.” You stepped back from the table, admiring the various trinkets and do-hickies across the cloth. “And I’m not a klutz! That was one time!”

“One time falling into my tool setup, two times spilling pink paint everywhere, another time dropping water all over yourself and- how many times have you stumbled and flopped on your butt?” He sent a cheeky grin over his shoulder at you, hands deep within the wiring of the starmobile. He laughed when you pouted, mildly vexed.

“Whatever.” You flopped into the nearest seat, sinking further in your chair as his soft titters carried on. What were you expecting?

Some time passed when he called out again. “(Y/N).”

“Hm?”

“The desk beside you, could you open the second drawer?” When you glared, he sighed. “Please?”

“....Fine.” You did as told only to pause. Among the various screwdrivers and extra wiring sat…

“Yeah, it’s just some whatever piece I was tinkering with. Not much to look at, but I guess you can have it if you want.” He folded his arms with a huff as you carefully pulled out the statue, shaped into a glorious portrayal of your go-to pokemon. Despite his claims, the craft was clearly handled with care- the edges smooth and flawless and the effects of the Pokemon’s typing visible with brightly colored resin. Your go-to was posed in an incredible way- badass and powerful and truly amazing.

“Ortega…did you make this for me?” You asked, looking over to find him having returned to his work. You might have been hallucinating, but you couldn’t help but note the growing flush against the back of his neck.

“Pfft- please. Like I said, I was tinkering. But…if you really like it-”

“I love it!” You cried, heart racing as you looked at the various angles. “I adore it! Thank you so much!”

“L-Like I said- it’s only a tinker!” Ortega fussed, neck coloring more as the blush spread to his ears. “But…yeah, I’m glad you love it.”

You grinned at him one more time before carefully placing the statue on the desk, leaning into your arms as you gazed upon its beautiful form.

Ortega might have been a brat, but when the softer parts come out; it makes it all worth it.

#headcanons to dabbles #dabble #ortega #reader insert #ortega x platonic!reader #fluff #It's one of Pokemon's many tsunderes!#We love to see it :3 #I hope you like it!#pokemon #scarlet and violet

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weaselbeaselpants · 1 year

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Lazy but basic soft redesign of the IMP crew, just to tone down some details

I wish I had more time to do more than trace over, but I had to rely on line art of the cast and going off the main color palette with screencaps to alter. I

Version 1, basic revision:

Version 2, my indulgent "redesign"...which is not my art so it's still just a lazy edit.

Moxxie = Yellow red(greed ring) | black markings (freckles and tail stripes) | wears fake ass drug dealer looking suit | wears a gangster's necktie alluding to Millie

Millie = Crimson(wrath ring) skin | maroon markings (scars) | tiny bodee but weird stub feet (under her jeans) | Wears outdoor work cloths worn from use | has a visible hanky hanging out her pocket alluding to Moxxie

Blitzo = ....sunburnt? red, as to hide what exact ring he comes from | white markings (vitiligo??) | hoves visible at the tip of feet | Skull decal is horse like to show off his love for horses | wears sleek, 'bad ass' looking clothing that makes him feel more threatening than he actually is.

Luna = Dark gray markings on arms and legs, the visible blip of 'cold' color in the other three's mostly warm palettes | visible claws on hands | flopped ears like a wolfhound, though otherwise resembles an elkhound still | wears her top, shorts, collar and piercings; her collar still binds her to Blitzo

For the specific 'redesign bits in version 2: All imps are as Viv's notes mention; a mix of vaguely reptilian and hooves. They are all different shades of red depending on what ring they come from which are almost entirely a singular color (greed = gold and bronz, wrath = redredred, pride = royal violet, lust = hot pink, gluttony = orange, envy = green, sloth = blue. Pentagram city, which is where Hazbin takes place, is in the center instead of the pride ring and is multiple colors). Hellhounds are legallypossessions though all higher hellborn on the chain consider those under them their 'possessions'; Most hellhounds walk on all fours w no clothes because they are considered familiars, not imps themselves, which marks Luna as different and is why she abuses Blitzo- she's essentially a slave no matter how nice her legal master is to her, and good on her (no references to real world slavery, obvious. But I mean, like, it's hell and it's a way to mark these characters as awful but endearing even when they're against one another, because it's fucking hell). Hellhounds also wear the marks of their owners, their sigil, as a tag. Though Imps are not allowed to leave hell ever and even sometimes forbidden to travel between other rings that aren't theirs. Imps still can not be harmed by fire or most mortal instruments-- however, hellborn are able to kill each other, with an immediate soulless death initiated through angel weaponry (the only thing that can actually eliminate sinners' souls). All demons can possess mortal things while on earth and can be driven out through 'exorcisms' = which is fanatical flailing that often kills the host. Because, again, this is hell and it's a show about demons so show me that possession comedy.

The biggest change with my redesigns of the HH/HB demons is giving the imps, succubi and hellhounds distinctively square pupils; cherubs have heart shaped pupils with gleamy over anime-eyes; goetia level demons and archangels can have completely pupilless eyes or whited out pupils; the seven sins and Charlies family have x-shaped pupils. Mortal humans have normal eyes. I think you can keep the deranged and over the top designing in tact w Vivziepop's work, it just needs come consistency.

#critical fandom #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #edit #spindlehorse critical

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sor-vette · 2 years

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Do you know how gloves fit each other? {drabble}

Behold the dreadful effects of simping, gentlemen

• type: Yoongi x reader • genre/about: crack, fluff

• tagging: @moon-write @mintkims @pinkcherrybombs

• masterlist

• a/n: thanks to @skyys-universe for the prompt, hope you like even though it turned out quite differently than planned

Have you ever seen the sky split open? Or perhaps oceans rise? Anything that you thought was impossible, that a higher power or an apocalyptic event had to create with whatever number of hands they had? Because Namjoon had, and it's the form of Min Yoongi giggling and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear like an infatuated schoolchild.

"That's unnatural," Jimin whispers, horrified at the pink on his friend's cheeks beginning to burn brighter. "That's… He's possessed by a demon, there's no other way."

"Maybe the demon was Yoongi, and they exorcised him and now that thing is the original Yoongi," Jin supposes, proceeding to prod the pink flamingo in his cocktail.

"Behold the dreadful effects of simping, gentlemen," Taehyung shakes his head mournfully as they are forced to watch their fearsome Yoongi melt into a puddle of heart-shaped goo, all because a certain bartender graced him with a reply.

"I think it's cute," Hoseok shrugged, happily observing Yoongi grow more joyful as the evening passed. "Sure, he's bankrupt from coming here every chance he gets, but it's still cute."

The night ends with them having to pry Yoongi's serenading figure from your bar top after he promises to return once he was done being kidnapped.

"Well, it was nice to catch up guys," Namjoon sighs as his taxi arrived. "Let's not fall out of touch."

"Let's not," Jin agrees, patting him on the back. Inebriated, soft laughter rises behind them and upon looking, they find Yoongi hunched over by the sidewalk, glued to his phone.

"I'm going to hurl," Jimin backs away, disgusted. They all part, reprimanding Yoongi for once again ignoring them the whole evening, leaving Hoseok to deal with his roommate.

"Come on, let's go," Hoseok grabs his friend's elbow and tugs the simpering mess upright. His phone lights up again and as Hoseok glances down, he sees Yoongi's cheeks turn red.

From: 🖤

Remember, you owe 100 000 ₩

"They're hounding you for bill and you're laughing," Hoseok mutters in disbelief, but then he notices the message that has this poor sap giggling at the stars.

Drink some water and sleep well 💋

"They kissed me," Yoongi breathes, somehow winded, as he sways back and forth in Hoseok's hold. "They kissed me!"

It's 8:30 in the morning and Hoseok is sleeping peacefully, he's gliding on a cloud among cherubs who suspiciously look like Jimin when suddenly they turn into harpies (that look like mad Jimin) and he wakes up to a startling, terrified screaming.

Disorientated, he finds himself on the floor, tailbone - most likely broken. He rushes through the doors into their small living room and finds Yoongi yelling into a pillow.

"Good morning," Hoseok greets him smoothly. "What the fuck?"

Yoongi takes the pillow off his face, grimacing like he's about to vomit. Then flops on the carpet, shrivelling up all without saying a word.

Perhaps Jimin was right, and he was indeed possessed. Hoseok takes a cautious step closer and notices Yoongi's phone unlocked on the sofa.

