guyssss :(

Preference 17: He dresses you up

Guyssss I finally had the time to write another entry to post here in tumblr. And yeah, I also finally wrote another preference bc I feel bad and all that I write is Brad imagines from requests xD. So here I am with the AC on, me in my Pikachu onesie (YEP) and writing this on my laptop, with a glass of pineapple juice on my side desk. Okay idk why did I just told you all of that…anyways here’s another preference.


Connor:

“Wheeen will you eeever finish?” Connor exclaimed, plopping himself down on the bed with his arms held out. You laughed quietly. You and Con were invited to a birthday party by one of your friends who lives three hours away. Yes, what a long drive. Better get me some of that setting spray, Jeffree Star.

“I haven’t even got out my clothes yet, babe.” You purposely said, torturing him more. He let out a loud grunt which made you chuckle and followed with a laugh. “Stop laughing oh my god!” he throws his head back on the mattress.

“I mean it’s your fault finishing up so early. It’s like…still—“

“It’s freaking 10:48 AM and we need to get going at eleven and by two we need to be there!” he exclaimed, sitting up and ran his hand on his hair. Lol. “You know what, I’m gonna pick up your outfit myself.” What. “What?!” “You heard me. Since you’re still drawing a, uh, outline…yeah, outline on your lips and you still need to do your hair, I will be picking out clothes for you, mademoiselle.” You sighed. You actually need help right now but you’re not going to show it. “Sure, Connor. But can I trust you though?”

“Oh you better. Because once I’m done clawing through your clothes, you’ll look amazing on what I chose an I’ll be proud of myself when I look at you because, hell, I did that.” You scoffed and smiled at the same time. “Go ahead.” You gestured for him to go inside your closet and pick out the outfit, which he excitedly obliged.

After you’ve completely done your makeup and curled your hair, you checked inside the closet to see what’s going on. “Oh good Lord.” You whispered as you saw a the outfit laid down, across the little circular seat in the middle, with a pair of shoes on the side. “I know, pretty amazing right?” he chuckled to himself. “I must say, this is not bad.” You held out a white, floral Fawn Floyd dress, a pink bomber jacket, with your white flats. “I know, I know, I’m amazing and all with you staring at the outfit I’ve put together and yes I’m the best boyfriend okay but you seriously need to get ready now.” He jokes while putting his hand on his chest. You rolled your eyes playfully and receiving a kiss from him on the cheek. “Thank you baby, seriously.”

“No worries.” He replied while grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you once again for a kiss now on the lips.

Brad:

“It’s one of those days again, Brad!” you shouted loudly enough so Brad can hear you from the living room. You immediately heard his footsteps getting closer to your shared bedroom and entering with a slightly confused face. “You have your, um, monthly p—“

“No! It’s not that!” You immediately cut him off before he could continue his sentence. “I don’t know what to wear…and that really leads to you picking out clothes for me, right?” You reminded him. This, situation, started when the both of you were going to his parents’ house for dinner and you didn’t know what to wear. You were stuck between keeping it casual but a bit classy and just classy. So he helped you eventually, and that became a thing. Its really been a long time since you’ve let him chose your clothes to wear, but today the both of you are going to Nat’s graduation (a/n let’s pretend guys cmon) and are going to have a little party after, and you need clothes to wear, obviously, so why not let him give you a hand

“I’m in that situation again, babe. Should I wear jeans or not?”

“Nah, I think you should wear a dress of some sort or something…” he slowly says while opening your closet. You see, most boys would be annoyed if their girlfriends ask the question of, “What should I wear?!” while already whining, but thanks to baby Jesus, Brad does not. He even helps you to pick out an outfit; what a good boyfriend he is, isn’t he?

“Well, I’ve got these pair of shoes, and I really like to wear them today. D’you that can help?” I say while holding up a white strappy-heeled sandals for him to see. He looked at it and back at me and smiled. “You really make my job much easier, Y/N.” You squealed and went up to him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you so much baby. You’re the best.” You mumbled against his skin with a smile. He replied with nothing but a kiss on the corner of your lips. He continued to scramble through your closet, having second thoughts about dresses he lifts up then putting it back on the rack.

