#the fact I am using my phone and my finger does not help me

[eepsy]

How do one use magma?? I AM TRYING HELP

#PLZ HELP ME #I TOO WANT TO JOIN THE DCA DISCORD BUT IM SO SHY LIKE THE AMOUNT OF PPL THERE BIG AND SMALL TRIGGERS MY SOCIAL ANXEITY #eepsytalk #I DREW ON MAGMA BUT I DO NOT LIKE IT #the fact I am using my phone and my finger does not help me #art #??? #rambles #if any of u guys in the dca palooza plz tell me so I can stop being shy 😭😭😭I too have so much dca I wanna show ppl #plz ignore this I’m going insane

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

#warm up #writeblr #this one has bothered me for a bit #any time a woman does something even passingly annoying we treat it like a fucking crime #hey man. women are allowed to be annoying. everyone forever is allowed to be passingly annoying #as long as they aren't hurting anyone/thing #like u wanna know something? i find it super annoying that men don't wear seatbelts #why arent there thousands of comments on driving videos thats just like : men try not to die in a car crash challenge #''this briefly annoyed me''. okay??????? AND????????????????? go get ur self a cookie and calm down about it #ur not entitled to control other ppl's experiences and emotions just so u can maintain ur own peace #if being briefly annoyed ruins ur whole day! you! need! therapy!!!! #men try not to become immediately angry about nothing challenge: level impossible #ps author is nonbinary. we didn't even get into the gender presentation thing #the fact men think it's SEXY that my voice is on the lower end....

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 2 ] || [ Chapter 4 ]

Pairing: Ghost x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: some sexual jokes/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 3: Simon

After doing the dishes, you moved yourself over to the living room and turned on the TV. Some rerun of an older season of Law and Order was playing.

You started watching but you found your eyes drifting back to your phone… 

Against your better judgement, you clicked on the Tinder app icon again. Maybe, maybe you should swipe just a little more.

And so you did. 

Today you said ‘Fuck you, Beyoncé’ and always went to the Right, to the Right. 

Just as you were pondering another profile, the screen darkened with a ‘It’s a Match!’ notification, making you jump a bit, as usual.

You clicked the profile and your brow scrunched. 

You didn’t remember liking this one… Though you obviously did, after all, you were liking everyone.

The only picture wasn’t even anything. It was dark and grainy and the man was wearing a black disposable face mask. If that even was him. Could just be a random picture off-Google, picked by someone who wanted to be anonymous. Not quite a catfish but close enough…

“Simon.” You said softly and dragged your finger through the screen to read his bio. For a moment you couldn’t help but smirk a little. He was sarcastic, a bit strange, but charismatic in his own way.

“Bad jokes, Bourbon, Discreet…” You mused while scanning his profile. “Tall enough.” You read aloud and couldn’t help but laugh at it. That made you feel like he was short.

Against your better judgement for the second time, you decided to send him a DM instead of waiting for him to. Something told you he wouldn’t.

you: tall enough - does that mean you’re below 6ft?

Simon: No.

Simon: Means that I have inches to spare.

you: was that a dick joke?

Simon: No.

Simon: Unless you wanted it to be.

You snorted softly under your breath. Of course he was a smart ass too…

you: ambiguous, i like it.

you: so how tall are you then?

Simon: Does it matter?

you: no. just curious.

Simon: 6ft4.

you: that feels like a lie.

Simon: I avoided putting it for a reason.

you: worried people would call you a liar?

Simon: No use. Going to be called it regardless.

you: that’s fair ig.

you: what’s a traveling consultant?

Simon: Similar to a contractor. Get brought in to help businesses all over the world.

you: what kind of businesses?

Simon: That’s need-to-know.

you: you type so formally and professionally jeez.

you: will i ever get to know?

Simon: Force of habit. Don’t text a lot.

Simon: Not if I can help it.

you: somehow i can tell.

you: what are you doing here then?

Simon: Curiosity mostly.

you: trying to see if you attract any fish? 👀

Simon: Something like that. A friend is on here. Wanted to see what all the fuss is about.

you: i see.

you: got anything yet?

Simon: No. But only created this 12 minutes ago.

you: am i your first then?

Simon: Not my first in anything, love.

Your eyes widened a bit and for some reason you found yourself getting a bit flustered, your face warming up just a bit.

you: does that mean you’ve hooked up with people through a dating app before?

Simon: Something of the sorts.

you: aw, im really not going to be your first.

Simon: That’s alright. You can come see me either way.

Simon: I’m sure you’ll find some other thing to be the first at.

Your breath got caught in your throat and you started sputtering. That came out of left field! He had gone from professional and mild-mannered to… flirty so quickly! Gulping, you tried to answer him with something coherent and funny.

you: idk what if you murder me?

Simon: I promise I won’t.

you: is that meant to be enough to convince me? 🤨

Simon: I’ll leave all my guns at home.

you: the fact you have more than one is not reassuring the way you think it is.

Simon: If it makes it any better, I wouldn’t need a gun to kill you.

Even though you don’t know this man, you can imagine that he’s laughing to himself behind his phone screen, all smug, thinking he’s funny. And, the worst part, is that he is.

you: reassuring. thanks.

Simon: Glad to be of service.

you: i think what makes it worse is that uve not got a pic of ur face.

Simon: Wouldn’t hook up with a bloke with his face covered?

you: no? are u trying to get me axe murdered? bc thats how u get axe murdered simon

Simon: LOL.

Simon: No.

you: u sure? a masked face with a mysterious job and a suspicious amount of guns… sounds like the upgraded version of ghostface… except online rather than over the phone.

Simon: I’ll take that as a compliment.

Simon: You’re funny. 

Simon: I like that.

you: thanks. 

Simon: Wondering if you’re that funny in real life or if you’d get all shy on me.

you: probably a mix of both.

Simon: How about we confirm that then? 

Simon: Meet up with me for drinks. No pressure on time or place. You can even postpone if it comes down to it. My job is unpredictable enough so I might have to postpone too.

Your eyes widened. The first attempt at flirting from him, of inviting you for a shag, had been clearly sarcastic… But this one is genuine.

you: ill get back to u on that, is that okay?

Simon: No sweat.

Simon: And if you’re just being polite and not actually going to text me again then: This was fun. Enjoyed myself. Take care.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile when you saw his polite goodbye. He was… sweet, weirdly enough.

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

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

#ikea writes 💚 #it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

[peachsayshi]

by your side. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ gojo x female reader ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

summary: gojo returns home after an exhausting two month trip away from you. 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: I’m so h*rny for this man & that tight black tee of his this is my contribution to celebrate satoru gojo and satoru gojo only <3  you can find my other yan gojo posts: here & here. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: yandere; lovesick/obsessed/needy gojo; sleepy satoru; oral (f receiving); edging; dub con (ish?); pussy drunk satoru 👀; size kink; dacryphilia 

“Missed you,” Satoru exhales with a strained voice, his long fingers unfastening the knot around your waist, similarly to how you removed the white ribbon of the present he gifted you earlier this evening. 

The elder jujutsu sorcerers frustrated him with too many problems during his isolation period away from you, binding him with the shackles of responsibilities that he never asked for.

Exchanging phone calls, text messages and videos with you wasn’t enough enough to fill the empty void in his heart. Only now, as he smooths down the silk fabric of your robe, does Satoru understand how terribly deprived he’s been. 

How did he survive these last two months without you?

“I missed you so much, my sweet girl”

His words are laced with anguish and his pupils dilate at your soft skin peeking out from under your attire. He pulls the material away from you, watching carefully as it ripples off your body like water. 

Around your neck is the present that he bought for you; a string of white gold links draping down your clavicle with a heart shaped pendant resting just above your chest. He nips at his bottom lip, considering the idea of adorning you in even more jewelry. 

Two sparkling studs for your ears, maybe...a charm bracelet to compliment a pretty anklet... a band that would look complete around your ring finger...

The image makes his dick twitch.

You’re looking up at him from underneath your lashes, shying away from his intense gaze and drifting down to his muscular torso looking snug in his black fitted tee. All of a sudden your bed feels much smaller with him there, and a tingle ascends up your spine when he curves his strong arm behind your waist. The force of his weight pushes you down onto the soft pillows behind you. His limbs taking up most of the mattress, leaving you pinned underneath the expanse of his chest. 

You’ve forgotten how quickly he makes your heart race.  You’re still adjusting to this - getting used to the status of being his girl.

He tenderly touches his forehead to yours, a reminder of why the claim shouldn’t make you feel like a frightened kitten trapped in a wolf’s den.

Those words are pure devotion now, an affirmation of his love towards you. There are many who dream about basking in its abundance, and here you are greedily indulging for free.

Being loved by him is an honor that you have been pleasantly awarded.

You tilt your chin up to brush your mouth over his, initiating the first kiss with a chaste peck against his pink lips before leaning back to look into the depths of his blue eyes. 

He’s exhausted, you can tell, the bright color of his irises are muted and his mouth is twisting downward in a subtle frown. You know for a fact that he carries many burdens as the head of his clan and the strongest sorcerer, but what’s unsettling you is the sullen expression overwhelming his handsome face since his arrival. 

“I thought you would be happy to see me,” you state quite matter of factly, swiping your thumb over the blush blooming underneath his pale skin. 

Satoru leans into your touch, resting his cheek comfortably in the palm of your hand, and you can’t help but think how angelic he looks this way.

“I am, it’s just...I really, really hated being away from you,” he confesses through gritted teeth. 

You brush off the spark of nerves reacting to the visible sickness on his face, and trail your index finger down the bridge of his nose. “You’re home now,” you coo as you circle your arms around his neck, “I’m happy that you’re back.” 

His shoulders relax almost immediately, and he buries his relieved smile in the crook of your neck.  “Yeah?” he mumbles into your skin. “That’s nice to hear.” 

The sensation feels ticklish, but your giggle is quickly replaced by quiet pants as Satoru leaves a trail of kisses down your torso. His large palms find the back of your knees, and he lowers himself while spreading you apart so he can comfortably rest between your legs. The hand on your left leg curls around your ankle and he adjusts your position by bending your knee at a perfect angle. Meanwhile, his other hand lifts up your right leg, exposing the back of your thigh which he litters with tiny kisses and gentle nibbles.

“You don’t know...” he mumbles, “you don’t know how hard it is for me being away from you, it’s...” he interrupts once more, smooching your plush skin, “it’s unbearable...” 

His feathery admission gives you no comfort. Worry twists around your belly, caught between the grips of fright and excitement. A part of you refuses to believe that he is truly helpless without you around. However, it’s battling with your ego that’s showering with pride over the fact that this man would bend at your every will. 

Satoru presses his nose up against your clothed cunt to inhale your scent. The tension on his face dissipates, but his grip around your ankle tightens as he kisses you over the white cotton fabric. 

“M’here, Toru...” you soothe, threading your fingers through the frosty strands framing his facing, and pushing back his hair. “Here just for you” 

He releases an exaggerated sigh, “I feel so much better when we are together...” he admits, pressing his index finger up against the outline of your slit and rubbing over the damp patch that he formed with his tongue, “...when we are close like this.” 

You don't believe he’s lying. As a matter of fact, Satoru is honest to a fault when expressing his feelings about you.

You think it’s detrimental for a person to be this dependent, but your mind always finds a reason to rationalize his perspective.

Maybe it’s because you love him…or maybe it’s because he’s successfully bulldozed his way into your life that he now occupies every territory, making it impossible for you to turn anywhere catching a glimpse of his shadow.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

You don’t want to dissect these unsettling ideas, afraid of what your mind would reveal to you in the process.

Instead, you allow yourself to relax as your lover pulls aside your underwear to expose your pussy. He lightly rubs his thumb over your ankle, keeping you in place for him before placing a sweet kiss on your clit. You slowly massage his scalp as a gesture of encouragement, and whimper quietly when he flicks the tip of his tongue along the nub. 

Your right leg lazily falls over his broad shoulder when he releases his hold, your eyelids growing heavy feeling the stroke of his velvety tongue drag down.

Satoru eats you out for his own pleasure, and the man is starved having not tasted you for months.

He keeps you in this position long enough for you to feel like the room is spinning. You’re lightheaded, delirious, with the way he softly and slowly devours your cunt and slurps your arousal. The sound of tender smacks and his deep humming moans echo around you, and your hips buck against his mouth from how sensual he sounds.  

The brewing heat numbs you from the top of the head down to the tips of your toes, it’s burning so low that you’re desperate to prod the embers just to stir the flame. You lick your lip feverishly, tasting the saltiness of sweat and jab your heel into his back, but the pressure feels like nothing to him. 

Satoru doesn’t waver or pick up the pace because he’s savoring you down to the very last drop, and he looks so content with your slick dribbling down his chin. He goes deeper, pushing his tongue further inside you as he compresses his nose into your clit. The added pressure makes you choke out a pathetic whine, provoking your exasperation and your thighs start to quiver uncontrollably. 

You’re relying on your movements, grinding your hips out of desperation in the hopes to finally snap the rubber band of your pleasure that’s being stretched to its limit. 

“mmph...t-toru?...” you mewl as tears prick your lovely eyes. “toru?” 

“Hmm?” a deep voice replies, and Satoru slowly wriggles his nose as he continues to lazily fuck you with his tongue. 

“Satoru, I-...ah!” you yelp, finally grabbing his attention as you roughly yank his hair. 

He groans with annoyance, but slows down his movements. To your dismay, he doesn’t completely pull away and instead returns back to your sensitive clit. He languidly rolls his tongue over it, licking and sucking the overstimulated bud that the tears start to fall. 

“I can’t take this...I can’t take this...”  you sniffle, easing your hold as you try to push his head away. “need to cum, wanna cum so bad...” 

Only then does he look up from the mess between your legs, strings of your slick catch onto his chin and you contemplate how unjust it is that he looks this beautiful, contemplate how unfair it is that you are meant to temper your sinful thoughts around a man who is Adonis incarnate. 

His hazy eyes blink away his dream like trance, and you can see his senses returning back to the present. He arches his brow with slight amusement at your flustered expression but maintains an innocent tone when he replying.

“I got a little carried away...” he states before placing an apologetic kiss on your lower tummy. “Not enough for you, huh?” 

You pout slightly and shake your head no, attempting to lift yourself up on your forearms despite your shoulders trembling from how frail your body feels tipping so close to the edge.

Satoru envelopes you in the protection of his embrace. He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his tongue and over his lips. He molds into your frame and your body lights up with sparks feeling how stiff  the length of his hard cock feels as he delicately ruts his hips over yours. 

You moan with every calculative thrust, spread your legs wide enough to feel his impressive bulge rub against you.

God, it makes you want to ride him senseless.

You’re yearning to have him inside you.

He pulls away from the sloppy, wet kiss then eases the grind of his hips as he pecks your cheek and jawline. He wriggles down, stopping to suckle on the tips of your pointed nipples and your heart stops when you realize that he still has no intention of making you cum yet.

“Toru, please...” you beg when he returns to his previous position, a gasp following your plea as he buries two fingers inside you. 

“I’m feeling much better, baby, I love you s’much...” he reassures, a wicked grin tickling the corners of his mouth as he steadily drags his digits back and forth, “I promise I’ll fill you right up…just need to make up for some lost time, kay?” 

The blood drains from your face, and you realize that you’re completely at his mercy.

“s’good to me, so perfect ‘n pretty...” he praises into your glistening cunt, but you’re too enraptured by the sensation of his tongue stroking your folds to notice the way his eyes darken as he looks at you.

If you did, then you would remember the danger of nuzzling up with a wolf whose bite would bleed you dry. 

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x female reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo x you #yandere gojo x ofc #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

[sturnlova]

First time ( C.S )

(Chris Sturniolo x Female reader)

( Warning : Smut, F & M receiving, kinda new to writing, not proof read all the way, pet names, fluff, i don’t know what else 😭 )

Chris : Orange

Y/N : Pink

Matt : Blue

Nick : Purple

Nathan : Red

(Word count : 900)

——————————————————

Me and Chris have been best friends for over 8 years and i’ve told him every secret expect one, i’m a virgin, but i didn’t feel the need to because he can’t do anything about it. well at least i thought he couldn’t

“Exactly bruh, Y/N when your fucking someone would u let them do anal cause i personally wouldn’t” i giggled at his comment and so did everyone else but i didn’t really now what to say since i’ve never done anything romantically like sex, it’s not like people didn’t want to do it with me i just wasn’t ready. Nate went on for a while about fucking girls and his own experiences until i grabbed my phone and hoodie and hopped off the couch to go to Chris’ room and lock myself in there until i was ready to come out. I heard Matt whisper yell at Chris to go check on me and find out what’s wrong.

“Y/N let me in please, i wanna know if you’re okay, what happened Y/N/N”

“please go away Chris it’s embarrassing it doesn’t concern you anyway.”

“ I’m not going away Y/N/N cmon we’re best friends you gotta tell me ill tell you a secret if you want me to”

A minute after i unlocked the door, Chris opened it to see me with a puffy face due to the tears of embarrassment i shed. “Wanna sit and talk about it, i promise i won’t judge ” Chris moved us to the bed and laid me on his chest for we could talk about why i was crying out of nowhere.

As we laid down and made ourself as comfortable as we could i let out a sigh and a whisper into his chest “i’m a virgin at my grown age, Chris i just don’t want to do it with someone i don’t connect with, you know.” Chris just runs his fingers through my hair as i talk about how i feel embarrassed about being a virgin and why i still am one.

A uncomfortable silence forms until Chris cuts it with a knife “if you don’t wanna do this we can forget about it but do you want me to help, like platonically of course.”

“Help?”

“Yeah help.”

“You will tell me how to do it?”

“Of course Y/N no one has to know if u don’t want people to know“

He stands up and asks if i’m 100% sure, “im 101% sure Chris” He takes of his top and i take this as a queue to take mine of to, chris is there with jorts on and i’m left with shorts and my bra on which he unclasp with a bit of a struggle, but it’s fine. He leans down to kiss me softly but passionately.

He lays me down on the bed and crawls on top me of me. He pulls down my shorts and panties, leaving me naked well he still has his shorts on. “Chris please can you take ur shorts off, or do something please, it feels weird being naked and ur not.” “yeah sweetheart i’ll take it off don’t worry” He takes them off as he speaks.

Sweetheart?

I have to be honest with Chris because after all we are best friend’s “what if it hurts Chris, many get a towel in case i bleed.” “It’s ok we don’t need a towel but i’ll be slow i promise and you can just tap my arm 2 times if u want me to stop, ok?” i nod my head in response. He spreads my legs open and places my ankles on his shoulders. He teases my pussy hole a bit making sure i’m stretched before anything more happens.

“Okay I’m ready Chris just go slow” he slowly adds his length to me, i hiss in response as this is a new feeling and his definitely not small “you ok? want to stop” “no no keep going” He finally adds it all to me and starts moving, i can feel his balls against my butt it’s a bit funny to me only because this is the same boy i used to force to let me practice make up on. He continues his thrust at a steady past well whispering praises in my ear.

I’m a moaning mess under him due to all the new sensations i’m feeling; his tip hits my cervix with every movement he does. Chris giggles, “what’s so funny lover boy?” “the fact you can barely talk ” “shut up” i say between my moans.

“Y/N i’m really close ok, i want you to cum all over my cock” he whimpers as he moves slower and sloppier. “Let go baby” we finish together and giggle at each other’s sweaty tired faces a couple seconds after. We lay in bed together naked in a comfortable silence.

“You did so good Y/N/N i’m so proud of you. Thank you for being comfortable with me.” he kisses my check “you want me to get ya dressed for we can go back down? Or you wanna stay here for a bit ” “Yeah can you please get me dressed before someone walks in, and also i know i don’t have to much experience but you’re good at fucking” Chris giggled and pulled out of me to add my clothes and his clothes back on.

Chris puts his clothes on then grabs me by the waist and puts my clothes on until Nate walks in our room.

“Did y’all fuck?”

“what?” i say with a tone that clearly had attitude to it.

“No we didn’t do that, she had really bad stomach pains and was crying so it might i’ve sounded like moans but it wasn’t..”

“Oh sorry than but why is she naked?”

“Nate get the fuck out”

Chris whispered in my ear “I’ll drop you off home baby” i started to blush and nodded my head and looked down.

✧༺✦✮✦༻༺✦✮✦༻✧

It’s been 4 months since Chris admitted his feelings to me after “helping me” and i couldn’t be more thankful. I now have the best boyfriend i could ever ask for, we also have an annoying but loveable Nate who saw us Post sex.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #smut #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fanfic

[arvandus]

Sick Day

Barbatos x GN!Reader

Warnings: None. Just fluff... pure self-indulgent fluff.

NOTE: Minors and ageless blogs DNI or follow or you will be blocked! While this writing is SFW, my blog is NOT.

Your DDD pinged and you peeked your head out of your warm covers to check the message with bleary, aching eyes.

Barbatos: I did not see you at RAD today.  Are you alright?