To: 🖤

Heeeeyyyyyy babbbbbbyyy

I donnnt havvej moneuv Im broke 😞 byf I can pay u 😏

U WANNA MARRY ME

CAUSE I WANT TO

marry u not me

I just thinn we are God fit

*good fit

Ure like a pair of jeans I liek

wait no

Dyou know how gloves fit each other

Yheres a right and a left oen

Thats why they a pair

Unless someone has 1 hand guss they don't need 2 then…

I jus really really like u

I canbt say it unless I'm dbnk but I'm broke right now so I'll just havev to saygbit

Wihkd you like to go out with me?

Don't u thinj we fit eacb other?

We have so muc fun when we together

Not that kind 😳 or maybe 🤤🥴

You're hust…. I neve r believed that there is someone like another half of em

*me

But u complete me and I think I compete u

*complete

U r imperfectly perfect

U know I only ever go there for u

Pls I have a u shaped hole in my heart 😣

Okkaauy immm sleeping now

Goodnight

After a five minute pause, comes the last line.

Holly's gonna love u 🖤

Hoseok, at this point in Yoongi's texts, had managed to get some snacks and was quite eagerly munching on them while reading, with a half-amused smirk.

"Yes, that is quite embarrassing."

Yoongi falls quiet and with down-turned shoulders rises from the floor.

"Where did you put my sword? I must kill myself immediately to preserve honour."

"Yeah, there's no honour to preserve," Hoseok scratches at his chin, giving the texts one more read.

Yoongi hides his face in his palms and lets out a mortified groan.

A new text message appears in the chat.

From: 🖤

So… are you still alive after this?

Without hesitation, knowing that Yoongi would actually fall on a sword more agreeably than face you, Hoseok types out a message.

Barely. He's close to passing - Yoongi's roommate, Hobi ☺️

Hmm, fair.

Listen, if you can tolerate him even a little bit could you please do this snivelling mess a favour and go out with him?

Is Holly his daughter?... He said Holly will like me

Oh, Holly's his dog. He's as sappy for him as he's for you.

That sure is flattering.

Hoseok glances up at Yoongi who was shuffling towards the bathroom ponderously eyeing the toaster all the way.

Do you like Yoongi?

I do… so if you could tell him that I'd be happy to meet him, that'd be great

Thank you!! We'll get you a lot of presents for your wedding

Sweet. I want a mini-fridge

Sorted, my friend

Hoseok goes into the bathroom, faintly making out Yoongi's crouching figure underneath the water torrent and after putting his phone down on the counter, leaves the room.

Fifteen minutes later, a body falls on the bathroom floor and there comes a meek, whimpering little "ouch."

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #yoongi drabble #bts crack #bts drabble #yoongi fluff

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heresathreebee · 3 years

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Kinktober Day 19 IMPACT PLAY

Takeshi Kovacs (Elias Ryker Sleeve) X Reader

Tags: +18 | 2k words | mentions of canon typical violence, mmm I'm sure theres some kind of fetish for fucking while sick, kinda dysphoria like?? Reader had a new sleeve, unprotected sex

AN: unedited need more Kovacs in my life

While you weren't overly fond of your last sleeve, you still hate the feeling of being stuffed in a new one. Plus you just had your face removed by some wack job merc so you have some hard feelings about that.

You barely blinked when Louis told you about your new sleeve.

"Look, things were not supposed to go that way," he said, "and I know I owe you a lot for what you've done for me so far, sooo–"

Louis gestured with open palms at you and said "tada!" as if you were supposed to know what he meant.

He quickly realized his mistake and cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Your current sleeve– while most certainly not your birth sleeve– is actually very similar to it as a token of my sincerest apologies."

You glanced sidelong at Louis' new associate– a stoic fellow wearing the face of a cop who once arrested you. He gave what may have been a sympathetic raised eyebrow and said the unsaid, "you can't look in a mirror yet but that is how I would describe it, sure."

You flopped backward onto the edge of the bed and sighed. Louis probably had a picture of your birth sleeve since you've known each other for forever and you wonder why he showed it to this stranger. He's not a complete idiot– he knows this guy is dangerous, right?

Like last envoy aka former terrorist dangerous.

You examine your hands. They're the right color this time– pretty damn close from what you remember actually. Your hair was braided but the texture seemed familiar so far and Louis must have gotten the Envoy to pay extra to have your migraine implant installed as well.

Who the fuck was this new guy with money like a Meth?

"Whelp," Louis clapped his hands, "I have some research to do: can you stay and watch her while I'm gone? Thanks."

"Not a babysitter– " but Louis was already gone.

Silence fills the room as the two of you linger in your own little worlds. You link your fingers over your heart and ask, "so tell me the truth– is it anything like my birth sleeve?"

Kovacs is silent for a while, but then you hear his footsteps approach before he appears above you. He turns his head left and right, examining your face before he answers.

"Pretty damn close, yeah."

It is so weird to see a familiar face with a different person behind it. "Gimme a mirror, would you?"

Kovacs scratches his chin. "... look–"

"There's a method to my madness," you offer. "Get me a mirror and… help me out a little."

Kovacs raises an inquisitive eyebrow at you but acquiesces. He finds a handheld mirror in your bathroom and comes back to find you laid up proper in your futon bed staring at the ceiling. He sits down on an open spot beside your elbow and hands off the mirror.

"Easy, tiger," he warns.

You meet his eyes and take it with the reflective surface facing away from you. You touch your face– feeling over the bridge of your nose and the shape of your lips. There's so much you barely remember about your original face that the painful nausea in your gut doesn't intensify too sharply.

Don't think Tak didn't notice your underwear laying at the end of the bed. He wonders for a second if you're just more comfortable without them, but his intuition tells him it's more deliberate than that. An invitation perhaps.

You frown deeply, flipping the mirror to examine your collarbone. Louis dressed you in whatever he could find– you're sure he had his own sentimental reasons for picking your old sundress and heart shaped locket necklace. Maybe you were wearing it in the picture he had of you.

You tilt the mirror a tiny bit and feel a little vertigo. It's just your chin, part of your bottom lip and your ears at this angle. All familiar things you've always had. You change the angle and loom fully at your lips and nose. You poke and prod thinking maybe your lips are a slightly different color but the bow and curve is similar enough.

Your nose is fine, you suppose.

Your hands are shaking as you maneuver the mirror around your eyes carefully to examine your hairline. Definitely not the same but it is cute! It's here you put the mirror down and try to take deep breaths to keep yourself from vomiting.

"You ok?," Kovacs asks, "you can stop for now. Get some rest… try again later."

You shake your head and it makes you dizzy. "No… No, I can do this."

You set the mirror aside and close your eyes. There is a retractive mirror in your ceiling and you use voice command to pull it up. You know it shows you the whole bed and you've used it before but never for this specific reason.

In order to adjust to your sleeve, you need reassurance that you are still, in fact, you.

It's now that you take a real risk and brush your leg over Takeshi's back. "About that other thing I need you to do…"

Takeshi's calloused hand catches your calf and lifts your leg higher until it's over his head and he pulls it down into his lap. Already in step with your thoughts and very quickly between your legs. You like eager-to-please partners.

"Come here."

Takeshi repositions himself so he's leaning over you on his hands and knees. You have to bury your head in the pillow briefly as you catch a glimpse of your new face in the mirror behind him. When the stabbing nausea abates, you wrap your legs around his hips and draw him closer.

"You know you are pretty," Takeshi purrs into your ear before nipping the diamond earring stud.

Takeshi plants a string of kisses down to your bust and sucks a clothed nipple into his mouth. You gasp and rock your hips asking him for more. You've got your eyes screwed shut hoping you won't pass out from sleeve sickness.

The man continues his trail of kisses down to your navel as he pulls the skirt of your dress up. His tongue dips in and it's so hot it feels like fire. You readjust your legs to sit atop his shoulders and nudge him lower, biting your lip playfully.

Takeshi sucks marks into your inner thigh, touching everywhere except where you need him the most. He's keen to take things slow it seems, which doesn't displease you but isn't quite what you need right now.

You stare at your reflection and almost wretch. Your thighs lock around Tak's head as you roll to your side over the edge of the bed, struggling to regain control of your spasms. Tak waits patiently for you to relax again, stroking your outer thigh until you unlock your legs from around his neck.

"Sorry, sorry." You're out of breath and panting, "keep going."

It's his sleeve– he's wearing that fucking asshole cop's face. You know yourself– your weakness for people who are probably bad for you. The sleeve is that of a sworn enemy and the man wearing it is a stranger.