A few minutes later he comes up to you while closing the closet with his feet, a dress having in hand. “Here—I think this goes well with that…I think.” He hands you this maroon, one-fourth-sleeved dress that ends right above on your knees with a zipper on the back. “Wow, I haven’t worn that in a while..” you whispered as you un-zipped the dress. “I know. I’ve been seeing that just hanging in there without you touching it while your choosing your clothes and just ignoring it.” He shrugs. You laugh while thanking him once again while undressing to your bra and undies, hiding from him but he wasn’t approving so you just basically stripped in front of him. You slipped your dress on with the help of him zipping up the back. “I think it’s my turn to pick out your clothes, huh?” You asked jokingly. “Now’s not the time, babe.” He said, but he clearly wanting to say, never.

Tristan:

“Thanks for coming, baby.” Tristan whispered on your ear while kissing your cheek after. “This thing better be good, Tris. I ditched my cousins’ birthday party.” You chuckled while fixing your hair up in a bun, getting ready to put on your makeup.

“Whatever, I think she doesn’t like you anyway.”

“Well…true.” You agreed.

~

“Tris, can you please get me my clothes from downstairs? I think I left it laying on the couch or something.” You asked while finishing up your makeup. He stood up from the bed behind you and walking to exit the door, “Thanks babe.”

A minute later he comes up back to the room, holding up the clothes you picked, laying on his hand while a sort of, confused face plastered on him. “What?”

“Are you seriously wearing a red dress and four and a half inched heels on a The Vamps rehearsal?” he asked, letting me see the clothes I have chosen for myself. You were offended at first, but also slapping yourself mentally for actually picking those clothes out. Of course you don’t wear a freaking thigh high dress and high heels to a concert, what the fuck. He puts the clothes back on the closet and walks over to you, putting the both of his hands in front of you, on the table, while towering his figure over you. “I’ll choose.”

“What?! My clothes? -chuckles- No way, Evans.” You snapped, standing up and opening the closet again. But he was fast enough to block you so his back was covering the clothes to choose from. “C’mon, just this time. Please? Trust me.” He begged. “You’re just gonna play games about it again.” You sassed, crossing your arms. “Noooo! I won’t! I promise, I promise.” He pleaded once again, pressing his hands together. You gave in, “Fine. Go ahead.” He let out a soft “Yaay!” while turning around and started to rummage inside your closet. You sighed and made yourself company and putting all of your makeup back in the bag and fixing your hair.

Minutes go by and he already handed me two items of clothing; black skinny jeans and an off the shoulder white top. “Ooooh!” You grabbed the outfit from his hands and looked at him in amusement. “See, I told you.” He said almost proudly. You laughed softly and thanked him. “And oh—“ he pointed to your black ankle boots, “Wear those too.” Was the last thing he said then walked out of the room so you can change. You smirked and shook your head to yourself, “I love how he acts like some kind of professional or something.” You laughed.

James:

“Hmm…baby, I wanna dress you up.” He whispered into your skin, kissing your shoulder very delicately. You sighed into his touch, closing your eyes. “But baby, why d’you wanna do that?” you asked, pulling him away and looking straight at him. “I mean, aren’t we going to the shopping centre later? I want to look at you and remind myself that I dressed you up.” He chuckled at the end. You shake your head jokingly at his foolishness. “Okaaaay…—“

“Yay!” He cheered.

