#I served him sometimes. every second day he came in

[keresnotceres]

Good, Good, Great

Ghost x Fem!Reader (And they were roommates)!

[nsfw] cw(s): Jealousy, alcohol consumption, references to smoking, strip club, rdr calls ghost ‘big boy’ several times, suggestive content, non-explicit sex (it’s mentioned), rdr is highkey a brat lol, mention of dumbification.

PART TWO

3.4k words I don’t understand how UK currency works so i guessed, ALSO! Reader is kind of a slut!! Because we don’t get enough readers that have BEEN AROUND TOWN (iykwim) and I am hellbent on fixing that :) ALSO ALSO this kinda sucks and it’s prolly OOC but I spent like four days on it so here u go <33

You’re not dating — but he’s not keen on sharing. He sees you serving another table drinks, scantily dressed, hips swaying with every step, and can’t help but watch with a glare as some other man sets a 20 between your tits.

How Laswell convinced both herself and Price that a strip club was the best place to meet and discuss information on a new mission was beyond Ghost. It wasn’t until two blocks away from the venue did he begin to recognize the surroundings, the streets, and damn it, even the people.

He forwent the skull mask and the skull-patterned balaclava for a plain black surgical mask that left him feeling bare and exposed. Only a thin piece of fabric was between him and his anonymity; two strings that held together the Ghost façade from falling into Simon.

He’d be damned if he told the others that he recognized the club — that he frequented it. Not for a certain stripper, no, not for the girls performing at all. He knew every staff member from the amount of times he’d come to pick you up after your serving shift.

You always smelled like alcohol and someone’s blueberry vape, sometimes weed; you claimed that just came with the job. He’d respond asking if he smelled like gunpowder and metal, if that was the case. He remembered how you shook your head.

“You smell like cigarettes and aftershave.”

He grimaces as they approach the shining lights of the club. Myth is a looming building; five floors, only two used for actual club affairs. The other three were offices or something equally as boring; even if you would prattle on about your outlandish suspicions of a mafia being run up there.

The first floor had the basics; a main stage that was across from the full bar, a plethora of sleek tables and uncomfortable leather chairs filling the space between the two attractions. On the far wall, a few booths with itchy velour couches separated by fake bushes. Doors sat on either side of the four booths, both led to some sort of VIP room that Ghost had never stepped foot in.

The second floor overlooked the stage section of the first, only the dancers could see the people decorating the steel railings. It was usually reserved for the rich people, the important men who had had wives and didn’t want to be seen in the public eye, the men who were desperate enough to pay extra to pretend they could get some, and the people staff liked. Ghost happens to fit into the latter category.

There was a second stage on the upper floor, it wasn’t often dancers were up there performing, they were usually lounging around with someone they knew would paid them well. The was a second, smaller bar which served the singular purpose of storing new bottles, which caused you to complain about having to go up and down the stairs every time you had to get another round for a table.

His constant presence had led to him “befriending” the bartenders (if getting a free drink counted as being friends) and getting half-hired as security (he was roughly the same size as the men they already had for the job), even the hostesses knew to assign him to your section each time he walked in.

It baffled him, to say the least. Even after he was gone for 11 months the one time, (what a god awful time that was), the Myth staff knew who he was.

Ghost didn’t even register Price trying to tell him to stop as he walked to the shiny glass doors of Myth. The thing that dragged him out of an absentminded state was Soap’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face the rest of the task force.

“Yae walkin’ right in like ye own the place, eh, Lt?” He had a conniving grin on his face. “Didnae take you for that kinda guy.” Gaz looked like he was trying to picture Ghost in a club, Price only looked at him with mild amusement on his face.

Ghost glares at Soap, embarrassed. “I’m going where we were told to go.”

“Wasting no time, either.” Gaz manages to crack a smile from Price with his chide.

“Are we going in, or not?” Ghost’s eyebrows raise in questioning, his patience already running thin. He looked over his shoulder at the bouncer, who he wishes he didn’t recognize as Paul.

Gaz had already fished his ID out of his pockets, the graying white background of the Royal Air Force card reflecting the sign lights. Soap wasn’t far behind him, most people who see someone with a mohawk assume it’s a teenager who lost a bet. Anyone could look at the Captain and know he’s over the age of 18, no college student could rival the man’s facial hair.

And Ghost? All he had to do was look Paul in the eyes and he was let though without even a second glance. It was no different than if he were just coming in to pick you up, although it was considerably earlier than your usual 2 AM clock outs. Ghost forgot the club was even open at 5 PM.

He got an odd look from Soap at the lack of identification, but odd looks from Soap were a daily occurance.

The club looked the exact same as when he’d left 4 months ago, the same blue-purple lighting, same ugly silver bead curtains hanging over the walls, and the same Thursday night bartender. His name was something along the lines of Tony (Tim?); Ghost hadn’t particularly cared about him, he’s never at the club on Thursdays anyway. Your shifts are normally on the weekends, only the occasional Thursday if there was an event.

The hostess seems to be familiar, too. She’s either Camille or Angelica; he could never really remember who was who. The two have the same bleach blonde, blue eyes, and freckles; they’re practically the same person to Ghost. He really only pays attention to you when he’s at Myth.

The hostess stares at Ghost for a second, as if trying to recognize him. Before she could try to speak, Price cut in.

“We’re meeting someone here. Blonde hair, a little older.” His eyes scan the half-empty floor of the room. “She might be upstairs?”

The hostess perks up at the mention of a woman. “Right. Follow me, please.”

The blonde led the group of them upstairs, two of the 20 tables had people at them. Only one of them had a Laswell-looking woman at them. The other was a group of seven men; each in a suit, and each with a glass in their hand.

Once the hostess set a few menus on the table, she spoke a final time. “Your server will be right over.”

Ghost let the others sit down before him, eyes lingering on the group of men across from them before they slid over to Laswell. She looked as comfortable as any other person in a strip club by choice, lounging back in her chair with a cocktail in her hand.

“You look disgruntled,” she notes, eyes resting on Ghost.

“You had us meet in a strip club,” Ghost mutters. “This isn’t my usual scene.” It was quite the lie, really. He’s spent more time here than any other pub in the Manchester area at this point.

“It’s close to home.” She takes a sip of her drink, completely at peace. “And it’s unsuspecting. Who comes into a strip club to talk about top secret information?”

Ghost looks at her, unamused. “Us.”

Laswell ignores the distaste in his voice. “You don’t have to worry about that group,” her head tilts in the direction of the rowdy group of men. “They’re all drunk or too focused on the girls to even bother listening to us.”

The distant sound of heels against the floor catches his attention, his eyes fly towards the staircase. And there you are, flouncing up the stairs with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Blue Label in the other.

You make your way to the group of men, a customer service smile plastered on your face. Ghost can’t hear your words, but he watches you set the bottle down in front of the most important-looking man, along with two of the glasses you were carrying.

He watches as your shoulders bounce when you laugh at something he says, though it looks like the fakest giggle you can muster.

He watches as the man takes a 20 pound note from his pocket and tucks it right between your tits. On instinct, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists and he glares. It’s a sharp glare, one he’d give to some idiot recruit that tried being cocky. You gasp, then smile brightly at the man, he can tell you’re saying thank you profusely from the way your mouth is moving.

You step away from the man and Ghost’s eyes fly from him to you, and his glare drops into a normal enough look, but his fists are still tight; his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

Ghost’s eyes roam your body, how the little black skirt you’re wearing rode up just enough that it would be considered a tease, how the black shirt you’re wearing is just a little too tight around your tits, and the 20 pound note that was stuck right between the two of them. He had to consciously unclench his fist before anyone would notice.

Then you come prancing over, hips swaying almost hypnotically as you walk, a glass of bourbon nestled in your hand.

You smile sweetly as you bend down in front of him, showing off both your tits and the note right between them, and set his glass on the table.

“I believe that’s for you, big boy.” Fuck, he missed hearing your voice, the nickname flies over his head through his stupor. Even if it was the faux, sultry version of it you used for work. “Can I get the rest of you anything? A beer? Whiskey?”

It was almost impossible for Ghost to tear his eyes away from you, rather, that damn note between your breasts. He wanted to pluck it out and throw it right back at the other man, replace it with something bigger, better.

When he notices Gaz’s disturbed stare, his eyes avert from you.

Gaz’s eyes trail from his to yours, “I’ll take a Manhattan.”

You smile at him, “of course, is Sazerzac okay?” Gaz nods shortly, glancing away from you to avoid Ghost’s stare. “Anyone else?” You pivot towards Price, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

Price angles his head to meet your gaze, squinting through the LEDs of the club. “Gin and tonic,” his eyes don’t leave yours, “Hendrick’s.” An offhand comment from Soap entertains the liquor’s Scottish origins.

You nod along with his words, then tilt your head towards Soap. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“I hope you mean the soda,” you muse. You didn’t get any reaction out of the group, not a single smile — how disappointing. “We have the cherry kind, if you’re into that.”

Soap shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Just normal Coke’ll do.”

You hum absentmindedly, “alright.” Your eyes flicker to Ghost, the smile on your face contorts into a little mischievous one. “Are you going to be wanting the bottle, Simon?”

You really are a vixen, aren’t you? Through grit teeth, Ghost spits out, “no.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back with those drinks, boys.” A single wink, and you were off. Low heels clacking against the tile floor, hips swaying side to side. Ghost was all too aware of every detail of your retreating body, from the way your hair bounced with each step you took, how the skirt you wore rode up just slightly enough to make his grip on his bourbon tighten.

Ghost fights the urge to get up, grab you by the waist, and pull you onto him. Both his experiences and his logical reasoning say it’s a terrible idea, yet the idea of reminding you who you ultimately belong to is so enticing he could be drooling.

He’s seen you cockdumb; it almost always comes after you pull a stunt like this. Of course, he knows you do it just for the sake of getting him bothered and getting fucked stupid. But he also likes the idea that you do it just for him. You put on a little show.

He finally put it together years ago. Back when you would bring over some pathetic-looking hookup just to see his reaction. When you’d fake moan loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, then look at him the next morning through your eyelashes all innocent.

At some point, the hookups ended, and you began flirting with customers right in front of him. Just like you had done a moment before.

When your head disappears from view, Soap is the first to attack him vocally, almost gawking after you. “You’re on a first name basis with the bottle girls at a strip club?” He looks incredulously at Ghost, almost jealous.

“Is that why you were in such a hurry to get inside? You knew this was where your flings worked?”

Soap leans in closer, “how often do you come here, LT?” It was question after question from the Scotsman, and despite his inclination towards him, Ghost was getting slowly more fed up.

Ghost set his glass down, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He put his hands to his knees and stood up from the plush seat, eyes scanning the other group one more time before he left his teammates at the table.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, leaning up against the doorframe to the server’s closet while you wait for another cocktail server to put in a ticket, twiddling your coworker’s Elfbar in your hands until she reaches behind her for the vape.

You hand it off to her and turn to face Ghost, a catty smile adorning your lips. “How can I help you, sir?” Ghost stops a few inches before you and a hand darts towards your cleavage. He tugs the 20 pound note from between your tits, your hands following his to grab for it.

You give Ghost several noises of grievances as he holds the note away from you, a look of slight disgust evident in the ways his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

By the time you gave up trying to reach the banknote, he’d begun digging in his back pocket. “I’d like my tip back, asshole.”

Ghost says nothing in return, no noise or gesture to acknowledge he had heard you. Instead, he tugs a 20 and a 50 pound note from his pocket and tuck the two bills into the space between your breasts. The money from the other man was crumpled and shoved back into his pocket.

You don’t stop him, you’re a bit too turned on to even think of stepping away from him.

“There,” he mutters. “your tip.” He steps back from you, like he was going to leave and go back to his table. You, however, were having none of that.

“Hold on.” Your hand twitches, stopping before it could shoot out to grab his wrist (but you’re smarter than that, you know him). “You didn’t call or anything.”

Ghost frowns under the mask. “I’m not home.” It was a clipped reply, not one you wanted.

“What?” You match his frown, annoyed.

“I’m here for work. You saw the others,” his hand gestures vaguely to the upstairs, “they’re my coworkers.”

You raise an eyebrow, “you work with someone who has a mohawk?” Disappointment flickers in Ghost’s eyes, if it was from your question or just the thought of Soap’s haircut, you didn’t know. The poor man isn't even there to defend himself.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ghost knows that, yes, it is hard to believe that he worked with a Scotsman with a terrible haircut while continuing to be the infamous Lieutenant ‘Ghost.’

The look on your face screams ‘yes.’

Ghost relents, “listen.” His voice has a certain sadness in it that makes you calm down a bit. Truthfully, you’re pretty damn pissed at him for just showing up out of the blue from God-knows-where, but your expression softens after a few seconds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Riley.” Your coworker nudges your shoulder to let you know it was your turn to use the kiosk. “Go back to your friends,” you wave your hand in a dismissive fashion. “I’m working.”

Ghost doesn’t budge, even after you’ve ducked between the bead curtains that dangle at the top half of the doorway. You pop back out of the doorway, an unsurprised look on your face.

“Don’t flirt with him.”

Your eyebrows fly up, an incredulous tone flooding your voice. “What?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Ghost repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

You set a hand on your hip, annoyed. “I’m making money.” The look in his eyes doesn’t change, he’s utterly serious about some random man you’re flirting with for extra cash. A thought crosses your mind, and your annoyance melts into mischief.

“You’re jealous over him?” The way his eyes widen a bit is enough to tell you that, yeah, he is. “Really, big boy?”

And fuck, if you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger by the way you walked, you had him now. All it took was one stupid nickname and Ghost is crumbling into Simon.

“Not jealous,” is his defense. You just soak it in with a grin on your face. You step towards him a little, shoulders forward and leaning down ever so slightly so that your cleavage is a little more obvious, so that the money he stuck between your tits is poking right out at him.

“You sure?” You look up at him, still grinning like your coworker once had when she got a free vape from a customer. “Seems like you’re a bit jealous.”

All he can do is stare down at you, clenching his jaw shut lest he say something he really shouldn’t. But God, does he wish he could.

Really, if it weren’t only 5 PM, he would’ve let you get to him. Let you drag him into an empty VIP room and fuck your words right out of you, leaving you a whimpering, babbling mess. But Ghost — Simon — knows better than to incapacitate you when you’re working.

All he’s left to do is watch as you give him little smirks from across the room, as you adjust your clothes to be just a bit more revealing, as you get close enough that he can smell the remnants of your perfume when you ask him aimless questions. And that’s just what he’ll do once you prance off to get his teammates drinks.

You pat him on his covered cheek patronizingly before you slink away, outstretching your hands for the three drinks cluttered at one side behind the bar. You pass him by, drinks in hand.

“If anything,” you look up to his eyes as you pass him, “it’s the guys you’re with you should be jealous of. You know I like older guys.” That’s enough for Simon to be reclaimed by Ghost.

He follows after you, glowering at your back. You don’t have to look back at him to know he’s scowling at you, but it brings you a slight bit of satisfaction.

“C’mon, big boy,” you hum, “I’ll get you another drink if you tell me his name.” You look back at him once you reach the staircase and climb a few steps ahead of him.