Kovacs buries his face between your thighs and swipes his tongue over everything. You grab his hair and shove his nose into your clit, begging with your words too.

"Please, fuck, need you inside me…"

You almost don't let him pull away. Tak sits back on his haunches to unbutton his shirt. The whole time he watches your chest heave and he swallows as he watches you finger yourself.

You're two fingers deep and trying to stretch when Tak takes his member out from the confines of his pants– he hears you gasp as you look at the curved and veiny thing between his legs.

"Jesus…"

Tak laughed. "Had a change of heart?"

You glare at him for a moment before spreading your legs further. "Nope, I'm all yours. Don't be gentle because I won't be with you."

Something dark flashed in his eyes. Damn, if you knew officer Ryker was packing the night he arrested you, you might have got off with a slap on the 'wrist'…

Tak grabs your ankle and drags you down the bed. He dips his long fingers into your heat and uses it to lube his cock. There isn't much time to think before he's sliding that almost coke can thick beast into you.

"Fuck!" You lock your ankles in the dip of his back and pray it doesn't kill you. The stretch burns and then he bottoms out inside you and lets a few curses of his own fly. It takes a moment to relax around the intrusion, he's thicker than most people you've had and you're in a new body.

You lock eyes with yourself in the overhanging mirror. This is your new face, a lot like your old mug and it's certainly not a clone but if you saw this sleeve in the street, you would probably do a double take.

Tak presses his nose into your cheek. "Ready?"

You answer by squeezing his ass. A pert, round white thing that contrasts like fire and ice against the black fabric of his pants. Tak starts to rock his hips to make sure you're not in pain at first, then he repositions his legs to actually thrust inside of you.

The first time in a new sleeve always feels like heaven– there's no high quite like it.

"Feel good," the envoy moans in your ear, "look good, too."

The nausea that dominated you from before is losing as you gain control of yourself. You watch the mirror as Tak pushes the neckline of your dress aside to expose a breast and kneads it with his hand. You keen, wrapping an arm around his neck and angling your hips for more friction.

Tak keeps his thrusts short and fast, his pubic bone stimulates your clit and you think you might come just from that. Your sickness comes back with a vengeance and Tak hisses as your pussy strangles his cock. You put your hands on his chest to push him away for a second– you need space as you become suddenly feverish and a wet burp signals another close call.

Tak sits up and tries to give you space by hovering over you on his hands. His head blocks your view of the mirror and he looks concerned. You know you need more…

Maybe you should have warned him because he was not prepared to receive a slap to the face. You see the shock register in his features before it settles into something dark.

"What–"

You slapped him again and he pressed you down into the cheap mattress. Master of every body he's ever been in and trained by Quellcrest Falconer herself… you know he only allowed you to do it.

Because he liked it.

Tak pins your wrist down and goads you on. His other hand hooks around your thigh to let him pound a little deeper into you, breath picking up and eyes like a predator. You slap him again, this time his cheek turns pink and you can almost make out the impression of your fingers near his ear.

Tak switches the hand he is restraining and his thrusts become rougher. He has of course freed your other hand, goading you to hit him again. You make sure his cheek matches the other in color and he groans.

Every thrust becomes harder and harder, forcing the breath from your lungs and your moans rise higher and higher.

"Oh fuck, Kovacs!"

You wrap your arms around his neck and drag him down, hugging him to your chest so you can look in the mirror as you come. Your pleasure washes over your sickness and you come screaming.

Your head is spinning, but the nausea from before is completely gone. This is your face now. You don't remember your partner coming but he's stopped thrusting and is simply resting lightly on top of you.

Tak lifts his head with a smug look. "Feel better?"

"I do," you cuff him over the ear and let him sit up. "Louie can fuck off with that dangerous underhanded job shit, but you are more than welcome to fuck me like that anytime you're in the area."

Tak chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

#three bees writing #takeshi kovacs #smut #kinktober #takeshi kovacs x reader #black reader insert #🐝🐝🐝✒

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

Hearth.

A/N: I dunno if I've got any desi/brown/poc readers but if you're reading this I love you so much and you (us) deserve the same validation and representation others get.

Here's a blurb as to what it feels like celebrating Eid with Harry! Enjoy!

Warning: none — just loads of fluff.

More Inspos, Masterlist, Let's Talk

The night's pretty with murky clouds and thick layer of moon's brightness as Y/N cleans her flat, from scrubbing her Persian rugs to deep cleansing her vases back from her homeland. The flame evaporating from her candles scented like springs of Kashmir, flickers from her blowing sheer curtains due to the zephyr flurring outside.

She feels content, at peace waiting for Harry who promised that he'll be at her place by 11. He always comes an hour early helping her in setting the table before the iftari, they've been doing it together since the start of ramdan until today when he texted her he's busy along with a sad smiley.

It was fun. He fasted with her once or twice and would make sure she's hydrated enough once they break it, his love for rooh-afzah (it's a drink red in color made from essence of roses and some sweet herbs) will never fail to make her giggle as he'd demand for more after gulping two glasses already.

Then showing her his tummy along with his food pregnant jokes.

Her classes are online so it gave her time to experiment some cooking. They'd make samosas together and she always had an urge to hold back her cooes as his tongue used to poke out in concentration everytime his diligent fingers folded the samosa sheets skillfully.

"Did a pretty go'job here, innit?" He'd grin raising it like a summat trophy.

The moment he used to leave her flat (ofcourse after giving a tight hug before doing so) they both missed eachother terribly, y/n doesn't like the way her home falls into an abyss without his presence.

He's like a sunshine that warms her insides up.

The whistle of kettle and several raps of knocks on her door drags her from her fond memories of them together, she slings her feet down from the coffee table rushing to open it.

"Angel."

Harry says breathlessly prolly because he climbed three flight of stairs to get to her or that he's utterly flustered.

Her eyes remain struck at the thingies piled in his arms, a box of chocolates, many brown bags and stems of freshly blood ripped roses tucked between his knuckles.

He bought all of these gifts for her.

To make her feel like home.

To be her home.

What the fuck, nobody has ever done that for her —-- she just mighty cry.

Her mouths gupples like a fish too overwhelmed to react her emotions out and he gives her a sweet smile kicking the door shut with his feet -- gestures her to wait when she almost jumps like a cub to hug him and puts everything on the sofa knowing the things inside them's too delicate.

"C'mere, baby." He grins and she doesn't waste a moment falling in his embrace. Her cheeks smashes against his taught chest and she fists the hem of his shirt smiling too hard for her own sake as he sways them with his own rosy cheek squished against her temple.

"I love you so much, thank you." She murmurs gazing up at him with glinting eyes -- arms still lopped around his waist and his chin doubles adorably as he gives her his signature bunny grin kissing the tip of her nose, "Love you too bubba ... don't want ya homesick, at alllll."

The aggressive whistle of kettle parts them away, "Cuppa cha? Then we'll unwrap these pleasanteris." She points at the paper bags.

He nods flopping onto the floor cushions beside the large oak window of the balcony where they could bathe in moonlight.

"Thank you." He quips, kissing her fingertips while slipping his fingers under the handle of mug and takes it from her as she sits infront of him. He admires her for a second —- fawning over how she's looking so soft and cuddle-able wearing a baggy mauve kurta and some mismatched shalwar.

The tearing open of the stuffing tissue brings him back to focus --- this, he wanted to see this happiness dance over her features as she clutches the ethnic traditional dress he bought for her infront of her and when lifts it down he's met by overly excited eyes.

It's ethereal with golden details, handmade wire work and sheer fabric.

"It's gorgeous, pups." She squeezes his hand and he takes the sip of his cha smiling against the rim of the mug shyly, "Wasn't s' sure -- Sarah helped me in collecting stuff." Sarah's Y/N's bestfriend who was the only desi/brown in her filming class.

"No wonder she was being a lil sneak." Y/N chuckles already rummaging for what comes next.

He wanted to make sure he gets her everything they do traditionally in her culture and ate Sara's ears off to help him buy the most special thing and it's right there creating sweet noise when they touch eachother, dangling from her fingers.

"Churiyan .... " She whispers bitting down a smile. She loves glass bangles. Their colourfulness cheers her mood up and she'd always go with her Nani a night prior eid to select the most flamboyant pair of them from a bazar (market).

"This -— " She gestures to the gifts scattered around them, " —-- all of this and you, means alot to me." She sighs giving him a wet smile and he smoothes his thumb against her cheek like she's the most fragile thing to exist.

He watches her in a tad confusion when she stands up with a giggly squeal putting everything away and comes back with a tube of henna in her hand.