“But can I trust you though?” You pointed a finger at him and he just grinned and then winked in reply. You swear you think you just melted. “Okay then, come on.” You jumped out of bed with him behind you and you led him to your closet. You opened the doors and his eyes grew wide. “Okay I swear you only swear skinny jeans and a shirt on a day to day basis but, hell, I didn’t know you had this much clothes.” He admitted. You shrugged your shoulders and replied, “Well, I mean, I know, but you asked for it.” You heard his huff slightly besides you and forcing yourself not to let out a chuckle. “Come on now, love. We don’t have all day to choose clothes, now do we?” He didn’t reply. “Well, while you do that, I’ll just take a wee and do my makeup slightly.” You said while running to the bathroom, leaving him there to decide what you’re gonna wear. You trusted him, you knew that.

You decided that after you went to wee, you’ll go straight to putting on some makeup and keep the outfit he made a secret to yourself. Plus, he will have more time. You started putting on some primer then a thin layer of foundation, concealer and some powder to add some color on your face. You added some contour, eyebrows then eyeliner, and lastly some mint flavored chapstick. You fixed your hair up into a fishtail braid and then finally, you went outside.

Your lips already parted slightly and your brows were raised up to the sight of James holding up the outfit that he chose, proudly.

A white sundress with red roses prints in them and a denim jacket, with your white Chelsea boots placed just in front of the doorway. “I know we’re just going to do some groceries, but I think we should all dress up like it’s our last day here on earth.” He winked at the end, while dropping the clothes on the bed and walking over to you and giving you a kiss on the forehead. “I swear, McVey, if you don’t stop with all these quotes I’m gonna flip.” You shook your head but then grabbing the dress first to put it on. “Well, uh, I mean,” he brushed his hair with his hands, “Life’s just a whole big quote, isn’t it?” “Oh my God.” You both laughed.

Soon enough later you’ve got changed, and James couldn’t help but to stare at his masterpiece. He fulfilled his promise to himself; to look at Y/N and say that, “I dressed her up, my work of art.”


P.S: not spellchecked so sorry if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes that you may have encountered. 

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Drabble 4/5

A/N: Yeah, Edward’s and Haytham’s are slightly NSFW. Just beware of the Kenways.


31. (Ah Tabai)

The sight was quite comical, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to contain your laugh. The normally intellectual and too-wise-for-his-own-good Mayan man was staring down at your gun like it had just grown a head. Granted, it was the newest model available and even you hadn’t gotten the hang of it, but he looked entirely lost. His hands were all over the silver metal, pausing once it reached the trigger.

“Careful there.” You chuckled, attempting to convey some kind of warning in your statement but failing miserably. “I don’t really feel like dying today.” 

He only glared up at you for a moment, a blazing fire beneath his eyes as he looked back down at the offending object. Truthfully, you’d never seen him carry a gun. It was strange and unnatural, the way he held it telling you that he wasn’t very familiar with the item, especially this model. 

“Do you even know how that works?” You asked, a smirk tugging at your lips and arms crossed over your chest. Ah Tabai was always confident in his work, but not to the point of cockiness. He knew his abilities and his limits, but for the life of you, you’d never seen him look so unsure.

“Of course I know how this works!” He replied back, clearly offended at your insinuation.

“Whatever you say, O’ Great One.” You winked, snatching your gun back from him. Oddly enough, he looked almost flustered.


32. (Arno Dorian)

You’d been stuck with him all day and it was only getting worse. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Arno, in fact it was quite the opposite, but he just seemed so different towards you. You had seriously thought that there was something between the two of you at one point, but then it just stopped. It might’ve been the smarter move to ask him what was wrong, but you honestly thought it best to give him space. If he wanted to talk, he’d talk. Only he didn’t; he only got more and more silent, even going as far as avoiding you outright most days. 

So as you sat here, squished shoulder to shoulder in a small closet, each second ticked by ever slowly, the silence absolutely maddening. Finally, fed up with his behavior recently and completely sick of the deafening quiet, you sighed.

“Let’s just take them.” You muttered impatiently, moving to go. Arno snaked a hand around your arm, pulling your body flush against him.

“You are not going out there.” He replied rather harshly, keeping you tight in his grasp. It was infuriating, frustrating, and, you shuddered, absolutely divine.