Warmth heated your cheeks and it wasn’t due to the fever.  Your fingers typed back your response.  I’m sick.

Barbatos: Oh dear, that is unfortunate.

You smiled and typed.   I’m surprised none of the brothers told you.

 You waited as you watched the ellipses appear.

Barbatos: I was only there briefly to gather paperwork.

There was a pause.  More ellipses appeared then vanished, and a moment later, reappeared again.

Barbatos: I shall bring you some tea and honey cakes.

You silently giggled to yourself and buried your face in your pillow before responding.  You don’t have to... besides, I don’t want to get you sick.

Barbatos: How easily you forget that we are different species. I highly doubt I’ll be susceptible to your cold, although I appreciate the concern.  But it does beg the question of how you got sick while being surrounded by demons...

You bit your lip for a moment and then typed.  Solomon and I went to the human world for brunch a few days ago...

Barbatos: ...I see.  Then he is the one to blame for this. I shall have a word with him after my visit.

You chuckled to yourself.  Go easy on him, Barb. It was both our idea.

Barbatos sent the winking demon emoji but nothing else.  You set our phone back down on your nightstand and once again buried beneath your covers as another fever chill washed over you, making your bones ache.

---

You must have fallen asleep because next thing you knew, you were being roused by a gentle hand on your shoulder.  The sudden presence of someone in your room made you jolt awake, only to be met by a pair of familiar green eyes framed in dark green hair.

“B-Barbatos...”

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you...” he replied softly. He still held the tray of tea and cakes in his left hand, perfectly balanced, and he set it carefully down next to your bed.  You noticed two empty teacups and a lidded teapot with steam curling out of its spout.  “I had knocked, but you didn’t answer.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you laid back down, the blanket tucked securely around your neck.  “Were you worried about me?”

His lips curled up slightly.  “Perhaps a little,” he confessed.

Then Barbatos looked at you, taking in your appearance with a slightly furrowed brow. “Hm...” he removed his white glove and placed the back of his hand to your forehead.

Your heart pounded at the sudden skin-to-skin contact, and you wondered if he noticed.  How good was a demon’s hearing anyway?

“You seem worse than I had anticipated...” he said.

He began preparing your tea for you, pulling out a small satchel of herbs from the inner pocket his RAD uniform.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“A personal remedy I put together,” he replied.  “It contains herbs from the human world that are meant to help with fever and aches.  Tulsi leaves, ginger, honeysuckle... just to name a few.”

You watched as he set the herbs into the strainer and placed it back into the teapot. You both waited as the concoction brewed.

“How did you find time to put this together?” you asked curiously.

“I prepared it before your first arrival to the Devildom. When I knew we would have human exchange students, I made it my duty to ensure we were well stocked with any possible needs in case of situations such as this.”

You smirked. “Always so prepared...”

“A fact that I am grateful for now.” His smile softened under the gentle weight of worry.  “Us demons do not like seeing you like this... it reminds us how fragile and mortal you are.”

Your chest felt tight and you placed your hand over Barbatos’s, your fingers squeezing his softly.  His cheeks flushed the slightest bit, his eyes widening at your blatant affection, and yet his own fingers reciprocated, curling around yours.

“I’m not dying, Barbatos... It’s just a cold,” you smiled.

He gave a soft chuckle. “I’m aware, but the discomfort remains just the same.  We sense time differently than you do... it feels slower, at least here in the Devildom, where change happens over thousands of years instead of decades.  We don’t always realize how quick and unforgiving it is, especially for humans.  We think there is enough time and yet there never is.”

He stared down at your hand, his thumb running across the knuckles of your fingers.  “Your species burns bright, but you also burn out much faster. It makes it difficult for us to love and even more difficult to let go when the time eventually comes.”

His confession left your heart heavy and your mind dizzy.  Tears stung your eyes.  “Barbatos...”

But before you could continue, he changed the topic.

“I believe your tea is ready...” he said with an artificial lightness.

He relinquished your hand and began preparing your cup. You watched quietly as he added honey and lemon.  When it was finished, he held it out to you.

You pushed yourself up and adjusted your position until you were sitting next to him on your bed, shoulder to shoulder.

“Thank you...”

You took the cup and sipped it. You hummed pleasantly at the warmth that followed down your throat.

“Is it to your liking?” he asked as he poured his own cup.

“Yes, thank you.”

He smiled, pleased with himself.  A mutual quiet fell over both of you as you both sipped at your teas and nibbled at your cakes.

When the cups were finally empty, the fatigue returned.  You leaned your head against Barbatos’s shoulder.

He looked down at you.  “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

“Mhm... just sleepy... “ you mumbled.  Then in jest you said, “did you slip anything else into that tea you made?”

Barbatos chuckled low in his chest.  His arm came around your shoulders in a partial embrace and he gently grazed his fingers on the curve of your shoulder. 

“I would never,” he replied.

More of your weight pressed against him as your body relaxed beneath his touch.  Slowly your head slid down into his lap, your hands pillowing beneath your cheek and against his thigh. He stiffened at first, but then breathed out a small gust of amused surrender as his hand began to pet you from the crown of your head to your arm in calming, soothing motions.

You closed your eyes.  “My muscles ache and my head is foggy,” you complained.

“You should rest,” he chided.

“I am resting...”

Barbatos chuckled. “I meant in your bed, beneath your blankets.”

“But you’re warm...”

“Your bed is also warm...”

“My bed doesn’t pet my hair.”

Barbatos laughed gently, deep and rich, and you couldn’t help but smile with your eyes still closed.

“Very well.  Let us make a truce.  You will lay beneath your covers and I will continue to pet your head.”

“Deal.”

Slowly you sat up and repositioned yourself until you were bundled snuggly.  Barbatos sucked in a quiet, calming breath to ease his nerves before he scooted next to you. He kept himself on top of the blankets, a crucial barrier between himself and you.  But you still did your best to snuggle into his side, your head tucked beneath his chin.  His hand continued its gentle treks across the parts of you that felt safest. Your body relaxed beneath his touch, and Barbatos closed his eyes as he inhaled the scent of your hair before releasing the air in a relaxing exhale.

While he didn’t like you being sick, he found this particular arrangement to be... quite nice... even if his heart was pounding wildly in his chest like he’d just run a marathon, every nerve of his body alive everywhere your body touched his.

“Barbatos...”

“Yes?”

“Your heart is beating really fast...” he could hear the teasing in your voice, wrapped up in beautiful delight.

You knew.

His own words echoed in his mind.  ‘We think there is enough time and there never is.’

‘Well...’ he thought, ‘no sense in denying it...’

“It’s because I want to kiss you,” he confessed quietly.

Your entire body tensed with bridled joy, and you couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across your lips as your cheek rested against his chest.  “I want you to kiss me too.”

Barbatos looked down at you, seeing nothing but the top of your head.

“Then look at me,” he said.

But even as he said it, it was his own fingers beneath your chin that tilted your face up to him.

Then he captured your lips gently with his, his hand cupping your cheek. Your skin still felt flushed, your breath hot with fever and laced with the scent of honey and tea.  But you hummed happily as he kissed you, and it was enough to reassure him, to make his chest warm with delight.

When your lips parted, he placed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Now rest,” he chided, “so that you can heal and I can no longer worry over you.”

You nuzzled down into your bedding in acquiescence, pressed against him.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you mumbled sleepily.

“Always,” he replied.

A minute of silence passed, and Barbatos was nearly certain than you’d fallen asleep when you suddenly spoke again.

“Barbatos...”

“...yes?”

“Can you stay until I fall asleep?”

His arm squeezed you gently and he placed an indulgent kiss to the crown of your head.

“Yes.”

#barbatos obey me #obey me barbatos #om barbatos #barbatos om #barbatos #obey me #obey me nightbringer #barbatos x mc #barbatos x reader #barbatos x you

[partycatty]

MK1 MEN ( any ) WITH A METALHEAD READER WHOS PERSONALITY IS EXTROVERTED AND SUPER SWEET ☹️☹️

syzoth, johnny, kenshi > metalhead

how kenshi, johnny, and syzoth react to a metalhead extroverted reader!!

(this is kinda short i'm sorry pookie bears :( )

notes: i am not well versed in metal culture/music so i did a lil research, if it's super inaccurate pls shoot me a message and humble me so i can correct it! i wrote the reader to have tats, and wears mostly black. saving the piercings for an upcoming post ;)

masterlist <3

♡

syzoth >

•"you're like me," he'll say when he first meets you properly back at the wu shi academy. "the marks on your skin... you are zaterran?" poor guy gets his hopes up that, after losing everything, maybe he wasn't completely alone.

•at first, you're confused on what he's talking about. you don't have scales or the like. but, looking down, you realize he's talking about your plethora of tattoos exposed by your uniform and you can't help but laugh.

•side note am i tweakin or does it look like he's saying "you're like me" in the gif? i know he's saying "to catch me" but look again.... get immersed...

•"i-i'm confused. earthrealmers get these done for fun?" syzoth asks as you pull up your sleeve. you two sit together in the dining hall, but the food is the last of your concern because this yummy little lizard is just so enamored with your appearance. as he trails a cold finger along the line work, you explain the significance of your tattoos, and you chuckle to yourself, joking about how most places won't hire you because of your appearance.

•you're usually clocked as intimidating or threatening by most people considering your appearance, but what they don't realize is that you're actually a sweetheart! syzoth, however, is one of the few who doesn't see you as intimidating. in fact, he sees himself in you.

•"i suppose we're both outsiders in our own way," syzoth replies with a little smile. when you two are alone later, he pulls his hood down and lets you follow his own tattoo as it snakes - literally - around his body. he feels comfortable enough to let you run your hands up and down his own tattoos. his head rests on your lap as you run a hand through his hair, occasionally placing feather-light touches around his tattooed eye.

•when you explain what it means to be a metalhead, it's clear that he doesn't fully understand right away. this is especially evident when he starts saying "your people" or "your village." poor thing thinks you're a subspecies of human or sumn 😭

•syzoth asks to hear "your people's music" when you two share a moment between training, and you turn to johnny and ask for his phone. he's the only one that brings that damn thing everywhere, others leave it in their rooms. you play "kickstart my heart" by mötley crüe, holding it up to syzoth's ear. he leans in with wide eyes.

•"this is incredible, (reader)!" syzoth exclaims with a grin. "show me more."

•when you two aren't training or apart, you're sharing everything about your interest as you wander the grounds together, and you find syzoth utterly fascinated with every aspect. he memorizes the artists, lyrics, and even asks for fashion advice. you guys get a tiny matching lizard tattoo! you converted him! ur a couple of metalhead besties :3

•when syzoth is snuck into earthrealm to attend a concert, he has to be careful not to alert any humans of his beastly presence. you dress this sweetheart up like a metalhead doll, complete with a vest, layered wrist bands, and baggy cargo pants. you take a step back and admire your work.

•"you clean up nice," you say, reaching up to run a hand through his exposed hair. "i could get used to this. all that's left is to grow that hair out... if that's even possible."

•he flushes, his cheeks twinging a light greenish color.

•"and don't blush like that when we're out there. you'll get too many stares."

•"i-i wasn't blushing—!"

•liar.

♡

johnny >

•i know we're talking about mk1, but we saw what bro's like in the future. he definitely covers the radio display and asks cassie to name the song.

•johnny's music taste is a comical mix of classic rock, metal, white girl pop, and songs to shake his ass to. so, imagine his wondrous excitement when you arrive at the wu shi academy wearing all black and a band tee that sends johnny straight back into his childhood. he's still gonna be a gatekeeper about it though.

•"no way you're a metallica fan. people these days wear their merch like it's nothin'! name three songs," johnny crosses his arms with a little smirk, totally thinking you were caught in his trap.

•"whiskey in the jar, sad but true, the unforgiven," you reply, mirroring his smug pose.

•his smile falters. "that doesn't count! those are all popular! three more."

•"disposable heroes, until it sleeps, battery, wherever i may roam, moth into flame, st. anger, motorbreath, no leaf clover, ride the li—" you're counting on your fingers, and running out quick.

•"OKAY. okay. i get it! just didn't expect you to be cultured and pretty." — "....thanks? wait, are you johnny cage?!"

•once you get over the whole "working alongside a martial arts action hero" thing, you find that johnny's actually quite sweet when he isn't being a pompous ass. he loves to jump in with references and lyrics the other men don't understand, but you're always quick to point it out and finish the lyric, doing the spiderman point meme. you guys practically jump up and down while holding hands like schoolgirls at times.

•the others are a little apprehensive about your demeanor. your makeup is dark, your hair is different, and your tattoos creep out from under your uniform. you look like you'd kick someone's ass if they looked at you wrong. this isn't entirely true! johnny has minimal shame or hesitation regardless, so you don't really faze him as much. if anything, he wants to sneak into those little brain folds of yours and get to know you more than as a fighter.

•you know when you select sareena with the johnny cage voice announcer and he goes "why are demons so hot?!" yeah. he thinks that way about you, too. bro is fawning over you constantly and you find it adorable. kung lao points out how much it looks like a sweet golden puppy following around a black cat. you looove dragging this dumb boy around the academy, as he wants nothing more but to bond with you over the one interest he knows you have. he's totally the "i want a hot goth gf!" type ass. AND YOURE NOT EVEN GOTH.

•finally, you two have a moment alone after all the craziness of outworld. you sat at the academy's nearby pond, one earbud in your ear and the other in johnny's. the cord of the headphones causes you two to bump shoulders, but johnny's hands remain on his lap as he fidgets anxiously.

•"...my dad was an asshole, but the one thing he gave me was good music taste," johnny finally says, breaking the silence with an uncharacteristically gentle tone. "i was a shithead kid. i probably still am. but the one thing that'll always clear my mind is a damn good song."

•you smile and nudge his shoulder playfully. he apologizes sheepishly for being too sappy.

•"i don't think you're a shithead.... and hey, when all of this is done, come to a concert with me," you reach down to his lap and grab his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "my treat. we can party hard and drink until we make out in the bathroom."

•"i couldn't ask you to do that," johnny protests, angling his body to face you which sends the earbud swinging out of his ear. "the — the 'my treat part.' it'd be on me. front row seats. backstage VIP. they'll let me in anywhere, hotshot! i'm a star!"

•"i love me a man that knows how to have a good time," you reply enthusiastically, kissing his cheek before standing up and walking off, putting the other earbud in your ear. "time for bed. see you later, cage. i'll be holding you to that!"

•johnny sits there like a little dumb idiot, a hand on his cheek as he processes what you did. why is he flustered? johnny cage never gets flustered! oh god he's flustered. you flustered him. oh no.

•"...WAIT, YOU WANT TO MAKE OUT WITH ME?"

♡

kenshi >

•now you guys are an unlikely duo! you're the kind of person to talk someone's ear off, and kenshi just so happens to be a great listener. the one thing he won't admit to you, though, is that he already knows all of the things you're info-dumping onto him. sweet boy just likes the sound of your voice :)

•you two wouldn't talk much before, but he found that after his blinding, your voice gave him great comfort. when you get trapped in shang tsung's dungeon-like laboratory, you sit beside him and talk about the history of metal in a soothing voice to take his mind off of the pain, leaning your head on his shoulder and his head atop yours.

•you later bring up his yakuza tattoos, a sensitive subject but he's willing to tackle it with you. you mention the beauty of them despite the nasty context. kenshi sighs deeply.

•"how i wish i paid more attention to yours. they're blurry lines with sento's vision."

•you take his hand and place it on your skin, his warm touch giving you goosebumps. you guide him to trail along each shape. you explain each one in great detail, discussing how, when and why you got them.

•kenshi doesn't really listen to music, so you're a little taken aback when he asks to hear some metal from your playlist. you show him eagerly, and his brows furrow in concentration as he taps his finger along to the beat.

•"i never had much appreciation for music, but i'm starting to see the beauty in it now," he'll mutter, facing you. something tells you he's not just talking about the music.

•you'll play your music to suppress the squelching and wincing sounds of kenshi as you take off his blindfold to wash it. you sit across from him with a wound care kit. when his wounds are still healing, he'll ask that you talk to him through the process to distract him of the pain. his hand instinctively squeezes your knee as he tries to hold back his gasps of pain. kenshi will interrupt you occasionally in a grumbly voice, asking the title or album of whatever's playing, one that you happily share.

•the hardest part of cleaning his wounds is removing the sticky, bloodied fabric from his eyes, so you'll sing playfully to the music as you do so, earning a chuckle from kenshi.

•"how do you stay so positive, when you're looking at something so ugly?" he'll mutter, a little ashamed. you pause your motion of dabbing his eyes of blood and put the gauze down. you place your hands on his shoulders, easing them up to his cheeks to not startle him with a sudden touch.

•"don't even start with that, takahashi," you'll warn him semi-playfully. "i hate to see you miserable. i'm just trying to help."

•"and you do an excellent job," he'll reply in a gentle tone, putting one hand atop yours. "i couldn't thank you enough. you and i... we're different from the others. you understand me."

•"you thank me enough by listening to me ramble," you teasingly reply, stroking his cheeks with your thumb. "never thought i'd find a friend here."

•"i didn't think i'd find a friend in you, (reader)," kenshi quips. "you looked so different from the others. i wish i could see every detail again."

•you two sit there in verbal silence for a moment, only able to hear your own heartbeat and the music thumping. kenshi's hand lifts to your own face, reciprocating your hold. his thumb toys with your bottom lip before he speaks.

•"perhaps, i could settle for feeling it instead."

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk1 #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi takahashi #syzoth x reader #syzoth

[dabiflavoredjuulpod]

Smoking ft. Haikyuu boys !!

( an: just who I think is a smoker and how I think they smoke tbh. had this idea after seeing the new haikyuu magazine cover and laughing because kenma looks stoned. so here are some of my personal opinions then little high bf stories, enjoy lol ! am definitely going to make a part two so let me know who you wanna see! )

! warnings ! drug use (weed), slightly suggestive content ?? slightly ??

Rintaro Suna (sorry he just had to be here)

-Personally I feel like he rolls, he’ll maybe hit a bong every once in a while but let this man have a stressful day and the first thing he’s thinking about is the J he’s about to pack once he gets home. Plus, that was the way he learned and he thinks it’s the easiest so, he’s a person of habit, if you will.

-The first time he got high was with Atsumu, and that didn’t go so well for him so Suna sorta had to babysit, but the second time was with Osamu and that was pretty chill. He really only gets calm and hungry honestly, he’ll rarely act like a hooligan when high, that being said it does still happen on certain occasions, and god help anyone who’s around him during those times because he will not be able to get a sentence out without cracking up.

-He definitely thinks it’s hot if his s/o smokes with him, definitely tries to start something every time.

“Rin I’m home,” You announced upon entering your shared apartment, only to be hit by the smell moments later, laughing to yourself as you slid off your shoes and began making your way to the bedroom, where you knew he’d be, “Rin.”

His glassy red eyes met yours as you leaned against the doorway, small smile on your face.

“Sorry angel, didn’t hear you come in,” He said, reaching for his phone to turn down the volume of his music before resuming back on the task at hand. His rolling tray was set perfectly in his lap, and along the bed next to him laid blunt wraps, his mason jar, and grinder, “How was work?”

You shuffled towards the bed, allowing yourself to comfortably sit crisscross in front of him, watching as he carefully rolled, you would guess, his second blunt of the night, “Stressful, you?”

He chuckled, eyes glancing up at you again as he spoke, “Yeah, fuckin’ sucked, coach was pissin’ me off.”

“What happened this time?” You asked as he searched through the duvet for the lighter, finally finding it with a sigh.

“Same bullshit that always happens, just,” He placed the blunt in his mouth, striking it before taking a hit, “His temper and shit.”

“What he yell at you again?” You teased, referring back to an older incident where the coach did in fact yell at your boyfriend, to which he had zero reaction to, causing the coach to never do it again, Rinataro liked to think it was out of embarrassment.

“Smartass,” He said, removing the blunt from his lips and holding it out towards you, “Want it?”

You nodded, taking it from between his two fingers gratefully, “What about you, what happened at work?”

“Y’know, just costumers being assholes like usual.” You chuckled, blowing the smoke out of your mouth before passing it back to your boyfriend, not failing to notice the way his eyes scanned over your features, “What?”

He shook his head, placing the blunt back in between his lips, “Nothin’” He smirked, inhaling the smoke as his phone buzzed next to his thigh.

He glanced down, muttering out a curse before rising to his feet, “Who was that?” You asked.

“Ordered food, the guys pulling up right now,” He said, placing the blunt in between your lips yet again before you had time to say anything else, “Got you something too.”

Atsumu Miya

-Ok so honestly I feel like he doesn’t smoke a lot, like when he’s high, he’s high. He’s kinda a lightweight so it doesn’t take a lot for him to get fucked up. Like, he doesn’t have his own weed, so whenever he smokes he smokes with someone else (Suna), but unlike him, Atsumu likes the bongs, not for any specific reason though except for the fact that he thinks it’s cool to be honest.