"It's chand raat t'night 'cos tommorrow is eid -- usually I spend it with Sarah and we apply henna to eachother, we're horrible at it honestly but now she isn't here 'm gonna bite yours ears —-" He cuts her off. Ushering her to sit back on her spot. He couldn't be more glad to spend all of his time with her whether it's just watching her make designs on her hand with henna.

"Your cha's waftin'." He shakes his head bringing it to her lips, "It's hot." She tells him drawing a circle on her palm and filling it with beautiful darkness of henna.

"Okie then ... " He blows at the hot beverage to cool it down and again brings it to her lips, "Now." He croons softly to her. She holds his wrist taking a sip from it -- he tucks the strand of her hair back and she smiles up at him making him chuckle when she takes a huge sigh as if her soul just woke up.

"What do we d'tommorrow?" He asks. Knowing most of the time they went to Zayn's house on Eids his mother used to fill the whole table with delicious dishes and the whole day was spent having fun.

"We do nothing but have loads of nice time -- I already made a dessert 'cos I know I'll be too lazy in the mornin', and invited your friends if that's okay?" She glances up at him done with her left palm.

"Perfect then," He nods, "D'ya need help with the other one?" He asks grabbing her right hand and the tube of henna from her.

"Yes, please." She shows him her hand covered with with henna and since it's wet she could do one thing wait or let him do it. The second options sounds more good.

"Not on me if it gets messed up." He warns her nonchalantly following the same pattern of her left hand. Stealing glances of her attractive face every now and then, dotting her moles with his intense gaze, he just thinks her brown eyes look more intricate – it's specks as if the forests soil on the first rains when they dilate with her racing heartbeat.

They're like an open book to him and at the same time mysteriously dark that he feels like burning a match to melt in them.

"You did it way better than me," She snorts examining it closely and turns the other way round to lay down on the carpeted floor and rest her head in his lap. He wipes his own hands watching the dark henna leaving a swipe of color on his fingertips.

He pets her hair, dimples milking into his cheeks when she raises her both hands infront of him -- blocking the moonlight that's falling on her, "When I was small I always used to end up getting it on my face and lemme tell ya. Having a yellow blotch isn't even a tiny bit fascinating on the only day you could dress up fancy."

His chest rumbles with giggles and he brings her hands closer to her lips blowing raspberries at them to get them dry early.

Comfortable silence envelopes them in to the point where they could hear crickets singing outside and moonlight sparkling on their skin —- she breaks it cuddling up into his chest.

"I really appreciate this, Harry." Her voice hushed whisper and her cherry stained lips couldn't resist but to patch kisses where his heart lays and she could sense it kicking a pace, "The fact that you did so much just for me -- is beyond my thought. I really feel like home." He let her speak. Squeezing her shoulders to convey the fierceness of his emotions he holds for her. His silken lips pressed to her temple and his eyelids flutters with each spurt of breath she inhales.

"I'll keep making you feel like home, till the day you'll allow me." Today. He for actually felt that his home was never a building or the luxurious furniture adorned inside it, but her. It's always gonna be her.

Because the moment he gets lost in those eyes all he come across is their shared laughter, their moments spent on this balcony right outside sipping onto their chas and watching the city wake up infront of their eyes, going to places he has never been to before, doing things he never thought he'd do in hundered years —- he isn't a big fan of spices but he still pretends like a big boi infront of her while eating pani puri she's oh so obsessed with.

The times she was never embarrassed to introduce him to her community or her friends, and getting soaked into rains even though they could've just used his car, having days planned to make him try new desi dishes, going to buy candles of many scent and shapes with him but then never feeling like leaving the store until he warns her that he'll throw her on his shoulder infront of everyone.

Going to Turkish markets together. He's a bread lover and so all this time he doesn't feel like leaving the shops filled with different kiln and tandoori breads. Eating Simit and drinking black tea in the amardu cups sitting outside the cafe –- he likes it with cheese while she might sound bland she just likes a bit of butter.

Them deciding for hours and hours which Persian rug to buy -- but never buying it apologising to the shop keeper.

Giving eachother head massages from the organic rosemary Morrocon oil that one of her friend gifted her, (Y/N) thinks she's one hell of a masseuse but Harry thinks otherwise —- though he would never ever break her heart so it's better keeping it a secret.

His nose creates a purring sound while he sleeps leaning against the wall, he doesn't even remember when he fell into the deep slumber with his large hand still wrapped around her wrist in a protective manner to keep her from moving.

It's cute.

Though when she stirs to regain consciousness with the birds chirping outside she feels remorseful finding him sleeping in such an uncomfy position just because of her and he wakes up with a loud wheeze —- blinking rapidly to see what just happened only to visibly relax back when she shushes him gently.

"Baby .... shit." He grogs out, knuckling at his eyes pointing at her jaw which's covered into a orangish streak, "Don't tell me." She groans bumping her head against his bicep.

A moment later they burst into fits of hoarse giggles and chuckles. She'd try to suck in air to not to snort and would do it nonetheless driving them more into belly aching laughter.

"Eid Mubarak, I guess?" He cackles loudly. Dimple coveting in to his velvet of skin. Rubs the tip of his nose against her's affectionately and swoons her in his arms to hug her warmly.

"Now -— go 'n dress up, c'mon." He cups the nape of her neck playing with the baby hair there and she whines smushing her face against his chest, "No. Lemme sleep some more."

"Heyyy none of that, c'mon sleepy girl you'll regret it later." He boops her nose smiling down at her fondly and she grumbles mumbling something in between you're so annoying or you're being so much like my mum.

He waits for her laying on the sofa with his arms folded and eyes closed. Prolly took a mini version of nap only to perk his head up grabbing the back of sofa when she returns with wet hair, soft clean face and lips tinted cherry wearing the dress and bangles he bought for her.

An enchantress from head to toe, he wouldn't even complain if she bewitches him.

He needs someone to pinch his bum because he thinks his eyelids might have struck. He takes a dramatic breather mischievously, pupils dilated cutesly and heart shaped lips parted with the sweet loving words in praise of her beauty burning at the tip of his tongue.

His fawning gives her butterflies. Expanding her chest with warmth and she does a three-sixty when he spindles his nimble in the air demanding her to show herself from every angle.

Her head falls back. An echo of happy giggles resonating in the room when he smacks his hand against his chest and flops into heaps of sofa cushions.

"You're fuckin' beautiful, a total knockout." He walks towards her with his hands spread open and takes her's to kiss the inside of her palms, "So are you." Her voice small with shyness. He sits on her on sofa and stays beside her with his chin perched upon his knuckles staring at her like she hung the moon -- as if she's a prayer come true.

"Did you get me ready to d'nothing?" She turns towards him. The curled up fringes kissing the apples of her cheeks same as his fingertips are dying to do so.

"I might sound selfish but it was a trap to get you ready early so I could admire you till everyone squeeze between us ... " He smirks and she huffs sinking deeper into the sofa throwing her limbs in air and his breath hitches when her bangles clanks together producing a beautiful noise.

"Harry!!" She whines.

"Okie, time to fill some grumpy kitten's tummy." He announces standing up to head to kitchen and she shakes her head with a silly smile trailing behind him.

All she knows is that. This Eid she'll have the best time of her life, as she could already feel his energy and love radiating in every corner of her home.

@harryforvogue idk why but everytime I'd sit to write this blurb you'd pop in my mind, hope so you're not hiccuping wildly.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x y/n imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles dirty imagines #harry x reader

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wydguk · 3 years

Text

exile - kth

pairing: taehyung x reader (ft. namjoon x reader)

genre: angst, tae and y/n are exes

warnings: really angsty.... there are arguments and screaming matches in here... sort of toxic relationship? they're bad at communication

word count: 3.4k

summary: it took you five whole minutes to pack the entirety of your relationship with taehyung and to leave.

note: I'M BACK!! namjoon has like one line in this i'm so sorry T.T there's like zero fluff. like absolutely no fluff. and chaeyoung makes an appearance in this! it's up to you if u wanna picture park chaeyoung (rosé) as chae or son chaeyoung from twice as chae lol.