“Chances are, we will most definitely be able to escape.” You argued, nodding a head in the direction of the door.

“And what if you’re wrong?” He questioned. “What if you are killed because you left it to chance?” Your brows furrowed, curious eyes attempting to look into his in the darkness. Unfortunately, the shadows covered the both of you, masking each other from the other.

“What the hell are you going on about, Arno?”

“Despite what you may think, I’m actually quite fond of you and I’d prefer it if you didn’t die.” He hissed, both arms moving up further to encompass you wholly. Honestly, you weren’t entirely sure what was wrong with him, but you really couldn’t mind too much when his sweet scent was overflooding your senses and his warm arms were forcing your head to rest against his chest.


33. (Shaun Hastings)

“You are honestly the biggest asshole I’ve ever met.” You deadpanned, looking back to Desmond to make sure he was okay. He seemed pretty drained from his last session in the Animus and Shaun wasn’t making things any better by keeping up a constant stream of complaints and sarcastic remarks.

“We have things to do,” Shaun crossed his arms over his chest, staring at you like you were a small child that needed berating.

“Shut it, Shaun,” you huffed, sending a reassuring smile to Desmond. He smiled back to you, rolling his eyes at the British man.

“I’m just being realistic here.” He defended himself. You scowled, marching past Shaun and dragging him by the collar with you. He was spouting off insults every inch of the way, turning on you with a glare when you finally stopped outside of the loft.

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?” You ground out, hands on hips and eyes drilling holes into his head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He sniffed, pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

“Shaun?” You asked, voice much softer.

“I haven’t got you to myself in weeks.” He grumbled, a soft hand resting on your hip. “It’s more than a little frustrating.” A genuine smile bloomed on your face, your eyes softening.

“You could’ve just said that.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck. His other hand came up to press your lower back closer, eyes shining brilliantly under the bright lights.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?”


34. (Edward Kenway)

Okay, you could admit that it was funny in the beginning. You’d laughed along with everybody else when he stumbled onto the table or when he began yelling senselessly to the others in the tavern. But now that he’s barely on his feet, practically being dragged by you, you were definitely not laughing.

“You’ve had way too much alcohol.” You muttered, taking another large step as you attempted to pull the bulky man. It didn’t work out as you planned, your back smacking into his chest.

“There’s no such thing as too much alcohol.” He slurred, warm breath ghosting along the back of your neck. You shivered, much to your chagrin. The captain was attractive and he knew it. You always tried to act nonchalant about it, but it was getting harder and harder. Little moments like these were most definitely not helping your case any. “Ah, love, why must you wound me so?”

“What are you talking about?” You ground out, muscles groaning in protest as you took another step.

“I want you in my bed.” He said lowly, causing you to pause. “I want you beneath me as I fuck you senseless, my name on your lips.” Your eyes widened, a swallow working its way down your throat. Arousal pooled low in your stomach, his husky voice doing nothing to tamp it down. He laughed. “But you stubbornly refuse.” His shoulders attempted to shrug, sloppily accomplishing their task. Bloody rum, you cursed internally, glaring at Edward’s back as he walked away, his steps uncoordinated.


35. (Jacob Frye)

“Do I even want to know why there’s a dead body on my floor?” Jacob asked dryly, an arched eyebrow barely visible beneath the shadow of his top hat.

“Probably not,” you shrugged, taking another swig of your pint as you leaned back against the headboard of his bed, watching the man on the floor with a carefully placed mask. His blood was shining on the floor, the remnants on your blade still hot. It hadn’t been a particularly gruesome battle, but it wasn’t entirely enjoyable. Although, you mused, he definitely did deserve it. The man had been terrorizing London for far too long.

“What did he do?” Jacob asked, careful steps bringing him closer to you. He snatched the drink from your hands, sipping from it with a wink to you.

“Oh, you know, this and that.” You waved it off, glaring at your drink like it had betrayed you for allowing Jacob to drink from it.