Ghost stares into your eyes like a dead man, you almost think you’ve gone a bit too far. “No.”

You give him an exaggerated pout and turn back to the front to see where you’re going. “If you aren’t jealous, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“No,” he huffs, irritation growing steadily. “Ask again and I’ll have your head.”

You quicken your pace on the last few steps, skirt bouncing from the motion; Ghost doesn’t bother to look away. He follows you back to the table where Laswell and the others are chatting quietly.

You lean down to set the drinks on the table, and Ghost takes his chance. His hands hover around your hips, bulge brushing against your ass as he moves behind you to sit down in his seat.

“Sorry,” he muses in the most unapologetic tone you’ve ever heard from him. It’s Simon’s eyes that look into yours, like a challenge. A really, really horny challenge. “Had to get past you.”

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[corollaservant]

Sweet Delight // Gojo x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: You are too nice to be serving rude customers for minimum wage. Rest assured that Satoru will take care of it.

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, noncon/very dubious consent, somno, stalking, knives, deception, mind games, murder mentions, violence (not to reader).. that's all.

A/N: Yan!Gojo is Joe Goldberg to me, idk. Beta read by my guy bsf who said the ending sucked (inspired by quote used in this book)

It started on a Friday afternoon.

He was a regular, came to the store every day to get his coffee. No sugar. Iced. The order was unlike him, he seemed sweet, or at least friendly and inviting, he had the type of eyes your friends gushed over when talking about their favorite movie stars, too blue, too inquiring.

At first he smiled and handed you a bill, told you to keep the change and asked you if he could sit outside for a bit. Of course, why wouldn’t he? The store offered it and he knew it, he was just being polite. He would read from a book, whose cover you couldn’t see, seemed too absorbed and you often wondered how he could concentrate with the café’s obnoxiously loud music (owner’s order to attract customers). He’d more than often catch bystanders attention, be it his white hair, his tall physique or his peculiar blindfold, which he wore sometimes instead of sunglasses, the man was attracting people like a magnet. This one time a couple of girls sat down next to him and talked purposefully loud. He lifted his chair and brought it closer to the register, closer to you. Yet, he still didn’t speak.

The first time he spoke to you besides a thanks and can I sit outside for a bit was when a customer harassed you verbally. You got the order wrong and while you offered a second free drink, he started calling you worthless. Your eyes watered and voice broke as he stepped in

“Please do not offend the barista, it was a simple mistake.” He spoke calmly while being twice the size of the customer.

“This is none of your business, sir..” The customer scoffed as he tried standing upright to make himself taller.

“I said.” Satoru sighed “Please get the fuck out the store or it will be..sir.” While there wasn't any physical threat, the tone was convincing enough to have the customer backtrack, hiss and leave the store empty handed.

“I'm sorry for that.” You told him as he looked at you.

“Don't be, this wasn't your fault.”

“I'm Satoru by the way, remember me?”

Of course you did, he was the most loyal customer.

—

It happened on a Friday afternoon.

Your shift started at 1 PM and ended at 9 PM sharp. Satoru had a meticulous routine: 1-3 was for observing. He wouldn't call it stalking, no, that word was degenerate and he wasn't like that. He was just observing you, your hands, as they moved, expressions as you skimmed milk and some of it spilled on the counter, your interactions with customers. He couldn't risk another incident like before. 3-6 was when he usually made an appearance. Black coffee. No sugar, iced and the table just across the bar; close but not too close. He was disappointed today, you hadn't looked at him once—well, in your defense the café was crowded, yet you still looked gorgeous, even with your sleep deprived eyes and disheveled hair, so soft and pure. He loved that. What would it take for him to get your attention? He found himself balancing between proclaiming his feelings and showing you them but decided on the latter. He would—today.

6-9 he had to wait in his car this time, it was raining but he couldn't leave you out of his sight, what if something happened to you? Your stupid manager had you close the store at 9 PM all alone in the dark, what a cheapskate cunt, not hiring a second person on the shift. Should he kill him? No, that’d be too soon. He would make an appearance before nine anyway.

8:40 was when he got out of the car, sloppily wearing a balaclava he’d gotten from Suguru (his seventh grade ninja Halloween costume) and his usual black work uniform. A knife was in his hands as he noticed you from across the road washing some cups. Perfect, you weren't looking but also careless of you, exactly as expected. He barged in the store and tried his hardest to make his voice drop an octave deeper, shit, would you recognize him?

“Give me your money or I'll stab you.” He was laughing internally but had to put on a fake growl, your expression was priceless.

“P—please don't kill me!” was the first thing you said (brokenly mewled) as your poor hands started shaking.

“I said now.” He said as he stabbed the blade in the air. Damn, that was too easy, you were too gullible.

“P–please I will, I–I am all alone.. one moment–'' Poor you, you had already started crying, tears were falling down your face but you didn't seem to notice. Should he stop this now? Probably.

“How incompetent are you? Are you this slow with customers too?” He decided to tease you a little longer, thriving off of your reactions.

Your eyes shot up for a brief second, was it the customer with Satoru a few days ago? He had said something along these lines, but this couldn't be. He was way shorter and had stopped coming ever since Satoru put him in his place. You were thankful for that.

Your hands opened the register as the paper bills you held threatened to soak, you still had one glove on... you looked a bit silly.

“Hey, hey..” Satoru’s voice quickly returned as the mask was removed “It's just me, see?” He whispered, trying to soothe the tone as your eyes widened.

“S–Satoru, what!?” Your voice trembled as the money fell from your hands and you took a step back.

“I wanted to pull a prank on you, I'm sorry if I scared you.” He smiled apologetically but you still couldn't utter a word.

“W-why would you do that? That's sick!” You cried out as he came behind the bar and tried to pull you in an embrace, knife now tucked in his jacket. To get close to you, to teach you a lesson, to make you need me would be his answer. You punched him on the chest, muffled cries fell from your lips. Well... you couldn't land a blow, that was for sure, but you looked cute with your clenched fists taking out your anger on him.

“F–fuck you!” His firm hands stopped your weak, aimless punches and you sobbed on his chest. You smelled divine, even at the end of your shift.

Was this love?

“Hey.. come on now, I said I'm sorry, okay?” He said as he pulled away.

“Came to say I'll stay with you till 9, it's not safe out there.” He promised as you wordlessly returned to the sink. He'd make you love him.

Around 9:10 you closed the store. His prank had slowed you down, exactly as expected, he figured it wasn't often you lost control and he was proud it affected you. It made you susceptible to control. You silently sat with Satoru outside while he insisted on driving you home.

“I don't need a ride. I'm fine.” It wasn't funny to tamper with your feelings like that, he didn't seem like the type and he'd taken you by surprise; actions like these didn't align with the image he painted for himself. He was always so kind, so protective, so—

“Give me the fucking store keys!” was heard before you turned your attention to the voice ahead of you. A man shouted, not too loud to alert anyone but enough to make a point. The street was empty and he was holding what seemed like a paper bag as you turned to Satoru.

This surely had to be another one of his pranks? You were about to laugh when you looked at him. He seemed taken aback, frozen in his spot and his eyes squinted as your heartbeat accelerated.

“What is it with this neighborhood and robberies?” Satoru talks after a while, his tone is confident as he looks at you and the guy growls. Why is he so calm?What is going on?—

“Shut the fuck up and give me the keys or I'll fucking blow your heads off!” The man says moving his hand to your direction, was this guy bluffing? Did he even have anything under the bag? Was your life about to end? It wasn't like people didn't talk about the criminals in the neighborhood—you’d never work there if it wasn't for necessity.

“And if we don't?” Satoru stops you from reaching for the keys as he fights hard to wipe off the grin on his face. Well, that was unexpected, but he isn't scared, he never is, as you interrupt.

“Satoru! P–please! Let me give him the keys!” You cry out, the day straight out of a nightmare the longer it drags on and you honestly can't put up another fight. You'd rather have whoever this was steal an insignificant amount of money from the register than end your life. Sure, there wasn't much to live for, but it was always different when under real threat.

“You’d give him the keys, really?” He scoffs annoyed. He couldn’t believe what a victim you were, couldn't you see he was right there for you? Despite his abilities you still failed to see him. Silly you.

“What c-can we do? He..he– and we–” Was this really the time? Why is he even negotiating this?

“Bitch, stop talking.” The guy spits, tired of your back and forth, as Satoru finally addresses him.

“That’s not very nice.” He is calm.

So calm that you almost don't see his fist obliterating the guy. One punch and he's knocked down, Satoru climbs on top.He pulls his fists down interchangeably but it's fast and you can't count, must be about seven that leave the guy with no time to react, hands to his sides as he yelps. Satoru reaches for his pocket and is about to grab the knife, when he feels two warm hands touch him and he turns around.

“P–please! Let's just go home!” You sob, eyes wide and the pain in your voice breaks his heart. Home, you said? He gets up and kicks the man’s limbs like a soccer ball—blood oozes down his mouth onto the curb and he chokes on some of it. Satoru's knuckles are stained but he gives you his hand as the pulp ahead withers.

Home.

-

He gave you clothes, a sleep set he had in his closet, you’d never know it was specifically tailored and cut out to your size, how would you know? It’s not like he’d tell you he stole (he called it borrow) articles you discarded at work. Your jacket when too hot, a change of pants as he brought them to the store's bathroom and returned them just as discreetly at 5:30 PM. They smelled like you, but he couldn’t categorize the odor, it was too hard. As for the color.. that he didn't care about. Anything would work really. His mind couldn't stop racing when he heard the shower head start, you'd never agree to his hospitality but that was his home, his rules. You also had a very rough day and it didn't take a lot to convince you.

He offered you his bed, he’d sleep on the couch and despite you objecting, he got you to comply. He could only imagine how much today drained you— physically and mentally. He let you sleep, he wasn't some monster, plus he had work to do. You’d wake up around 9, he calculated, so he had time.

When he finally sat down the couch, he couldn't sleep. Knowing you were there, so close and so vulnerable broke him. He didn't wait for his hair to dry — spot cleaning blood on the sink stole away his energy as he slipped on the bed, you were facing the wall and he placed his arms around you. You made no noise but you didn't seem to be sleeping heavily either, you’d slightly toss and turn. Poor you, was it a nightmare? He smelled your shampoo, it wasn't yours really but a variation of the ones you had at home as his fingers went through strands of your hair. He came closer, wanting to feel your body's heat and moved to your chest. His fingers sought your heart as he felt your pulse. A cock pressed against you—he’d been hard for some time and it wouldn’t go away as his palms searched for your nipples. One pinch and they were already hard, shit, he thought as he moved his dick on you. What if he went lower? Would you be a good girl for him? He moved to your belly as he put one leg softly over you, angling his cock directly at your cunt's entrance from behind while he rubbed against the folds, palms finding you from the front. He loved this embrace, all his to play with. He traced the slit and rubbed some more. You felt so soft and tempting. He’d bet no one could protect you like him and that gave him motivation. Yeah, that was right, he deserved a little thank you for his hard work. He fondles your cunt while his stiff cock annoys him, he’ll deal with it later. He buries a finger inside you, your cunt is wet, he thinks and you're not even conscious. Satoru pumps it slowly, it lubricates you in the process as it coats him halfway—he groans far from your ear and pushes another. You inhale sharply.

He pops them in and out until he fears he's becoming too fast so he removes his palm and uses your slick for his pleasure now. Boxers and sweatpants are removed as he wraps around the shaft, his precum gets smeared on his cockhead and he brings it down his base, it creates a wet mess and he gets off on it. He doesn't need much visually, your back softly breathing is enough to pump faster but— you felt so warm, he reasons, should he? You’d be his soon enough so might as well. He quickly turns to your side and lowers the set you're wearing (you'd think he intentionally sized up so it'd be easier to pull them down) as he pushes your panties to the side. You were a naughty girl, wearing a thong to work. Too dangerous, the world had many perverts. He puts his stiff cock on your entrance as he tries to shove just the head first; he hisses at the contact and you move, it's too late to back down now and he grows desperate. Within a second he tilts his hips into your needy cunt—he doesn't flatter himself, he's big so it's no surprise you groan and he assumes open your eyes. You feel tight and warm and he doesn’t care about your shock—he’s close.

“What.. agh—what are you doing?!” You're cut off in between moans as he ruts into you, you choke on a cry and he picks up his pace. His cock is stuffing you to the brim, it hurts but he can't be considerate. You feel like you can't breathe, dizzy from a nap and a repeated thump down your core. Yet, a primal instinct of pleasure washes away a conscious you telling yourself it's wrong and fuck— you moan out his name. Why do you moan?

“Shit, couldn't help myself, sorry baby.” He breathes out as he bucks his hips up and you feel too full.

“Satoru! S–stop...” But your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues, hands caressing your chest and his breath on your neck while your hips are brought to clash onto his and nasty sounds come from the contact.

“Fuck, so pretty, baby, hm?” He moans and he’s already close, cock throbs as you prettily squeeze him in. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, it’s like you’re made perfectly to accommodate him and look at you!—clenching your cunt like some slut.

“N–ugh– Satoru please—” You cry out, scared but with a heat coiling low that makes you unable to protest louder. You think of his kind eyes, heartwarming grin (“Got these bad boys for you”, as he gave you your favorite cookies) but soon they're gone away—

—replaced by his cock rutting in your damp walls. You're unwillingly sucking him in, you can't think straight, he's... good? No. He's disgusting for this. Water blurs your eyesight—it's too much.

A hand is on your clit as he bites your soft neck at the same time. God, how he longed for this. Having you in his arms. He adored you.

“Want to come on my cock, like the helpless slut you are, baby?” He whispers but it's soft—like he's teasing you for missing the bus and you cry.

“I- agh-n-no..please—” You muffle and beg and his hand circling your clit slaps on the nub repeatedly as you jerk; “I can't—I–” He doesn't pay attention, his cock is ripping you apart and you have to let go—riding out an unwarranted orgasm. He loves your mess, no, he loves you and since you're conscious (not that it'd matter), he lifts your leg up as he angles himself so deep, you yell; overstimulated and still scared.

“Satoru, e–enough!” He's bottoming out in between sticky walls and you ache, hoping for an end.

“Don't be selfish baby—fuck!” He groans as large palms squeeze around your neck and then he's cumming — fast and as much as possible, you think. It feels warm and disgusting, his breathy moans are on your ear as you force your eyes shut. What doesn't make it inside, seeps back out but it’s not a lot, since you’re fully stuffed and he takes his sweet time to pull out. You just feel that good. He plants a kiss on your back as he returns with towels and puts you back to sleep. You cry—he estimates 15 minutes before you give up and let sleep take care of you.

One step at a time.

-

It's your 3 month anniversary. He doesn't tell you that of course, its embarrassing because it's 3 months since he found you, 2 days since he introduced himself. You still work at the café but you don't have to worry, soon you’ll never have to work again, he has big plans. He is proud of himself for finding you, it wasn't often someone intrigued him so much. He liked how genuine you were, naive and a bit dumb of course but that was exactly what made you so pure. He’d bet even at your lowest, you'd never cuss anyone out. Like for example that cunt of a customer the other day but it was fine, he’d do it for you, actually—

A message from Suguru pops up.

“Comin tonight?”