ALSO! this is based on taylor swift and bon iver's song exile on the folklore album! i do not own the song or the lyrics in any way, shape or form.

i can see you standing, honey

with his arms around your body

taehyung walks out of the store, scrolling through his phone. his day is just as mundane as it was yesterday and will be tomorrow. it’s been mundane since he last saw you.

his feet suddenly come to a stop when he hears your laugh ahead of him, but he shakes his head, reprimanding himself for thinking about you again. he’s about to continue his way down the street when he hears you laughing again and he looks away from his phone to see you laughing in someone else's arms.

he blinks. once, twice.

you’re there. you’re really there. he can hear his heart pounding in his ears and falling to his feet and jumping up into his throat all at once at the mere sight of you. you seem to notice him too, eyes widening before looking up at whoever you’re with. only then does taehyung register the fact that you’re not alone — you’re with someone else while he still wonders what went wrong every night before he sleeps.

you look happy. pure, genuine happiness is written in your eyes. the stranger’s arms are wrapped around you as you avoid taehyung’s eyes, continuing down the street as you listen to what your partner is saying. taehyung feels sick to his stomach.

laughin', but the joke's not funny at all

“you know, i’ve been thinking about removing my spine. i feel like it’s only holding me back!”

as you walk closer towards taehyung, he can hear the joke the other man is making.

you let out another laugh just as you walk right past him and he frowns. that is one of the worst jokes taehyung has ever heard and you laughed at it like it’s one of the best. which is misleading, considering the fact that taehyung used to tell you jokes all the time. his jokes were definitely funny. how have your standards gotten so low?

he lets out a breath he didn’t even realise he’d been holding, but this only allows him to smell your perfume, and it’s still the same perfume he’d given you on your last birthday.

your last birthday is probably the last time he really felt content. whole.

to pack us up and leave me with it

and it took you five whole minutes

holdin' all this love out here in the hall

taehyung doesn’t like to think of you because in spite of all the good memories, your last argument still ricochets in his head. withstanding the shouts and crashes is impossible when all he wants is to remember you laying in his arms, sharing a tub of ice cream.

three weeks after your birthday, you and taehyung sit at the dining table in silence, staring down intensely at your food. you haven’t fought since the week after your birthday, when you threw insults at each other just because the other couldn’t keep up with chores, or call to say they were okay. taehyung still thinks about the way you shouted at him.

“i don’t remember why i ever wanted to be with you!”

taehyung exhales, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t mean that, y/n. you’re just upse-”

“upset? yeah, i am upset. why shouldn’t i be? am i the one making mistakes? no! it’s you. it’s all you, taehyung!” you yell. “you have some nerve, taehyung.”

“so now it’s my fault? everything is my fault, because you’ve been the perfect girlfriend this whole time. you haven’t made a single mistake, and you have nothing to own up to, because you’re just so, so perfect, aren’t you, y/n?” taehyung is breathless and his blood is boiling.

“shut up! i don’t care. talk to me when you’re mature enough to own up to your mistakes.” you walk off and slam the bedroom door, leaving taehyung speechless. “real mature, y/n! go ahead, keep slamming the doors like it makes you any more mature.”

taehyung is jolted back into the present when he hears you set your fork down onto your plate. “tae, are you going to finish that? i’m about to wash the dishes,” you speak quietly, standing up to go to the kitchen. “i’ll wash it myself,” he replies, and he watches you enter the kitchen without a word.

he follows you in after a few minutes, where you’ve just finished washing your own dishes. instead of leaving, you lean against the island counter and he looks back at you. “i think we need to talk, tae.”

taehyung lets out a low chuckle as he looks down at the sink. “go ahead,” he’d already seen this coming, but now that it’s here, he doesn’t know how to act.

you’re silent. only when taehyung faces you do you speak. “i think we should break up,” you start. “i know,” he replies. “is this okay with you?” you reach out for his hand but he runs it through his hair before you get the chance to.

“y/n, you don’t have to stay if you’re not happy. regardless if i’m okay with it or not, i can’t just ask you to stay for my sake.” he sighs. he’s handling this better than he thought.

“thank you, taehyung.” you’re crying, but you wipe away your tears before they can fall. “i’ll… i’ll go soon.” you don’t look at him because you if you do, you know you’ll be crying your eyes out and convincing yourself to stay.

taehyung sits on the couch and stares straight ahead at the television screen, which is playing an action movie he has no intention to pay any mind to. all he can focus on is the sound of you shuffling around behind him, packing everything you own into your suitcase. he thinks about how easy it is for you to pack up the entirety of your relationship in a few minutes.

“tae?” you call out, standing by the door. his heart shatters when he realizes this is probably the last time he’ll see you in a long time. he gets off the couch and takes in your face, capturing your visage into his memory one last time. when you reach out for his hand, he doesn’t avoid it again. he won’t be able to do this again.

“i love you,” he whispers. “i love you too,” you look down at your intertwined hands before walking out and closing the door, leaving all the love behind with taehyung.

if you’ve thought about him since then, you won’t admit it, and he doesn’t know it.

i think i've seen this film before

and i didn't like the ending

taehyung refuses to think about the breakup again. he hates the way it ended.

you're not my homeland anymore

so what am i defending now?

taehyung watches you walk farther and farther away from him, and all he wants to do is reach out for you. he wants to rip you away from that stranger and feel you in his arms again, feel your warm hand in his.

but you’re not his anymore, and he let you go all those months ago. he has no reason to feel this way. the green eyed monster shouldn’t be clawing away at his rational thoughts, yet still taehyung’s feet are begging to let him run after you and make you his again. he wants to return things back to the way they were, to the pure love you had for each other.

he has no reason to feel this way.

you were my town, now i'm in exile, seein' you out

when did things change? you were his home and his heart. it’s been months and he still doesn’t understand.

i can see you starin', honey

like he's just your understudy

you’re laughing at another one of namjoon’s jokes when you feel someone’s eyes on you, their stare heavy. when you look ahead, it’s taehyung. the same taehyung who you left alone in his apartment all those months ago. the same taehyung you laid with in bed every night. the same taehyung whose shirt you spilt coffee all over, and the same taehyung you met at the museum all those years ago.

it’s taehyung.

your eyes widen and you turn away as quicker than you can blink, muttering underneath your breath. “it’s my ex.” namjoon’s grip around you tightens. sneaking a glance at taehyung again, you can see how his eyes are unblinking. it’s not written on his face or in his body language, but from his eyes alone you can already tell how he feels about namjoon.

there is nothing violent or scary about his stare, but it’s almost arrogant. he looks at namjoon like he’s just a temporary replacement despite the fact that you both know you’re never getting back together.

like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

taehyung isn’t a violent person. he’s the type of person to calmly talk things out, the type of person to break up a fight. he’d never even hurt a fly. once, you watched as he picked up a spider and let it crawl across the balcony railing while you shrieked from inside.

so it’s shocking when you watch as his hands twitch and his jaw clenches. taehyung’s definitely protective, but what does he have to protect now? why does he look like he’s about to pummel namjoon into the ground? he agreed to let you go.

second, third, and hundredth chances

balancin' on breaking branches

you gave him so many chances. so many opportunities to apologize.

but did he? no.

those eyes add insult to injury

he probably thinks you got over him quicker than you did. in fact, it took you weeks that bled into months to get over him. there were numerous occasions where you considered knocking on his door and taking it all back, but you never could. it drained you emotionally just thinking about it.

“he made you so happy, y/n,” chaeyoung says as she tries to shake you out of your trance. “just text him or something.” giving up, she flops down next to you on the bed, snatching the tub of ice cream out of your hands.

you groan, shoving your face deeper into the pillow. “he hurt me so bad, chae. i don’t know if i can just forget about it all just to go back to him,” you sit up and let her feed a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

“you don’t have to date him again, dummy. it’d still be a good idea for you to get some closure at the very least, right?” you hate how chaeyoung is always right, especially when it comes to these situations. “i don’t want closure.” you state grumpily. “i’m just gonna stay here with you every day and cry about how much i miss him.”

“if you’re gonna do that at least buy your own ice cream…” she hums, and you grin at her before eating another spoonful.

you don’t like the way he’s looking at namjoon. it only rubs in the fact that he’s being jealous when he has no right to be.

it’s completely unfair.

i'm not your problem anymore

so who am i offending now?

before you broke up, he was always complaining about the little things you would or wouldn’t do, nitpicking at the simplest of details. in time, you got used to his nagging and he got used to your habits. even now, in your head, you still hear his voice reminding you to do this and not to do that.

his friends didn’t seem to like you all that much, so you tended to stay home whenever taehyung invited you to spend the night out with his friends. although he’d always frowned whenever you turned him down, he’d brush it off and leave you alone to your sleepless nights waiting up for him.

“text me next time if you’re coming home late, okay?” you whisper as you look at his fluttering eyelashes under the covers.