“Real informative,” he drawled, setting the pint onto the nearby stand with a clank. “We’re going down to the pub while I have some Rooks clean this mess up.” His accent was thicker than normal, telling you that he’d definitely already been to the pub. Even if you couldn’t tell by his accent, the smell of alcohol was heavy in the air around him.

“Agreed.”


36. (Malik Al-Sayf)

In all honesty, you were exceedingly excellent at eliminating your targets. But you really hadn’t expected another mission so soon and you were definitely not in any condition to begin one again. So when you stumbled into the Assassin’s Bureau of Jerusalem, it wasn’t exactly surprising that you were bloodied and beaten. Malik cast a questioning eye in your direction, gesturing towards you with his good hand.

“Might I inquire what happened?” He asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“Very funny, Malik.” He had been well aware that you weren’t suited for this job but you were determined. It was very possible that your determination wasn’t the brightest idea at the moment, but you couldn’t care less. “Here.” You threw the feather at him, sighing when it floated gracefully down to the floor not two inches in front of you. You glared at the object, looking up to Malik and pleading silently for him to pick it up. He had an eyebrow raised at you, his gaze moving from the feather soaked in the blood of your target back to you.

“It’s not my job to retrieve it.” He stated. “And your mission isn’t complete until you hand me the feather.”

“I hate you.” You muttered, eyes still trained on the feather.

“That is a job for a-”

“If you finish that sentence I’m cutting out your tongue.” You threatened, a scowl forming on your lips.

“Novice.” He laughed, eyes shining mischievously.

“I hate you, Malik.” You groaned, dropping down onto your knees painfully.

“Sometimes I really question if you know what we’re doing.” His voice was the very definition of playfulness, the normal affection he’d always had towards you present.

“I do too, Malik, I do too.” You whispered, eyes closing. You didn’t need to open them to know he had shuffled over and picked up the feather. And you definitely didn’t need to open them to know he had smiled softly at you when he did so.


37. (Jacob Frye)

The day had been filled with a never ending line of annoyances, ushering themselves in one by one. Simply put, it was exhausting. And out of all the infuriating things to happen that day, none was worse than your current predicament. You glared down at the offending material, the stuffy layers causing you to shuffle in place as you clenched your jaw, your grip on Jacob tightening to the point of pain.

“If you just relax, you might find that you even enjoy it.” He laughed between his smile, somehow still appearing grandiose. At least he didn’t have to wear a flipping dress, you fumed, pulling at the coarse material, the corset digging painfully into your abdomen.

“Have you ever been in a corset?” You hissed.

“I can’t say I have.” His smirk widened as the both of you bowed respectively to whatever pompous asshole approached you next.

“Well, let me tell you, it’s not fun.” Your words were dripping with venom, wishing for nothing more than to drop down in your comfy bed and forget about the world for a few hours.

“I don’t think they’re supposed to be fun, love.” He whispered, lips against your ear.

“Obviously not.” You scowled, a hand smoothing out the vibrant colors. You hated it, felt entirely helpless in it. It made you feel stripped of your armor, of everything that made you an Assassin. With these layers of clothing, you might as well be another clueless woman looking for a man to marry.

“Besides, you look quite good in them.” He winked, eyes purposely raking down your body in a show of theatrics. Oh, you were so ripping these clothes off. And, you smirked, you were so ripping Jacob’s clothes off too.


38. (Haytham Kenway)

You’d never seen him like this; eye blown wide, chest puffed out, lips parted, and teeth shining. The room had long since been abandoned, the two of you the only occupants save for a rickety old desk, barely in commision. It was frightening, the absolute feral look in his eye, but at the same time, it was intoxicating. 

The smell of old spices and fresh mint swirled in the air around you as he took a confident step forward, the hat on his head moving slightly as he breathed you in. You were too enraptured to do anything but stare, arousal stabbing you like a dagger to your gut. He didn’t even have to touch you, sparks already flying at the electricity in his stare. But when he did touch you, you couldn’t help but moan, smooth skin moving along smooth skin. He wasn’t gentle as he shoved you back, parting your legs with a rough shove to your knees. 