“No, have plans.” He gets bored easily and this time isn't an exception.

“Again? New record?” He can always read Suguru's irony. Funny of him to think he'd stop there.

“I told you I’d take care of it.” Satoru hastily types.

That guy really shouldn't have called you a bitch, it wasn't even in the script. Look where that got him. In Satoru's trunk ready to meet Mr. Worthless. He shuts his phone, he thinks about throwing it away, there's no need for it anyways. Especially when you're here.

He thinks about some quote his dad used to tell him, how did it go? Some are born to sweet delight—

14 minutes till your shift ends. What was it?

—some are born to endless night? It all makes sense now, it rhymes, that's why he still remembers it.

Or maybe you just give the first part a meaning.

#jujutsu kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #jjk fanfic #yandere gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #tw somno #tw noncon #tw dubcon

[rationaliity]

progression | aventurine blurb

loving aventurine was as easy as breathing to you, something incredibly hard for him to grasp. he didn't get it at all. when he first walked into your life, he had this arrogant mask up, another one of his well preserved fabrications to protect himself. he was snarky to you. not necessarily rude, but he wasn't afraid to bare his fangs and show you that he was capable of hurting you if he needed to. he wasn't afraid of hurting anyone. another gamble he was putting his faith in, that he wouldn't be put in a situation where he would have to hurt you.

you loved him during that stage. every sarcastic 'friend' he tacked on to every sentence like it was more of an insult than anything else, every boundary that he crossed of yours, every little lie he spun to keep you at arms length, trying to protect you from his teeth. words hurt less than his bite. and yet, you were there for him even when he was sure he would have pushed you away, and it unnerved him.

" aventurine ~ " you called out from behind him to get his attention, before lightly jogging up to him, standing by his side. not in front of him, but beside him. " i know you might be busy today with business as usual, but i was hoping that you were free this afternoon ? there's this new coffee shop that opened up, and i though- "

" coffee ? sorry to disappoint you, friend, but i am busy this afternoon, " he shook his head, as if dismissing the idea outright entirely.

" oh, that's okay ! i'm still able to say hi right now while we're walking, so that's enough, " you chirped, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of disappointment and sadness in your tone, making the guilt inside of him at being the one who caused your unhappiness eat him alive. but the look on his face didn't change, his walls too big to penetrate.

he did find you at that coffee shop, though. " oh, hello, friend- " he had called out, approaching your table, sitting next to you without even asking. he saw your eyes light up, and for a second he felt the warmth in his chest burst forward, his heart beating against his ribcage. " what good fortune that i was able to finish my tasks a little while ago. i didn't think you would actually come here alone. " there was a hint of confusion in his voice, but it was masked just as quickly as it came.

after this interaction, aventurine got a little awkward with you. what was he expected to say ? what did he do if he wasn't trying to push you away ? he was clumsy with his words, often just silently nodding along as you talked, and sometimes bringing up tiny points. he wasn't good at conversation when it wasn't to serve an agenda. being in survival mode his entire life, he had no idea how to be social, much less to someone as kind as you.

no matter how much he stumbled and fell over his own words, you treated him the same. he approached you cautiously, as if he was afraid that one day you would get sick of him and throw him out of your life permanently. was his personality too much for you to handle ? was he doing something wrong ? he wasn't sure, this was uncharted territory for him. all he could do was throw his dice and hope for the best outcome, something that was so comforting now unnerving. he could bet every single one of his chips, every possession he owned, including his own life, but you ? betting on you felt like one risk he wasn't willing to take.

" hey- i was at this shop a while ago, and i was hoping that you'd want to visit ? with me, of course, " aventurine asked, trying very hard not to look how pretty you looked right now, how your smile made his heart flutter every single time without fail. " i saw something i thought you might like. i wanted to get it for you but i don't know your size. "

" oh ? yeah, i'd love to go with you ! " you agreed immediately, as if everything that you were doing before this was suddenly unimportant. " but you really don't have to pay for me, honestly. i can take care of myself. "

this through him for a loop, and he hid it well, but aventurine had no idea what that meant. did you not want him to pay for you ? or were you just trying to be modest ? it wasn't like he was hungry for money, it was fine on his pockets, and he didn't mind spending if it meant spending on you, of course. besides, what did you want from accompanying him if it wasn't to buy things ? that's what friends were for, right ? it was a mutual beneficial agreement between two people to be friendly with each other to gain something from another, right ?

he was pretty sure that was how it was to be friends, but you challenged all of that. especially when you bought him a drink from a shop. he'd just mentioned it offhanded that he could go for some boba tea, and you had agreed, saying that it would be really good right now. and then you bought him his ? that's not how that was supposed to work, he was sure of it. why would you go out of your way to pay for something for him that you yourself wouldn't even get to enjoy ? he was willing to buy you things to keep you around him, but you didn't need to buy him anything to keep him around.

the possibility that you didn't want anything from him other than his time and himself was confusion, but refreshing.

eventually late night outs became late nights inside, and aventurine found himself in a precarious position, on your couch, your body on the other side, cuddling up against a pillow. the intimacy of the situation felt like it was choking him. and he finally got the courage to ask you the question that plagued him - why ? why did you care ? why did you try so hard ? what was in it for you ? putting your bets on him was a foolish decision that he couldn't rationalize. even he didn't bet on himself.

" because you're worth it, " you shrugged a little, the answer's simplicity wiping everything from him. all of his fears, his confusion, his doubts, just for this moment. right now, he understood. you never pushed him out of his comfort zone, and let your companionship evolve naturally. he didn't even realize he had let you inside of his shell before it was too late. " because you deserve it. "

he thought you were worth it, too. trusting you, putting his faith in you even though you had the ability to hurt him. it was worth it. you were worth it.

#honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #honkai sr #honkai star rail x reader #x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine #honkai star rail aventurine #star rail aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine fluff #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

[solar-wing]

⚣ Holidays with the Waynes 🦃

⚣🦃 A/N → This idea came randomly, conveniently after Thanksgiving. To everyone that celebrates, Happy Turkey Day (he said about two weeks late) and Indigenous People's Remembrance Day. Also, everyone congratulate me. I finally made a fic under 1000 words. I almost made it longer to but stopped myself. This is why it takes so long to get posts out of me. Just when I think I'm done, I add more. WARNINGS: none. just typical Wayne chaoticness

⚣🦃 Summary → His life is like a reality show and every day is a new episode, with the holidays being their own specials. So, when a classmate asks him how his Thanksgiving was, how does the youngest Wayne son even come up with a response?

⚣🦃 Words → 622

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🦃

“So, Y/N, how was your Thanksgiving?”

What a loaded question.

*cue the flashback ripples*

“Damian, why is the turkey in my bedroom?” The youngest Wayne asked after entering the kitchen and finding his half-brother sitting at the island.

“Master Y/N, if you’re going to be eating in your room, I do ask you put a cover over your sheets to avoid crumbs and stains, please,” Alfred said while seasoning one of the various dishes for their dinner.

“Oh, Alfred, it’s not like that. It’s–” Y/N tried to explain before stopping himself after Damian sent him a glare, warning him not to utter another word or else, “It’s just that I sometimes get after-dinner cravings and don’t feel like making the trip to the kitchen. Won’t happen again, though.”

Alfred gave him a suspicious look after glancing at Damian who was avoiding his gaze, before nodding his head and continuing his food preparations. The two brothers both looked at each other before the youngest nodded his head towards the door, making his way out of the kitchen while trying not to act even more suspicious knowing the butler was watching his every move.

Damian quickly moved in tow behind his brother, following him to one of the sitting rooms. A cautious measure to ensure they were out of earshot.

“Next time, scan the room before you start blabbing off as you usually do,” Damian said, his usual annoyed and slightly threatening squint in his eyebrows.

“I do not blab, thank you very much,” Y/N said, his hands on his hips and breath huffing out, showing his clear offense to his brother’s statement.

“History would beg to differ.”

Y/N scoffed with an eye roll, “Whatever. Why is the school’s Thanksgiving turkey mascot currently nesting in my room?”

“I overheard one of the faculty members talking about how good the animal was going to taste on their plates come Thanksgiving dinner, and I refused to let an innocent animal be subjected to such brutality.”

“Okay, but you can’t just kidnap the turkey, Damian! Let alone hide it in my room!”

“First, his name is Tiny. Please, give him the respect of using his name. Second, he’s happier and more relaxed in your room. I think he enjoys your color scheme.” Damian said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I–... Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I were a Kardashian.”

“Less authentic and more plastic. Also, you know how Father feels about that family, especially the mother. And, how would you feel if someone tried to chop off your head and limbs so you could be put on a platter that serves 6-10?” The Boy Wonder questioned, mirroring his brother’s body language with his hands on his hips.

“Damian, you literally chased me around the house with your sword last Tuesday.”

“I thought we were playing tag.”

“Who plays tag with a sword?!”

“People who don’t want to get tagged.”

“I–... No words. None whatsoever.”

“Does this mean you’ll let Tiny room with you tonight?”

“Fine.”

For the rest of that Thanksgiving break, Y/N spent it with a roommate who would wake him up at the ass crack of dawn with a series of short, noisy clucks. The youngest Wayne had to explain to his father that he was listening to a new LO-FI relaxing tracks of bird sounds to help him relax.

He received many strange looks from his various family members.

“Oh, just the usual stuff. Holidays with my family are pretty lame. Anyway, what about your family?” Y/N answered, lying straight through his two front teeth.

Holidays with his family were never lame, but also never normal.

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️| Masterlists | ☀️

#solar-wing ☀️ #☀️🪽.fanfic #☀️🪽.dcposts #☀️🪽.txt #dc #dcu #dcau #dc universe #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x male reader #reader insert #male reader insert #x reader #x male reader #batfam #batfamily #bat fam #bat family #batfam x reader #batfam x male reader #batfam x batbro #batfamily x reader #batfamily x male reader #batfamily x batbro #batbro #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth

[generalsmemories]

Hello author! Can I request from angst prompt the angst sentence #2 and angst scenario #4 with Jing yuan? This is my first time doing stuff like this. I don't know if I'm doing it right😅 if not feel free to delete! May you have a wonderful day!

A shoulder to lean on

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: breaking down mid-hug, "can you call me that again?" and "you haven't changed" "...do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?" || 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, a miniscule of high cloud quintet lore, my personal hc that jing yuan was a tiny bit of a crybaby when he was younger (it's mentioned briefly you could barely notice it)

✧ a/n: after jingliu's companion quest the need to give this man a hug just increased by tenfold. but you did everything correct dear anon, thank you for participating in the event! not beta-read cause the idea kicked me in the face at like 1 AM so i had to hurry before i lost it. though i did struggle trying to incorporate the last sentence LMFAO.

"Do you accept this new position as the general of the Luofu, Jing Yuan?"

Sometimes he wonders if things would've gone differently if he said no that day, had politely declined the offer. He had dreams after all, dreams that wasn't limited to the Luofu - a dream that was to reach the stars, and further than that.

"It would be my honor."

But as fast as those worries came, it quickly faded away with time. Forgotten amidst the chaos that immediately happened the moment he took the mantle of the General.

"General, there's another meeting with the Six Charioteers."

"General, the Marshal is requesting your presence."

"Even if you've became the general, we would still need a strategic mind and another sword out on the battlefield, what do you say?"

He didn't mind at first.

"General! The high elder has...!"

"General, we have succesfully captured Imbibitor Lunae, what are the High Preceptors orders for him?"

"General! The swordmaster has succumbed to mara!"

If he could serve the Luofu to the best of his abilities then he would. He loved Luofu after all. It would be no greater honor than to be able to govern it and protect it.

"General! There's an urgent message from the Xianzhou Yaoqing and Xianzhou Fanghu!"

"General, we will keep losing more men to the Denizens of Abundance at this rate, the only way to stop this war once and for all is through the Reignbow Arbiter!"

But after centuries of the same title being called out, of the same courtesy and respect given to him at every corner and at every second of his life, he starts to wonder.

"General!"

When was the last time he heard someone call out his name?"

"Jing Yuan."

He sucks in a deep breath, eyes snapping open upon hearing his name. There's a warm hand cradling his cheek with a thumb stroking his skin patiently - but no words have been said after someone had uttered his name.

It's quiet - the noise inside his head had seemed to morph back into the same mild headache he's gotten used to ignoring every day. A pain that makes him realize he's no longer forced to witness what had happened in the past, the warmth from the hand on his cheek confirming the fact he's back in the present.

Back in today's Luofu - a peaceful Luofu not plagued by any war, a Luofu he had managed to keep in peace for centuries.

He let's out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, his eyes finally adjusting to the room around him. His vision is a bit hazy, but he can still make out the interior of your shared house.

There's a bed underneath him, a blanket covering half of his body and the sound of the breeze blowing through the wind chimes which makes them make a clear sound. And when he averts his gaze from the ceiling to the presence beside him, he finds himself locking eyes with your own - a gentle smile painting your lips.

"Good morning, I take it that you didn't sleep that well tonight?" you ask, and Jing Yuan opens his mouth to say something, whispering something so quietly that you couldn't even hear it even when you're this close to him, "I won't be able to hear you at all if you continue to whisper like that, you know?"

"... Can you call me that again?" he finally manages to utter after a beat of silence, the requst making you cock your head to the side in confusion - but it doesn't take long before your eyes widen slightly in realization, before immediately softening.

"You haven't changed at all, have you? Jing Yuan."

And that's all he needed to hear before he finally breaks. You can hear a low whimper come from him before you flinch away in surprise when he suddenly rises to an upright position. But you're not able to move back fast enough before an arm hurriedly wraps around your waist to force you closer to him.

"... Do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?" he breathes out, voice finally returning to him after hearing you call out his name again.

His free hand cradles the back of your head, pressing you closer to his neck while he almost shrinks into you, trying to press you closer than you already are.

Almost as if wants to protect you - from what you don't know.

But he's shaking, the arms enveloping you in his embrace are trembling slightly and you can feel his voice shake whenever he breathes in and out, his own face pressed against your head.

"A good way, what else? Because even after everything you've gone through, standing tall as the general of the Luofu-"

You ignore how he physically flinches upon hearing you say that title.

"You're still the same crybaby of a Jing Yuan that I fell in love with way before you even got your infamous nickname."

He doesn't say anything, freely letting you cup his cheeks to pull him away from your head, giving him a smile and a quick peck onto his cheek before you readjust him to rest his head on your shoulders - to which he quickly buries his face into your neck. And it's only when you wrap your own arms around his shoulders tightly that you feel tiniest of tears dampen your clothes.

You can only squeeze back, bending your head down to press your lips onto whatever part of Jing Yuan you can reach.

"It's okay to cry, Jing Yuan."

another similar ask that got incorporated

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #star rail x reader #star rail x you #star rail imagines #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan angst

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to A Great House (19th-20th Century)

(I know, I've been slacking but I'm still alive)

When we think of the Victorians, the grand old Gilded Age or the Edwardians, we all think of those big mansions and manors where some of our favourite stories take place. But what and who did it take to run a great house?

Meet the Staff

Large numbers of staff were always needed to run great houses. Every department had its own management and its own teams, all working together to ensure everything ran smooth. There was both an interior and exterior team.