“i will,” he mumbles sleepily before drifting off, arms tightly wrapped around you.

he never remembered to text you.

it’s foolish of him to look at you like that. he looks agitated and offended and sad all at once but what could you do? he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his to take care of anymore.

i think i've seen this film before

so i'm leaving out the side door

you hate the way he’s making you feel in only a few short seconds, so you look up at namjoon again and laugh at whatever joke he’s making again. it took you this long to get over taehyung and you weren’t going to throw it all away just because you’ve seen him again.

so step right out, there is no amount

of crying i can do for you

when taehyung arrives home, the first thing he does when he gets into his bed is cry. he’s always been alarmingly good at suppressing his emotions but seeing you again after so long has taken its toll on him.

he hasn’t cried like this in a while, but it hurts just as much as the last time.

two hours later, taehyung stares up at the ceiling when he suddenly feels the urge to text you. before he knows it, his fingers are typing away uncontrollably and pressing the send button. instead of reading what he sent you, he sets his phone down on his bedside table and falls asleep.

when you arrive home that night, you check your notifications and choke on your spit when you see that taehyung has sent you a message. “chae,” you call out, throwing yourself onto the couch. humming, she comes out of her room. “taehyung texted me.”

her eyes bulge out as she throws herself onto you and pulls your phone out of your grasp. “no way!” she yells, standing up and raising her hands up to her mouth. “you’re kidding me!”

“don’t get too excited!” you laugh, sitting up straight. “he just wants to meet for coffee. it’s no big deal!”

“no big deal? y/n, you haven’t spoken since you broke up!” she lets out a breath, placing her hands on her hips. “he has some god-level timing. right when you and namjoon start going out? unbelievable.”

you reach for your phone, almost tumbling off the couch when chaeyoung pretends she's not returning it to you. begrudgingly sighing, she throws the phone into your lap and cuddles into your side and continues her earlier humming. "it doesn't matter if namjoon asked me out or not. there's going to be nothing romantic about our meetup. we're just gonna talk about whatever he wants to talk about and that's it!" you decide. if you keep repeating it to yourself in your head like a mantra you might start to believe it.

"isn't it strange though? how he's texting you out of nowhere after months and months? he's thinking about you, y/n!" chaeyoung giggles.

"well," you start. "i did see him earlier today while i was out on my date with namjoon…" chaeyoung whips her head around to look at you, shock written all over her face. "y/n, you're joking," squealing, she flails her legs around giddily. "you guys are meant to be. nsmjoon won't mind. he'll understand when he sees you two together."

"chae!" you whine. it would be devastating to break namjoon's heart after how good he's been to you. "i can't break his heart like that, he's done nothing wrong! he's a perfectly sweet guy and he really does care about me."

"are we talking about taehyung or namjoon?" chaeyoung teases, a smirk on her lips.

"chae…" you groan.

"fine, fine! i'll stop. but you have to meet him for that coffee. it's going to be the best coffee meeting you'll ever have in your life. i can feel it in my bones."

you hate how you hope she's right.

never being the patient type, your leg bounces restlessly as you wait for taehyung at your table. the coffees you bought for the two of you are still steaming hot when you look up to the sound of the door bells jingling and lock eyes with taehyung, who gives you a sheepish smile.

"hey," he starts. sliding into the chair opposite you. "you didn't have to get me this," he motions toward the coffee.

pushing his cup closer towards him, you shake your head, a tight-lipped smile plastered across your face. "it's nothing," you reply. "so why did you want to meet me here?"

unbeknownst to namjoon, you didn't cancel your plans with him because you had a supposed dentist appointment. if you told him you were going to meet taehyung he surely would've stood guard outside your door to prevent you from leaving while chae would lecture him on letting you make your own decisions.

it was easier this way.

"i just figured we haven't talked in a while. what's up with you? how's it going?" he says. you narrow your eyes at him and take a sip of your coffee. "what reason do we have to talk? we're not in each other's lives anymore." you decide. setting down your cup, your fingers lightly drum against the table, and you watch as his face drops and his eyebrows furrow.

"maybe if you didn't walk out on us we'd still be in each other's lives," he mutters. "w-what?" you gasp, taken aback. "you let me go! i asked you and you said it was fine. would you rather have us both unhappy but still in a relationship?"

leaning back, he sighs. "i was happy, y/n. you-"

"but not happy enough! not the natural happiness that wasn't always on the edge of turning sour. didn't you notice, taehyung? all this time, we've always walked a very thin line." you rant, your feelings getting the best of you. "i didn't and i don't want you to settle for the bare minimum, lo- taehyung." your heart stutters when you almost let his old pet name slip, his eyes meeting yours, unblinking.

taehyung stares at you for a moment. "and how did you know, y/n? that i wasn't happy? that i wasn't content or whole in our relationship?" you pause, throat constricting. "yea, i let you go. but i didn't want to. not for a single second did i ever consider willingly letting you slip away from me. but what could i do? you still left, i had to let you because i knew you'd be happier. but ypu, you didn't even hear me out, and you never gave a warning sign."

"i gave so many signs!" you protest. "i-"

"and i was just supposed to catch on? you couldn't even say it straight to my face?" he's unrelenting, eyes burning holes into your soul. he's angry and he's hurting and you know it's partially your fault. maybe even wholly. "all this time, i never learned to read your mind." he scoffs.

"yea, i guess you never learned to read my mind. and i'm sorry i expected that much from you! but you never turned things around. you didn't try to figure out what was going wrong and if we could mend it." you sputter, and you feel your cheeks starting to heat up.

"i'm saying! you never gave a warning sign. what could i do?" you've never seen taehyung look so small and defeated, and your heart aches in your chest. all you want to do is take him into your arms and tell him everything will be alright.

yet you can't. maybe all those months ago you could've. and you thought you had moved on and you thought he had too, but it's become glaringly obvious that none of you have.

"tae…" his eyes widen and he blinks at you. "taehyung! taehyung. i should go…" you murmur. taking his hand, you study the lines on his palm and the divots on his knuckles and let out a watery smile.

"you always do," he replicates your smile and watches as you stand up. "i love you."

"i love you too," you whisper.

when you walk away, you half expect him to chase after you and beg for you to stay, but you know it's too selfish of you to want it.

when you walk away, he half expects you to turn around like they always do in the movies, but he knows your pride always gets the best of you.

you've both seen this film before, and neither of you liked the ending.

note: very unedited and also this was a bitch to re-stylize on tumblr. thank you very much for reading! like or reblog if you enjoyed it and feel free to tell me what u think :) my asks and my dms are always open!

#btsghostie #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #taehyung scenario #bts taehyung #bts fic #bts angst #bts #bts scenario #taehyung oneshot #f: exile #c: the songfics

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mikkomacko · 5 years

Text

Sweet As Honey 6

Harry's a bloody good fighter. He doesn't brag much, only when he's trying to intimidate some asshole that's eyeing his y/n or a new boxer has been pushing his buttons. He's humble, for the most part, but he prides himself on being one of the few boxers that doesn't get knocked out.

He can feel the burning shame before he's even fully woken up. Or maybe that's just another concussion. It doesn't matter, they both make him feel like he failed.

He can feel fingers in his sweaty hair, close to his head and gently scratching his scalp. It eases the throbbing behind his head a bit. There's a hand in his left one, boxing gloves removed and now just covered in tape. He can tell by the shape of the hand in his that y/n is the one next to him. He wants to feel her against him, holding him, taking care of him. It's her that gives him the strength to peel his heavy eyelids open.

The lights have been dimmed but they still make his head pound and he winces. Y/n squeezes his hand and he does it back, turning his head to the left to look at her. She's smiling at him, close lipped but soft and nurturing. Her fingers keep massaging his head, making his toes curl.

"Hey love," She whispers, inching closer to him. She's face level with him, meaning she's sat on a chair next to the bed he's on. He wonders where they are but he can't get his brain to focus enough to look around him. Besides, he kind of likes that she's the only thing he can focus on.

"Hi." His voice is rough and cracky, itching in his dry throat. He swallows a couple times, hoping that'll help but he needs water. His lips fall open to ask y/n for some but she's already pulling her hand from his hair and reaching over his head. She brings down a styrofoam cup with a straw sticking out of it. Harry pushes himself up to his right elbow, vision swooping as he sits up. He closes his eyes, willing the nausea away and parting his lips for the straw. Y/n directs it to his lips, holding the cup and his hand while he drinks.