Both of his hands were hooked behind your legs, pulling you against the very evident bulge in his trousers.

“Haytham,” you breathed, a hand trailing down the hard planes of his chest. You could feel the heavy thrum of his heart beneath, the beat speeding up at your touch.

“You look absolutely delicious.” He growled, lips centimeters from yours. He was purposefully teasing you, moving away whenever you pushed forward to connect your mouths. It was torturous and sinful, your body burning with an animalistic need for him. “What do you want?” His breath caressed your ear as he spoke, hands jerking you even tighter against him. You couldn’t help but squirm, attempting to sate the need for friction.

“You,” you whispered roughly, “I want all of you.” He only smiled in return, teeth glinting dangerously.


39. (Ezio Auditore)

Messing with Ezio was way more fun than it should be. You were quite sure that you’d annoyed the Master Assassin to no end but you couldn’t help it. His expression when he got mad! He’d try to be all intimidating, but he never was in your eyes. Hell, he only made it worse when he tried to act all angry. But, you looked to him with wide eyes, each heavy breath causing your chest to brush against his, you may have taken it just a teensy bit too far.

“Ezio?” You cursed your tone, wishing that you sounded more confident and less nervous. He was looking to you like he was a minute away from devouring you or strangling you, and you honestly didn’t want to find out. It was supposed to be a harmless prank; flirt a little, wink a little, lure him into the bedroom, then bang, leave him there, running off to go finish your mission. Only, you shuddered, Ezio definitely didn’t look like he’d be letting you run off into the night like you planned. In fact, you weren’t entirely sure if you’d survive this night.

“You’re not leaving, bella.” His voice was pure sin, each syllable rolling immaculately off of his tongue like he held the world.

“I didn’t mean to-” Whatever you were planning on saying flew out the window, along with your resolve, when his hand began a slow descent, leaving desire in its wake.

“Trust me, we won’t be leaving this room for a very long time.” The lust clouding his beautiful orbs scared you, his touch moving ever lower.

“Why,” you cleared your throat, hoping to bring it back to its normal level. “Why’s that?” You feigned innocence, the smirk on his face being absolutely illegal.

“You know why,” he spoke against your send, each word being felt more than heard. Oh, you were in so much trouble. But with his skilled touch, you couldn’t be too upset about it.


40. (Adéwalé)

Annoyance was evident on his gruff features as you poked him once again, hoping to get his attention. He steadfastly ignored you, eyes watching Edward across the pub. You poked once again, harder this time, smiling when he looked towards you. His lips were straight across the dark skin of his face, the candlelight reflecting brilliantly off each one of his features.

“I’d ask you not to do that, but we both know you’d just do it even more.” He stated dryly, eyes beating down on you.

“Nice to know you listen.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. “I have been speaking to you this whole time.”

“I know,” he replied, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. You gasped in a mocking manner, a hand on your chest.

“What’s this, Adéwalé is actually smiling for me?” Your tone was dripping with sarcasm, a wry smile on your face.

“You’re not as funny as you think.” He huffed, mirroring your stance.

“I think you’ll find that I’m very funny.” You sent a pointed look in Edward’s direction, the blonde captain nearly tripping over his feet. “If you spent a little time worrying about blondie over there, you might notice.”

“He is the captain.” Adéwalé said, his tone sounding almost final.

“And you’re the quartermaster, good for the both of you.” Both hands flew up, gesturing wildly. “But I’d like to speak to you, Adé, and you make that exceedingly hard when you don’t take your attention off of Mr. Captain.”

“Why?” He asked simply, surprising you somewhat. A smile bloomed on your face, this one much softer than before.

“Because I enjoy talking to you.” He seemed at a loss for words, watching you with guarded eyes. “Problem?”


“No.” He shook his head, a small smile returning. You always did love it when he smiled.