-Has definitely greened out before and said that he would never smoke again after each time (he smoked again).

-When he’s high he gets really giggly, every little thing makes him laugh, it’s honestly really entertaining to be around, and my god this boy can eat. He’s cooking, ordering, baking, it doesn’t matter. Any sorta food he can get his hands on, he’s eating it. I also feel like he gets really clingy towards his s/o while smoking, like the type to look at you like a lost puppy when you tell him he can’t come into the bathroom with you while you pee type shit.

“Bro please,” Suna chuckled, practically begging your boyfriend to pull himself together as the three of you stood in line at the taco bell he had convinced you to go to, “They’re gonna know we’re high.”

“Like they can’t tell that already bro,” Atsumu wheezed, clenching his stomach, “Look at your eyes.”

Suna sighed, looking back at you who stood behind the two, trying to keep your composure the best you could, “They’re not that bad, are they bad?”

One look at his eyes and you were right there with Atsumu, practically crying at the scene.

Yeah it was pretty obvious,

Sure his eyes were red, but at the end of the day it was your boyfriend, and now you who gave it away.

“Babe, babe,” Atsumu said, grounding himself as he swallowed his laughs, placing a hand on your shoulder, “A-are they bad?”

“Are you mocking him or asking me a genuine question right now Tsumu I can’t tell?” You asked, voice quivering due to his  ridiculous expression.

“I don’t know..” He began, dam breaking as he fell back into his same fit of laughter not even two seconds later.

“Alright next.” The employee said, pulling you out of your head as Suna led the two of you up to the counter.

He placed his order first before looking back at Atsumu, ghost of a smile on his face, “What do you want?”

“Ooo lemme get the chalupa supreme, yeah that sounds good,” Atsumu said, biting his lip thoughtfully before directing his attention towards you, “What do you want babe?”

“That Chalupa supreme does kinda sound fire…” You chuckled, looking over the menu, “Oh and a quesadilla please.”

Suna nodded, “Go sit down i’ll bring the food.”

You and Atsumu hummed simultaneously, grabbing each others hands and heading to one of the empty tables in the corner, “Why do I feel like he put us in timeout?” He joked, pulling you in closer next to him and throwing an arm around you.

“Because he did.” You laughed, eyes glancing up at him.

It was silent for a moment, but just a moment, as the two of you looked at each other, “You’re so pretty.” He said simply, big cheesy grin on his face.

It was probably the best way he could’ve broken the silence, you thought, as his lips pressed into yours.

Kenma Kozume

-I feel like he has a love hate relationship with weed. Like, it calms him down for sure, and gets him out of his bubble, but at the same time if he smokes too much I feel like he would have a panic attack because he can’t think clearly. He likes the feeling of being high to an extent, but once he’s done with it he’s done with it, typa person who only wants to be high for like an hour or two and if it lasts longer than that he’s pissed off and upset lol.

-definitely has a bong. I can’t see him smoking with anything else. will often smoke before a stream, especially if he knows he’s gonna be live for a while, thinks no one can tell (all his fans know and make edits of his little moments). His eyes don’t get red, but my god they get glassy. Like kenma, were you crying or something damn?

-honestly doesn’t care if his s/o smokes or not, if you do cool, if you don’t also cool. Now, if you say you wanna smoke with him, will he think you hitting his bong is hot? absolutely.

“What?” You asked, blowing the smoke out of your mouth with a laugh, looking up at him from your position on the end of the bed.

He shrugged, directing his attention back towards his monitor, eyes scanning over his fans tweets, “They’re all asking us to stream together again.”

You chuckled, passing him the bong, “Today?” He nodded, “I can’t after doing that Ken, they’re gonna know.”

He set the fancy glass back on his desk, small smile on his face, “No they won’t.”

“They will.” You replied, eyes meeting his.

He grabbed his headset, letting silence fall between you two as he did so. Pushing his hair back he placed it over his ears, “So you’re not gonna play?”

He already knew the answer before even asking, his assumption confirmed once you sighed, coming to a stand, “Let me go get my headset, but we’re not playing Cod again!”

“Mhm” He hummed, watching you walk out of the room.

“I’m serious Ken, you get so ragey!”

He chuckled, “Ok babe.”

Safe to say all of the fans knew the minute his camera turned on, equally so once you two couldn’t stop laughing at the minecraft wondering trader. The “30 minutes of Y/n and Kodzuken being gone” compilations were everywhere the next day.

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #kenma x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyu high headconnons #kozume kenma #atsumu miya #suna rinatro

[hqbaby]

sixteen — this is real

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.5k content. swearing, pretty tame tbh

him: wanna come over tonight?

y/n the love of my life: sorry!! got plans

Suna can’t help the frown that takes over his features as he stares at your message. It’s not a big deal. You’ve turned him down before, this isn’t anything special. In fact, this is completely normal. Did he really expect you to drop everything going on in your life for him? Of course not.

Logic doesn’t stop it from bothering him though. The truth is that he hasn’t been alone with you since you left him that one night. Sure, he sees you around friends but you never really talk because you’re not supposed to be this close. Sure, it’s only been four days since that night but still. It unsettles him, it makes him feel like he doesn’t know where the two of you stand.

“Sorry, Bo, I got plans with Y/N tonight.”

Suna’s head shoots up to find Atsumu grinning at their teammate. What?

Bokuto waves it off. “No biggie, bro!” he says. “Say hi to her for me.”

“Will do.” Atsumu closes his locker and turns to look at Suna. “Ya good, man?”

So he’s your “plans,” Suna thinks. It makes him want to hurl. He hates it.

“Yeah,” he manages to say, already sprinting out of the locker room. “I’m fine.”

He’s not fine. He feels like he’s burning from inside out at the thought of you ditching him for Atsumu. Fucking Atsumu. Don’t you know that he used to cry after science exams? That he had to take his driving test four times? That he and Osamu once spent an entire week finishing a 10,000 piece puzzle while everyone else thought they had died?

Suna slams his head on his steering wheel. It doesn’t matter if you know any of that. All that matters is that you’re choosing Atsumu. Instead of him.

He pulls his phone out and starts typing a message to some girl who gave him her number at a party. She wouldn’t say no to him. He knows she wouldn’t. And that’s why he can’t bring himself to send the message, why he throws his phone on the passenger seat and drives back home instead of doing anything stupid.

Kiyoko reaches her leg out and pokes you with her toe. “What’s up with you?”

You glance up from the lab report you’re working on, bemused. “With me?” you ask. “Not much, dude. What about you?”

She gives you a knowing look. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Am not!”

“You’re withholding gossip!” she accuses, grinning as she points a finger at you. “Come on! I need to know what’s going on!”

You put your laptop away. “Nothing’s going on!” you tell her, but there’s a smile in your voice that says otherwise. “Well, nothing too crazy at least.”

“Tell me!”

You start laughing as your roommate hops onto your bed, grabbing one of your pillows while she looks at you eagerly. “It’s really nothing,” you say. “‘Tsumu just kinda sorta… asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are,” she says. “Because if he actually did that, you wouldn’t be seeing him tonight.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you said no to him. You’re nice, you don’t string guys along after you turn them down.”

You stare at her. She stares at you. You stare at her. She cocks her head to the side. You give a small nod.

“Holy shit!” she exclaims. “You said yes?!”

“Not yet!”

“Yet?!”

You’re laughing as she tries to tackle you. “Dude, chill!” you say. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen!”

She shakes her head, hands on your shoulders as she rattles you around. “You have to tell me,” she says, leaning close enough to make her already-wide eyes look wider, “do you love him?”

“I don’t know!” you say, pushing her away.

You furrow your brows at the words that fall out of your mouth. You were supposed to say no. Why didn’t you say no?

“You don’t know?”

“Are you using me as an excuse to avoid your homework?” you ask in an attempt to change the subject.

“Doesn’t matter!” she says. “Wait. What about Suna?”

You wince. 

The truth is that you don’t know what’s going to happen with Suna. You’ve been avoiding him ever since the night that you decided not to stay over. You still see him when you hang out with his friends and go visit his team, but you never talk to him, sticking to your usual polite-but-not-close relationship in public.

It’s been eating you alive and you don’t really know why. You’re going to have to talk to him eventually, about Atsumu, about everything. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but for some reason, it feels like it is. Why?

“If I say yes to Atsumu,” you say carefully, “I guess things with Rin will be over.”

It hits you as soon as you say it.

Over.

It seems so final, so unnecessary. Surely, there’s a better way to do this. This can’t be it.

Kiyoko looks thoughtful, like she’s considering her words very carefully. Then, she asks, “How do you feel about that? You know, ending things with Suna.”

You shrug. This time you know you mean it when you say, “I don’t know.”

You’re sitting in Atsumu’s car with your head leaned against the window. You haven’t planned anything special tonight, just eating take-out and driving around. Normally, you’d be talking each other’s ears off, but you can’t seem to focus right now.

Ever since your talk with Kiyoko that afternoon, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Suna. It bugs you more than you know it should and that only makes it worse.

“Yer quiet tonight,” Atsumu says. His voice isn’t accusatory or harsh, like he’s just making an observation. “Somethin’ botherin’ ya?”

You chew your bottom lip and fiddle with the straw of your drink. “Yeah. Just a little.”

He hums. “Do ya wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know if I can,” you tell him quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” Atsumu says, glancing over to give you a reassuring smile. He finds a spot near the lake on campus and parks nearby. “We can talk about anythin’ ya want. Or not. We can just sit here and eat. That’s okay too.”

He turns the engine off and rolls the windows down, the autumn air drifting in. There are a few other people in the area, groups of friends daring each other to dive into the lake and couples talking or getting into arguments. It’s a night like any other and, as you sit there eating and listening to the playlist you and Atsumu put together, you know you wouldn’t mind spending more of your time like this.

“Have you ever had to let something go?”

The question just falls out of you. It fills the gaps in the air like it was always meant to be there. Like it was something you were always meant to ask.

“Anythin’ in particular?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink.

You look out the window and see a girl, soaked to the bone, walk out of the lake before chasing after her friends. 

“A person,” you say, “after you realized that you wanted different things.”

“Yer not talkin’ ‘bout me are ya?” His tone is teasing.

You shake your head and smile at him. “No.”

You catch the way he looks at you. His gaze is soft and warm and kind. It makes you feel like you’re all that matters to him at this moment. Like the rest of the world is just static. 

The only other person who ever looked at you that way was Suna and he only noticed when he was inside you in one way or another.

It feels different when Atsumu does it. It makes you feel like you matter just by existing.

“So,” you say, trying to stop yourself from focusing too much on the look on his face, “have you ever had to let someone go?”

He considers your question for a moment. “I have,” he tells you. “‘Samu actually.”

That catches you off-guard. The twins are absolutely inseparable, as far as you know. “‘Samu?”

“Yeah.” He nods, getting into it now. “In highschool I thought that we were gonna do volleyball together forever. I couldn’t imagine a world where I’d have to go at it without ‘im, but that’s what happened.

“I was so mad.” He chuckles, clearly recalling a fond—or maybe not so fond—memory. “We got in a big fight and… it wasn’t pretty.”

You nod along, the story distracting you from any thoughts of Suna. “What happened?”

Atsumu sighs. “I had to get used to it,” he tells you. “We had different dreams and it wasn’t right that I pushed mine on ‘im. It wasn’t ‘Samu’s job to change and I wasn’t bein’ fair to either of us by thinking he would.”

He offers you a smile, all boyish and a little shy. He knows the vulnerability should irk him, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s talking to you. Not when you’re looking at him all nice and understanding and so fucking gorgeous.

You lean over the console and kiss him. It’s short and sweet but it means everything to the two of you.This is real, you tell yourself. You don’t know much else but you know that this—you and Atsumu and all the little spaces in between, this—is as real as you’re going to get.

notes. THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM *mic drops and runs for the hills*

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic

[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day three

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : fluff, flirting, the slightest hint of something more smutty

length : 3.9k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @somebodyels3

a/n : hope you'll have fun with this one!! I promise, it'll get into real slutty territory soon enough hehe 💗

•••

day three

With no personal social media to his name anymore (at least none I knew about just yet), Noah had seemingly decided to use my number as an unspoken permission to spam me with photos of his day. It started with a picture of his very sleepy yet very attractive face and a caption cursing out the early bus call. I could only agree, snapping a picture of my own head still half hidden under the covers and sending it back.

Load-in was a tedious task that I only peripherally participated in. Noah seemed to think similarly as a picture of the outside of their bus, cluttered with baggage, followed as well as a “Think they'll notice if I slip into my bunk instead of helping?”. I told him if he did slip away, I'd do the same. Unfortunately it wouldn’t involve the same bus.

“No sleep allowed around here” was next along with a picture of the rest of his band engrossed in a PlayStation game and quite obviously shouting at both the screen and each other. This time I went straight to texting him.

Aubrey No sleep last night either? Jet lag kicking your arse? Noah Jet lag and you Aubrey Excuse me How am I to blame here Noah You really kiss me and then have the audacity to ask that

My cheeks were burning. Quickly looking around the lounge area on the bus, I was glad to see that it was mostly deserted, only the tour photographer was sat across from me, but he seemed busy enough editing that he didn't pay me any attention. My eyes were glued to my phone again the second another message came in.

Noah Still thinking about your mouth

It wasn't just a blush now, it was a familiar tingle between my legs on top of it. Because I'd been thinking about it too. Thinking and remembering and imagining. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hands on me, his strong grip, the way I wanted to get his fingers everywhere on my body, his mouth, his tongue, all of it.

Aubrey And that kept you up so much you didn't get enough sleep? Interesting Anything else you did instead then Noah You don't know how tempted I was, darling But I didn't need to subject Nick to that

Right. I forgot not everyone was privileged enough to have Oli Sykes fight to get them their own room without having to share. And having been put up with a roommate several times on tours the last couple of years… It wasn't fun for anyone if someone decided to get off while the other was in the room.

Aubrey Well, you could go be alone in your bunk right now There's another two hours until Birmingham, pretty boy I'm sure your mind will occupy you just fine Maybe let you imagine my mouth a couple or other places

I didn't expect what came next. In fact, his next message took so long I wondered, once again, if I'd taken it a little too far. But once again, I was proven wrong.

The picture was dark, so much that I turned up the light on my phone to even get a hint of what I was looking up and when I saw, I almost threw it across the room. Instead though, I opted for putting it in my lap, face down, making sure that I was still alone with the photographer who was still distracted and no one else could possibly see what I was looking at.

Then I turned it back around and studied what was in front of me. It was unmistakable, really. The inside of a bunk, dark, with the curtain shut. A pair of legs in dark sweatpants, bland and impersonal, without any way to trace it back to Noah. And a bulge in the middle of it, so big and obvious and on show, it was almost obscene.

I didn't know how long I stared at his clothed dick, salivating and getting wetter, but I didn't move eyes away until I was certain I was going to go crazy if I spent one more moment trying to imagine what he would look like underneath the fabric without taking a breath.

Aubrey And you have the audacity to suggest I'm the bad one here

•••

Safe to say, I was in a mood. Noah ceased texting back and I was almost glad because I was sure I'd actually end up brain-dead if he continued like that while I was a whole bus away and without any chance to touch him. The thoughts whirling in my head, though, didn't quiet down at all. Not when we arrived at the hotel and I desperately (and unsuccessfully) tried to get at least a peek at Noah, not when we checked into our rooms, not when Oli texted me that he'd be waiting downstairs and calling us an uber for the shopping trip. I made quick work of changing my underwear, terrified of possibly sporting a wet spot when I was supposed to be trying on clothes, and jumped into the car that seemed to arrive at the same time as I did.

“No fake moustache?” I questioned as I slid into the backseat next to Oli. “I'm devastated.”

“Listen, I tried a filter and, well, ya know,” Oli explained, quickly pulling up the picture on his phone and angling it toward me. I choked down a laugh. He looked absolutely ridiculous, a black comic-esque moustache on his upper lip. It didn't help that the filter had somehow also given him a monocle and an old-fashioned top hat.

“Yeah, that definitely would have drawn more attention,” I giggled. “Pulling the hood of your jacket a bit into your face will probably work better.”

He immediately tried, pulling it down so far he could barely see, and I gave him an approving nod.

“Keep your tattoos covered and you'll be fine.”

It wasn't usually much of a problem, really, going out with Oli. Even if there was one or two people recognising him, everyone usually stayed respectful, got their photo or a quick chat, and moved on. But now Bring Me were playing arena shows and the cities were basically buzzing with fans. We didn't need to cause any sort of problem.

“So why the shopping trip then, eh? Far as I can see you got a whole suitcase full of clothes.”

I hesitated for a moment. Then I figured there was simply no use in not being honest with him. After all, looking down at myself revealed nothing but a plain shirt under a jacket and a dark pair of jeans that could be fitting much better.

“Got sick of looking like this,” I explained, motioning to my outfit. Oli had known me for years - surely he had noticed the change too, the lack of styling, the lack of care in my appearance. I was pretty sure I was wearing hot pants that barely covered my bum and fishnets that had more holes than anticipated by the manufacturer when we first met on one of his tours.

“Why, I think your face ain't half bad,” he deadpanned. I had no witty comeback to this blatant disrespect and defaulted to my standard response of delivering a good smack, but this time I was either too slow or had given Oli too much insight into the way I dealt with things because his hand shot up and caught my wrist the second I lifted it. He gave me a look and then gently put my hand back into my own lap. But he didn't let go of my wrist.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of being chosen as your shopping partner for this adventure?” The posh accent he put on almost tempted me to try hitting him again, but his fingers were still tightly wrapped around my skin and I wasn't ready to lose his touch just yet.

“Well, it did seem like a good choice, you know. With the stage fits and your own clothing line and all that.”

Oli hummed in contemplation. “Or maybe you enjoy the idea of me dressing you up a little. Like my personal doll. Wouldn't you like that?”

The way my body heated up and my fingers were getting slightly sweaty told him enough. The smirk that appeared on his face was confirmation. 

“Thought so, doll.”

The uber driver announcing the arrival at our destination saved me from struggling to form a reply.

•••

Shopping with Oli was as chaotic as it was confusing. He constantly pulled pieces from the shelves and rails, holding them out to me or pressing them against my body, pretending to judge what they would look like if I wore them, and I was fighting to see the difference between the ones he thought would actually suit me and those he picked for comic relief. It was a fine line that he was treading expertly.

Still, I ended up with an arm full of clothes. If Oli hadn't sweet talked the employee - which, mind, worked quite well in an alternative store as soon as they recognised who they were dealing with - I definitely wouldn't have been allowed to drag all of them into the changing room with me. Being friends with a bit of a rockstar definitely had its perks, even if they were rather boring sometimes.

I was sorting out the pieces, trying to figure out what to start with and what I needed to take off concerning my own clothes, when a message came in.

Noah I'm at interview 528 of 1244 of the day and I am painfully bored Please tell me you're off doing something more interesting

I shot a quick picture of the mountain of clothes I'd heaved onto the little stool and sent it to him as an answer.

Noah How desperate do I sound if I ask for update pictures on what you're trying Aubrey Just the right amount

Putting on a pair of tight jeans and a slightly cropped shirt, nothing too risky, not yet, I took and sent him another picture before putting the phone away to throw the curtain back and present the result to Oli. Unfortunately, the screen decided to light up with Noah's answer right within Oli's field of views. And he had no sense of privacy.

“Are you texting Noah? Wait, are you sending Noah pictures? We need a fucking group chat.”

Who was to deny Oli Sykes. So, just like that, my shopping trip turned into a fashion show and a photo shoot all at once. It started out with the best intentions, really, Oli continuously throwing new stuff at me, tweaking the outfits, talking about accessories to accompany the looks. But as the pile of “definitely buy"-clothes grew, so did his taste for mischief.

It started with a shirt, black velvet, quite modest really, if it hadn't been for the heart-shaped cut-out on my chest. The pointy end displayed the beginning of my cleavage, not too much, but enough to be a promise. As soon as I let Oli see, a cat-like smile graced his face, obviously happy with this choice. Without any words, he immediately got out his phone again and took a picture, angling it just the way so that my tits looked a little more inviting than they did anyway. 

“Noah's gonna love this,” he cackled to himself. He wasn't wrong - what followed in the group chat was nothing more than a line of hieroglyphs (in the form of emojis) that vaguely suggests he was enjoying the picture very much. The top wandered to the clothes I was definitely going to purchase. No question about it.

The next shorts-and-top combo that Oli prepared for me featured a massive amount of skin on show, I realised, as I turned the top over in my hands only to see its back consisted of not much more than a handful of thick, flat strings that would be spanning over my skin, almost suggesting a little bit of bondage. Oli immediately ordered me to turn around when I stepped out of the changing room, arranging them just perfectly. His fingers kept tracing over my tattoo, once again, and it was just as exhilarating as it had been the first time. I barely noticed him taking another picture. This time I also got a message back privately, outside of the newly-founded group chat.