When his throat feels better and his body cooler, he gently falls back into the pillows behind his head. Y/n returns the cup to it's spot, fingers falling back to his hair. He hums, blinking sluggishly at her.

"Don't feel as bad as I thought I would." Harry admits quietly. He expected to be aching and throbbing all over after the beating he took. He wonders why it doesn't hurt but the question doesn't last long before y/n is clearing it up for him.

"Medics gave you a shot of painkillers while you were out." Her hand falls to cup his cheek, head tilting as she rubs her thumb over the swollen spot on his cheekbone. "Didn't want you hurting when you woke up."

"Thank you,"

"Cleaned you up a bit too. You've got a bandage above your eye but nothing needed stitches." She places her thumb over the bandage.

"How bad was it?" Harry asks, lifting their intertwined hands. He strokes the back of her hand with his free one.

"Nothing too bad." Y/n lays her cheek against their hands. "Besides the concussion you're just a little more beat up than usual."

Harry nods, sighing softly. Him and y/n just look at each other for a moment, eyes gleaming with appreciation. He wonders if she was worried when he blacked out. If she cried or if she took charge and rushed to get the medics. He hopes she didn't cry. He remembers how much it affected her the first time he'd been knocked out. He doesn't want to think about her reliving that so he blinks the image away.

"Want to go home darling."

She smiles, kissing his knuckles. "Then let's go home."

Y/n is pretty good at keeping her cool, especially when it comes to him getting hurt. She doesn't want to make things worse or guilt trip him by whining about how worried she was. But she had never seen him knocked out.

He's doing good in the ring. He isn't dominating like he usually does and of course that bothers her because she hates to see him hurt, but she knows he can't always win. Her and Nick cheer him on, knowing that he tries to impress them and reminding him that they're there for him.

She's mid holler, starting to grin because he's charging his opponent, obviously fueled by them when the man dodges Harry's hit and swings. His glove collides with the side of Harry's head, snapping him to the right and crumbling Harry. She freezes, hands cupping her mouth as Harry drops like a ragdoll to the floor of the ring.

The bell dings loudly and the ref throws the other man's hand up and y/n knows the crowd is cheering but she can't hear it. Her ears are ringing as she watches Liam clamber into the ring and towards Harry. Nick hops over the gate in front of them, following after Liam into the ring. Seeing Nick slip through the ropes snaps her out of her daze and she rushes through the gate. By the time she reaches the ring, medics have pulled a stretcher out of the back room and are helping Liam and Nick pull Harry out of the ring.

Tears build in her eyes at the sight of him. He looks lifeless, flopping onto the stretcher. His gloved hands hang off the side, begging for her to reach out and grab one. She rushes after the medics, grabbing Harry's left hand in both of hers. She gasps at the already bruised knot by his eye, the swollen skin split and oozing dark blood into his hair and onto his shoulder. They wheel him down the hallway and towards his changing room, tears finally falling down her cheeks.

"Why isn't he waking up?"

The medics ignore her, pushing Harry into his room. She has to release his hand so they fit through the doorway, falling back helplessly. She feels arms wrap around her, tugging her back. She turns, crying into Liam's shoulder.

"Why isn't he waking up Liam? W-is he ok?"

Liam shushes her, holding the back of her head softly in the same way he's seen Harry hug her. She sobs into his shirt, mind replying the scene of Harry dropping to the ring. She feels like she can't breathe.

"He'll be fine. Just give him a moment."

A moment passes. And then another with no sign of Harry waking up on the other side of the door. Y/n has ran out of tears (she's not much of a crier but when she does cry, it's like a tsunami) but she still clings to Liam. His chest isn't as firm or as warm as Harry's but she trusts him to know if Harry's ok, so she wills herself to relax.

When the door behind her opens, she pulls from Liam and whirls around to look inside. One of the medics nods for them to come in and, holding tight to Liam's hand, she enters first.

To her dismay, Harry's still laying on the stretcher, eyes shut and lips parted like he might just be sleeping. The other medic is crouched over her unconscious boyfriend, stitching up the wound on the side of his head. His boxing gloves have been removed, now tossed haphazardly in the direction of the couch.

"He was up a minute ago but fell back asleep when he saw us cleaning him up." The medic that let them in says, giving y/n sympathetic eyes. She wipes at her own with the back of her hand.

"Will he wake up soon?" Her voice is small and croaky.

"He's pretty much just sleeping now, which is good. He's got a pretty heavy concussion. Won't be able to fight for quite some time but he'll be ok."

Y/n nods, stepping up to the stretcher. She releases Liam's hand to grab Harry's instead. His fingers twitch around hers and she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

The medic is finishing up the bandage on his head so she takes the time to gently peel the tape off his hands. She treats every finger like it's made of glass, thumbing over the tape mark as if she can rub away all the pain. She balls up the tape and drops it to the floor, moving around to the other side of the stretcher. The medic that was stitching him up is now talking to Liam in the corner, most likely going over his recovery process. Her chest aches, knowing how upset Harry's going to be. She starts her gentle process of removing the tape.

"S'too bright in here."

She jumps at his words, squeezing his hand and looking up at him. He's squinting into the lights, eyes dark and unfocused but looking at her. Y/n lifts her arm, shielding the light for him. He relaxes for a moment but as soon as he takes in the sight of her, his eyes and lips droop.

"Why are ya crying darling?"

She sniffles, not realizing that she was in fact crying again. His free hand cups her cheek, wiping away tears as best he can. They don't seem to want to stop.

"I was so scared."

Harry's frown deepens. He squeezes her hand even tighter and slips his other hand behind her head, pulling her closer to him. Harry puckers his lips into hers, ignoring the pounding in his head and the salty tears on her.

"M'ok. Just tired baby."

She laughs wetly, puffy red eyes and lips haunting him. He hates to see her cry but damn does she look beautiful. His body aches with fondness. "I already talked to a medic. I know you have a concussion."

Harry doesn't respond. He's too caught up in watching her. He's never seen her like this. He's never seen that deep of a pinch between her eyebrows or that doe-like look of relief when he woke up. It's been a long time since someone's looked at him with that much care and it hits him harder than his opponent did.

He loves her.

Harry really fucking loves y/n.

Y/n blinks at him, sniffling once more. "You weren't waking up," She whispers as if speaking the words will make them come true. "you were just lying there and there was a bunch of blood. It felt like-"

Like her world had crumpled with him.

"Shh, s'ok baby." Harry shushes, heart hammering painfully at her pitiful cries. He doesn't want to hear how scared she was. He's supposed to protect her, not scare her. "M'awake. Right here with ya."

He brings their intertwined hands up, forcing her fingers open and laying them over his bare chest. She gives him a tiny smile.

"Are you feeling ok? Do you need anything?"

Harry hums, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of her hand under his, holding the heart that beats for her. "Want to go home and shower. Cuddle with ya too, ma head hurts and ya always make it better."

She leans down to kiss his forehead. "Then let's go home Harry." She doesn't know if home means her place or his but it doesn't matter because she's sure that as long as he's there, it'll feel like home.

Ice pack pressed against his head, Harry watches y/n with sleepy eyes as she finishes washing the last of the dishes. She dries her hands on a pink dish towel, hanging it over the oven railing to dry. She smiles when she looks at him, coming around the side of the counter to where he's sitting on the bar stool, head in his other hand.

"Gonna be ok while I'm in the shower?" She asks, threading her fingers through Harry's damp hair. He nods, lips perking up with an amused smile. She knows he'll be fine but he loves that she still asks.

"I'll be right out. Try to eat something if you can, ok?"

Harry nods again, eyes slipping shut as she presses a tender kiss to his forehead. He huffs when her fingers leave his hair, slipping to his shoulder for an affectionate squeeze. He listens to her ascend the stairs, growing more groggy with every step he hears her take.

"How are you feeling?"

His eyes snap open, flickering up to find his mom standing across from him. She looks nervous, fidgeting with the sleeve of her pajama shirt. Harry wonders why he didn't hear her come in.

"M'fine. Really tired though." A small yawn stretches his mouth as if proving his point.

"You should get some rest."

Harry shrugs. "Wanna wait for her. Don't like going to bed by myself."

A fond grin, similar to the one he gives his own son, lifts her lips. "You always hated sleeping alone."

He can't stop his following words. "Got used to it for a while when I stayed with Nick. Y/n changed that."

He can hear Anne's nervous gulp. "She was like a bloody war hero after the fight," she says, timidly. Harry's glad for the subject change, he doesn't want to talk about living with Nick.

"Yeah?"