Interior

You can split the interior of the household into three departments: Service, Upkeep and Food Preparation.

Service

Butler: The Butler was the Head of all the household staff. He acted essentially as the manager of a great house, directing the staff on a day to day basis or at events on the command of the lord/lady/employer. Make staff would report mostly yo him and he would be in charge of keeping an eye on them. The Butler had charge of the wine cellars, the dining room, sometimes the pantry as well. As the manager of the house, Butlers were afforded the title of Mr. X. Our favourite examples being of course Mr Carson and Mr Pennyworth.

Valet: The valet was the male servant who handled the dressing of the men of the family. He would be in charge of his master's clothes, ensuring he was always dressed in the right outfit for the right activity (there was a lot) and be in charge of helping him into the outfit in question. The valet would also be in charge of cleanliness, sometimes shaving his master or running his bath. Valets were referred to as Surname and ranked in how their employer's ranked, for example the Lord’s valet would outrank his son's.

Lady's Maid: The lady's maid was similar to the valet. She was in charge of keeping the ladies of the house looking their best and handling their needs. She would style hair, care for jewels, mend clothes, care for clothes and often act as a companion, accompanying her lady on visits or day's out. The lady's maid was referred to by their surname.

Footman: The footman was a male servant who served at table, fetched items, handled heavy lifting such as luggage, opened and closed doors. Most footmen were young men and en chosen for good looks. Footmen polished the silver services at great houses and when called upon would often take on the role of valet to guests without a servant to help. Footmen were referred to as their firstname. Footmen were denoted by rank, the highest being first footman who had charge over the others and would assist the butler in some tasks.

Upkeep

Housekeeper:The housekeeper was second in command but she ran her most of the interior staff, especially those who took care of the house itself. She supervised all female staff. She helped the lady of the house when it came to running events and caring for guests. The housekeeper is always Mrs. Surname even when she's unmarried.

Housemaid: Housemaids clean the house. They would dust, make and strip beds, straighten things up and keep the house looking it's best. The housemaid was a servant that was almost never seen, usually rising early, lighting the fires, cleaning the house as the family moves from room to room. She was called by her Firstname.

Scullery Maid: The scullery maid is the lower ranking maid. She would also have been younger and less experienced. She was in charge of the more unsightly work: laying the fires, scrubbing the floors, emptying chamberpots, cleaning servant's chambers. She may even do mending and washing for other servants. She was called by her first name.

Hall boy: The hall boy was also young and handled the worst jobs. He would polish boots belonging to the family and sometimes staff, cempty the servant's chamberpots and waited on on the higher ranking servants. He was called by his name.

Food Preparation

Cook: The cook or chef was the third highest ranking servant downstairs and they ran their own department. They were in charge of the kitchen staff. All cooks and chefs would meet almost daily with the lady of the house to discuss menus and ordering but would answer to both housekeeper and butler. As with the housekeeper, a female cook or chef is Mrs Surname despite martial status and make cooks/chef are Mr.

Kitchen maid: The kitchen maid helped the cook/chef in preparing the food. She would be one of the first servants up, in charge of lighting the ovens and starting the breakfast for the family and servants. She would clean the kitchen, boil water when needed and bring food up to the servery when needed. She would be called by her first name.

Exterior

The house would needed a team on the outside to handle the stables, the gardens and any outdoor activity.

Gardeners: They would be responsible for the upkeep of the grounds itself, caring for the gardens. There would be multiple at a great house led by a head gardener.

Stableboy/groom/kennelmaster: They would take care of the family's horses and dogs. They would take care of tack, help plan hunts and riding pursuits and handle carriages.

Chauffeur: As automobiles became popular in this period, a chauffeur was needed to drive the family and take car of their motor.

Lives of Servants

Servants were paid very little at this time, mainly because most staff got free room and board. Most of the interior staff would live in the house itself and be supplied meals. Chauffeurs, gardeners etc would live nearby on the estate either as locals or be supplied a house as a staff member. Staff uniforms were also supplied. Days off were rare but not withheld. Permission was needed to leave the house either to visit the shop or take a few days off.

Servants were expected to be obedient, modest and humble at all times. They were expected to stand in the presence of their master's, speak only when spoken to and never question an order. They had to be ready for anything at the drop of a hat. You've set for a dozen guests but now there's five more coming? Tough luck, change the table settings. You get seasick? Nevermind that, your gentleman is going across the sea and as his valet you're going with him, like it or not.

Servants from one house often travelled to with the family to their other residences: the butler, footmen, chef, kitchen maids, lady's maid, valet would all go with the family while everybody else would get left behind. Every house would have its own housekeeper if it could be afforded. Housemaids and other staff needed could be hired locally when needed.

The Daily Routine

The working day of a servant in a grand house was a long arduous one.

Morning: At 6am, the servants rise. The scullery maid gets up and begins lighting the fires, starting with the kitchen. Then she cleans the kitchen top to bottom before the staff get in to cook. The kitchen maid would rise at the same time, helping with the cleaning. She would set for the servant's breakfast and start cooking it. The footmen open the shutters upstairs, cleans whatever tools they will need such as glasses and silverware, tend the lamps and sets for breakfast upstairs. The housemaids go about the house cleaning up after the night before, starting in the rooms that aren't being used (any room that's not the bedrooms). At around 8, the cook rises and starts the day. The kitchen maid serves breakfast to the other servants before returning to the kitchen to eat her own breakfast with the other kitchen staff. After breakfast, the housemaid will change her apron and deliver hot water to each of the bedrooms for the family. At 9, the family rise. Married women have breakfast in bed with all other family members and visitors eating in the dining room. Valets and lady's maids would have dressed them prior, gathering up any clothes to be mended or washed. The footmen and butlers will serve while the housemaids go into each empty room and begin their chores.

Midday: Just before midday, the chef would speak with the lady of the house to discuss menus. At around 11, the staff were permitted their first break, just enough time for a drink usually a cup of tea before they started again. The chef would start preparing for the main dinner of the evening with the lady's approval. Footmen would take their places at entrances or attend the family where he may be needed. At noon, the servants would have their dinner. At 1, the family would sit for their lunch. Once lunch is over, a footman might be permitted to attend personal business (with permission from the butler first) or be sent on errands out of the house such as delivering messages. While the family sit for breakfast, the maids tidy up any room they have been using since getting up.

Afternoon: The family take tea around 4. The footmen clear the tea before heading down to take their tea - a light meal- with the other servants around 5. Afterwards, the footmen will start to light the lamps, close the shutters and draw the curtains. The butler would oversee the laying of the table for dinner with the footmen. The first footman carries the silver, the second the china, while the butler sets the silver and glasses. If a guest is coming, a footman will remain on the door to see them in.

Evening: At 8, the footman or butler signals the start of supper. This is done by the rinibg of the gong or bell which gives the family and any staying guests, 15mins or more to get ready. Valets and lady's maids would already be upstairs at this point, helping their master/mistress. When the family head downstairs, they linger in the drawing room to chat while a footmen keeps an eye on them. Any guests visiting for dinner would be let in by a footman and announced upon entry. The butler announces dinner and escorts the family in. The footman serve the food while the butler pours the wine (chosen by the Lord with the butler's help). The footman stay in the dining room all throughout dinner, excepting when they go to the servery to collect the food from the kitchen maid. They serve and clear the plates for every course. When dinner is over, a footman will stay with the men while they drink their port while another serves the ladies their coffee in the drawing room. While dinner is on, the housemaid would tidy the empty rooms, check the fires and turn down the beds. At 9, the servants eat their supper while the family chill. When supper is over and the family is done for the night, the valets and lady's maids would ready their masters for bed. A footman would wait in the hall with candlesticks for the family and show any departing guest out. The kitchen staff would start to clean up while the butler starts locking up the house. The staff would get to bed about 11:30 - 12.

#Fantasy Guide to A Great House #Guide to A Great House part 1 #Staff #Employment #Historical reference #Writing reference #writeblr #Writing help #Writers guide #Writing research #writers resources #writing resources writing advice #Writing advice #19th century #20th century #Edwardian #Gilded age #Victorian era

[kookblurx]

" I love you " - cloud pov [ oneshot ]

→ SUMMARY: cloud was never good with his words. a guy who appears to be cold towards others but since a few days he seems .. different towards you. its like something is burning on his tounge.

→ GENRE: fluff; awkward; innocent; confession; mutual feelings; golden retriver energy.

→ RATING: 13+

→ NOTE: i know this is something completely different from the things i normally write. normally i only write about jungkook and taehyung but since FF7 came out .. i found my love for Cloud again. So i decided to write a pov about him. maybe more will follow on the future. also please keep in mind that english isnt my mother tounge, thanks. IMPORTANT; The city mentioned never appeared in the games. its my own interpretation! also my gaming povs mostly never matches with the games.

♡.°₊ˎ SONG FOR THIS ONESHOT

your hands were sweaty as you were sitting outside in front of the old house. it wasnt something fancy, just an old block house deep inside the woods which served as some kind of shelter for your little group. The cold evening air blew a few strands of hair into your face. It would be a while before he would come outside to join you. for a short moment you regretted volunteering for this sort of misson, not that it would be difficult. this wasnt the reason why you suddenly became so nervous. You looked up at the darkening sky with your lips pressed together. A few small stars could be seen here and there, so it was a perfect evening to search for a flower which only blooms once a month on a full moon night. The fabric of your light blue dress began to rustle as you moved back and forth on the tree trunk. its been 20 minutes already, what took him that long? you wiped your sweaty hands on your dress once again. If this continues you would have to go back inside to change again. surely tifa would raise an eyebrow, probably asking herself if that was some kind of sheme from you. making sure that "he" will really come with you. he trusted you, so you trusted him, naturally. but still, you were nervous. This would be the first time in months that you've done something alone together. The others accompanied you on every other mission. You loved your friends but sometimes you wished you had more time alone with him. from behind the old wooden door finally opened but you were too nervous to turn around to face him yet.

"are you ready?" his voice was gentle in your ear which why you finally turned around.

the second you did, you cursed yourself for not preparing a bit longer. the man in front of you was none other than Cloud Strife, your best friend, your companion and the men you had a crush on for so many months now. cloud had always been beautiful in your eyes but tonight he looked completely different. his armor was gone, so he only wore his dark turtleneck tank top, matched with a pair of dark pants. your eyes traveled down on his arms as you noticed that he also werent wearing the gloves which he was normally wearing. compared to him you looked like always. even his blonde styled hair looked a bit messy underneath the rising moonlight.

"whats wrong? did you saw a ghost?" raising one of his eyebrows, cloud crossed his arms in front of his chest. "i- uh no! you just look so different ..." "dont be silly and come ..."

without another word he finally started walking ahead. cloud never talked much, not even with you so it wasnt suprising that he didnt paid much attention to your remark. slowly you started to follow him into the woods. the both of you only heard rumours about this special flower. apparently it glows in the dark whenever moonlight hits one of its petals. beside that it didnt had any powers but tifa really wanted to plant one on her garden. at first you thought you could go alone but the second cloud heard that you were going outside at night, alone, he decided to tag along.

fidgeting with your fingers all you could see was his back in front of you. cloud even left his buster sword at home. looking down at his bare hand a slight glimmer of red crawled up your cheeks. there was only one time were you held hands with him and this only happened because of a small accident. it happened on one of the many Shinra ships. cloud was busy fighting off some of the soldiers while you were busy cracking the code to the main gate. It wasn't a difficult task as long as cloud could distract the others, but one soldier didn't seem to fall for it. suddenly someone grabbed your shoulder and pushed you backwards. you landed roughly against the nearest wall. Of course, cloud noticed this and immediately rushed to your side. he grabbed your hand to pull you behind him. the whole time he protected you, he never let go of your hand. so that was the closest you ever got to holding his hand with him. beside that nothing romantic ever happened between the two of you. after a while you came to the conclusion that cloud, probably, doesnt like you like this. in the beginning this perception was hard and you were heartbroken for days. maybe it was too much to ask for, considering how clumsy cloud is and that he doesnt really talk about his feelings.

"everything okay?" you nearly bumped against his chest, not noticing that cloud has stopped in his steps. were you sighing again? did he heard it? you could feel how your cheeks grew hotter with every passing second. in a fast motion you shook your head as cloud took a step into your direction. "are you sure? you were sighing pretty loudly. are you already tired? If yes .. dont worry we are nearly there"

you wanted to answer something but cloud turned around again. expecting to take up his pace you took a step forward but in the next moment something warm slipped into your hand. suprised your eyes darted downward and at the same time your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. cloud held your hand, he really held your hand. slowly your fingers closed around his palm. Whenever you pictured this day in your head, you never imagined that his hand would be so soft. it was like you were holding a fluffy cloud in your palm, carefully not to crush it.

with a slow motion cloud slowly started to walk again. like usual he didnt addressed the thing he just did and you were fine with it. by now you were too busy to calm down your pounding heart inside your chest. slowly cloud pulled you between some green bushes into a clearing. you could imagine that in this meadow many beautiful flowers were blooming, since its been night most of them were sleeping peacefully. As your eyes scanned the meadow, they stopped in a certain place. You immediately let go of cloud hand just so you could run to that spot.

"hey Y/N! whats wrong?" his voice rang in your ear but your eyes didnt left the spot. this was it, this wasnt a dream right?

suddenly you came to a halt and kneeled down on the ground. right in front of you were the glowing flower. it was so beautiful that you didnt even noticed how cloud kneeled down on the ground right beside you.

"its beautiful isnt it ...?" you asked him as your fingertips brushed over the delicate petals "yes ... more than beautiful" "say cloud how should we-"

the moment you turned your head into his direction you noticed that he was looking at you. cloud's face was so close and yet so far at the same time. from this distance you could clearly see his eyes which looked so beautiful to you. some other people were scared of him because of the Mako in them but for you, it was something totally normal. the glow from the flower was illuminating his face and for the first time you were able to see a slightly red shimmer on his cheeks. was he blushing? slowly you lift your hand up just to make sure youre not dreaming. mid air cloud catched your wrist with his own hand just to place it against his cheeks. at the same time your eyes widen feeling his soft warm skin at the back of your hand. what was wrong with him all of a sudden? why was he so affectionate?

"im sorry. i lied to you Y/N" "w-what do you mean ... ?" "tifa didnt wanted that flower. i just ... wanted to show you something beautiful ... and i thought such a flower would be the perfect thing you would enjoy"

you could see the hurt in his eyes, probably thinking you would be mad at him now. shaking your head you turned your hand inside of his palm into an direction so you were able to cup his cheek. how could you have been so blind? yes cloud never talked about his feelings but he always made sure to show them. especially around you he was always considerate, making sure that you felt comfortable on all their journeys.

a small smile appeared on your face "im not mad. thank you for showing me something so .. beautiful cloud."

the moment you pulled away from him to get up again, cloud squeezed your hand more tightly. in the next second your cheek was met with his chest, the soft fabric of his turtleneck shirt carressing your skin.