Noah That the tattoo you've mentioned? Aubrey One of them

I was dying to show him the others. Anything that would cause me to be in fewer clothes around him.

Noah Stunning

I wasn't sure if he was reacting to the tattoo or the news that I had more to show him.

“Here, try this,” Oli's voice came through, followed by his tattooed hand pushing a skirt into my direction without disturbing the curtain too much. I quickly grabbed it and changed once again. It was only when it was actually sitting on my hips that I realised how awfully short it was. Only, it wasn't all that awful. The red tartan pattern was bright enough that it wouldn’t be missed even in dim light. The hem ended just underneath my arse - as long as I was standing upright. It would only take the slightest movement to enter dangerous territory.

Oli’s eyes immediately trailed over my legs as I pulled the curtain back. It was safe to say, he was very pleased with his choice. I did a little twirl for him, aware of the way the fabric was lifting up, exposing the slightest bit of my lace panties.

Oli groaned, deeply. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work. Not with all the bending down you have to do at your job, right?”

I could see the twinkle in his eyes - but I was sure he could also see the one in mine.

“Oh, no,” I sighed, rather overdramatically. “I guess that might be a problem. Like this?”

Turning around, I quickly checked through the mirror that he was still watching me, and then bend down, pushing my butt in his direction as I felt the fabric lift up so high, it was almost around my hips exclusively. The next few things happened insanely fast - Oli taking a step forward, the curtain being shut again, his hands on my hips, his body pressing into mine. I almost stumbled, quickly placing my hands on the little stool that was still covered in a few pieces of clothing, holding on for dear life as he took the liberty to roughly push his crotch against my ass.

“You’re playing a dangerous fucking game, doll,” he said, his voice lower than I’d ever heard it. I relished in the way the pet name had me squirming. One of his hands moved to my upper back, holding me down, making sure that I knew who was in charge. The other gripped my side so tightly, it gave me an insight to how much self-control he was currently exhibiting in not doing more. “What happened to you, hm? Used to be such a good girl. So well behaved around me. Now you’re just begging for trouble.”

“You did,” I moaned. “You happened.”

It was true. I’d never been prude or shy, really, but we had never been like this. I had certainly never had him push his dick against my arse through a few layers of clothes. I had been crushing on him, yes, but I hadn’t made any moves. Now, everything had changed. The moment I’d seen him again, seen his smile, his physique, the way he behaved around me, something had changed in my brain, fundamentally. It had only gotten worse with every minute I was around him. I wanted and needed him in ways that hadn’t been present before. An overwhelming desire that was begging me to do more, be more assertive, let him know, get satisfied. And he wasn’t refusing me.

“Is that what it is?” Oli teased, the hand that was on my upper back moving again until his fingers reached my hair, grabbing some of it into his fist like a makeshift ponytail and pulling my head up so I’d look at him through the mirror. He seemed terribly pleased at the gasp that left my mouth. “Am I turning you into this? And you love it?”

“Yes,” I replied immediately.

He let go of my hair again and my head almost slumped forward. I watched as he fumbled with the pocket of his trousers, pulling you his phone. He leaned backward slightly, without quite letting go of me, pushing the fabric even higher so everything was on show, his cock still lightly pressed against my almost-bare butt, and snapped a quick picture.

“Can’t leave Noah out of this now, can we?”

Then he was off me and I almost cried out at the loss of his touch. I slowly raised my upper body, just in time for him to open the curtain again and stepping outside.

“Get dressed. We’re buying it all.”

•••

Under immense protest from myself,  Oli did, indeed, buy me basically everything under the guise of “work expenses”. I knew there was no use arguing after he’d already handed over his credit card, the stubborn son of a bitch would definitely not allow me to pay him back in any way, so I wordlessly took the bags from the cashier and followed him to where he called us another uber back to the hotel.

It was dark by the time we arrived, January taking no prisoners as the sun went down. All I wanted was to get up to my room, cuddle up in the massive double bed I’d been given, maybe put on a movie, and enjoy the fact that tomorrow wasn’t an early start since we were already in Birmingham for the show. The hotel lobby was buzzing with people getting ready to go out, but one person seemed a little out of place. Oli and I noticed him immediately.

Noah was sat on an armchair in the farthest corner from the door looking, well, a little rough to be honest. We didn’t even discuss it as we walked over to him, me sitting down on the chair opposite, Oli hovering between us, dumping the shopping bags on the floor.

“Sitting here all alone, handsome?” I greeted him. He gave me a smile, but it was obvious that he was feeling pretty beat. Apparently, a day full of interviews and photos and whatever else had made its way into his calender didn’t work well with the last remaining bits of jet lag lingering in his system.

“I was gonna have dinner with the rest of the guys here at the hotel but then they wanted to go out and I realised I’m just much too exhausted for that,” he explained.

Oli moved behind him, placing his hands on Noah’s shoulders and starting to massage them. Noah briefly tensed up at the physical contact, before relaxing and leaning into it with a satisfied groan.

“So you got stuck in the lobby?”

“Kinda,” he said, eyes closed, already drifting into another dimension from Oli’s touch. I couldn’t blame him at all.

“I hope you weren’t sitting here when I sent you those pictures of Aubrey,” Oli remarked. Noah’s eyes immediately flew open again at the memory.

“I was supposed to be doing a very serious interview, actually.”

“How did that work out?”

Noah gulped. “Not that well.”

I felt a blush creeping up on my face. I hadn’t seen the pictures yet, even though they were readily available in the group chat, but I could only imagine what they must have looked like taken from Oli’s perspective. The idea of Noah looking at them when he very much shouldn’t be, maybe getting a little horny in the process, desperately trying to hide it but still checking his phone for more, was delicious. It was tempting to tease him a little further, but he looked so genuinely tired and when his stomach gave an audible growl, it didn’t feel like the right approach.

“So, we’re all in the lobby, we’re all getting sleepy and we’re all hungry. How does a movie night with room service at mine sound?”

Apparently, it sounded great. With renewed energy, Noah grabbed half of my bags, Oli the other, both of them almost at the elevator before I’d even gotten up from my seat.

What followed was a mad scramble to my room, a fight over which movie to watch (we ended up with Jurassic Park playing, somehow) and a lot of confused talking down the phone to reception, ordering just about everything on the menu. I mostly sat and watched, the way Oli and Noah interacted, the way both of them made sure to keep including me, the way they moved around in my room as if it was their own, confident and self-assured.

I looked back and forth between them, currently discussing the blanket and pillow situation, and found that my heart beat the same. I wanted Oli. And I wanted Noah. In the same way and so differently still. This was quickly moving away from “silly crush” territory and into something much more serious. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about it yet, but when Noah gave me a dazzling smile, I decided now wasn’t the time to make up my mind.

An hour later, I was close to entering a food coma, watching Laura Dern be dazzlingly fantastic on screen, and trying not to think about the fact that I was squeezed between Oli and Noah on my bed. My thighs were touching theirs - it was simply impossible for them not to - but I suddenly felt self-concious about taking up any more space than that.

Not on Oli’s watch. “The fuck are you fidgeting for?”

I stilled immediately, feeling awkward at being called out. I genuinely hadn’t realised it had even been noticeable. Uttering a quick sorry I slid down a little further on the bed. It wasn’t any more comfortable.

“Jesus christ, just come here.”

Oli’s voice was harsh, but his hands were soft as he pulled me into him. It took a little bit of wiggling around, figuring out limbs and hair, until I ended up with my head on his solid chest, his arm around my shoulders, mine slung over his stomach. My ear was right over his heart. His heart, which was doing double time, in tune with my own.

“Do you need me to leave?” Noah sounded playful, but even without looking at him from my position, I was pretty certain there was a hint of honest insecurity in his question.

“Mate, we need you to join in.”

And just like that, without needing any more reassurance or invitation, Noah plastered himself against my back, moulding his body to mine, carefully placing an arm over me.

I didn’t miss the way Oli’s hand reached for his.

I didn't know how I'd quite gotten myself in this situation, cuddled up between two men who had me blushing, had my heart hammering, had me craving them. Two men who didn't seem to know what they were to each other just yet. None of us having any idea where this was going. What we were trying to get out of this. But right then and there I decided I already loved the mess we were getting ourselves into.

#Noah Sebastian fic #Noah Sebastian #Oli Sykes fic #Oli Sykes #Noah Sebastian x reader #Oli Sykes x reader #in love with the mess

[jobean12-blog]

Simply Irresistible

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker AU)

Word Count: 2,446

Summary: Joel takes you on the best first day you’ve ever been on

Author’s Note: More Biker!Joel because I love him so! This is connected to my first Biker!Joel story The Road to Love but they can be read separately. Thank you so much for the love this AU is getting, I’m really enjoying it! Thank you all so much for reading and much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: lots of soft and sweet fluff, flirting, tension, f-ing-er-ing, little th-ig-h ri-d-ing, Joel can’t keep his hands to himself 

The edit below is NOT MINE: my amazing friend Ellie @mrsmischief209 made it for me at the drop of a hat and I LOVE IT SO MUCH! Thank you forever my sweet! 💕

Joel Miller Masterlist

“He texted you again, didn’t he?” Jade asks as she peeks over your shoulder.

“Of course it’s him,” Dan adds. “Look at that smile.”

You finish replying to Joel and then stuff your phone in the back pocket of your jeans.

“You two are insufferable!”

Your tone is playful and you’re still grinning.

“You LOVE us,” Dan chimes.

“You do,” Jade agrees. “Now tell us what he said.”

“I do love you both,” you assure them. “And he was just asking what I was wearing for our date…”

“REALLY?!” Dan screeches. “WHY?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask,” you reply. “I just told him I was planning to wear a dress.”

“You didn’t ask why!?!” Dan nearly shouts.

“Maybe he wanted to make sure you’re dressed properly for the restaurant…maybe it’s a fancy and romantic place!” Jade says with a wistful sigh.  

You look between your two friends and roll your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’ll find out!” you say as you wiggle past them to help a customer.

“I can hardly wait until Saturday,” Dan whispers to Jade as he follows after you. “I bet they don’t even make it to dinner.”

Jade and Dan share a mischievous giggle and you shoot them a glare, smirking when you see Dan waggling his eyebrows at you.

~Saturday night~

“Text me and Dan if you need anything,” Jade speaks into the phone.

Dan grabs it from her hand.

“YES! Text us everything,” Dan says enthusiastically. “All the juicy details…I want to know every last one!”

You hear some scuffling and hear Jade mutter a curse at Dan before she’s back and says, “sorry babes, Dan is very excited.”

“I am too,” you smile as you stand in front of your mirror and check yourself one last time.

Just then you hear the rumble of an engine and your stomach fills with butterflies.

“He’s here!” you whisper shout into the phone. “Gotta go!”

“HAVE FUN!” both Dan and Jade shout simultaneously.

With a laugh you hang up and head for your front door.

The doorbell rings and you let out the breath you’ve been holding in before opening the door.

Joel’s leaning against the frame, relaxed in his signature dark jeans that fit just right and a vest that shows off his sculpted arms and tattoos.

Your gaze lingers on his handsome face before you take in the rest of him, you fingers twinkling hello with a small wave.

“Hey sunshine,” he murmurs as his eyes sweep over your body appreciatively.

Even though he does nothing to hide the fact that he’s checking you out it doesn’t come off as creepy, it only makes you feel desired and beautiful.

“You look…” and he runs a hand through his hair, tousling it so his curls are more pronounced, “amazin’.”

“Thanks,” you answer sweetly as you take a step closer.

He lifts his hand and holds up a small bouquet of wildflowers.

��These are for you,” he says quietly.

“Oh Joel! They’re beautiful!” you exclaim, taking them and holding them up to your nose. “I love them! Thank you.”

He looks pleased and gives you a sideways smile. You place your palm on his chest and lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth, your lips lingering on his skin before you pull away, your eyelashes still fluttering against your cheek.

When you meet his eyes they wander over your features before settling on your lips.

“You’re welcome sunshine.”

“I just want to put them in water before we go. Come in for a minute.”

You leave the door open and rush off to the kitchen, grabbing a small vase and filling it with water. Joel remains by the door and openly inspects what he can see of your house.

“I like it,” he says when you’re finished and walking back to him. “It’s warm and soft and inviting…fits you.”

“Thanks. It’s home.”

You meet him by the door but he doesn’t move out of the way.

You nibble your bottom lip and look at him through your lashes.

“Ready?” you ask.

He lifts his hand to your mouth and presses the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, gently pulling it free from your teeth. Then he takes your chin between his fingers and tugs your mouth to his.

Your hands instinctively curl into his vest and you press yourself against him. His fingers graze your jaw before ghosting down your neck and curling around the back of it to bring you impossibly closer, his lips finding yours again quickly.

“Mm,” he hums against your lips, kissing you several more times before announcing, “now I’m ready. Just had to give you a proper hello darlin’.”

You nod, unable to speak and still clinging to him.

His hand slides lower and wraps around your waist, tucking you into his side as he leads you out the door.

“Where’s your bike?” you ask without thinking.

“Disappointed sunshine?” he asks with a knowing smirk.

Your eyes widen ever so slightly and you give him a sheepish look.

“No! Not at all. I just figured…”

His fingers press under your chin and he lifts your eyes, ghosting his lips across yours as he whispers, “don’t worry, I promised I’d take you for a ride any time you want and I meant it. I just can’t have you riding around on my bike in that dress darlin’. It’s not the safest.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. “Is that why you asked me what I was going to wear?”

He nods with a wink and brings you around to the passenger side door of his pickup then opens it for you.

“I would have changed,” you tell him with a smile.

His intense gaze travels from your head to your toes and when he reaches your eyes again they blaze with heat.

“No,” is all he says before he takes your hand and helps you up.

Once you’re seated he leans forward and grabs the seatbelt, laying it across your body then buckling it. The action is thoughtful and sweet but every time his hands brush along your skin it fills you with anticipation, the need to have him touch you overwhelming.

As if he senses it too, his fingers close around your hand and he lifts it to his lips for a soft kiss, his eyes never leaving yours until he reluctantly releases you and shuts the door.

When he gets in the driver’s side you ask, “where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he says as he shifts the truck into drive.

He sets one hand loosely on the steering wheel and lets his other inch across the middle console until it’s resting on your thigh, his fingers slightly hidden under the hem of your dress.  

His calloused thumb draws small circles on your soft skin and you love how rough it feels in comparison. You place your hand over his and trace his long fingers, gently stroking them with your fingertips. He shifts in the seat and glances at you while he squeezes your leg, the air thick with tension.  

Thankfully it doesn’t take long to get to your destination and when Joel turns down a small dirt road you turn to him with a look of confusion.

“There’s no restaurant here,” you say.

“No, there isn’t,” he answers. “Hope that’s ok.”

He parks and hops out of his truck then comes around to open your door and before you can ask any more questions he grabs you around the waist and helps you down, your body sliding along his until your feet hit the ground.

You stay pressed against him, your hands curled around his biceps. When he doesn’t release you, you dance your fingers higher, grazing his shoulder before they dip to the buttons of his vest and press to his warm skin.

“Are you hiding any tattoos under here?” you ask with your eyes still on his chest.

Your fingers toy with the first button and you pop it open, hearing his breath catch in his throat.

“Sweetheart,” he warns, tightening his grip on you.

“I want to see,” you whisper, lifting your eyes.

His eyes close briefly and you can see his teeth grind together before he shifts your bodies so he can press you into the side of his truck, the need to feel every inch of you overpowering every other thought.

You continue your exploration and push the fabric apart, slowly dragging your finger downward and parting it more, just enough to see the top of another piece of ink. You look up and into his eyes as your fingers undo one more button of his vest, exposing more of his tan skin until you can see the whole tattoo.

Your eyes drop and you trace your fingertips over the dark ink.

“Beautiful,” you breathe out.

He captures your hand in his, pressing it to his lips before he rests it on his shoulder and with his mouth just a whispered breath from yours his hands caress your body, his frustration evident when the material of your dress keeps him from your bare skin.

“You drive me crazy sunshine. From the moment I saw you…”

“Joel,” you plea.

His nose brushes yours before trailing down your neck, his lips following with soft kisses.

“I had a picnic planned…food, drinks…dessert. Even thought we’d watch the sunset,” he murmurs into your skin.

“Had?” you gasp, your fingers digging into his back as he nips at the skin above your pulse point.

“You expect me to sit through a picnic now?” he teases as his lips move over your collarbone.

“But it sounds so romantic,” you say, your voice breathy as you tilt your head back to give him better access to your neck.

“I thought so,” he smirks as he brings his lips back to yours. “I’ve got everything ready, just say the words.”

“Thought you couldn’t make it through a picnic…” you counter with some playful sass.

“I’d try just for you but I can’t promise anything.”

His fingers slip under the hem of your dress, languidly sliding along your skin until they reach your inner thigh. Every motion is deliberate and when he moves his hand to your hip and teases the waistband of your panties you groan out his name.

“Problem sweetheart?” he asks, his eyes full of mischief.

Your fingers work through his thick dark hair, and move down his back, exploring and touching all the hard planes of muscle.  

You want more. Need it. And you can feel him throb against your stomach as his bearded cheek grazes your delicate skin and he captures your lips in a kiss that steals any remaining air from your lungs.

His hand slides down to your ass and he gives it a firm squeeze, pulling your hips harder against his. With a slight nudge he pushes his knee between your legs and presses his thigh upward, making you whimper into his mouth.

The hard muscle flexes and you can’t stop the way you grind yourself over him.

“Fuck darlin’,” he hisses when he pulls away, his breathing heavy.

Your lips part when he grabs your waist and rocks you over his thigh, your moans of pleasure the only sounds he wants to hear.

He removes his knee and replaces it with his hand, pushing your panties to the side and easily sliding his thick fingers through your arousal.

“Oh fuck sunshine,” he moans against your lips, “this all for me?”

Your hands claw at his back, trying to bring him closer and he answers your silent plea, slowly pushing a finger inside you.

He grunts as your tightness surrounds him and the urge to see your face takes over as he pulls back from your lips to watch you.

He holds your gaze as he takes his time, gentle, slow, deliberate pumps of his hand as he builds a torturous rhythm.

“More,” you demand, dragging your hands down his chest before your fingers grab hold of his biceps.

He flexes under your touch and you can see the chords of muscle strain with his every movement.

“Joel, more.”

He growls and with his free hand, takes a hold of your wrists, pinning your arms above your head and against the truck.

You clench around him and weakly push against his grip. With a satisfied grin he keeps his eyes on yours as he pushes a second finger inside you.

His movements remain slow and torturous and it drives you wild with impatience. You buck your hips onto his hand, trying to take him deeper but he keeps you pinned in place and draws out your pleasure.

“Joel,” you beg, your desperation swallowed by his lazy but sexy kiss that makes you roll your hips all over again.

He keeps you on the edge until you you’re trembling in his arms, strung so taut but not alone. His expression is filled with need, his muscles straining with the last remains of his barely contained control.

“Please,” you whisper, on the verge of falling apart. “Please, Joel.”

Whatever impressive control he’s mastering snaps and he starts to move his fingers faster, pushing deeper. He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles until you shatter against him, your release spasming through you until you can hardly hold yourself upright.

“I got you darlin’,” he murmurs and you feel his lips press softly to your shoulder as he draws his fingers away.

Your eyes meet his and his expression is soft with satisfaction.

“I’d apologize for not being able to keep my hands to myself,” he starts, lifting his hand between your bodies, his fingers gleaming, and licking them clean one by one, “but I’m addicted.”

“Joel…” you whisper, still breathless.

He slants his mouth over yours in a grazing, taunting kiss and you bite his lower lip before he deepens it so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

When he tears his mouth away it’s only for lack of air and you can see him start to open it as if he’s going apologize again but you press a finger to his lips.

“This is by far the best first date I’ve ever had,” you whisper as you trace his jaw. “And we still have time to watch the sunset.”

“We can do whatever you want sunshine.”

Your lips curl into a coy smile and you press yourself closer, bending your head to his and kissing him.

Hard and hungry.

His large hand curls around the back of your neck and he keeps you close, taking over and kissing you back just the same.

@blackwidownat2814 @justkinsey @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @sstan-hoe​ @littleseasiren​ @faceache111​

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #biker!joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #biker au

[ethanmorales]

Misconceptions

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 4 - Air

Pairing: Ethan Morales x fem reader 4.1k words Requested Tags: @arij3lly@hitoshislut@bjrmaybank@ghostfaceorgirlfriend @in-silverlake @misacc08 Warnings: swearing, smut

It's the beginning of a brand-new school year at Sherman Oaks high. The last year for some of us; me included. But the start of my senior year, ironically, is not the reason my legs are wobbly. Nope, that was all because of Ethan, who had knocked on my window for a late-night visit about 6 hours ago. There were a few things he wanted to try so… let’s just say, it was a good thing my mom had the night shift at the hospital.