"She was up as soon as she saw you fall. The bell rang and she was hopping the gate to get to the ring."

His eyes flicker down to the countertop. "Did she cry?"

Anne hums thoughtfully. "I think she wanted to but she was too concerned. She was checking you for a concussion or wound before the medics could even get to you."

Harry sighs in relief, a smile pulling at his lips. That's his girl. That's his amazing, strong girl. He breathes easier now that the memory of her crying is gone.

"I know you may not agree, but you're still my son Harry so I have to tell you that I'm so proud of you. You've made yourself the perfect family and it all started with fighting," He hears her quivering breath and he knows if he looked at her, she'd be teary. "But please be careful in that ring. If you got hurt, it would just crush her."

Harry knows she's talking about y/n. And he knows how much it would pain y/n if he got permanently injured;that's why he works so hard to keep himself healthy and in shape. But that's not what he wants to hear. He doesn't want his mother telling him to be safe because it'll hurt his wife. He wants to hear from his mom.

"Just her?"

He looks up at her through his eyelashes. She sniffles, squaring her shoulders and staring at him dead in the eyes. "It would crush all of us."

Chills run up Harry's spine, an odd feeling of home sickness settling in his bones. In an ideal world, his mom would have been present for all the times that he's proved his family is his number one. She would have seen him forfeit his first fight because Arlo had gotten sick. She would have seen him abandon an interview with the cities top sports writer because y/n was stuck on the bad side of town. She would have seen him give up every bit of pride he had so he could get better for his wife.

It hurts that his mother still thinks of him as a reckless and selfish fighter. He doesn't need to show her that he's capable of caring for his family but if it'll help fix the longing in his chest, he'll gladly do it again. He can't think of a better way to spend his time than spoiling his wife and babies.

"Gemma?"

The arms around his neck tighten, y/n completely tensing at the name she's only heard a handful of times. Harry feels her start to pull back and he squeezes her waist. He doesn't want Gemma and Anne seeing the face of his wife. They don't deserve to know his happiness.

"Harry?"

"Sh love," Harry murmurs, heart thumping loudly. He doesn't know what to do, what to say. He's thought about seeing them for years but now that they're here he wants them gone. He wants to kiss y/n and take her to dinner and then take her home where he can lovingly dolt on her.

"Hi Harry," Gemma says, offering him a twitchy smile. He stares back at her with furrowed eyebrows and dark eyes that refuse to look at Anne. He doesn't want to look into the eyes of the woman that was supposed to care for him but abandoned him instead.

"Is that..."

"Yeah," Harry whispers in y/n's ear, lips barely moving.

"Both of them?"

"Mhm."

This time when she pulls back, he lets her. She turns around, standing firmly in front of him like a shield. If Harry weren't so preoccupied with the fact that he's looking into the face of his sister, he'd be cooing about the fact that his height towers over her and yet she's guarding him.

Gemma's eyes flicker to y/n and Harrys heart seizes. Without thinking, he's grabbing her elbow and pulling her back until she's hiding behind him. Gemma's eyes return to his, widening at the glare that he's sure is blazing from under his pinched brows.

"What are ya doing here?" Harry says gruffly, reaching behind him for y/n's hand. She grips his taped and sweaty hand, and he's not sure if she's squeezing it for her own sake or his.

Gemma's lips fall open, gaping for a brief second. "W-we came to see you."

He ignores the flutter of hope, pushing it down and reminding himself that that's not his family up there. His family is standing behind him, watching his back. "Why?" He barks.

"Harry," y/n says warningly, tugging on his arm. He looks Gemma up and down with distaste, turning to his wife and making sure his broad frame is still blocking her. She raised her eyebrows at him, lips pursed and he already knows the words she's trying to tell him.

This is his chance. This is the moment he's been asking for ever since he first texted his mom that he had graduated and every other bit of news he'd sent after. Anne and Gemma are here, and he can blow them off like they did him but it would do no good. He refuses to be the same careless person his mother is.

His face must show his agreement because y/n gives him a smile, tiny but proud, and pecks a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I've got this babe," she says and then she's stepping around him, acting like a shield again. She takes a few steps closer to the stands, Harry following closely behind her.

"You must be Gemma," y/n greets, voice friendly despite the tension between Harry and the two women. "and that would make you Anne."

Harry doesn't look at Anne but he can see her small nod. Gemma smiles at y/n, relaxing at the welcoming tone and greeting. "Yeah, we're Harry's...."

Y/n ignores Gemma's fallen smile. "I'm y/n. It's nice to meet you both."

Gemma quickly shakes off the panic that had flooded her face. As much as Harry would like y/n to tell them to fuck off, he's reminded once again why he loves her so much. She knows him better than he knows himself. Even if he wants Anne and Gemma to leave, it's best for him to hear them out. And luckily, his girl is there to get the ball rolling and protect him.

Fuck, he loves her.

"Nice to meet you y/n."

Harry tenses at the sound of her name on Gemma's lips. He never wanted them to know her name. She's too good for them, too good to be known by them.

Y/n looks over her shoulder at Harry. "You should go change."

"No." He shakes his head.

"Harry,"

"M'not leaving ya with 'em." He says firmly, not caring if they hear. "They ruined one family of mine, m'not giving 'em a chance to do it again."

Her eyes flicker between his but he has no resolve in them. He's putting his foot down and she's not moving it, no matter how weak for her he is. She nods, turning back to Anne and Gemma.

"Harry and I need to go change real quick but if you'd like, you can wait out here and we'll continue this."

Gemma's smile is twitchy. "Sounds wonderful."

Harry gives both of them one last warning look, not focusing on his mother because he really can't handle to look at her right now. He keeps y/n in front of him, a hand on her waist and guiding her back to his dressing room.

In the silence of the room, as he quickly strips down and heads for the shower, he realizes that Nick and Liam have disappeared. He's glad, he doesn't want them mixing with his old family.

"Are you ok Harry?" Y/n asks, standing by the doorway of the shower, close enough to speak to him but out of the range of the shower water. Harry shrugs, rubbing shampoo into his hair.

"I don't know, darling."

"What do you want to do?"

He closes his eyes, rinsing out his hair and thinking it over. He wants to talk to them but he needs time. Tonight is not the night he wants to go over everything that happened. He can't take that right now. So he keeps it simple. "Wanna go eat."

She giggles and it makes his lips curve up. "Do you want me to invite them? You don't have to talk to them tonight, but I know you want to take this chance."

"M'afraid of being around 'em." He admits, squeezing body wash down his chest and running his hands over his wet skin.

"I won't let them hurt you again." He admires the fighter in her.

"M'more afraid of having you around 'em."

"They won't hurt me. Not with you there."

Harry smirks softly, peeling off the wet tape on his fingers and letting it drop to the floor of the shower. "Still scares me. I don't ever want my happiness in the hands of 'em and you being close to her..."

"We'll be fine Harry," y/n hands him his towel as he shuts off the shower. "we'll just eat and try to figure out what they want. Then you get to decide what to do."

Harry pats his face and torso dry. "Just dinner?"

"Just dinner."

He sighs, nodding. "I can do that."

Y/n smiles proudly, placing her hands on his bare chest. He places his left hand over hers, leaning into her when she rises to her tip toes. "I love you."

Harry slots his lips with hers, squeezing her hand tightly. She slides her left hand over his shoulder and around his neck, pulling him closer. "Love you more." Harry mururms into her mouth.

The room is still dark when Harry wakes up, y/n curled against his chest and legs tangled together. She's snoring quietly, the same little snores that Arlo makes, and it has his chest swelling with love. He hopes their next little one snores like her too.

Harry softly rubs his fingers over her belly, smiling sleepily. They've got another baby growing in there. He can't believe his family is growing.

He pulls y/n closer to him, thinking of the way Anne had hinted at him not caring for his family the way he should. She should take her own advice, he thinks bitterly. He's always put y/n and Arlo first. They're his priorities, he'd do anything for them even if meant giving up everything else. He'd go back to fighting in the streets if it meant he had his family.

He thought Anne was getting better at being someone he could rely on. He was ready to sit down and talk about their relationship, let her know that he can see himself calling her mum again one day, but if she still thinks of him as just a violent boy, he can't. He can't offer her any of his growth until she grows herself.

It's time she grew up and became his mother again. If that means he has to step up and tell her, he will because he refuses to have her around if she's going to be the same selfish, condescending woman she was before. Harry's got a family to protect now and he's going to do all he can to keep them happy.

It's time for him to talk with his mother.

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