"cloud ...?" "Y/N I ..."

it was clear to you that he was struggling to find the right words. with a smile on your face you slowly lifted your head up, the red on his cheeks grew heavier with every second he kept looking at you. anxiety crawled up inside of you as his grip loosens around your body, what if he changed his opinion about you? a nervous chuckle escaped your mouth as you wanted to turn your head away but clouds hand on your cheek forced you to look back. there wasnt much time to contemplate what to say because in the next moment his warm lips met yours. at once your whole body felt like jelly as it immediately relaxed inside of his arms. it wasnt a passionate kiss he shared with you, it was a soft and careful kiss. clouds heartbeat hammered against your chest, it was so strong and loud that you could hear and feel it. as you wrapped both of your arms around his body to kiss him back, he slowly broke the kiss. clouds lips were still hovering above yours, just millimeters away. it was a sweet distraction from the words he finally managed to say;

"I love you, YN"

those words were enough, nothing more needed to be said. with a small nod your head moves forward to occupy his lips again. that was everything cloud needed as an an answer. the moon kept shining down on the both of you, wrapping your bodies in blue moonlight. it was like the whole forest approved of your feelings to each other as all the animals went quiet. around the both of you some fireflies took off from the grass into the sky. this moment belonged to you and cloud, no one could take this away from you anymore.

#cloud strife #cloud x reader #cloud strife x reader #final fantasy #ff7r #ff7 rebirth #ff7 remake #ff7 fanfic #cloud strife fanfic #gaming #gaming fanfic #cloud strife imagine #cloud imagines #cloud strife pov #ffvii x reader #ff7 cloud x reader #ff7 x reader #bf headcanons

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Salt N' Peppa

Older boyfriend Toji headcanons... MDNI

I can't stop thinking about him y'all, I'm ill. I need him soooo bad. Tojjjiiiiii ☹️😫

First, let's get physical.

Toji's previously dusky locks are outshined by the thin streaks of silver and gray that plague his scalp. His hair falls right atop his eyebrow, still thick and strong.

Lifting weights and resistance training has become too strenuous on his muscles and joints. He's found that going to the gym is no longer one of his top priorities, but when he does occasionally break out his (practically decaying) gym membership, he can only walk on the treadmill. Even running is too much impact on his aging knees.

Because of this, Toji's body has slowly but surely lost muscle definition. His previously defined abs are now sheltered by a thin layer of fat. His shoulders stay broad and proud, however his biceps are becoming softer as the days pass. He's gained a fair amount of weight, his strong frame become more and more huggable.

Toji's facial features are still sharp, stern. He doesn't shave as often as he used to, a black and gray stuble decorating his face every few days. His looks are just as striking as they were when he was young. Maybe even more now, with a strong distinction of a life wildly lived.

His voice has become slightly gravely and deeper as a result of the cigarettes he used to smoke like they were good for him.

Now let's get into it, shall we?

Older Toji... Much, much older than you. He's definitely matured in his later years... after wasting his twenties, thirties, and early forties, with random hook-ups and throw-away relationships, he's finally looking to settle down. And that's where you come in.

A cute, young, pretty little thing like you would never go for Toji, he was sure of it.

The second you walked into the dingy bar Toji frequented every Friday night, his heart began to beat a little faster. You settled in the stool next to him and offered him a brazen smile before turning your attention to the bartender.

What could he possibly have in common with some twenty-something year old living it up on a Friday night?

However, Toji never lost his charm. And if there's one thing he's mastered in his forty-five years on earth, it's talking sweet.

Conversation came natural. Your sarcastic, sour, but sweet demeanor pulled him into you more.

He was honestly a bit taken a back when you began flirting with him, leading him to ask you how old you were.

"Jesus Christ, sweets, I'm old enough to be your dad." Toji barks out a laugh, lifting his glass of whiskey up to meet his scarred lips.

"Perfect." You smirked back

And before you knew it, the evening was fading into the witching hours of the night.

"I had a great time talking to you. How 'bout I take you home... W'dya say, pretty girl?"

"No. But you can take my number."

Toji has DEFINITELY grown into old man habits. At 9:30 at night, he's already rubbing his tired eyes, stretching out his stiff back, and dropping his jaw to let out a silent yawn. Whenever he sneezes, he sneezes with a goddamn purpose. Every joint in his body cracks upon sudden movement.

Toji sleeps like a log too. It's almost impossible to get him up in the morning, and even more challenging when his heavy arm is pining your chest to the orthopedic mattress. He snores like someone is plugging his nose, deep, heavy vibrations singing from his chest.

Toji has served time in his past. The years he spent in prison are rarely spoken about, but they undoubtedly did a heavy number on him, the effect visible in his first and final mugshots. Ever since he's gotten out, deep bags hang from eyes, sometimes darker, sometimes imperceptible, but forever present.

But he's stable now. As stable as ever. He's found peace in his relationship with you and stability in his (legal) job. To his surprise, he enjoys the aspects of a quiet life. He relishes in the comfort of being tied down to the pretty girl that has his heart wrapped around her finger.

Toji loves to make dinner for you. Every evening, without a hitch, he's standing above the stove, stirring a pot or sautéing some unions.

One day, you catch him reading a 'Parents' magazine, cover to cover.

"I just don't remember subscribing for it, s'all. Wanted to see if the mailman made a mistake. Don't get any ideas, sweetheart. 'M too old for that shit."

" I'm not, though."

Really, Toji thinks he wouldn't be a good dad. His perception of himself is stuck on the reckless young man he used to be. But, he would love to have a little nugget to care for, and he knows you'd make the perfect little mommy.

Toji was quick to make you his. After the third date he took you on, he bought an engagement ring. A year later, you had him down on one (very sore) knee. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he wanted you.

Sex with Toji is incredible, too... especially when his calf isn't cramping up and you two have to pause for a breather.

Toji has never really had an emotional connection with any of the women he slept with in his past. But you are so special. He can feel the burning passion every time he bullies his thick cock into your little cunt, pushing through your tight walls until your lower half is flush against his thick happy trail and dark bush of pubic hair.

Toji always holds you close to his less-defined chest after sex, mumbling sweet nothings to you while he rubs the soft skin of your back, a stark contrast to his rough, calloused and aged hands.

"I'm so lucky to have you. My pretty girl... Luckiest bastard in the whole world."

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

#jjk x reader #age difference #size difference #jjk #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #fem reader #toji x reader #toji smut #dilf toji #toji headcanons #toji zenin #toji x you

[lazycats-stuff]

I’ve been sitting on this a while but I requested a fic where male batbro reader wasn’t very emotional when it comes to death but could I request a second part?

The readers friend stops being friends with him and is rude to him because of him not being able to understand those feelings of others griefs and is makes the reader feel like a terrible person because that’s what the friend said, the reader trying to act like a completely different person to make up for it.

I’ve just had this happen to me before and it has made me feel like a freak for the longest time ):

I can make a part 2 and I'm sorry you were treated like that. You shouldn't be considered a freak just because you see death differently. Everyone griefs differently and that's okay.

Batfamily & male!reader - part 1

Summary: (Y/N) feels like a freak when he has a fight with his friend.

Warnings: mentions and talks about death, (Y/N) is hurt, Bruce being a good dad

After the incident with Damian's animal dying, (Y/N) has been trying to be more sensitive about death, but it hasn't been easy. He didn't understand why he would have to change his opinions for someone's comfort. Sure, he could comfort you, but he won't be changing his personality.

But that attitude soon came crushing down.

(Y/N)'s friend had a death in the family and (Y/N) tried to be a good friend to him. He really did. But his friend didn't see it that way. He called him a freak and then kicked him out of his apartment.

(Y/N) was shocked when his friend did it. He stood outside in the hall for a few minutes, trying to process it all. Is he really a freak? Just because he can't tap into those feelings of grief? Just because of it.

(Y/N) called Alfred to pick him up, trying not to tear up during the call. He left the building, wiping the tears from his eyes, not wanting anybody to question him and make him talk about it.

He will break down in the privacy of his room, when there wouldn't be anyone. And he will lock the door too, just that so nobody enters the room while he cries. He doesn't understand why somebody would be mad if he knew how he would react.

He already knew he was different, ever since the incident with Damian's animal who passed away. Even before that, his relationship and view with death was aloof and not even serious. Death is natural. Every day we are closer and closer to our death. Sometimes, death comes quicker.

Death doesn't really choose when it comes.

Death just comes.

Alfred picked him up and (Y/N) was quiet in the car ride. Alfred was confused as to why (Y/N) was so quiet, but didn't really question it. He only started worrying when (Y/N) just made a beeline for his room and that was something that made Alfred worry slightly.

Once (Y/N) was inside his room, he broke down crying. Was he really a freak? Was he really that... (Y/N) cried softly into his pillow, hugging it tightly. Why?

He stopped crying once he saw the phone's screen lit up with a message. (Y/N) shakily reached for the phone and cried even more when he saw what his friend wrote to him. He threw the phone, not caring about what has happened to the phone.

He sobbed into the pillow. Why is he considered a freak? He is just different in that aspect, why is that so wrong? WHY? (Y/N) just curled into himself, crying himself to sleep.

But that sleep was short and (Y/N) was awake during the night, eyes burning from the crying he did. He swallowed with more difficulty and turned on his side. Should he change? Should he really be what others are?

Should he try to fit in?

Should he be someone he isn't just because he the society wants him too? Why? And for what?

Was that really his friend if he didn't accept him the way he is? And was he really that insensitive?

He tried to sleep more, but couldn't. He slowly made his way down to the kitchen where Alfred was serving breakfast and everyone was already there. He didn't look anybody in the eyes and was quiet during the breakfast.

Bruce noticed it and wondered what has happened, but has decided to leave (Y/N) alone, waiting for him to come to Bruce on his own. He would observe his son, making sure he is going to be okay. He wouldn't push his son, but he would observe.

And observe he did.

He watched how (Y/N) was slowly changing before his eyes. His behavior was different and Bruce didn't like it. It was far too sudden for Bruce.

He didn't know what has brought the sudden change. (Y/N)'s brothers also voiced their concerns to Bruce, seeing that (Y/N) was behaving differently and they didn't really like it too. It was too sudden for them to pinpoint when it has happened.

Worst of all, (Y/N) outrighted denied it. That either meant he was blind to it or he was fully aware of what's going on. There is nothing in between with (Y/N).

Bruce promised himself that he would talk, but how to breach this to (Y/N)? (Y/N) is probably going to blow up at him and then close more into himself. But if he doesn't talk to (Y/N), whatever that has been bothering him, will only eat him further and it would cause a big problem in the future.

And so Bruce manned up and despite his emotional constipation he is going to see what has happened with (Y/N). He won't push, but he has to see what the hell is going. Bruce knocked on the door, entering when he has heard a faint come in.

" Hey (Y/N). How are you doing? " Bruce asked as he closed the door behind himself. (Y/N) was in bed, curled up in a ball, just tired from all of problems and evil thoughts plaguing his mind.

" I'm good. "

Bruce knew that he needs to thread carefully now.

" (Y/N), we are all worried about you. You have changed and you are not yourself anymore. What happened? " Bruce asked as he sat down on the bed next to his curled up son.

" Am I freak? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce frowned at the question. What the hell?

" Who said that? " Bruce wondered as he put his hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder, squeezing it in comfort.

" You know that my friend recently had a death in the family? " (Y/N) said and Bruce knew exactly who it was.

" Okay? " Bruce prompted and (Y/N) took a shaky breath.

" He called me a freak and sent me mean texts. Why can't I be normal?! " (Y/N) started crying once more and Bruce leaned down to hug his son.

" You are not a freak (Y/N). You just can't tap into those feelings and you know, that's okay. Not everyone can tap into that part of themselves and you shouldn't feel sad or hurt." Bruce said, giving (Y/N) a kiss on the head and (Y/N) cried softly now.

" I think that your friend was just overwhelmed with grief and other emotions and I'm not excusing your friend and his words, but I think he got emotional and didn't think about what he has said. " Bruce finished up his thought and (Y/N) nodded into his pillow.

" Is there anything more that is bothering you? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) shook his head in no.

" Okay. Now, if you want, I can ask Alfred to make you something. You didn't eat much during these days and that's not good. " Bruce said and (Y/N) nodded.

" Anything specific? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) shook his head.

" A surprise then? Okay. You can take a nap if you want. " Bruce said with a smile and gave him another kiss to the head, tucking his son in as if he was a child.

When he stepped out, his four sons were clearly listening in. Dick and Jason tried to explain themselves, more accurately trying to make excuses to get themselves out of trouble.

" Don't. (Y/N) is taking a nap and don't bother him now. "

" What happened father? " Damian asked and Bruce ushered them away from (Y/N)'s room. (Y/N) needed to sleep more than listen to his brothers now.

" His friend called him a freak because he couldn't tap into those feelings of grief. " Bruce explained quickly and Jason and Damian became pissed at the friend, but Bruce told them that his friend is probably going from the place of grief.

Now, that was something that they could understand. Dick just wanted to cuddle his brother to death, but sure, he needs his sleep. Tim wanted to talk to the friend, but grief is a tricky emotion.

Damian and Jason were ready to kill the friend, but (Y/N) would kill them in return. So that was off the table.

" Okay, so how do we help (Y/N)? " Tim asked.

" If he wants to talk, support him. If he doesn't, don't push. He told me everything so he got it off of his shoulders. " Bruce said and everyone nodded.

Okay. That sounds like a good plan. As long as (Y/N) got something off of his shoulders, they are going to be happy. "

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader #batfamily #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader #nightwing x male reader #dick grayson x male reader

[charlottecutepie]

୨୧ nsfw alphabet (william afton x fem!reader)

author notes: i felt too shy to post something here but I really want to share my writing with you, so I’ll be very glad if you like it <3 ty

cw: p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fear play, knife kink, daddy kink, choking, older man/younger woman, degrading, praising.

minors dni

art by melokoii and imsanlee

A — Aftercare

William is quite rough during sex, but he gets softer after. He can quickly kiss you on forehead or gently stroke your hair, telling you what a good and obedient girl you were for him.

He can feel detached if he's in a bad mood and doesnt have strength to hide it. In this case, he doesn't show much emotion or interest. Doesn't bother to make sure you're okay.

B — Body part

William pays a lot of attention to your neck, sometimes leaving little hickeys on it. Sometimes passionate kisses. Sometimes worse things, like marks from his hands that squeeze your neck hard enough that you turn blue.

William likes your eyes because they speak much louder than your words.

William likes the fear he sees in them. It's like a drug to him, fueling his desire even more. He gets turned on by the fact that you're afraid and can't push him away. He likes the way you involuntarily flinch when he's too close, the way you catch your breath. It's just another reminder that he has control over you.

This isn't just an expression of fear or despair. It's a reflection of your true feelings for him. You're scared, but at the same time you feel a sick attraction to him.

A delightful mixture of emotions that he considers beautiful — fear.

He likes the way you try to hide your true feelings behind the mask of a brave girl. He knows that deep down you belong to him, your body and soul. And he'll make you really sure of that.

Your eyes are a reflection of your soul, revealing your sick and perverted thoughts and desires. A scared look serves as a reminder of how much power he has over you and how much you need him.

So yes, William loves your eyes. Not because they are beautiful and captivating, but because they show him how much you depend on him. And what are your real feelings.