It’s only been a week since our first time. Only a week since he admitted having feelings for me. Unfortunately, we didn’t discuss the matter further. My mom had gotten home after his confession, and he practically had to take his clothes and run out the back door before we got caught. We’ve met almost every day since, but we haven’t talked about us. We kiss a lot and of course we have sex, sometimes we even cuddle, and we talk about our days, but we never talk about what we are to each other and at this point, I’m afraid to ask.

I loved every second of the time we’ve spent together. But now that school has started again, I’m afraid. Afraid that things will go back to how they used to be. Afraid that a new girl will catch his attention. I know it makes no sense, after he confessed to having feelings for me, but the heart is a treacherous thing. You can never trust it. I most certainly don’t trust mine. It always makes me feel crazy most times. Or maybe it’s my mind that’s the problem.

It doesn’t help that it’s almost time for first period and I’ve not heard from Ethan yet. He usually texts me as soon as he wakes up. Today? Nada. I even texted him first, but he left me on read.  So, I’m spiraling, just a little bit. I think I’m entitled to in this situation.

I glance around the hallway one more time as the bell rings. I don’t see him anywhere. At that moment, Devi links her arm around mine. “That was the bell ringing just now,” she said, pointing a finger in the air.

I ignored the sarcasm but let her steer me away to our first class.

“I was expecting some witty remark,” she said, when I didn’t reply.

I force myself to smile, “Sorry, head in the clouds today.”

“It’s okay, girl. The first day of school sucks. My sleeping schedule is so messed up from a summer full of all-nighters.”

I quirk an eyebrow at this, “Do these all-nighters have a name?”

Devi shakes her head furiously, “Nope. No name at all.” I pretended to believe her as our teacher walked in the door, closing it behind him. I look back to Ethan’s desk but it’s empty. I hide my phone under the desk and shoot him a quick text.

Skipping on the first day? That’s bad, even for you.

Devi smacks the top of my desk, eyes wide. I glance to the front of the classroom and see the teacher is staring right at me. “Sorry, Mr. Shapiro.”

He sighs, “You guys are lucky I am the coolest teacher ever,” he continues before anyone can respond. “Raise of hands if you completed your summer reading,” pauses, “Yes, the audio book counts. No, the movie does not.”

The rest of the class was a blur. A glance at my phone confirmed that Ethan hadn’t responded. The anxiety in my chest continued to grow as time continued to pass. At lunchtime I still hadn’t heard from him. At this point, I was angry.

Fuming, I stomped all the way to my locker, putting away my books and backpack for the hour. As I’m closing the door, Dominic Stryker leans against the locker next to mine. Dominic was an exchange student that started late last semester. Everyone was surprisingly welcoming to him, but that might have something to do with the fact that he’s hot. Mind you, I only have eyes for Ethan but if I didn’t, the windswept blond hair and bright blue eyes would do it for me.

But Ethan was very much the only person that I wanted, so Dominic’s presence only served to irritate me more.

“Yes?” I asked when he just stared at me, sweeping his hair back with his hand.

Unfazed by my tone, he smiles warmly at me, “Say, have you seen Ethan anywhere? He hasn’t been in any of our classes.”

I frown at this, “Of all the people you could ask, why would I know where he is?”

Dominic shrugs, “I just got a vibe last time, like you were into him or something.”

I huffed. “I am definitely not into him.” I say it louder than I intend to, and some people slow down to look at us. He waves at them, and they quickly carry on with their business.

“My bad,” he says, looking back at me, smiling wider, “Just a misunderstanding.”

I sigh, once I realize that I’m being snappy and rude. “I’m sorry. It’s not been a great morning, I’m a little on edge. There’s no excuse for taking it out on you.”

Dominic slides over the lockers a bit, cutting some of the distance between us; then lowers his voice.

“I forgive you,” he says, “but I might have to seek compensation for the emotional damage.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile does tug at my lips. “Whatever. I’ll buy you a soda. Is that compensation enough?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “How about a meal? After school?”

I suddenly realized that he was asking about Ethan to make sure he could make his move. And I basically gave him the opening. Horrified, I struggle to respond.

“I- uh

“She’s busy after school.” The voice was very close behind me. I turned around so quickly that I bumped into his chest.

“Ethan.” Even at my addressing him, he didn’t look at me. His eyes were fixed on Dominic. For the moment, I ceased to exist.

“I think Y/N can decide if she’s busy or not,” Dominic says, standing up straighter to look down at Ethan. But Ethan seems unfazed.

“I think you need to keep walking before I lose my patience.” Ethan’s words were calm, but I knew him well enough to know this was the calm before the storm. I’ve seen him fight before; Dominic did not stand a chance if it turned into that.

“Guys, please. Just stop. If you get detention this week, they won’t let you come to homecoming.” I was trying to be the voice of reason, but my reasoning was lacking in many ways. My audience could care less about homecoming, for one.

“I’m still waiting for a response, “Dominic says, ignoring my previous statement. “Food after school? I know a cool spot.”

Ethan pulls me to the side so that he can face Dominic without me being in the middle.

“I already told you that she’s busy.” Ethan’s voice was not as calm as before. His hands were balled into fists. I knew I had to stop this now or it would turn into a fight.

“I got a lot going on right now, sorry Dominic.” My words come out quick.

Ethan smiled at this, motioning towards me. “You heard her. Now go find someone else to hit on.”

Dominic’s expression was deadly as he stared back at Ethan, but then his gaze turned to me.

“I thought you were definitely not into him,” he said it in a mocking tone, air quotations in the air. I didn’t know what to say that could make this better, so I just looked at him with what I hoped looked like a silent apology.  He just shook his head in disbelief as he pushed past us, finally leaving us alone.  

Even with his departure, Ethan stays in place, still not looking at me.

“Ethan?” I finally say.

I jump in surprise as he slams his fist on the locker door and I see the metal bend.

“Oh my God,” I grab his arm and pull him away before anyone sees what he did. I haul him through the hallway and take a left, this part of school is empty during lunch time. I find the nearest door and push him through it. I lock the door behind us and turn around. It’s the faculty bathroom, I realize.

“Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble you could get into for damaging school property? You don’t need a vandalism strike on your records.”

He finally turns to face me, but the expression on his face is even angrier than before.

“What the fuck do I care about that?” he replies. Before I can start listing the reasons why he should care, he continues, “What the fuck was that shit about?” He points to the door, but I know he is talking about Dominic. I stay quiet for a moment, not sure how to proceed. I had never seen him this angry. Ever. But at the same time, screw him. I was angry at him myself.

“I should be the one asking you, what the fuck was that? I’ve been looking for you all morning and texting you and nothing. You ghost me and then have the audacity to throw a jealous scene over some guy asking me out?!” The volume of my voice rose with each word.

 I half expected Ethan to throw more angry words at me, or to yell back at me, but it was the opposite. His voice low, he responds. “I dropped my phone in the toilet this morning.”

I stare, waiting for the punchline but he doesn’t say anything else.

“You dropped your phone in the toilet,” I repeat, not sure if I believed it.

Ethan let out an annoyed breath, “I was going to respond to your text, and I dropped it. If you texted after the first one that I read, I haven’t seen them. I left my phone in a bowl of rice.”

I scoff, “Your phone is waterproof.”

Ethan gives me a pointed look, “Not if you leave it in water for a long time, apparently.”

“Why would you leave it in there at all?”

Silence.

“Ethan, I am trying to give you the chance to explain.”

He mumbled something under his breath.

I take a step closer to hear him better. “What was that?”

Ethan shakes his head. “My parents were fighting again.”

“Oh.” Is all I can say.

Ethan laughs, but the sound is bitter.

“Yeah. So, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you then. But you letting this dick hit on you while I’m dealing with that shit. Fuck that.”

I suddenly felt terrible, even though I didn’t know what was happening until he explained. We kept ending up in this situation, always with a misunderstanding. But I knew the only reason this kept happening is because our communication was shit. Because I didn’t know where we stood.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he was hitting on me until it was too late.” I finally say.

Ethan scoffs – not amused.

“What are we?” I finally ask, exasperated. As soon as the words spill out of my mouth, I regret them. This was the last thing Ethan would want to talk about with everything going on.

Ethan just stares at me. Looking beautiful and tortured.

“Sorry. Forget I said anything,” my voice trembles and I hate it.

Ethan steps closer. “Are you serious?”

I meet his gaze, but I can’t decipher the emotion in his eye.

“I said forget about it!” I start turning to leave, embarrassed at my outburst. Ethan just pulls me into him and kisses me. I’m too stunned to respond to his kiss, which seems to upset Ethan more as he pushes me into the bathroom sink, kissing me more aggressively. I give in and kiss him back. His tongue quickly starts a tug of war with mine as he deepens the kiss. After a moment of this, I can’t remember what we were arguing about in the first place. All I can think about is the way his mouth moves with mine, effortlessly. His hands on my waist, then lower, cupping my butt. I pull away for a moment, “It’s the teacher’s bathroom,” I said, my voice breathless.

“I don’t give a fuck,” is all he says, as he kisses me once more, then stops, “You asked me a question. I’m making my point.” I try to remember what the question was but then we’re back at it and I forget to remember.

Ethan plops me on top of the sink as we continue kissing. I feel one of his hands on my thigh and then moving slowly up under my skirt.

“Fuck.” He groans against my lips. I smile, knowing that he has realized I’m not wearing underwear.

“This better have been for me and not for that asshole,” he says as his fingers caress my opening.

I look at him, annoyed. Smack him in the chest. “Do you really think I care about Dominic?”

Ethan holds my gaze steadily and my heart flutters. Stupid body. Why do you have to react in the most annoying ways at the worst possible times. Who cares about his beautiful caramel skin and beautiful brown eyes. He is a jerk.

“I hope not.” He finally says.

“What?”

“I hope you don’t care about him. I hope you only care about me.”

My heart speeds up. “I don’t care about him or any other guy.” I start to tell him that he was the only one I care about, but I don’t get a chance to tell him. In that moment, he slips a finger inside of me and I gasp in surprise. Ethan holds my gaze as he slips a second finger in. I let out a shaky breath as he starts moving in and out.

“I’m the only guy who’s allowed to do this, do you understand?” His tone was a mixture of anger and lust. I was holding on to his arms for dear life as he pumped his fingers in and out of me, then he presses on my clitoris with both fingers, which makes me moan involuntarily. I claw my nails into his arms to keep myself together.

“Do you understand?” he asks again. Fighting the ache building up inside me and breathing heavier by the second, I nod.

His fingers stop moving suddenly, leaving with their absence, a vengeful kind of coldness and I whine in protest. “Ethannn”

“Say it.” He demands. I frown at him, annoyed.

“Fine. You’re the only one who is allowed to do this.”

He smirks. “Yeah, I am.”

I think of an insult to throw at him but never get to say it. At my saying what he wants to hear, Ethan’s hands spread my legs apart and he kneels, his head disappearing under my skirt. Still, I’m not prepared for the attack from his tongue.

Ethan’s POV

I’m not proud at how I reacted about that dick hitting on her, but when I walked over and heard him flirting with her and then asking her out…  It felt like I was set on fire by some supernatural being. It took all of me not to pummel him right there. The nerve on this fucker; to ask my girl out. But what really fucked me up is that she didn’t immediately reject him. That felt like a stab to the heart. I wanted to burn the whole damn world down.

Once in the bathroom, as we threw angry words at each other I realized what the problem was. We both care too fucking much, but we also hold back even more.

Most of the anger in me dissipates at her words when she finally says what I want to hear, even if she only says them because I told her to. I don’t know how to say the things I want to say, so I decided to show her to the best of my abilities. I drop to my knees and in between her legs and under the shield of her skirt, I kiss her in her wetness. I hear her breathing pick up as I suck at her clit; her hand grabbing at my hair. I groan, turned on even more at the simple gesture. I loved it when she did that.

I pull away and she practically whimpers. “Don’t stop.”

I stand up and look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest moving fast with shallow breaths. I feel more blood rushing to my dick. The pain is almost unbearable now.

“Hang on, baby.” I fumble with the button in my jeans. Once I pull them with my boxers, I let her look at me for a moment, the desire in her eyes just driving me to the edge. I pull her to me for a second, kiss her lips softly and smile.

“Now turn around,” I order.

She looks confused for a second, but she does as she is told. Her doing everything I ask her makes me so fucking horny, she has no idea how much power she has over me. Fueled by an animalistic kind of desire, I guide her to a bending position and hold her hips with both my hands. Without a word, I push myself into her. I see her grab onto the sink to support herself as I drive myself deeper inside her. I give her a moment to get used to the feeling since it’s the first time we have done this.

I can see her flushed face through the mirror and when she makes eye contact with me, I catch the silent plea. At this, I lose whatever is left of my sanity. I plunge myself inside of her. She moans and I follow, as I slip in and out. As I watch our reflections in the mirror, I see when she starts to close her eyes as the pleasure continues to build. I hate the idea of her not looking at me when I’m inside her. I pulled out and turn her around to face me.

“Don’t take your eyes off me.”

I lift her onto the sink again and hold her gaze as I shove my throbbing dick inside her again. At this angle, her head falls back when she screams. I grab her face to make her look at me.

“God, Ethan.” Her reaction eggs me on. I move faster, knowing I have a limited time to make her cum. I was barely hanging on as it is. Our breaths were labored as I continued to fuck her. You could hear her wetness as I moved, but her pussy continued to tighten around me so I knew she was close. I slid out a bit and positioned myself slightly to the left before I pushed myself in again. She screamed, loudly this time. I smiled at finding the right spot and moved faster. This time, as if we were in sync, we came together. Once we rode the wave, breathing heavily, I gently helped her off the sink. After pulling my pants up, I loop my arms around her and rest my sweaty forehead against hers. We both closed our eyes, trying to catch our breath.

“What I was trying to say is… you’re mine.” I finally found the words.

I open my eyes to find her watching me. Her face gets redder. I’m confused for a moment and then realize why she’s upset.

“And I’m yours. I thought that part was obvious.” I say.

Y/N narrows her eyes at me, and I laugh.

“How is that obvious?” she asks.

“I told you how I felt last week. If anything, I’m the only one that should be angry. You never told me how you felt about me.”

“I thought that part was obvious.” She throws the words back at me, her tone playful.  

I smile and kiss her deeply.

“So how do you feel about me?” I ask after we stop.

I didn’t want to admit that it had bothered me so much. We’ve spent the last week glued to each other and not once had she brought it up, so I decided to not bring it up and make an even bigger fool out of myself. But the more days passed, the more insecure I became. That’s probably why I lost my mind earlier.

Y/N smiles softly and cups my face with her hands.

“I’ve been crazy about you for I don’t know how long,” she says. I smiled at her words, the heavy feeling in my chest finally easing.

“Me? But I suck,” I say jokingly.

“Yet I’m still in love with you.” She pushes at me gently, embarrassed. I grin like an idiot at her declaration.

I grab her face and kiss her again. Once, twice, three times.

“Ethan,” she giggles. I bury my face in her neck and kiss her there too, holding her tightly against me.

“I love you too.” I say.

When she looks at me, I see stars in eyes.

A knock on the door makes us both jump.

“Shit.”

Y/N POV

“Oh God, we’re going to get expelled.”

Ethan chuckles at this and I smack his arm.

“Just deny everything. They didn’t see anything so it’s their word against ours.”

I shake my head, “But the door was locked.”

“Hey,” he says, lifting my chin up, “You trust me?”

I nod and he smiles.

“Then follow my lead.”

I do. I walk slowly behind him, fighting the soreness in my body and holding on to Ethan’s arm when I notice how shaky my legs are. Ethan looks beside me and realizes. He gives me what seems to be an apologetic smile.

We moved to the door, which was still being knocked on. He turns the lock and opens it.

We’re both surprised to see Paxton standing there, swimming coach uniform on. I don’t think Ethan was prepared to see him of all people. He stays quiet.

Paxton looks at him and then me, almost trying to hide a smile.

“You guys should go. Now. Be thankful it was me.”

I let out a sigh of relief and so did Ethan. We started moving around him and out into the hallway, but Paxton put a hand up to stop me as I was about to walk past him.

“You might want to try being a bit more… discreet next time.” I look at him, confused and he elaborates, stepping closer to not be heard. “You were loud. Like very loud.” I blush furiously at his words and speed away from him. I heard him chucking behind me.

The end of lunch arrives at the sound of the bell and suddenly the empty hallways fill up again, everyone going into classrooms and their lockers to pick up their stuff at the last minute. As we’re moving through the people around us, Ethan’s hand slips into mine and he interlocks our fingers. I quickly looked at him in a question. But he just smiles. We walk to my next classroom, and he walks in with me, hand in hand, even though we don’t share this class. We get to my desk, which coincidentally, is next to Dominic’s. I understand now.

“Thanks for walking me.” I say, shyly. I hear my classmates whistling and adding commentary in the background. I sit down but notice Ethan hasn’t moved from his spot. I look at him in a question. He then bends down and kisses me long. I vaguely hear angry muttering beside me, but I ignore it, lost in the kiss.

“Good afternoon Mr. Morales. I wasn’t aware I had you in this class.” My math teacher had arrived.

Ethan winked at me as he moved away to leave. “I’m out,” he tells my teacher, hands up in surrender, turns around and points at me, “I just wanted to take care of my lady.”

The whole class reacts loudly.

I sink lower into my desk. Still, I smile. He was announcing to the world that we’re together, claiming me in front of everyone.  I couldn’t imagine ever being happier than I was in that moment.

The End.

___________________

A/N: Thank you all for reading! You are bomb! Hope you enjoyed this little story of mine. I enjoyed writing it. Stay tuned for other fanfics and/or one shots about Ethan. ☺️

Stay awesome, much love xx

#ethan morales #ethan morales fanfic #ethan morales x reader #never have i ever #never have i ever season 4 #ben gross #devi vishwakumar #michael cimino #nhie #nhie s4

[psychovigilantewrites]

Sunshine's Shadow

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader, Dick Grayson/Reader Genre: Slow burn smut? Porn with plot? Like eventually??? Word Count: 7,600 Read on Ao3 Part 1 of 2. Summary: You had powers of darkness that made you feel unwanted your whole life. Jason Todd was the first person to convince you that your darkness was sunshine. After his death, you went to Dick for comfort and started a relationship with him. And then, Jason came back. A/N:

I'm practicing writing again to prepare myself for the last chapter of Red Who? I'm not too happy with how I wrote this, but I'm hoping to start improving again along the way as I write and learn all over again. Also, I am not familiar with Titans! I know Jason never really joined? I just winged it I'm so sorry. I also aged up Jason's death here. I think the timeline is a bit messy pls forgive me.

Jason knocked on your door.

“Come in,” he heard your soft, muffled voice.

You were sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. You had soft instrumental music playing in your room. The table lamp was switched on on your bedside table, but the room was still dark.

“We’re getting ready for a spooky movie tonight,” Jason said, closing the door behind him and approaching you. “Care to join us this time?”

Your eyes darted from your phone to his, and you pursed your lips in hesitation.

“No thank you, I’m fine here,” you said and brought your attention back to your phone.

Jason sighed loudly and sat on the edge of your bed.

“Why don’t you ever join us?” he asked, “We’re the Teen Titans. We’re a team. You should join us for more team stuff besides official missions.”

You simply stared at Jason. He sensed that you had more to say but was hesitating opening up. So he got up and sat next to you. “You can tell me.”

“The room is dark, isn’t it?” you asked.

The question surprised Jason. “I mean, I guess? So what?”

“That’s me, Jason. You know how my powers work. This- this curse. The shadow I emit makes everything dark and gloomy, even if it’s a sunny day outside. And no one likes someone who brings darkness in a room,” you avoided his eyes and started picking at a hangnail on your finger.

“That’s why you won’t hang out with us?” he couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you hated us or something.”

“What?” you looked at him incredulously, “How could I? I was afraid that you all hate me for being so depressing.”

“Has anyone told you that before?” Jason asked. He didn’t know much about where you came from, but he knew that you went to a lot of different schools and orphanages. An outsider, not unlike himself.

“The kids were always scared of me,” you confessed quietly, “They refused to play with me. That was fine, but then soon after they would bully me. Make fun of me, push me down, kick me. Reminded me again and again that I was a freak.”

For some reason, Jason always had the urge to protect you, even though you were slightly older than he was. Now that urge was stronger and he wanted to hurt anyone who hurt you, to shield you from all that negativity.

“Well,” he began, “I don’t know about those assholes, but whenever I see you, I never saw darkness.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Really!” he insisted, “I see a girl who likes to read, and who likes music. I see you smile whenever Roy and Jackson bicker. And when Wally does that thing where he starts vibrating when he eats? And on the field? The way you protect everyone, the way we can all trust that you have our backs.”

Jason held your eyes. “I don’t see any darkness. In fact, I see sunshine! Because whenever you’re around, it makes us all feel warm and safe.”

He saw the way you were trying hard to not let the tears brimming your eyes fall. “You’re not lying.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“Of course I’m not,” he confirmed. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“I guess not,” you sniffled, “I can tell when people lie. And you have never lied to me.”

“What do you mean you can tell when people lie?”

“I don’t know. It’s sort of always been a thing I could do,” you shrugged, “I don’t join in conversations, so I just observe people, and I can sort of tell what they’re thinking or when they’re lying.”

“Ah, I think I know a thing or two about that,” Jason smiled fondly.

“Thank you, Jason,” you expressed.

“No problem, Sunny,” he grinned, “I’ll call you that from now on. To remind you.”

Jason thought that he saw you blush in the dim light. “So what do you think? Wanna join us for spooky night? I mean, your shadow would even be helpful. It’ll create the spooky ambience we’re all looking for.”

“Is there popcorn?” you grinned.

***

You dumbass, you thought.

The rain had you soaked and shivering.

Jason Todd, you absolute asshole.

The smell of wet dirt was overpowering. Your team stood with you despite your shadow engulfing them in darkness. Roy had his hand on your shoulder.

The white petals stuck to the polished wooden casket as it was lowered into the ground. Your heart had already broke, and you had gone through the stages of breaking down, sobbing uncontrollably, not being able to sleep for a week after they told you the news. Right now, you felt nothing but emptiness.

The casket hit the ground with a dull thud, and you heard the wet footsteps of others leaving the grave. You looked up at the crowd. Dressed in black, you saw some familiar faces. Clark Kent and Diana Prince were with Bruce Wayne, standing in solidarity. A fiery red color caught your eyes, and you saw whom you knew as Starfire. Tall, confident, and radiating with a soft warm glow- everything that you wished you were. She was next to Dick Grayson, and your eyes made contact with blue ones, ones that reminded you of Jason.

Dick gave you a sad smile.

“I heard you’re not going to continue with the Titans anymore,” Dick broke the silence. The rain was still pouring, pounding on the glass window of the car. “Where do I drop you off?”

“East End, along Murphy Avenue,” you replied. You watched two droplets on the window fall down, racing against each other. “I have some boxes left in the Tower, but I don’t feel like seeing them today.”

“Are you going to be okay on your own? You’re not even 18 yet.”

“I’m turning 18 in three months,” you rolled your eyes. “And I already got a job.”

“Oh? That was quick. What job?”

“Private investigator,” you responded, “Lot’s of scandals in Gotham. It’s quite easy to get a job if you’re half decent.”

“Pay well?”

“Well enough.”

Silence again. Dick made a turn.

No word was said until he stopped in front of the apartment complex. Unknown to you, Dick made a mental note to check the apartment out.

“Thanks, Dick.” Something stopped you from leaving the car. Something warm. Ah, it was Dick’s hand on yours.

You looked over and stared into his bright blue eyes. “I’m here for you. Anytime of the day or night. Text me, call me, whatever. You’re not alone.”

It was his expression. The pain and grief and sincerity in his eyes. A hint of desperation, even. By now, your talent for reading people had developed, and you could tell more than just basic emotions. Dick didn’t want you to leave him alone.

Your pulse quickened.

“Would you… Like to come in?” you asked.

Dick was surprised. His eyes darted downwards in a look of… guilt? And then- “No, it’s alright. You said you wanted some alone time. Go settle down first, then maybe you can give me a house tour sometime.”

Then he gave you the grin. Dick Grayson’s charming, heart-stopping grin.

You left the car.

THREE MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD

You spent your birthday alone, ignoring the invitations from your ex team members. They all wished you happy birthday, and sent you voice notes of them singing. They said they wished you were there with them, and that they hoped you were well. You replied with a simple thank you.

The apartment you made yours was bare. The walls had no art, and the TV was unplugged. What was the point? Your darkness would have made the art on the walls difficult to see and it was not like you were planning to invite anyone over.

A couple of case files sat neatly on the dining room table, where you did your work. Your name had spread by word of mouth after your first client three months ago, and now you occasionally received texts from unknown numbers, asking for discretion and offering a few hundred dollars a day for a week of work.

Your phone buzzed. It wasn’t an unknown number this time.

Dick had sent you a text. Happy Birthday! Still waiting for that house tour.

You sent a quick thank you and ignored the rest of the message.

SIX MONTHS after the death of Jason Todd

You arrived late on purpose. “Sorry I’m late.”

You sat down in the booth seat opposite Dick and saw the way his eyes lit up when you announced your arrival.

“No worries,” he brushed it off. “Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah,” you grabbed the dirty menu from the table. Anything to fill up the awkwardness you were expecting. “What do you usually have here?”

“Waffles with ice cream.”

“For dinner?”

“Why not?”

Dick Grayson gave you his Dick Grayson Grin.

You told the aging waitress your order- “I’ll have what he’s having.”

“So how have you been doing? You seem quite busy now, since this dinner was postponed to two months later,” he teased.

“My work isn’t exactly nine to five, five days a week,” you replied curtly. You had avoided this dinner on purpose.

“No, no, I get it. Mine is the same,” he said. “It’s good that you have been getting lots of clients lately. You seem to be high in demand now.”

“Yeah, I am, actually,” you smiled softly to yourself, “I didn’t expect for business to move this fast. I’m mostly investigating cheating spouses and party daughters now, though. Hoping to move on to the more serious stuff.”

“Careful,” Dick warned you, frowning slightly, “Try not to get involved with the politics here. It’s messy, and dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself, Dick,” you assured him.

He paused. “Yeah, I noticed,” his expression quickly changed, “You’ve been controlling your shadow.”

Indeed, you have been working on pulling in your shadow while you were out in public, making it seem as normal as possible so you don’t engulf rooms with darkness, especially with your current state of mind.

Soon after Jason died, you found out that your shadow had grown larger and larger, directly linked to your moods. Then you noticed that it shrank when you were concentrating on your cases, leaving the room bright. So you meditated and practiced, day and night, to keep your shadow and your emotions in check. However, it was tiring to constantly shrink it for long periods of time.

“Practice makes perfect,” you replied bitterly.

“Jason used to talk about you all the time, you know?” he suddenly brought up.

This came as a surprise for you.

“Really?” you cocked your head to the side, “What about?”

“Lots of stuff,” Dick elaborated, “But mainly about how to make you feel more welcomed. How to get you to open up. What stuff to talk to you about. He considered you his best-friend.”

You had considered Jason the same. He was the first person you had truly bonded with, but you never knew that Jason had communicated with Dick about you. True enough, he always tried his best to make sure you never felt left out. You felt your throat tightened and gulped.

Your waffles arrived, and Dick immediately dug in.

“He said that he called you something,” he continued in between bites, “Sunny, right? Said it was short for Sunshine.”

You hadn’t heard that in six months.

Dick looked up at you and panic took over his face. “Shit- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your eyes this time. You quickly wiped them away and stabbed the waffle with your fork.

“No- no, it’s fine,” you insisted, “I just hadn’t heard that name in a while. And I didn’t know he talked to you about me.”

Dick looked at you with concern. “Pretty sure he had a crush on you, with the way he was always talking about you.”

You were pretty sure, too. You could read people well after all.

“What made you choose this diner?” you asked, changing the subject. “We used to come here all the time.”

“Yeah, I haven’t stepped in here since that day,” he avoided saying Jason’s name now.

For the first time since you sat down, you actually studied him, beyond the basic emotions that you instinctively saw in everyone. The slight frown, the dark circles under his eyes, the short chewed up nails, the five o’ clock shadow that was rare for Dick Grayson.

He was grieving alone.

“Whenever Jason faced a problem when he was with us, out in the field, or anything, he would always ask himself- ‘What would Dick Grayson do?’” you told him.

His eyes softened, and you could see tears start to well up too.

“He really looked up to you,” you went on, wanting to give Dick the same comfort he gave you. “His older brother. Though, he kept it quiet. He didn’t want people to notice how much he cared. You know, the whole tough guy act.”

Dick chuckled at that. “But you noticed, of course.”

“Of course,” you smiled fondly at the memory. When asked if his injuries hurt, Jason would always reply with Only when I laugh.

But he accepted the cold compresses and paracetamol you gave him.

12 MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD

The camera shutter clicked. You checked the quality of the photo on your digital SLR. Even from across the street and in the darkness of the night, your camera caught the couple entering the motel, hand-in-hand, perfectly. This would be sufficient evidence for your client. The classic case of Cheating Spouse was going to earn you a couple thousand dollars. Frankly, you had considered rejecting the case. You only went for high-profile scandals now. But the client was desperate, and offered a large sum of money for something so easy and simple. It was difficult to refuse.

You contemplated on whether you should go the extra mile to catch them in the act. Or maybe you should just stake out in your car and catch them coming out of the motel. You took pride in how detailed your reports always were, and that was how you managed to build your clientele.

You took a sip of the bad, black coffee, already gone cold.

Peering through the zoom lens, you angled the camera up to the rooms facing the street. The movement you caught, however, was not the lights of a room switching on. Instead, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow hanging about the fire-escape in the narrow alley next to the building. You zoomed in more, and saw a familiar blue and black spandex, white eyes, and a familiar grin.

“Fuck,” you swore to yourself. Of all the places to bump into him.

You had gotten close to him since that dinner. The both of you had been texting regularly, getting to know each other and sharing stories about Jason. It helped you with your grief, and you knew it helped him too. You found out that Dick Grayson was voluntarily very expressive with his emotions, unlike his late younger brother who always needed an extra nudge.

Despite all that, you had been trying your best to avoid Dick for the past few weeks and had been giving him the excuse that you were busy. The truth was, you were scared. You knew how close you were getting to him, and right now you were lonely. So lonely that you were afraid of doing something you would both regret.

Knock, knock, knock. The glass rapped three times.

You looked over at the passenger side and saw that grin. Sighing, you unlocked the door.

“What a nice surprise,” Dick greeted you as he shut the door. “Didn’t think I would see a beautiful lady when I left home tonight.”

You rolled your eyes at his usual flirting. “I’m on a job, Dick.”

“I can see that,” he shamelessly went through your case file that was sitting on the passenger seat before he entered. “I thought you don’t take these cases anymore?”

“The poor guy was desperate, and he offered a lot of money for a simple, menial task,” you explained. “I don’t get why he doesn’t ask someone cheaper. Literally anyone could do this.”

“But they can’t do it as well as you do,” Dick booped your nose with his gloved finger.

“What about you? What brings you to this side of town?”

“Tim needed help with some training. And patrol brings me everywhere, sweetheart,” he smirked.

You noticed that your body had subconsciously turned towards him. His eyes were not visible then, covered by the whites of his mask. He was slightly damp due to the drizzle outside.

You cleared your throat. “I’m going to stake out here until they come out. Note how long they were together.”

“That could be until the sun rises.”

“Yep.”

“Need company?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I thought you needed to patrol, and help Tim.”

“Ah, you’re right,” he sighed dramatically, “I’d much rather be in this steamy car with you, though.”

“Go and help your Robin, Dick,” you chuckled, unable to resist him. “Your mentee needs his mentor, Gotham needs its hero and you’re here cozying up with a PI.”

“How irresponsible of me,” he muttered. You hadn’t realized that both of you had moved closer.

You risked a quick glance to his slightly parted lips before tearing your eyes away. He was right, it had suddenly got steamy in the car.

“Text me when you’re back? It’s dangerous to be alone at this hour,” he said before stepping out and flying off in the most flamboyant, Dick Grayson way.

I can take care of myself.

You took deep breaths to calm down and slow your heartbeat.

Maybe you were scared that you were so lonely. But a part of you knew that starting something with Dick wouldn’t be too bad.

You were just scared of being judged by Dick’s dead, younger brother.

The next weekend, you found yourself on your balcony. It was 3 AM, and you were slightly tipsy from the cocktail you made yourself. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of the wind, the cars, the occasional police siren. You made your decision.

Need you. you texted Dick, knowing he was out on patrol.

15 minutes. he replied.

Jason was dead. There was no one else who understood and accepted you almost as well as Dick did.

You waited out there in the cold for his arrival. When he did land straight on your balcony, his hair was a mess and he was panting slightly. You grabbed his face and kissed him roughly.

It didn’t matter anymore because Jason was dead.

SIX MONTHS AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF RED HOOD.

It was more difficult to control your shadow, but you tried your best. Moving in with Dick helped a bit more as compared to when you were alone, but you were constantly on edge.

He was alive, and what would he think of this? You and Dick? Would he see it as a betrayal?

Dick was having sleepless nights and was gone most of the time to help Bruce with Jason’s tantrum. Six months since Jason had appeared alive, and God knows how long before he crawled out of his grave, but he had not contacted you even once.

And you knew, you knew he was angry at you. That this whole villain arc had at least something to do with you. Even though it didn’t make sense, that you were never together, that you were nothing more than just best friends.

Somehow you felt that the rage and destruction was directed towards you.

For as long as you got together with Dick two years ago, and a whole year of playing cat and mouse with him ever since that kiss, you never had radio silence from him for this long. Two or three days was the maximum, and he would reassure you that everything was fine while you continued on with your PI business. A week long was unheard of.

Then, your phone buzzed.

I’m fine. He’s fine. Everyone’s fine.

You let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Is he back? you asked.

He’s gonna take some time off. Need to go. See you soon.

And so you didn’t sleep until Dick came back home the next morning.

“He’s so… broken,” Dick whispered above your head as he hugged you tightly.

You frowned. You didn’t like that word used to describe Jason. A person couldn’t be broken. People weren’t objects. You knew what Dick meant, that Jason was traumatized- but it didn’t mean that he was broken. Broken meant that you needed to be fixed before someone accepted you, that you needed to be functional or useful.

Broken meant that there was a state where people were whole, and you knew too well that there’s no such thing as a whole person. People just existed in different states, and each state was just as important as the other.

Jason told you all of that when you opened up to him about your past. One day many years ago, you fucked up during a mission. Your shadow had hurt someone a little too badly.

“I don’t even know how it works, Jay,” you had cried, “Sometimes it has a mind of its own and it just reacts outside of my control.”

“You saved me in the end,” Jason tried comforting you, putting his arm around your shoulder as you sat on the carpet of the empty living room.

“But I could have hurt you too,” you argued, “It could have attacked your shadow and killed you, the same way I killed my parents.”

You hadn’t told anyone about that. Only the Justice League knew.

“It was an accident,” Jason insisted.

“I’m just a broken person,” you choked. “No one should be near me.”

That was when he took his arm away and held your shoulders in both his hands, forcing you to face him, to stare into his piercing, fierce gaze.

“Don’t ever let me hear you say that about yourself ever again, got it?” he scolded you, “You are not broken. You’re like- like water. Or air. You exist in different states of matter, and each state you’re in is no less broken than the rest. You’re not broken, okay? You’re Sunny, you’re sunshine. You’re just sunshine…”

NINE MONTHS AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF RED HOOD

“Cheating spouse, undercover at Harvard, cheating spouse again…” you muttered to yourself as you browsed your cases in the living room, illuminated by a single warm light above your head. Dick would complain about the mess in the morning when he eats his cereal.

If he even comes back by tomorrow. you finished your own thought.

The blackmail material requests sounded interesting, but you always hesitated to accept the morally gray ones. You usually would go for missing or runaway children, the evidence of corruption, and the occasional journalist request for an inside scoop.

In fact, your eyes caught one such request. An anonymous journalist from the Gotham Gazelle. You received a text from a disposable two days ago, detailing a locker combination and an address. The contents of the locker were documents within a crisp and new light brown folder- a typical case file, along with a thousand dollars in cash and a promise of another two thousand after completion.

Journalists were not usually this cautious, but if they were investigating someone high profile, it was better to remain anonymous. Especially in Gotham.

You took a sip of your dark roast Arabica coffee, engrossed by what your anonymous client wanted you to get. It was already 11 PM.

Then, you heard the bell ring.

You frowned. Dick wouldn’t ring the bell to his own apartment.

Concentrating on pulling your shadow back, you walked barefoot to the door and looked through the peephole.

Your heartbeat quickened at who you saw standing on the other side of the door.

Calm down, calm down, calm down. Deep breaths.

The door clicked when you unlocked it, and creaked when you pulled it open.

You couldn’t remember when you had stopped counting the amount of days since you saw those piercing blue eyes that were so similar, yet so different from Dicks’. Now they were even more different from what you remembered. They were like battleworn armor standing in an enclosed case.

“There’s my sunshine,” Jason smiled weakly at you.

There was no chance of stopping your tears from falling down your face, so you didn’t even try. You let them flow freely as you speechlessly embraced him and felt his warm arms snake around you. The warmth of an embrace you thought you were never going to feel ever again.

He grew much taller than you. He was 16 when he died, and you were just turning 18. You had stopped growing a year or two before that, but boys kept on growing, didn’t they? He was the same height as you were the last time you saw him, but now he was at least a couple of feet taller. Did that mean he was back long before he started going as Red Hood? What did he do for two and a half years? Who-

“Don’t mean to be rude, but can I come in? I’m freezing my tits off out here,” he said. Even his voice was much, much deeper.

You chuckled and nodded, taking a step away to let him in.

You closed the door behind Jason and watched as he walked in slowly, looking around at Dick’s apartment. You noticed he paused at the dining table where you were working, and then strided to the sofa in the living room before taking a seat. You followed suit and sat next to him, not yet trusting your voice to make a sound.

“So,” he began, “You and Grayson, huh?”

Looking so intently, taking him all in, you almost missed the question.

“You’re bigger than him,” you blurted, before widening your eyes in horror at what you were implying.

Jason raised a scarred eyebrow.

“I mean- you- your build,” you quickly explained, “Your frame. Shoulders. Length. Big.”

“Length?” he smirked.

“Height!” you almost yelled.

Jason leaned closer to you and frowned. “Am I making you nervous?”

You couldn’t bear his piercing eyes, so you looked down at your hands.

“I thought maybe you never wanted to see me again,” you confessed, “I thought maybe you were angry at me, and hated me.”

“I was,” he simply stated.

You looked at him in question.

“Angry at you. For a bit,” he sighed and leaned back against the couch, “But I was angry at everyone. You were no exception. I was just mad everyone had forgotten me. Especially those I cared about.”

“I never forgot you, Jason,” you vowed, “How could I ever?”

“Then why did you-” he cut himself off, “Nevermind. I just wanted to say that I’m not mad anymore. I get it. I was dead, and everyone moved on.”

He crossed his arms and again, you noticed how large his arms were. His face was more mature, jawline more defined and square, eyes now more deep set with extra dark circles underneath them. As if your body had a mind of its own, you reached out to his face and caressed the scar across his cheek.

Jason jumped slightly in surprise at the sudden contact, but then closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.

“You have more scars now,” you pointed out, “What happened?”

You felt his breath down your wrist.

“Another story for another day,” he smiled and opened his eyes. You took your hand away, blushing at how intimate that must have seemed to an onlooker. “Where’s Boy Wonder?”

“No idea,” you shrugged. “You want something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Aw, come on, Sunny!” he got up and walked to the kitchen, “It’s a Welcome Back, Jason party. Where are the fun drinks?”

He started opening your cabinets.

“Wow, make yourself at home, why don’t you?” you shook your head and went to join him.

“Mi casa es su casa,” he sang, “At least, that’s what Grayson told me when he gave me the address. Aha!”

He found the cabinet of liquors. “Wow, I’m quite impressed by his collection.”

“That’s my collection,” you corrected him, “Dick couldn’t tell the difference between tequila and rum even if his life depended on it. I have a variety. What do you feel like?”

“You’re the bartender,” he teased, “Surprise me.”

You nodded and proceeded to make him a drink. Jason sat down at the dining table and nosily looked through your files. That was one thing he and Dick had in common, at least.

You set down a whisky sour for him and yourself before clearing your paperwork to the side, giving him the side eye as you snatched a folder from his hands.

Taking a seat across from him, the both of you dinked glasses together and took a sip.

“Strong,” he commented, “That’s good.”

You accepted the compliment silently.

“So, you don’t know where Grayson’s at?” he inquired.

“Nope,” you replied, “I know he has missions sometimes. Helps out here and there. He’s gone for two or three days before he comes back home with a new bruise or cut. I don’t ask for details unless he starts to tell me about it.”

Your chest made an involuntary squeeze that you tried to hide. There were times when you had asked Dick, and he lied to you. You had arguments over where he was, and who he was with before.

Jason studied your poker face intently, and for a second, you felt as though he was interrogating you.

He took another sip.

“How’s business going?” he changed the subject, “I heard you never went back to the team.”

“I couldn’t,” you answered simply.

“Why not?”

“Everything reminded me of you. It hurt too much.”

A deafening silence. A look of guilt. A looming darkness that grew.

“Business is great, actually,” you went on. “And I enjoy the slower-paced nature of the work.”

“Ugh, even stake outs?” he made a face, not commenting on how your shadow became slightly bigger.

“Stake outs can be nice sometimes,” you argued, “Crank down the window, put the radio on, snack on some fries. Sometimes I read, as well. I’m used to spending long hours by myself.”