Neither breasts, nor butt, nor any other part of the body that is considered attractive in a woman. William isn't kind of man who cums in his pants at the sight of bare breasts and nipples.

C — Cum

He prefers to cum inside, first of all, to show his superiority over you. Although you can imagine fairy tales that it's because he wants a baby, that's not really true. Afton already has three offsprings, and he doesn't seem to be taking good care of them.

One day, man leaned closer and whispered in your ear: "Will you let me cum inside, bunny?"

You turned your head to him, but he just grinned when he saw how cock drunk you were, pussy clenching on his shaft. You looked so dumb and all what came out of your parted lips were moans of his name as he thrusted inside of you. But for one second, he saw the fear in your eyes when you realized his his question. The fear of getting pregnant. The fear that he's holding you tight and you won't break free even if you want to. He shuddered. A second later, you felt his seed pouring inside. You immediately gasped in shock.

"Oh, baby," a hoarse whisper behind you, William catching his breath. "Damn, did I cum inside? Sorry, I must have gotten too carried away."

D — Dirty secret

William himself is a big fucking secret that no one would want to solve. No one has a simple idea of what is on this person's mind. Because sane people just can't think of such things.

You were aware that William has strange scars. But it was a big surprise to find out that they covered his entire body, every part: neck, arms, legs, pelvis, back, torso. They seemed painful, born a lot of questions, but they were wildly intriguing. The scars were perfectly symmetrical and fresh.

At some point, you found yourself going crazy, thinking they were attractive. But William turned out to be even more insane when he asked you to stick your nails in them.

William's completely naked body against yours was a surprise. He always left clothes on during sex, whether it was a shirt or trousers, but now hes not wearing anything. He was on top, his silvery eyes boring into yours. You didn't dare turn away, intrigued by what would happen next. William gritted his teeth, how charmed you were by him. This undoubtedly reinforced his narcissistic ego.

William's finger runs over your lower lip, pressing on it to open your mouth a little. William behaves differently, very differently. In any other case, this man would have already ruined you, fucked you hard and rough. But right now there's no hint of it.

"You like them," William says quietly, and grins when he meets your questioning gaze. "my scars."

"They are perfectly symmetrical..." your eyes run over his body.

He doesn't answer, instead he presses his nose against your neck and you feel his smile on your skin. You're confused, you don't know how to react to his touches and actions. How to behave in such a situation. Everything that is happening is new. William doesn't usually behave like that.

"Touch them." Afton suddenly says, looking up at you again.

You don't understand where the situation is heading, but you obey. The pads of your fingers lightly, almost weightlessly touch his scars on his shoulders. William nods for you to continue, and you run your fingers down his back, sensing his scars. William sighs, closing his eyes, his body tense, the veins on his forehead and arms popping out.

"Harder, y/n, harder." William's breathing harder. You can hear his heartbeat quicken. "fuck, do it with your nails, damn it." you shake your head, already scared of what this is all going to lead to.

"William, no, I won't do that!" you reject, but William doesn't care. In his eyes, you're acting like a brat, well, okay. His hands grab you by wrists and he literally forces you to follow his command. Against your will, your nails dig into his scars.

"That's it, that's it, y/n, yes."

"William..." you dive deeper into William's scars, peeling off the barely healed skin. Blood begins to flow down his arm. William's eyes are closed, and the only thing that can be heard is his loud breathing along with hoarse moans.

It's crazy, you don't know if it's a dream or not. It's wrong to hurt a person. Even if himself asked for it. But you can't stop, you keep tearing at his scars with your nails.

William leans closer to you, placing his palm on your cheek. You're afraid to even look at his face, but you don't have a choice. Although William's eyes are looking somewhere through you, his gaze is empty, mentally he's not here. A small wound on his dry lips bursts with a wide smile.

This is crazy, you think. I'm crazy, you tell yourself, because it turns me on. And William's voice, with sighs and groans, sounds more beautiful than ever.

A disgusting metallic smell filled your nostrils. The sheets under you are soaked in William's blood, you continue to roughly pick at his scars, also staining yourself with a dark red liquid. William's body is shaking. Open scars begin to burn. This pain is everywhere, and William feels it far from on a physical level, no. At some higher one.

And the next moment, Afton covers your lips with his own, pressing his already bloody body against you. He groans into your mouth and pushes his tongue inside, running it over your teeth. He kisses you roughly, continuing to rub his body against yours, which causes pleasant stimulation for both of you. You grab his brown hair, pulling his head back. You can taste awful taste of William's blood mixed with your saliva.

The kiss is sloppy, dirty, disgusting and aggressive. Just like William himself.

William is a disgusting and perverted man whose moral principles are far from normal. A very dark thought is wandering in his sick brain, which has been visiting him too often lately, even in his sleep. To share you with his business partner, Henry, fucking Emily. The sight of you trying to take two cocks at once stuck in William's head for a long time.

E — Experience

He has three children, so yes. Even before he got married, he had... one-night stands, but rarely. He usually studied hard, sometimes staying at the university until late at night.

Although you asked him to tell you more about his past relationship, before he met Clara, William refused, with a shadow of a smile. You're walking on very thin ice. It's a secret you shouldn't know yet.

F — Favorite position

His favorite poses involve dominance and control. He likes it when he can fuck you deeply without breaking eye contact. This is usually a classic old missionary.

He also likes it when you wrap your legs around him if he fucks you against wall. This allows him to enter you rougher and much deeper.

As a punishment, its usually poses where you can't see his face. William knows your weak spot, he noticed not so long ago how you always try to keep your eyes on him, peering and studying.

Also doesn't mind bending you over his desk in his own office. And the cherry on top is an unlocked door, so that sex turns into real torture while you try to restrain your moans. Either it's Henry, who can show up, as always, without knocking, or the staff, who can hear the sounds of bodies slapping and your moans, he doesn't care.

G — Goofy

William isnt a piece of ice that always walks around with a stone face. He has a sense of humor, even if you don't understand it. His humor is witty, dry, sometimes even rude, sarcastic, gloomy, caustic. He can make fun of your behavior in bed, of your inexperience, of things you don't know.

H — Hair

William is well-groomed, he shaves, not everything, but keeps clean. Being a perfectionist isnt easy, but he takes care of himself down there too. He expects the same from you.

I — Intimacy

William may be quite romantic in the early stages of a relationship. Gifts, romantic dates and compliments. All of this to create a feeling of affection.

But he's head and shoulders above such simple and tedious things, in his eyes it's all pretty boring.

William can be gentle and caring if necessary. And here, as in many other things, he hides his true self, his sick and animal sadistic nature.

William is a man with three children. Being a single father isn't easy, but he managed to learn how to wake up before sunrise and cook lunch boxes for them to school. William paid more attention to Elizabeth. All the drawings of his daughter were pasted on the walls of the Afton house. There were always about ten packages of ice cream of different flavors in the fridge, and girl's closet was bursting with a lot of dresses.

William paid a lot of attention to you, too. Whenever children were visiting Henry, William invited you to a romantic dinner at home. His culinary skills were amazing, all his dishes were delicious in appearance and taste.

The way his long fingers squeeze a lemon, the juice of which covers the phalanges, and then drips onto the meat. Your cheeks turn pink, you can't contain the association this sight causes. But it's just William, who does the usual household chores. Such thoughts shouldn't enter your head.

"Do you like the way I cook? I guess i pay a lot of attention to details, don't you think?"

The way his hands are covered in animal blood up to the wrist when he cuts up meat. You shouldn't fucking find it sexy. It's just fucking William, who's just cooking. You need to cool down.

His hand holding a butcher knife evokes another wave of memories. How he held a knife to your neck while ruining your pussy. You... you shouldn't like these kind of things…

It's first signs that you're drowning in this shit, first alarm bells that you're going crazy. And William is more than happy to see what he's turning you into.

He has one of his favorite things in his house — a vinyl record player from the UK, a family treasure inherited from his dead grandfather. It often plays old songs from the 40s and 50s. William is beckoning you with his finger. You feel pretty awkward not knowing anything about the hits of these years and dances thanks to big age difference with William. And when he asks you to dance a little to these songs, you act a little awkward, stepping on his oxfords.

William chuckles, watching your clumsy movements. He puts his arm around your waist, guiding your steps to the beat of the music. His fingers intertwine with yours, and you slowly spin around the room. His hand slides down your back, pressing against your curves.

William always prefers the old-fashioned style of clothing, he always wore white socks with black shoes, brown or black trousers, shirts, vests, sometimes suspenders. He looked damn handsome, perfectly matching the old hits that were sounding on the old record player.

J — Jack off

Only if he really needs to and you're not around. William rarely masturbates, he doesn't have time for this, always busy with paperwork, repairing animatronics and settling conflicts at work. But if you aren't there to calm his arousal, then his hand reaches for the zipper of his pants. Then William takes polaroid photos of you out of his desk. Or maybe of someone else

K — Kink

Dirty talk + humiliation: William has a sharp tongue and it plays a terrible role in sex. He doesn't mind praising you, knowing that you melt when he call you a good girl, but he loves to humiliate you. In all ways. Makes you rub on his expensive oxfords, covering them with your slick. He looks down at you, literally spitting out "Dirty whore."

Or when he pushes inside of you, takes you by the hair and whispers into your lips: "Is that how you like to be fucked, like little stupid whore? I didn't even prepare you but your cunt sucking my cock in so deep. A pathetic little fuck toy. Do you know what i think about when I fuck you? No? About how i slit your throat and break your little bones. Oh, what was that? Are you fucking moaning? Whore, you're even worse than me." There's a distinct mix of disgust in his voice.

Asphyxia/choking: The thought that you are literally in his hands and he can strangle you excites him. He completely controls your life, right up to your very last breath. You think it's just such a fetish, because he likes rough sex. But William looks at it from a different angle. When his hands squeeze you so hard, far from sexually, but like a predator, like a killer, not giving you a breath of air, and your eyes are already rolling back as connection with the world is lost, when his face becomes blurred. That's what William thinks is sexy — the fact that he controls your fate, whether you die or not, depends on him.

Bloodplay: William likes the look of blood, that red disgusting liquid. He hates mess, but whenever the floor of a pizzeria gets dirty with someone's blood, the remains of a brain or even some organs, he is overjoyed. It's probably the only mess he doesn't hate to clean up.

Whenever his hands are covered in blood, Afton without doubt will touch you. He will share this blood with you, leaving it on your clothes or body. William can be so disgusting that he uses a blood liquid as a lube. It's usually your blood, rarely his.

Knife play: William's murder weapon was and always will be a knife. No matter how good others are, the knife will always be special to him. After all, it allows him to approach the victim physically, to see their face distorted by pain. To look into their pitiful eyes, to peer into that very last look when life leaves their body.

Afton loves using a knife when he takes not only someone's life, but also your clothes, especially underwear. He quickly cuts your bra and panties if he needs quick access to your body. Before you can even blink, he's already running the blade over your ribs, stomach, down to your pubic. At this point, fear already appears. William is full of surprises and you will never be able to predict his next move. This creates a sense of power and control. The way a knife can cut through your flesh or clothes, the way a knife creates a sense of vulnerability in you, allowing William to maintain superiority.

If you've been good, he'll put the knife away, beside your underwear or what's left of it.

But if you've been a bad girl, William will definitely hurt you, not deadly, but a cut or scar will remain, on the inside of your thigh or under your breasts, wherever he pleases. This is your punishment, one of his favorites.

If he's in a bad mood or fucking you roughly, he can press the blade against your neck, right against the carotid artery. "Don't squirm or my hand will shake and I might accidentally kill you. You don't want that to happen, right?"

Daddy kink: William never thought about it. He discovered this kink some time ago, when you were so blissful from his cock that you accidentally moaned "daddy!", which immediately turned your cheeks and even your ears red. You immediately shut your mouth, looking ashamed, and hid your face on his shoulder. The level of embarrassment was too great.

"What was that?" William stopped thrusting, which made you almost whine. He pulled back a little to get a good look at your flushed face. "What did you call me? Repeat." because of your shyness, you were speechless. How could you blurt that out? He must have gotten angry. "I won't continue until i hear that word from you again, dear." His fingers lift your chin, forcing you to look at him.

Daddy kink suggests that he takes the role of a dominant and caring figure during sex. It includes William calling you "babygirl" or "princess" and saying how proud he is of you. He likes to control the situation and also show care, even if it is fake.

L — Location

Wherever he wants.

William's sex drive is far from low, he's already fucked you enough in the bedroom, living room and shower, so he's moved on to the next level.

His office, the basement (did it always smell so horrible here?), his car, the park (it was supposed to be just a cute date). And his most favourite is Henry's desk.

M — Motivation

When William plays psychologist with you. When he listens to you pouring out your soul to him and telling him about your problems. Whether it's the little things or something worse: problems with parents or self-esteem.

William enjoys seeing your shoulders droop, your voice tremble and your eyes turn red from crying. At such moments, William opens his arms to you, pressing your face swollen from crying to his chest. His hands are running through strands of your hair as he soothingly rocks you from side to side, sweetly whispering: "My girl, cry, cry as loudly as you can. I'm here." You weaken in his arms, immediately turning into a small child who needs only support and words of comfort.

William knows this and he has no problem being a shoulder to cry on. In his eyes, you are vulnerable, weak and fragile, practically begging him to destroy you, not only physically. Break your psyche, destroy your idea of what a healthy relationship is, make you fall in love with him completely. And he's damn good at it.

N — No

William doesn't like the idea of you dominating him. It just doesn't excite him. Most likely, he will let you try, but only for the first ten minutes, then he'll push you away and pin you against wall or bed. "You done? Now it's time for daddy to show you where you belong."

O — Oral

William is a selfish man, but that doesn't mean he won't please you. Not only his cock, but also his tongue make you arch and moan. Afton knows how to touch a woman, and he is very well versed in female anatomy. He slowly circles your clit with his tongue, while his two fingers are already inside your pussy, moving at a smooth pace.

Then he pulls away, his chin wet with your juices. His fingers are still thrusting. You lift your hips, clutching the sheets.

"Naughty girl, did you think i'd let you cum?"

And while you are trying your best not to reach orgasm, William first gently kisses your clit, and then begins to suck on it, making your toes curl.

William likes it when you give him a blowjob, there's something special about the way you look at him, trying to take all his length in your mouth, but he doesn't always show it. He can be quite restrained and detached, focusing on his own pleasure rather than on your condition.

Sometimes he loses control if you stimulate him not only with your tongue, but also with your hands, caressing his heavy balls. He catches his breath as you push his cock deeper into your throat, his fingers grabbing your hair, pulling you roughly to guide you. His hips involuntarily jerk forward, setting a fast rhythm.

P — Pace

Depends on his mood.

William knows perfectly how to move in a way that will bring you to ecstasy, make you moan and cum in seconds. However, he doesn't always keep the perfect pace. Sometimes he behaves like an asshole, roughly fucking you, moving jerkily, no stimulating you and no allowing you to cum after. And it really hurts, it feels like you've been stabbed right in the most sensitive part of your body. William usually uses this pace in punishments.

In general, his pace is rough and assertive, which reflects his aggressive nature not only in sex.

But there is another side of fucking with him, when your whole body is pierced with an electric current, adding colors to pleasure. The combination of this creates a beautiful picture of agony and dizzying orgasm.