“Sounds like you haven’t changed much,” he smiled endearingly at you.

“Not even physically?” you pouted, “I’ve been going to the gym.”

He laughed at that. “Yes, I’ve noticed. You look much more… Mature?”

“Are you saying I look old, Todd?” you huffed.

“So fucking old. A hag.”

You stuck out your tongue at him and laughed together, as if nothing ever changed. As if he never died, as if you never grieved for him and longed for him.

“I’m kidding,” he conceded, “You look good. Really good. Dick’s a lucky guy.”

You frowned at the last comment. “It doesn’t bother you, does it? Me and Dick?”

Another pause. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jason knew you well, so he knew how to answer you. His statement wasn’t a lie.

You heard the jingle of keys in the distance.

“Speak of the fucking devil,” Jason whispered into his drink before taking a big gulp.

“Honey, I’m ho- oh. Jason, I didn’t expect to find you here,” Dick stood in the doorway, stunned.

“Welcome back, babe,” you walked over and greeted your boyfriend with a kiss. For the first time, Dick looked slightly uncomfortable with your display of affection.

“You guys have been hanging out without me!” Dick whined, his child-like persona immediately taking over.

That was how Dick was. You noticed it after a few times with him, how he would mask his emotions or awkwardness with his happy, warm personality. He was a people person, charming his way anywhere and everywhere regardless of any situation.

Yet, you could see through it all. The grief, the aching fatigue, and the countless battle scars.

“Was just leaving,” Jason announced curtly.

“Ngaw, don’t be like that,” Dick tried to persuade him, “Stay a little while. We can catch up.”

“There’s nothing to catch up on,” Jason insisted, “Bye.”

He glanced once at you, and then left without saying a word.

There was a stark difference between the way he was with you and the way he was with Dick. In the short future, you would come to realize that it wasn’t that he was different with everyone else. Jason treated everyone else with the cold, rough demeanor you witnessed- but never you. You were the only one who knew him as though that Jason never died.

You saw Dick’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “How long was he here for?”

“About an hour?” you answered nonchalantly, going back to your case files.

“He has never spoken to me for more than 15 minutes,” Dick informed you, “Even then he would give non-committal answers.”

“Really?” you asked, frowning to yourself. It took just a little while for the both of you to go back to how things used to be. “Maybe he’s more upset at you since you’re his brother.”

“Nah, don’t think that’s it,” Dick came up behind you and nuzzled his face in your neck. “You smell good. Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you hummed, “How was… Your mission?”

“Tiring,” he complained, “You choose a case already?”

“Maybe,” you replied, “Who was there?”

You heard Dick gulp. “Donna. Kon. Wally.”

“And?”

“Kori.”

You felt your chest tighten again. “Okay. I’m tired too. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

“You just drank coffee,” he pointed out, “You’re going to sleep now?”

“Or just lie in bed,” you responded, “Seeing Jason was… emotional.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair.

“You coming?”

“I have to patrol,” he looked at you guiltily.

“But you just got back,” you argued.

“They can cover more ground when I’m around,” he explained. “Sorry. I’ll spend time with you tomorrow, okay?”

You smiled at him and reached a hand to press on his chest. He was so committed, and that’s what you loved about him. He really, truly cared.

“Just stay safe,” you gave him a deep kiss, tasting the cola chapstick he stole from you months ago.

“I’ll see you in the morning, darling,” he breathed.

That night you lay awake in bed, staring at darkness. You let your shadow go at night, allowing it to take over the room. A buzz came from your phone all of a sudden. Another unknown number.

You tapped it open.

This is my number if you need me. J.

It had been a while since you smiled whenever you lay alone, unable to sleep.

And how did you get mine?

You didn’t actually care. You were just so happy to be texting your best friend again.

I’m just a genius, Sunny. You staying up late to work?

You contemplated your answer.

No. Just couldn’t sleep. What do you do now, anyway? Do you patrol with the rest?

Sometimes. I mostly do my own thing now.

What thing?

Another story for another time, sunshine.

I’m glad you’re back, Jay. Thank you for seeing me today. Can we hang out soon?

We can hang out whenever you want.

You were typing a reply, but was interrupted by another message from him.

I missed you lots.

I missed you too, Jason. We have to get caught up with all the slumber parties we missed.

Don’t think Grayson would be too happy with that though.

My best friend is back from the dead. He can suck it up.

I’ll see you soon then?

You contemplated again.

What are you doing tomorrow? I got an interesting case. Wanna tag along?

***

Jason’s heart broke when he found out that you were with Dick. It was a large reason why he was so angry, and why he became so destructive. But he tried to stay angry at you, tried to hate you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. The years without you were lonely, and he tried to fill up the emptiness with rage.

It took him so long after Bruce brought him back to his senses to finally see you because he was practicing. He knew he couldn’t bear to look at you and Dick while you were together, so he practiced controlling his emotions so he wouldn’t snap and scare you away.

But when you opened the door and he saw your face for the first time in years, everything dissipated. He didn’t need to control any anger because all he felt was longing. It didn’t matter if you were in love with Dick, all that mattered was that you were there next to him.

“Okay, so,” you began as you pulled the car to a stop in a street at Diamond District. “Rupert Thorne.”

“The guy who is running for mayor?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, browsing through the documents, “He allegedly backed Hill in the previous elections, but now he is running against Hill. My client wants me to find evidence of corruption and find out who his sponsors are.”

Jason saw the way your brows stitched together as you read through the file.

It was difficult to be in the same car as you. Even though he was in the passenger seat, he felt like it was a small closet, being suffocated by your demanding presence.

“Why doesn’t he sponsor himself? Isn’t he some sort of closeted crime lord too?” Jason asked.

“I guess that’s the mystery,” you hummed, “He must have been promised something, or he must have promised something- if he wins.”

You smelled like warm cinnamon and vanilla. All Jason wanted to do was to bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. The pull he felt towards you was almost physical. He needed to stop himself from touching you, from claiming you.

“So what’s the first step?” he tried to focus on the case.

“He works in that building there,” you looked outside across the street to the tall mirrored tower. “COO of Trident Shipping Company. He’s doing quite well in popularity lately… Articles say he is modest and humble, charming, thoughtful, charitable… The list goes on. Must have a great PR team.”

Jason smiled to himself. You were starting to think out loud, a habit of yours he noticed one night during a strategy meeting with the team. So many years ago.

“Anyway, we want to see where he goes, who he meets, what he does-”

“Oh no,” Jason groaned, “You scammed me into a stakeout!”

He really didn’t mind if it meant spending long hours with you in your cozy car.

“It’ll be fun!” you tried to convince him, “We can catch up in the meantime! Plus, I do also need to bug his phone. Might need your help with that. I also have some metka, so maybe we can pollinate some lead suspects once we narrow them down and-”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” Jason started chuckling in disbelief, “First of all- one step at a time, please. Let’s make a structured flowchart first before you start rambling off fifty-seven steps ahead. Second of all- metka, are you fucking with me right now? How did you get your hands on Soviet Cold War tech?”

Metka or spy dust- chemically known as nitrophenyl pentadienal or NPPD- was an old and outdated, yet still effective, Russian method of marking or tagging suspected CIA agents during the Cold War by the KGB. It was a discreet powder that stuck to everything. They would tag the agents at the airport, and then anything the agent touched would have traces of the dust. Including Russian assets- spies or informants working for the CIA. They would be able to identify the traitors.

“I’m a PI,” you said smugly, “I’m resourceful.”

Yes, you were. Jason beamed proudly at you. But he said, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, how about the bug?”

“I have this-” you rummaged through your messenger bag and took out a small silver card the size of a hotel matchbox. It had the Bat sigil.

“So I assume you have Batman’s NFC card because you’re resourceful?” Jason teased. He knew the gadget well. The near field communication device allowed hijacking into another electronic device with NFC just by near contact. It could allow for cloning the device, or installing spyware.

You stuck your tongue at him childishly.

“I wonder what Batman would think of you stealing his gadgets for personal use,” Jason jested.

“Okay, I borrowed it from DIck, and it’s not like I’m using it for personal reasons. This is a highly professional operation,” you huffed, “Anyway, if you could let me finish telling you my plan. It says that Thorne is into French girls and he usually comes out for a smoke break around this time.”

“And?”

“I will be bumping into him. The NFC needs about 30 seconds of contact. I’ll slip the card in the pocket where he keeps his phone. But in case I can’t stick around to take it out, you will have to come walking behind me to pickpocket it from him.”

“Sounds good. What if he’s using his phone?”

“I’ll bump it out of his hand and apologize profusely,” you grinned. “Okay I need to get ready.”

You unbuttoned your weathered leather jacket to reveal a white top with a low neckline, giving Jason a good view of your cleavage.

“Uhhh,” he started awkwardly.

You ignored him and looked in the mirror, smearing lipstick on your lips and smacking them. Then, you ruffled your hair to give it more volume before turning to face him with a “How do I look?”

The red you chose for your lipstick matched your skin tone perfectly. And he never noticed you had a tiny cute mole on the top of your left breast. The way your hair was effortlessly messy made Jason imagine that was how you would look like in the mornings, or when he takes a handful of it while kissing you rough-

“G-great,” he complimented weakly.

If he hadn’t already died, then you were going to be the death of him.

“Oh shit, there he is,” you opened the car. “Quick, hang around a few feet behind me.”

Jason saw you strut as you approached Thorne. He was tall and handsome, and looked good for a man his age. Jason could tell that his suit was expensive. His coat was probably cashmere. He could see why Thorne was so popular. He definitely looked the part. He was talking on his phone, and he was now curious as to what you had in mind.

From down the block and in the crowd, Jason saw you pretend to talk on your phone in perfect French, rushing somewhere unknown. He didn’t notice the cup you were carrying before.

“Ah, putain! I am zo zorr’y, Monsieur!” you bumped hard into Thorne, spilling liquid all over his coat and yourself.

Thorne looked surprised, and then pocketed his phone in his coat. “It’s quite alright.”

“No, no, pleez. Let me ‘elp you,” you made a fuss. You took out a handkerchief from your bag and simultaneously shrugged off your jacket. Jason smirked to himself. No hot-blooded male would be able to resist the sight of you in a wet white low neckline t-shirt.

“Let me pay for your dry cleaning,” you worried, “Oh, putain it speeled down here too.”

You got on your knees and started dabbing the hem of his coat.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Thorne smiled and held your shoulder in a gesture to help you up.

“I am really zo zorr’y,” you looked up at him.

A flash of lust sparked Thornes’ eyes, and Jason knew you were batting your eyelashes at him from that angle. It made him want to punch Thorne square in the jaw.

“It’s really alright, madam,” he insisted, “It was my fault for standing in the middle of a busy pedestrian walkway.”

“I should ‘ave watched where I was walking,” you bit your lip and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well, let’s just both move on from this. Please don’t worry, I can get my assistants to get me another coat,” he rested his hand on your lower back as he walked you towards the street. “Here is my business card. Feel free to contact me if you need any help navigating the city. I would love to show you all the fine restaurants in Gotham.”

“Monsieur, you are too kind,” you pouted.

“I should thank you for bumping into me,” he winked, “It’s not everyday I get to see a beautiful lady.”

You pretended to blush.

“I have to go now,” he announced, “Please give me a call.”

And with that, he entered the building.

You walked towards Jason with the look of a kid who scored his first goal.

But then, facing him now, Jason swore under his breath. No wonder you managed to bewitch Thorne so easily.

Your shirt was practically see through, and everyone was turning their heads at you. He could see your black lacy bra, and how your tits bounced as you jogged towards him.

“Hells to the yes!” you celebrated, “That was more than thirty seconds. I got the card back and- what are you doing?”

Jason had grabbed your jacket and forcefully put it over your shoulders. “Let’s hurry back to the car.”

Yeah, you were going to be the death of him.

#jason todd #dc comics #batman #red hood #dick grayson #jason todd/reader #dick grayson/reader

[redheadspark]

I can’t help but think that Barry Keoghan with prompt 4 would be perfect…

Can’t be the only one to notice that he does that all the time

A/N - EEEEE! I love this for Barry, thanks for requesting this, friend! I hope you like it!

Bite

Summary - Barry knew how to make you blush

Warnings - just fluff :)

“Barry, you’re going to have to quit it,”

“Quit what, luv?”

“You know what,”

Barry chuckled, leaning back in his chair a bit and watching you as you were sitting across from him in your small private table.  The only reason why it was private was of Barry, whom made the reservation himself for your 2 year anniversary.  Barry wanted it make it special, knowing your favorite place to eat and making sure you both were free that night.  You had no idea that he was planing all of this, which was surprising because you knew he couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it.  

It was always that way when you two were together, hiding any presents he got from you would only last a few seconds before he caved.  You thought it was rather cute since he was giddy like a little boy when you would open his gifts or accept his flowers.  Even simply holding your hand or hugging you close made him giddy and a hopeless romantic.

But the boy knew how to flirt and made you feel like a puddle.

He portrayed himself as a flirt plenty of times when he was doing interviews, making appearances on shows, or talking with journalists.  But deep down, you were the only one for him. Never once did you doubt his love for him or think he would stray, Barry was am amazing boyfriend to you and he knew who to make you feel so loved and adored.  You were no actress or someone to be in the spotlight, in fact your life was a bit dull compared to his.  That never stopped Barry from wanting to be with you and enjoy this life with you. 

One of his tactics he would use on you to make you blush was biting his lip.  Of course it would work on you every time, thinking of him as beyond handsome and a breath of fresh air in your life.  He was doing it now at your anniversary dinner, in a secluded little spot away from the rest of the patrons and eating your favorite pasta.

“I like makin’ ya blush,” he confessed as he reached over to lace your fingers together on top of the table, “It’s fun to see you all flushed from it too,”

You did blush, though there was no reason to hide it since you two were pretty much in your own private room.  The ambiance of the room made it feel all the more intimate and romantic for the two of you.  Barry’s genuine smile, not the smile that he would share in front of the camera or on the movie screen, ignited across the table from you with the bow of the singular candle that was flickering in the middle of the table.

“Thank you for this, Barry,” your thanked him, gesturing to the room you both were in, “This is beyond amazing, and I don’t know what string you had to pull—“

“I don’t mind at all, luv,” He interrupted you gently, tracing your hand with his thumb as he kept his beautiful eyes on you and with a shrug of his shoulders, “Makin’ you happy makes me happy.  Especially since ya’ve put up with all of my life and what I have to do in my line of work,”

“Barry, you love being an actor, and that’s all that matters to me,” You explained, though he shook his head.

“I like doing my job, but I love you,” he responded, making you grin widely, “There’s a big difference,”

Being with Barry meant being with his chaotic schedule.  He would be gone for weeks at a month when he was promoting a movie, constantly on the phone with his publicist or agent, or even being away on a movie set for months on end.  But he would make it work all the time with you, plenty of phone calls and FaceTime calls with him made it all worthwhile.  He would text you almost every other day, wishing you goodnight and good morning which filled your heart so much.  

When he was home, he would spend all of his free time with you when he wasn’t with family.  Even taking you on vacations when he was between jobs and roles.  The more recent one was in the Maldives, a week getaway that was a fairytale for you.  

“Actually, I wanted to ask ya to come with me on my next job,” Barry explained as you took a bite from your pasta, "You remember the one I told you about?”

“ ‘Masters Of The Air’? I remember, sounds like a great job for you.  But…you want me to come?” You asked tentatively, Barry nodding rapid.

“Of course I do, Luv,” He answered, “I thinkin’ you and I goin’ and then we go on that trip to the states you and I talked about, out on the West Coast in California to see the beaches there.  I wanna see you in the sun, right next to me,” 

You simply beamed, feeling a bit more excited about the upcoming trip and being with Barry.  It was the small things like this with Barry that made you truly love him.  He treated you right not just because he was an actor, but because he held you close as his friend and girlfriend.  Barry knew you hated the limelight and being in front of the camera, to which he protected you from that kind of life,  Even with a few snags here and there and some arguments between the pair of you.  But in the end, when all was said and done, you two loved each other.  

Barry bit his lip again at you, making you roll his eyes and lightly slap his hand as he chuckled, “I’m already saying yes to you, Barry.  Stop flirting with me!”

“Never,” Barry calmly replied, to which you giggled while he leaned over to kiss you over the small lit candle.

The End

February Prompt Session

#barry keoghan #barry keoghan x reader #barry keoghan x you #barry keoghan imagine #fanfiction #writing #my love

[livsateez]

missing you (jung wooyoung x reader)

something wooyoung holds dear to his heart are your facetime calls while he’s on tour. seeing you on his small phone screen helps him feel grounded.

each call is a reminder that he’s one night closer to having you back in his arms.

[tuesday - 12:45 am]

“hi woo!” you smile at your phone, you watch the small screen as he struggles to prop his phone up.

“y/n!” his eyes light up at the sight of you, feeling himself let the stress of his recent days leave him.

“how are you? how was the show?” his smile illuminates, making the screen feel brighter than it was. not that you minded.

“it was amazing! you should’ve seen the crowd, i swear it was our loudest show this whole tour!” you laugh to yourself, his happiness feeling contagious.

“i wish i could’ve been there, maybe i can go to your next home show.” his eyes light up when you mention a home show.

since the tour began, wooyoung has been counting down the days until he can come home to you. while he loved being on the road and seeing the world with his friends, he loved the feeling of being close to you just a little more.

“one more week,” he told you, holding up one finger. you smile to yourself, knowing the countdown all too well.

“one more week,” you repeated, completing the same action.

wooyoung smiled at you, blowing a kiss, as if to give you something to hold on to until he got home.

“it’s getting late, you should get some sleep,” he could see your exhaustion as you wiped your eyes.

“normally i would say no, but you also look like you could use some rest.”

“yeah, yeah. i’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“okay. i love you, woo.”

“i love you more. goodnight!” he hung up before you could argue back.

[wednesday - 2:14 pm]

“—and then she had the audacity to act like it was my fault!” you looked down at your phone while you walked to your car, seeing wooyoung roll his eyes at the mention of your coworker.

“i knew there was a reason i never liked her,” you giggled at the sentiment.

“you’ve never even met her.”

“okay? but you don’t like her and she ruins your day, therefore i hate her,” he had an almost matter of fact tone in his voice.

you get in your car and prop your phone on the stand, putting your hands up as if to balance it once you have it in place.

“you look like you need a nap,” he tells you as you start the car.

“funny enough, that’s exactly what my plans were for when i got home,” he puts his hand to his forehead, giggling

“it’s almost like we brainwaved. like we’re connected or something,” you couldn’t help be laugh.

“i’m gonna go so you can focus on driving. i love you,” you nodded.

“okay, i love you too.” he smiled, blew you a kiss like he always does, then hung up.

[saturday - 8:37 am]

“you do know that if you don’t get up within the next five minutes, you’re gonna be late, right?” wooyoung usually never called this early, but he knew if he didn’t, you would’ve been late to your saturday shift.

“i don’t even know why i agreed to come in today, you think it’s too late to change my mind?” he nodded.

“i told you to tell them last night, but someone didn’t want to listen to me,” you glared at him, while he laughed.

“it’s not that i didn’t want to listen b—”

“but?” he teased.

“whatever,” he laughed again.

“now get up before you’re late and then you call me about how your boss was mad because you were late,” you tossed your phone to the side and he playfully gasped.

“did you just throw me?”

“do you want me to get up?” you laughed.

“my bad, carry on.”

wooyoung stayed on the phone with you all the way up until you pulled into your work’s parking lot.

“okay, i have to go. i literally have a minute before i’m late.”

“have a good day, i love you,” you smiled at him, and held up three fingers.

“i love you too. three more days!” you yelled excitedly.

“three more days,” he smiled brightly, and blew you a kiss as part of his routine, then hung up.

[tuesday - 5:54 pm]

you ran around yours and wooyoung’s shared apartment, trying to make sure there wasn’t anything out of place. you had been cleaning since you woke up, but couldn’t help but feel like the place was still a mess. you were wiping down your kitchen counter when you got a text from wooyoung

woo☀︎ ; i’ll be home in a few minutes, i can’t wait to see you!

your eyes widened and you looked around the apartment.

“this’ll have to do,” sighing, you typed out a quick response, and ran to the bedroom to change into something other than sweatpants.

about five minutes later, you heard keys coming from the door. you took a look in the mirror, before stepping out into the living room, waiting for wooyoung to finally get the right key to open the door.

to say wooyoung was excited to see you was an understatement. the second he opened the door, he threw his bag to the side and ran to hug you. he spun you around and covered your face in kisses.

“that’s it, i’m never leaving you behind again. you’re coming with me every time i go on tour,” he told you as he put you back down.

“i don’t think they’d allow that,” you giggled. you tried to pull out of the hug, but he wouldn’t let you.

“i can just put you in my suitcase, how are they gonna know?” he laughed and kissed your forehead.

“whatever you say, woo” you leaned your head on his chest.

wooyoung rested his head on yours, sighing contently. he was finally back home.

#jung wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader

[pancakes4two]

baby please come home

happy holidays everyone! i wanted to write something short for @watchmegetobsessed​‘s fanficmas to close out the year. i’ve had the best time writing a bunch of concepts these last few months so... here is an ode to the first harry i wrote this year & the most recent 💗 enjoy!

preview: Harry disappears from public view until January, wanting to close out the year in private. He does, however, decide to share a photo of the three of you sitting under the tree on Christmas. You’re grinning at the camera, leaning close to Harry. Beau is sitting in your lap, fuzzy antlers sitting atop his head. His entire body is turned towards Harry, big brown eyes glittering as he stares as his dad and reaches for him with tiny hands. Harry’s smiling so wide his eyes may as well be closed, his face flush with nothing but pure joy.

He captions the photo: Christmas Morning. Harry’s House. December, 2022. It gets 10 million likes in 24 hours.

MASTERLIST | TALK TO ME

1. christmas with dadrry (from this blurb!)

Harry is playing his last show of 2022 when he decides to have a little fun. He’s been in Brazil for the past couple of days, closing out the Latin American leg of Love on Tour. Three stops ago in Argentina, he’d sent you and your son off on a plane home to London. With the two of you now being 5,000 miles away, he can’t help but ache for home a little more than usual, despite the fact that he’ll be joining you at home soon. A sign at the barricade reminds him of this fact, as he prepares to give a speech to lead into his encore.

“So…” Harry says, popping out his hip dramatically, “Before we move on to our last couple of songs, there’s a sign up at the front here that I want to address.”

The arena explodes in chatter as a spotlight comes down from above, searching for the flashy poster board. Harry squints and twists his microphone cord between his fingers, (he mentally notes that next year will be the year he finally starts using a wireless mic) and points when he manages to spot the sign he had noticed earlier.

“Right, this sign says,” Harry pauses as a cameraman beside him zooms in on the sign, projecting it onto the large screens behind the stage. “We came here for Y/N and no-one else.”

The crowd bursts into collective laughter and hoots, and Harry sees a few phone shoot up in the front row, eager to capture the obvious fan interaction that’s about to take place. He walks closer to the edge of the stage, and kneels down directly in front of the two fans that had brought the sign.

“Let me just start by saying how could you,” Harry brings a hand to his chest, squeezing his fist and trying his best to school his expression into one of dramatic anguish. One of the fans belly-laughs, while the other takes his reaction more to heart, waving her hands in the air and trying to rationalize the statement that had been written on their sign. “Only joking! But I am a bit hurt. It’s my name that’s attached to the tour, the posters, the merch, after all...”

“Sadly, I do have to inform you that Y/N has left with our son to go back home,” Harry squints out at the audience. The crowd groans loudly at that, and the sound of Mitch’s laughter comes through his in-ear monitors.

“Soooo, you’ll have to deal with it just being me up here!” Harry points a thumb at himself, turning around to give Mitch the finger with his other hand. “It is, however, close to Christmas, and I must admit I’m missing my family too. So we’ll see if we can do something about that.”

Harry gestures for the production lead then, and the fans that make up the first couple of rows in the stadium look to each other curiously, wondering why Harry’s suddenly gone off-script. While they whisper amongst themselves, the production lead runs up on stage and hands Harry his phone. He wiggles it in the air, brandishing it in front of the crowd. They cheer in anticipation for what he’s about to do next. The screen on Harry’s phone turns on in response to all his movement, and the stadium unexpectedly gets a glimpse of his wallpaper. It’s a picture of you and Beau, taken not more than a month ago, posing in front of Foro Sol in Mexico City. Beau’s wearing a Love on Tour shirt that’s comically large on his tiny body, sucking on a pacifier as you hold him to your chest, pointing at the massive screen displaying Harry’s name behind you. The entire crowd coos upon seeing the image, and even more phones shoot up to record the moment. Harry smirks knowingly, as if to say: adorable, isn’t it?

He holds his phone to his chest then, hiding it from view as he types in his passcode and swipes through his apps. He opens up your contact card and presses the FaceTime button, shushing the crowd when the call goes through. It’s late enough at night back home in London that he’s sure Beau’s asleep already, but you’re still awake and will be able to pick up his calls without disturbing the sleeping baby. The screen takes a moment to load before your face pops up, slightly pixellated and makeup-less, but beautiful nonetheless. Harry turns his phone back towards the crowd, and they can’t hold in their excitement when they see your face projected onto the stadium screens.

“Say hi everyone!” Harry waves at his phone, grinning at how the crowd has welcomed you. “Y/N, everyone’s been missing you, and now that I’ve got you here, it only seems fitting that I sing something special tonight...”

You give Harry a confused look through the phone, and he says nothing in response, just smiles and cues Pauli in. Pauli twirls a set of mallets between their fingers and begins to play a xylophone in front of them. They count themself in, and the starting notes to Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You sound through the stadium. 

Harry can’t hear you over the noise of the crowd, but he sees you shake your head at him and swears you yell out, “Shut the fuck up!!!” as he starts to sing.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know, make my wish come true... all I want for Christmas is you!”

Harry prances around the stage with you on his phone, directing the lyrics to your smiling face on the screen. The crowd dances along and Sarah points and laughs when Harry passes by, fondly admiring just how much of a hopeless romantic he is. As the song continues, Harry decides to leap across the catwalk, determined to make this performance as extra as humanly possible. The crowd reaches for him, but in this moment he only has eyes for you. He brings his phone out in front of him as he shimmies in front of the camera, reminding you that, “Baby, all I want for Christmas is you.”

When Harry launches into the bridge, he points up at the sky. A loud pop sounds through the venue as cannons that had been rigged onto the stage release tiny pieces of confetti that had been shaped into snowflakes. The paper rains down onto the crowd, blanketing the entire stage and floor into a sea of white. The pretend-snowflakes continue to cascade through the sky, glistening under all the stage lights, and Harry ends the song by running back towards the main stage and collapsing backwards onto it. He moves his limbs up and down through the confetti that now covers the surface as if to make a snow angel. He looks up at your smiling face, still watching him sing through his phone, and it’s almost as if you’re there with him. It’s only been a few days and yet he still misses you like crazy. Harry gets lost in the moment for a second, before the crowd drags him back down into reality. He sits up, brushing the confetti out of his hair, and smiles at the sea of people looking at him adoringly.

“Hope you didn’t mind that little switch-up, there,” Harry beams, “just felt like singing a Christmas song tonight.”

“Now, we’re gonna say bye to Y/N,” he continues, placing his microphone behind his back so he can speak to you privately. The crowd boos in response, and you laugh. 

“Let me talk to your fans!” you say, wagging a disapproving finger at Harry.

“You’re a demanding bunch!” Harry jokes, putting his microphone back under his phone speaker. Your voice comes through over the venue speakers, a little tinny, but understandable. 

“Goodnight everyone! Hope you had lots of fun tonight, and thank you so much for the surprise. Take care of H for me so he comes back home all in one piece,” you blow a kiss to your phone and Harry catches it, keeping it in his back pocket.

“That was for the fans, you idiot!” You laugh, and Harry throws his hands up at the crowd when they start to laugh at him.

“Okay, no more listening privileges for you lot if you’re just going to make fun of me,” he sighs jokingly, hiding his mic behind his back again. He brings the speaker up to his mouth so you can hear him properly.

“Be home soon,” he says, “love you so much. Sleep well and text me when you’re up.”

“Love you too, goodnight, H,” you smile, hanging up the call. Harry turns back around and sees his crowd looking disappointed at the fact that they weren’t able to hear the last bit of your conversation.

“Don’t look at me like that! Some conversations are better left private,” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Mitch throws a guitar pick at him, having heard the conversation and knowing that it had not gone at all like what Harry was implying. “Anyways, onto the encore...”

LONDON, A FEW DAYS LATER

Christmas morning arrives in a blur. Harry’s finally sufficiently rested after battling with jet lag, though he still finds himself waking up slightly earlier than usual. The sun is only starting to rise, and it had snowed the night before. He looks outside the window to see the landscape painted in a winter glow. The Christmas lights that you’d put up after coming home are wrapped around the trees and shrubs outside, providing some warmth to the otherwise blue atmosphere.

Harry makes his way into the living room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He finds you awake already in the kitchen, with Beau on your side, heating up a pot of tea. Beau is looking determined, sucking on a baby bottle with force as he clings onto his mother. You both notice Harry at the same time—you look up at him and your features soften, while Beau drops his bottle on the counter and reaches for Harry, babbling for his dad.

“Alright, alright; there’s more than enough me to go around,” Harry laughs, taking Beau from you. “Good morning. Happy Christmas.”

“Mm,” you hum while Harry kisses you. You pour two cups of tea, putting milk in sugar in one mug for you and just milk in the other for Harry. You hand his mug to him, and the two of you head over to the tree. It’s placed right in front of the largest window in the living room so it catches the most light. In the early morning, the entire space fills with a cozy light, the ornaments shining softly under twinkling lights. Both of you had decided on not giving each other gifts this year, preferring to absolutely spoil Beau rotten instead.

“Let’s open your presents now, Beau-bear,” Harry coos, bouncing the infant gently in his arms. It’s crazy, how much his life has changed in the last year. He looks at Beau, who’s looking curiously at the box in Harry’s hand, and you, quietly sipping on your morning tea. Harry’s chest swells with a whole host of emotions that he doesn’t necessarily know what to do with—but he does know that this is exactly where he belongs. He’s spent the better half of the year away from home and written an entire record exploring the idea of home. But he knows now that this is it. This is home: Christmas morning spent with the love of his life and his child. The presents that fill the entire space underneath the tree, a Christmas album playing over the sound system in the living room, Beau in a reindeer onesie, you wrapped up in a wool scarf, the snow that’ll decorate your lashes later when the three of you go out in the snow.

Harry disappears from public view until January, wanting to close out the year in private. He does, however, decide to share a photo of the three of you sitting under the tree on Christmas. You’re grinning at the camera, leaning close to Harry. Beau is sitting in your lap, fuzzy antlers sitting atop his head. His entire body is turned towards Harry, big brown eyes glittering as he stares as his dad and reaches for him with tiny hands. Harry’s smiling so wide his eyes may as well be closed, his face flush with nothing but pure joy.

He captions the photo: Christmas Morning. Harry’s House. December, 2022. It gets 10 million likes in 24 hours.

2. christmas with young harry (from this blurb!)

“Y/N!” You hear someone call out distantly from your bedroom window. “Y/N!”

The voice gets closer, and you realize it belongs to Harry. Abandoning the notebook you were currently writing in, you cap your pen and run down the stairs. Once you’ve turned the corner into your living room, though, you see that your parents have already let him in. Harry waves at you from the front door, pulling off his shoes and dusting snow off of the knit beanie resting atop his head. He hands a tin of what could only be Christmas cookies to your mom, and she pulls him into a hug.

“Happy Christmas,” Harry grins, “Mum said she liked the cookies best plain, but I think they’re better with warm milk.”

“We’ll have to try them both ways, then,” your dad responds, clapping Harry on the back. “Happy Christmas, H. Did you bike here?”

“Yeah,” Harry responds a little breathlessly. You notice that his cheeks are more pink than usual due to the cold, and the parts of his hair that weren’t covered by his hat were curling in all different directions, blown out of place by the wind. “Wanted to give Y/N her present before dinner.”

“How lovely!” Your mom coos in response, “We’ll leave you to it. Don’t forget to keep your door open, Y/N!”

Harry laughs while you roll your eyes exasperatedly at your mom. The two of you head upstairs, him trailing slightly behind you with a careful hand on your waist. You hadn’t realized earlier, but he’s wearing a backpack. It looks rather full, like the zippers are about to burst from the size of whatever he’s stuffed inside it.

“What are you planning on giving me, a bomb?!” You joke, poking at the bag’s exterior.

“Shut up!” Harry groans, “of course not! I couldn’t bring a bigger bag with me on the bike, so like, I had to make do.”

“Only joking,” you giggle, opening the door to your bedroom. Harry takes off his jacket and hangs it on the back of your desk chair before flopping onto your bed. He’s wearing a navy-colored crewneck that’s too big for him, and the sleeves go past his hands. His skin is still flushed from the temperature outside, and you think he looks absolutely adorable like this, all cozy in your room. You sit across from him and tangle your legs together. The two of you have been together for almost four months now, thanks to your friends leaving you in a room alone and basically forcing you to confess your feelings to one another at the end of the summer, but you can’t help but still be a little awkward. Harry’s your first boyfriend, and you’re still trying to make sense of the magnitude of what you feel for him. It scares you a little, how much you’ve started to care for him and how you find yourself wanting to know more about him always, from the big things down to the tiny mundane details of his life. But it also brings you comfort, knowing that you can hold so much fondness for someone else, and have those same feelings be reciprocated.

The two of you have been looking forward to Christmas—you got together too late in the year for Harry to be able give you what he had called a proper, boyfriend birthday gift, and Harry has yet to celebrate his own in February. Both of you were excited to exchange gifts as a couple for the first time, somehow, they just meant so much more to you now that your relationship had evolved beyond just friendship. October had barely ended before you started thinking about his gift. You wanted it to be absolutely perfect.

“Were you doing homework before you came?” Harry asks incredulously. He must’ve caught a glimpse of your notebook when he set his backpack down. “How do you still have work left to do?”

“It’s for next term,” you reply sheepishly, “I got bored and wanted to plan out the classes I’m taking starting January... I figured I might as well get a head start while I’m home...”

“Ever the bookworm,” Harry looks at you fondly, reaching over to ruffle your hair. You loved that about him, the fact that he never made you feel badly about anything you did. Between the two of you, you were definitely the more academically-inclined one. While you sat diligently at the front of class taking notes, your boyfriend preferred to sit near the back, cracking jokes until your teacher got annoyed and focusing more on making the setlist for his band’s latest gig, instead of his assignments.

“Wonder if I can convince you to do my homework for a month as a gift,” Harry pulls you closer to him, cupping your face in his hands. He’s about to kiss you when you turn around suddenly, forcing his lips to meet only your cheek.

“No can do,” you smirk when he pouts at you, obviously disappointed that his act of affection didn’t go as originally planned. “We both know you’re meant for bigger things than school, H, but you just need to stick it through for a few more months and before you know it, you’ll be all done with GSCEs.”

“I suppose,” Harry huffs childishly, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning up at you. You kick at his arm with a socked foot, giggling at him. He reaches for your hand and unzips his backpack, pulling out a large, misshapen object that’s been tied together with ribbon. You’re not sure what the gift is meant to be—the Christmas tree-patterned wrapping paper is folded and bent in ways you didn’t know were physically possible, and there’s several pieces of tape stuck to the sides of it, patched on in an attempt to cover places where the gift wrap had ripped.

“I wanted to wrap it myself,” Harry explains, pulling at a non-existent thread on his sleeve, “but it obviously didn’t go too well.”

You laugh as he hands the gift to you, looking sufficiently deflated. “You get full marks for effort.”

“Before you open it,” Harry adds, watching you pull at one end of the ribbon. “I tried my best to get you something you really wanted, but I didn’t know if, like, someone else had already bought it for you, or anything... so there’s a receipt in there for you to exchange it for something else if you’d like.”

“Don’t be silly,” you reassure him, taking extra care to tear the paper carefully. The gift feels delicate in your hands, as if the item inside were made of something soft and pliable. You pause on opening the present for a moment to press a gentle kiss to your boyfriend’s knuckles: the last thing you’d want is to make him think you’d ever be disappointed in anything he gifted to you.

You finally manage to pull away at the gift wrap and tape, and your hands land on a cream-colored cardigan. You gasp and look at Harry, who’s looking between you and the object in your hands fondly, like he’d known exactly how you’d react all this time.

“There’s no way...” you say, turning the cardigan over in your hands, running your fingers along the careful stitches and admiring the tortoiseshell buttons. “But this is so... it costs so much... how?!”

Harry smiles at you, watching you unbutton the sweater carefully. “Well, I remember how much you liked it when you tried it on in the shop, so I worked some extra shifts at the bakery at the beginning of Christmas hols. I made Gem drive me down to the city yesterday and got it for you. It took a lot of convincing. She’s making me do her laundry for the next month.”

“It’s so perfect,” you say sincerely, enveloping Harry in a hug. You wish you could stay like this forever, safe in the embrace of a boy who makes you feel so massively, his arms locked behind your waist and his heartbeat steady against your chest. “I love it so much. You’re just the best.”

“Glad you love it,” Harry says softly, kissing your forehead and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He watches you intently as you reach under your bed and procure a holiday-themed bag. You hand it to him, tapping on his knee while he plays with the tissue paper inside.

“Your turn.”

“Did you gift me a bomb?” Harry jokes, weighing the bag in his hand and pretending to drop it because of how heavy it is.

“Like I’d kill you off after that incredible present you just got me,” you retort, kicking at him impatiently. “Enough stalling. Open it!”

Harry pulls away at the tissue paper and pulls out a large vinyl record, covered in plastic wrap. He shakes his head and looks at you with wide eyes. “Y/N. You didn’t.”

“I did,” you reply, grinning at him as he continues staring at you in amazement. Over the summer, Harry’s parents had accidentally donated his copy of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours to a charity shop along with a box of his old clothes. You knew how much that record meant to him, so you’d gone to a small record shop the last time you were in the city and picked up a replacement.

“Y/NNNNN,” he drags out your name dramatically, peppering your face with chaste kisses.

“Come on, look at the bottom of the bag, there’s more,” you say, playing with his hair. Somehow, the two of you had ended up shifting closer and closer to each other in your excitement, and now you’re basically sitting on top of Harry, eagerly waiting for him to finish opening his gift.

“No way, two gifts?” Harry clutches his chest dramatically, “you must really like me.”

He pulls out a book from the bag, checking to make sure there’s nothing else inside that he’d accidentally overlooked. The cover is made of linen and bound together with ribbon. Stuck to the front is a polaroid of the two of you on Harry’s bike, you sitting behind him as he poses for the camera, both of you brandishing massive scoops of mint chocolate ice cream.

“What is this?” Harry whispers, flipping through the pages. Each page is covered in memories of the two of you, filled with pictures and tiny souvenirs from places you’d gone together.

A picture your mom had taken of the two of you asleep on the living room couch, your head enveloped in Harry’s chest. There’s a blanket covering the two of you, and in the distance, a TV is playing the ending of The Notebook--you’d obviously fallen asleep before getting to the best part.

A ticket stub from the first concert you’d gone to together. You still remember how you felt that night, colorful lights streaming down from above as music filled your ears, Harry dancing and singing loudly from right next to you.

A picture you took on your computer when the two of you were meant to be studying together in the school library, Harry sticking his tongue out at you while you flip him off playfully.

A picture your friends took of the two of you holding hands on the bus. The two of you dancing in Harry’s garden. The two of you running through a corn maze at the local farm. Harry waving at you from outside your bedroom window. A photobooth strip of the two of you: a vignette of him looking at you, a vignette of him turning your chin towards him, a vignette of your lips meeting.

“I figured, next year, when you’re off to the X-Factor and you get all big and famous, you can keep this with you when you’re away and it’ll remind you that I’m always thinking of you,” you say shyly. “You know, so you don’t forget me while you’re away.”

“How could I ever forget you?” Harry asks, and his voice is so sincere that it cuts straight to your heart. “I’d never get big or famous enough to forget about you. But this book, Y/N, it’s amazing. It means so much to me that you made this for me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Mhm,” you respond, smiling at him.

“Of course, you’re going to feel silly when they send me home right after auditions, and it’s back to me being your average boyfriend.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you say, and you mean every word of it. “Whole country’s gonna know your name soon.”

“Well, then I couldn’t be more grateful that you were the first one to know,” Harry says, pulling his phone out from his pocket. “Let me take a picture of us and tweet it to my two fans.”

You laugh then, and run your fingers through your hair to tame it. You pull yourself into Harry’s chest and he brings his phone out in front of the two of you. He kisses the top of your head, smiling through the action, and the digital camera clicks. You watch as he attaches the photo to a tweet and begins to type up a caption.

Christmas with my number one fan. Lucky she doesn’t know I’m her biggest fan, too. 

Harry presses send on the tweet and locks his phone. For now, no one sees it except for his sister, and the four other friends who actually follow his Twitter account. But twelve years later, when the whole world knows his name, a fan will find the tweet on his account, buried under thousands of other messages, and tag him in it. He’ll open it in the morning, with you asleep still beside him, and smile to himself as he remembers your first Christmas together. He’ll pull you a little closer as snow falls silently outside, brush your hair aside and listen to you breath steadily in his arms. He’ll lean in and whisper, Told you I could never forget you, and count himself lucky for all the holidays he’ll get to spend for the rest of his life with you right there beside him.

TAGLIST: @crazygirlinthisworld​ @grapejuice-rry​ @b-reads-things​ @s8tellite @michellekstyles​ @vrittivsanghavi​ @alienorknight​ @flwrmuse 

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