William rarely moves slowly and gently, only at the beginning of your relationship, when he still didn't want to reveal his true side.

Q — Quickie

He's not really a fan of quickies. William likes to do everything slowly, enjoying the moment. To slowly chew the pieces. But there are some circumstances and situations that just force him to fuck you right here and now.

High on adrenaline, sweat broke out on his forehead as his pupils dilated. William throws the bloody knife on the floor, right next to the dead body. The impulses of the sick arousal send signals directly to his twisted brain. William lifts Spring Bonnie's head, revealing his face, a wry insane smile on his lips.

A dead child can wait. William's hands wrap around your throat, forcibly pinning you against the wall. You don't even have a chance to take your last breath, all you can do is grab his wrist, face is distorted with fear. William is more dangerous than ever now. He's already taller than you and now he's wearing an animatronic costume, which has only made him even taller, bigger, scarier. The blood on his hands and the remains of human organs on Spring Bonnie's fur. You're terrified.

"No, I'm not going to kill you. Something much-much worse." he says, as his hands begin to explore your body.

It also happens when William is sitting in his office, busy with work and you're on his lap. You can do what you want, but the clear rule is not to disturb him. And you're trying, really trying to be good girl, but you're fucking sitting on his lap. It turns you on. And you start moving, slowly and carefully fidgeting so Afton wouldn't notice. But you're getting awfully wet and you're not good at hiding your sighs.

"What are you doing, y/n?" he notices your movements. "What a fucking pervert, can't even sit still for ten fucking minutes?"

"I'm sorry," you sob, making a guilty face. "i'm sorry, I just…"

"Just a whore who can't sit still for a minute without my cock inside?" he throws the pen away and then grabs your hips, pushing you onto the table, right on top of his blueprints. "look at you, all soaking just from sitting on my lap." he hisses as his hands work on his belt.

And you're not sure how he's going to use that belt: tie your hands or spank you.

R — Risk

Having sex in his office with the door open is already a damn risk for you. But not for William Afton.

"Stupid lamb," he thinks, seeing how scared you are every time Henry's voice is heard outside the door.

William will put you in more frightening and risky situations than this. It's a dust compared to what he has planned for you.

Afton is always open to trying new things, especially in sex. Usually the offers come from him, not from you. Your brain just doesn't work in that way, yet. William often encourages you to experiment, enjoying your nervousness and inexperience.

This person prefers to risk your health by not using condoms, instead putting you on oral contraceptives.

S — Stamina

He has a lot of stamina, which was useful not only in chasing that boy who tried in vain to escape, but also in sex. Usually William lasts about 20 minutes.

There will be as many rounds as William wants. And, of course you, being his obedient girl, will accept them.

T — Toys

William doesn't use them very often, but he does have some.

Blindfold, handcuffs and vibrator. These three things can be used on you simultaneously or separately. It all depends on what kind of mood he is in.

If he blindfolds you, then he comments his every move. He runs his hands over your breasts, at first just gently touching, squeezing a little, making your nipples harden. And then he pulls them, causing pain, watching your skin turn red.

If he handcuffs you, it's either because you asked him to try or because it's your punishment. Anyway, eventually your hands are handcuffed tightly and painfully behind your back while you kneel in front of him with his cock in your mouth. The view is amazing, William thinks, moving his hips and going deeper, making you wanna vomit. And the thing is, you can't even tap on his leg to tell him to slow down. But that's the point of these handcuffs, that they immobilize you.

"Why all those tears?" he smirks. "didn't you ask for it yourself?"

If William uses a vibrator on you, he holds your hips, pressing the vibrating toy directly against your clit. You're crying not only from pleasure, but also from the growing pain of overstimulation, since you have already cum twice.

U — Unfair

William is an unfair man, in everything. And when it comes to sex, he's doubly unfair. He doesn't know which he likes more: to mock morally or physically, so he chooses both.

He spends eternity with you, stretching you to take his cock, making you so wet that three of his fingers easily enter you. And at the end... a sudden call to work. And the worst part is, he leaves a ghostly kiss on your lips with a whisper: "don't play with yourself while I'm gone, honey. You don't want to be punished, do you?"

William brings you to the meetings that his old friend Henry holds at the end of the work week to see how many dollars they earned. Henry likes to bring his favorite beer, snacks, and he's usually the only one who talks a lot.

You are sitting at the table, discussing something and eating, when suddenly you feel William's hand creeping under your skirt.

And then he pushes your panties to the side, his long fingers touching your clit, what makes you flinch slightly.

"Y/n, is everything okay?" Henry asks.

Meanwhile, you feel William's damn fingers spreading your wet folds, and he inserts one finger. You're choking on your food.

"Yes," Henry needs to be distracted urgently. "c-can you open the window? It's so stuffy in here."

Henry narrows eyes, but gets up from the table and walks over to the window. William starts to run his finger faster over your clit, and you make a moan, which you quickly hide with a cough.

V–Volume

Loud moans from him are rare. William takes deep breaths that ends in growls. Sometimes he makes little moans, murmuring how tight your cunt feels.

If he degrades you, he will mock you by imitating your whines and moans.

William's voice is attractive, and the british accent makes it even better.

The way he pronounces the letter "r" and stretches words, goosebumps run down your spine. When he whispers praises as "my good girl" or "my little rabbit." Or when he growls while fucking you, its both scary and exciting. His voice is enveloping.

His british accent is like velvet, soft and sophisticated. When he speaks, it seems that every word is covered with honey, slowly dripping from his tongue. It's like he's casting a spell on you, and you're succumbing to his charm.

W — Wildcard

Chica wasnt working properly. William needed to see what was wrong with her beak, but he needed someone to hold tools and napkins for him. This job won't take long, he promised you. But you've been here for hours. Turns out that something was wrong with the robot's voice box, Chica couldn't pronounce her lines correctly.

He explained something to you about robotics and how all these mechanics work, but every word he said passed you by. You couldn't concentrate. Although his request was quite simple, it was a real torture for you. The air in the room became heavier and thicker, you felt the warmth spreading throughout your body, passing through all organs and sinking to the bottom of your belly. You didn't know why. Or didn't want to know.

William was half-naked. His white shirt and purple vest were hanging on a chair. You're used to seeing a man like this, he often took off his outer clothes so as not to stain them. After all, work with animatronics has always been very very dirty.

You saw the proves of these words on William's fingers. It's always those damn fingers, you think. William's are long, thin and insanely beautiful. They're calloused, with small wounds. And now they were even more beautiful, stained with animatronic oil.

You tried to focus on something else, but William wiped his hand on his pants, leaving a dark oil stain on them. It only made everything worse. You urgently needed a fresh breath of air, not only because of this sight, but also because of the terrible smell that quickly spread as William began to pick at Chica's beak with a screwdriver.

"What is that smell?" you asked, wrinkling your nose.

"Chica has leftover pizza in her mouth and beak, probably expired. The smell is terrible, i agree." William muttered back. How did pizza ended up there...?

The smell was almost unbearable and your nostrils burned from irritation.

Expired pizza doesn't smell like that.

You turned your head to the yellow animatronic and leaned a little closer, getting under William's arm. Chica looked a little scary without a beak, her mouth turned into a dark hole with a lot of wires sticking out of it. The smell intensified, and you winced again, trying not to breathe through your nose. How could William even breathe so normally? You began to look closely at Chica's face, her design and a cute bib covered with a few drops of blood. Wait, what?

"Why is there blood on it?" you asked again, not taking your eyes off the animatronic.

"One boy got hurt. You know, it happens, the movements of animatronics are not always smooth. He must have tried to hit her." there's a slight pause, and he grins. "Children can be cruel."

You narrowed your eyes as you considered Afton's words. Before you reached the logical conclusion in your mind, William's voice sounded right in your ear, which made you flinch.

"Hand me the soldering iron." he asked, and you nodded, handing him the instrument. When his dirty fingers touched yours, you tensed up.

"This smell... " you couldn't ignore the strange topic. "it doesn't smell like an expired pizza at all."

"Did you know that curiosity killed the cat?" it sounded rather threatening. William stopped picking at robot's beak, making a serious face. You instantly froze, regretting the question you asked. "Haha, what happened?" he laughed. "That's just a warning for the future."

You didn't know what to say. You bit the inside of your cheek in worry, sighing. Although the smell was all over the place.

"Now my turn to ask." he put Chica's beak on the floor along with the tools, his hands reached for a napkin, wiping away the dirt. You were waiting for a question, worried. William was dangerously close to you, the terrible stench from Chica mixed with the smell of his cigarettes. Disgusting, but intriguing. "Do you like me?"

"No." you answer categorically. He looks at you in fake surprise, knowing full well that you're lying. "I mean, yes, a little bit, but-"

He rubbed between his eyebrows, smearing oil there as well. "Actually, i asked to listen to your stupid excuses once again." he paused before grinning. Your flushed face looked ridiculous, but it was pretty cute. "do you really think I don't notice the way you look at me? You think i dont know you're checking me out?"

Your stomach just did a somersault. Your throat got dry. But the last question fucked everything up.

"Do you think I don't know that you touched yourself in the toilet of my pizzeria?" William asked tartly, speaking the question emphatically loudly. You felt sick.

"How did you...?" you stammered, not even denying his words, you were so shocked.

"Cameras, Y/n. You're lucky I saw and not Henry." William continued to mock, slowly crawling up to you. His hand was on your leg. You couldn't take your eyes off his hands, now the oil has stained your clothes too. A chill ran down your spine, you lost all thoughts in a second. Even the disgusting smell seemed to have disappeared.

You automatically moved back and immediately squeaked softly in pain when you hit the back of your head against the wall. William's lips parted in a crooked grin.

"Stop acting like that." he commanded as if to a dog. William moved closer, getting between your legs. He was crawling towards you like a predator to a frightened prey, ready to attack and sink his fangs into its throat.

The dirty oil from his fingers burned your skin. His gaze stared into you, and the oil on his fingers left a stain on your shirt. You couldn't fight it anymore, your body succumbed to his touch, his hands slid over your hips.

"Come on, honey, take the initiative. Kiss me. You wanted this so badly, why don't you take the chance if I'm right in front of you?" you remained motionless, your body tensed. It was unclear if this was another mockery.

His words hung in the air, remaining as a tempting offer. You couldn't hold back the blush that spread across your cheeks, your pulse quickened and your heart seemed to jump out of your chest.

Your lips touched his in a feather-light kiss. William let out a malicious laugh into your mouth, his palms cupped your face, forcibly pulling you closer, now staining your cheeks with oil. His tongue ran teasingly over your lips before sliding inside, brazenly exploring every corner of your mouth. You gave yourself to him completely, wrapping your arms around his neck. William pulled away, your eyes met as you both needed to catch breath.

Before you could say anything, his hands began to unbutton your shirt, exposing your bra underneath. William's fingers traced the contours of your nipples through the fabric, making them harden. William smiled slyly, leaning in for another kiss before whispering, "good girl." He grinned when he heard you moan.

His hands quickly got to your pants and he pulled them down to your knees.

William fucked your mouth with aggressive kisses, not allowing you to pull away.

"Little pervert. Fucked herself with her fingers in the toilet of a children's fucking diner." William growled. "You couldn't even cum. Your little fingers aren't enough to satisfy your cunt, are they?"

You closed your eyes, nodding obediently. Again... again these mocking that make you want to howl plaintively.

You were humiliated by agreeing with every word he said. It was arousing as hell, your needy eyes screamed: "fuck me, right now and right here." Everything in your body burned and ached, begging him for more.

"Buddy, are you done with Chica?" Henry's voice rang out in the hallway of the pizzeria. William pulled back, his lips curling. Your face is pale from the fear of being caught. You immediately began buttoning your shirt with shaking hands.

"We'll continue this a little later, honey." William cooed, looking at your neck contentedly.

X – X-ray

18-19 cm.

Y — Yearning

You turned out to be his little stress reliever. And stress is a very common in William's life, being a single father and a workaholic, he's always busy at work, projecting future animatronics, designing and much more.

But is that all he's doing?

William is often tired at work, under intense stress because of the eternally screaming children and their moms. Also, Henry is always running around the place, either Charlotte is lost or something else. A lot of paperwork is also tiring. In this case, stressed William is more gentle and tender with you, allowing you to sit on his lap while you whimper and rub against him, trying to achieve orgasm. "Good girl. Helping daddy relieve stress after a hard day, that's right. I'm too tired to fuck you properly." he kisses you on the neck and then on the cheek. “Can you cum without my cock? Do it, show daddy that you're a big girl.”

Z — Zzz...

William is a light sleeper, he can wake up from any movement or rustle. If the sex took place in the bedroom, he will only be happy to rest after. Sometimes all William craves is just silence. And you're indeed silent, lying next to him, trying to catch your breat, because you're too tired to talk, even move. After all, sex with him is usually intense and exhausting.

Sometimes William gets so tired after spending the whole day fixing animatronics that he falls asleep first. It gives you an amazing opportunity to glance at him better, to look at his features without his always mocks and teasings about it.

#william afton #fnaf william afton #steve raglan x reader #william afton x reader #dilf william #william afton smut #fnaf smut #steve raglan smut #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf fanfic

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (2/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur stops by at your cabin again and you serve him a home-cooked meal.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

! d/n stands for dog's name. So go ahead and pick a female dog name of your choice!

This is still a little bit of exposition, but I promise...way more fluff in the chapter to come ;)

Link to my masterlist

previous chapter

4700 words

Two weeks after Arthur had initially stopped by at your cabin for the first time, he decided to go again. But when he arrived in the early afternoon, he found the cabin empty. It wasn’t abandoned, he assessed, as he peeked through the window. There was a dirty cup on the table and a big pot on the stove looked as if its contents were cooking, as the lid sometimes wobbled a little. Arthur noticed an addition to your wall. In between your drawings that you had nailed to the wooden wall, you had pinned your own bounty poster. It was the same that Arthur had shown you the last time, though he was sure he used his to light a fire later that week.

He wondered why you had put it up there, since you had complained about the sketch not doing you any favour. Arthur agreed by the way, not that the sketch made you look ugly, it simply didn't look like you.

The horse tracks in front of your house were fresh and Arthur figured you had left only a few hours prior, probably for a grocery run. So, he waited.

He leaned on your fence and sketched your cabin. Then he sketched the nature surrounding it. When that was done, he explored the forest behind the house, mentally mapping the berry bushes and animal tracks he found. When he came back to your cabin, you were still nowhere in sight, so he plucked another tomato from your plant and then decided he'd head to the pond that's only a five minutes’ walk away. Apparently, he’d have enough time for a wash, and it was right to say that he needed one anyways.

It was an unusual hot and humid day, especially for so far in the North and close to the mountains. Arthur suspected he had taken the sticky air from the swamps with him. The sky was clear, though it smelt like rain. Arthur went into the pond stark naked, the water didn't even reach his chest, but he still started to scrub away with a little piece of soap that he kept on his travels. The path that led to your house wasn’t frequently used, he could tell by how far the grass had overtaken the earth that was occasionally trampled by horses or people. He didn’t particularly worry that people would sneak up on him or that anyone would walk past for that matter.

Arthur was busy with washing his hair, scrubbing days' worth of sweat and dirt out of it, so he didn't hear your horse approach. You had been quick to recognize the man in the pond and your grin grew with the shrinking distance between you. Arthur's head plunged under water about every other second to get the soap out of his hair. He didn't hear your first "Hey!", but when you whistled, loud and shrill, the man looked up surprised.

At first, Arthur’s attention was drawn to a Labrador Retriever standing at the pond’s edge, its tail wagging as though it anticipated this strange man to toss him a stick. Slowly, Arthur’s eyes went up and so he found you, leaning forward in your saddle with a cheerful grin on your face. You looked...different to when he last saw you. Your clothes were well cared for, even your jeans were cleaner than any he had seen in a while. A revolver was casually tucked into the waistband of your jeans. Arthur had probably been right about the grocery run, because your horse bore the burden of loaded bags.

It took only moments before Arthur’s face turned red. The poor man found himself taken aback, and before he could do as much as utter a word, you yelled: "Don't go killin’ all of my fish with that stink you’re carrying!" And then you rode on, the dog faithfully trailing behind. Arthur remained still in the water, feeling a mix of embarrassment, confusion and a hint of amusement…if only it hadn’t come at his expense.

Fifteen minutes later, he was dry and dressed and walked back to your cabin. The door stood wide open, and he saw you stirring the big pot. It smelt deliciously like stew.

Though the door was open, Arthur knocked gently, so he wouldn't startle you by entering. You gave him a quick smile before you turned to the pot again.

"I, uh...I hadn't expected-...", Arthur had thought it a good idea to apologize, but he wasn't sure why, so he halted. Then he noticed that you had prepared the table for two.  

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting someone", he commented, slightly surprised.

"Oh yeah", you turned around with a playful expression. "Don't know if ya've seen him. Naked fella in my pond. I thought he might stay for dinner", you said cheekily. You really hoped he would stay. It was a far reach, but you were curious as to why he had returned.

Arthur took a moment to process your words. He stood still until he had pieced a meaning them together. A smile appeared in the corner of his mouth, mixed with some confusion about your hospitality. Last time you held him at gun point to make him leave...but now, it was like you had hoped he'd be back.

"Just...you might want to take the saddle off your horse. Half an hour, and it will be raining", you said, taking the bowls and filling them with stew.

"Rain?", Arthur walked to the door and looked into the sky. It was as cloudless as he remembered it to be. Though the air held a sticky humidity, and a decent wind swept through the trees behind your house, there wasn’t a single cloud in sight.

"Trust me. I've lived here for a year. The clouds are still behind the mountains, it's deceptive", you grinned, placing the bowls on the table. Arthur's eyes fell on the stew, and he felt his mouth water. This smelled and looked better than anything he has had recently, and he’d prefer to dig in right away. Unsaddling his horse would take a while and...as if you could read his thoughts, you interrupted them: "Can't eat it yet anyway unless you fancy getting your tongue burned off."

"If it ain't raining in an hour, I might take ya in for that 15 dollar bounty", Arthur threatened playfully. You only crossed your arms and mumbled a "Try me."

Arthur had all his stuff in the house in record time and the stew was still steaming when he sat down opposite of you. You had added two slices of bread next to his bowl and a bottle of beer. It was the bread that he took first, and he looked at you surprised.

"'s still warm", he commented.

"Yeah", you smiled, "Client of mine baked it fresh today. It was the last job before I headed back, so it's still warm."

"Client?", Arthur asked, but his full attention was now directed towards the stew. He dipped the bread to soak up some of the savoury juices and had to suppress the urge to sigh contentedly as he took a bite. It was undeniebaly delicious. Indeed, better than anything he had tasted recently.

"You think I make my money robbing and stealing people?", you asked with raised eyebrow.

"Mhm", Arthur nodded, not bothering to offer a verbal response as he was occupied with the food before him.

"I'm...a barber of sorts", you said, "You remember, don't you?"

Yes. He did, now that you mentioned it. You were quite talented with scissor and razor and frequently did the girls’ hair. At one point, even Dutch had trusted his hair to you for some minor trims. It was also useful to pickpocket people, he recalled Miss Grimshaw justifying your worth for a mission once.

"Only I stopped robbing people while doing their hair. It's mostly elders or women from Annesburg. Their husbands work in the mine, and they are in a bad state as it is. I'm cheap, but I do my work well and I have plenty of clients."

"Turned yer life around, then", Arthur mumbled, genuinely feeling a sense of happiness for you.

"Yes. So I hope you don't mind me asking why you've decided to march back into it", though you spoke kindly, there was a sharp edge to your voice.

"Wanted to tell ya that Dutch...I told him yer trail was cold and I couldn't find ya", Arthur explained. A hint of embarrassment crossed his features, prompting him to sit up straight as he noticed he had been slouching over his plate. He cleared his throat, "I think he believed me."

"Thank you, truly", you answered. A huge weight lifting from your heart. So, he did protect you, you wondered.

Arthur asked for a second serving of food, when a thunder rumbled so loud, that the dog jumped up in protest. "Told ya", you mumbled. A few seconds later, the rain began to pour down.

Neither of you said anything until Arthur had nearly finished his second serving. A little small talk followed about the dog, which was calmly lying close to the stove. You had an agreement with the farmer nearby, that you switch taking the dog. Sometimes he needed him for protecting the herd, at other times, you borrowed him for hunting. For the next week or so, he’d live with you.

After this had been discussed, silence ensued again. Then, out of nowhere, Arthur said: "I'm sorry for back then. When ya came to me and told me about yer feelings and I- ehrm."

"You don't have to be sorry for not feeling the same way."

"That ain't it. I was…having a rough day and I…my answer wasn't what yer deserved", Arthur said gloomily, his spoon scratching over the plate to gather the rest of the stew.

Then, he continued: "I really try being an honest man but that night…hell…ya can't even call me half a man the way I let ya down." Arthur chuckled sadly, as if he was remembering the moment.

"What're you saying?", you sighed.

"I'm sorry. 's all. I know I hurt ya a great deal and this wasn't what I wanted."

You nodded in acknowledgement.

"That night, I sat with Hosea and Reverend and we was talking ‘bout Mary…that's why I was a bitter…stupid boy when you approached me."

"Oh. How is she?", you asked drily.

"Mary? I saw her in Valentine a while ago. Needed my help for her brother or something. Not sure how that turned out because I walked away. I was just an errand boy for her."

Arthur was more often the errand boy than he realised. For example, getting you back to join the gang was an errand and had Arthur spent even a minute thinking about it, he probably wouldn't have done it. You exhaled: "Why are you telling me this?"

"I think you deserve to know."

You wanted to let your head drop into the stew. How grateful you were for the little piece of bread dough that you had been rolling and kneading with your fingers for distracting purpose. Otherwise you might have peeled chunks out of your table, because of how tumultuous you felt. Suddenly, the silence was deafening. All you heard was the rain pouring down on your little shack. It violently dripped through the roof in one corner and into the bucket that you had provided there.

Both of you had finished your meals. With a swift motion, Arthur took out a pack of cigarettes.

"D'ya mind?", he asked, already placing a cigarette between his lips.

"Only if you don't share", you said softly. Arthur offered you the pack and you picked out a cigarette. The man struck a match and held it over the table, patiently waiting until your cigarette was lit, not bothering at all that he nearly burnt his finger when he got to lightening his own.

Arthur stood up and walked to the window, a waft of smoke trailing behind him.

"Jesus...", he mumbled as he looked observed the torrential rain. Darkness settled in and visibility worsened with the downpour.

"It won't let up until later tonight", you said, shaking your head knowingly. Observing Arthur lost in thought, he pondered for a while longer in front of the window. Eventually, his gaze shifted to the wall and your heart fluttered as he seemed to thoroughly analyse your sketches.

"You've taken up drawing?", he inquired.

"Days can be long and lonely", you replied.

"Not with her around, they ain't", he added. You were confused at first, but smiled when Arthur knelt down to pet d/n. She happily acknowledged him, her tail wagging energetically.

“What is it with the bounty poster?”, Arthur asked. His hands were busy with navigating through the dog’s fur. You saw how much d/n enjoyed it, as she leaned into the pets. You had collected on of your bounty posters shortly after Arthur had visited you. Why? It was just a terribly corny way of remembering Arthur. The moment he had walked up to your door, you knew that months of trying to forget or get over him had gone down the drain. You might as well acknowledge that you love and want to remember him. But you couldn’t admit that, of course.

“Just to remind me what I’m worth”, you smiled bitterly, “15 dollars.”

“I’m sure you’ve done stuff that deserves a higher bounty”, Arthur cheered.

“Oh yea. I just don’t bother leaving clues behind”, you answered. Arthur didn’t say anything, again. His thoughts seemed to wander, until he pushed himself up on his knees and stated:  "I suppose I should get going then..."

"What? You take baths twice a day now?", you teased. The idea that you would send anyone away in this weather was ridiculous. Arthur looked at you puzzled as if he hadn't understood that you were inviting him to stay.

"It's alright if you stay tonight. I won't have you ride to town in a storm", you explained. Sometimes, plain words are the way to go, you figured. Especially with Arthur. Even though the last time you spoke plainly, it hadn't worked out for you.

"And ya won't try'n kill me in my sleep?", Arthur chuckled and nervously scratched his neck. He was still unsure about staying, despite the premise of getting soaked to skin wasn't nearly as inviting as staying in your cabin, which was still filled with the smell of the stew. Arthur wouldn’t be able to take one more bite, but it smelled homely and comfortable, nevertheless.

Arthur continued: "Last time you threatened to shoot my kneecaps off so-"

"Well, last time, you were an intruder, not a guest. And the news you brought today pleased me way more than the one you gave me two weeks ago."

So, it was decided then. Both of you quickly assessed the sleeping situation. Arthur would spread his bedroll, which had stayed dry - thanks to your warning - at the opposite side of the room from your bed. It was a dry corner and close to the fireplace. You only had one extra blanket to offer, which Arthur accepted gratefully. As it grew darker outside as well as in the cabin, you lit a candle which remained on the table and two lanterns. One of them you put on your bedside table, the other one was taken by Arthur and he simply put in on the floor next to him.

It wasn't that late yet, but you had been on your feet all day. You were exhausted and the steady rhythm of the rain was lulling you right to sleep.

There was no "Good Night" or "Thank you for letting me stay". Neither of you said anything if it wasn't necessary to discuss for logistics reason.

"Want me to blow out the candle before I go to sleep?", Arthur had asked and you had said it would be fine, it was small anyways and would only last a few more hours. The table in the middle of the room pretty much hid the sight of one another, but you still saw that Arthur was scribbling away in his journal, before sleep took over.

You awoke at some point in the night. The rain was still as violent as before, but the candle on the table had gone out. Arthur was asleep, you figured, since he had turned off his lantern. Sometimes, you imagined you heard a snore, but it was really impossible to say with the noise of the weather.

For some reason, you were wide awake. You felt the desire to say something, you wanted to whisper Arthur's name and have him wake up to tell him something. What exactly, you weren't entirely sure. You wanted to thank him for the earlier apology. Strangely, you realised as you stared into the darkness, it had provided comfort you had desperately yearned for. But you knew it was ridiculous to wake him for such a thing, so you simply turned around, facing the wall rather than the direction in which Arthur was sleeping, and forced yourself back to sleep.

Arthur only stirred the next morning when a beam of sunlight pierced through the window. The lingering smell of coffee was something he noticed, even before he had decided it was time to open the eyes and face another day. Given his lifestyle of frequently changing his sleeping place, he sometimes woke up confused. Normally it'd take a few moments for him to remember where exactly it had been that he had fallen asleep. This time, however, his sight fell on your bounty poster on the wall, and he remembered where he was.

Standing up with a grunt, he noticed that you weren't in the house. He also noticed that the early morning had gone, and the sun was already on its way to its zenith. You had gone outside, leaving the door open. In contrast to yesterday, the air had cooled down significantly and Arthur even felt a slight chill as his body adjusted to waking up.

There was a can of coffee on the table and two mugs, one dirty and one clean. Arthur figured that you have had your share of the brown liquid and the rest was meant for him. He thought for a second but decided to put the coffee into the dirty cup, though you apparently had used it this morning, Arthur figured that it'd save time doing the dishes. There was also a pan of milk porridge on the stove and since it also looked like half was missing, he figured that the rest was for him. But he'd rather make sure.

Cup in hand, Arthur walked out of the door. The sun was blinding, the grass wet but green. He saw you immediately, as you were in front of the house, brushing the wetness out of his horse's coat. Your horse stood next to you, looking a offended that you chose to care for Arthur's first.

"G'd morning", Arthur said.

The raspy voice made you smile and look up. Good Lord, the man looked…heavenly. His hair tousled, his shirt all over the place and sleep still lingering in his expression. Yet, with every passing moment, the sun worked its magic, gradually rousing him from his slumber.  You hated how much loved his appearance. You even despised yourself for hoping this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him like this.

"Morning to you, too. Saw the porridge?", you asked, barely spending time on checking the man out but rather focusing on his horse.

"Wasn't sure if it's meant for me", Arthur admitted and lead the cup to his lips. The coffee wasn't boiling hot anymore, but it had a fine temperature to enjoy and still gain some warmth from.

"Oh, I wanted to finish all of it but got sick of it pretty quickly. That's why I collected some berries, uhm", you pointed towards something, and Arthur followed your finger, finding another mug that was filled with some berries, "You can have the rest. I already ate some."

"Thank you", Arthur said, picking up the small mug and shaking it to have a proper look at the blueberries. His thank you sounded generous and kind, you thought.

Arthur walked back inside. He didn't remember the last time he had eaten breakfast. Like, proper breakfast. Not only coffee or a dry piece of bread. He loved the porridge you had made and enjoyed it even more with the berries. It didn't matter how much stew he had eaten the day before, shortly, coffee, blueberries and porridge had been devoured.

"Y/n", Arthur walked out. His hair had flattened a little and he seemingly had found time to arrange his shirt, "I'd fix that roof of yers, if ya let me."

You looked up surprised from your horse, which now enjoyed the same treatment Arthur’s had.

"You don't have to...I don't want to keep you...", you said, almost mumbling the second part. It wasn't true, because you did want to keep him around. Hell, for the first time in a year, you hadn't felt lonely tonight. Making breakfast felt like it had a meaning, if there was someone around to share it with. The last couple of months, you had barely bothered for trivialities like that.

"I want to", Arthur affirmed.

"Then I won't stop you", you smiled. Arthur turned away to walk to the little shed next to your house, but you added a question before his attention was fully on your roof, "Do you mind if I braid your horse’s mane?"

Arthur saw your big grin, and hell he couldn't deny you anything. If you had asked to keep his horse for good, he might have said yes.

"Won't stop ya", he replied.

The day was filled with chores. After you had tended to both horses, Arthur's now adorned with braids in its mane, you got around to cleaning the aftermath Arthur's roof fixing had inside the cabin. Then you said you were off to fish, taking d/n with you. It took you almost an hour to catch two decently sized fish and when you returned, you found Arthur working on your bedframe. It had been askew as long as you remember and you had gotten used to it, but God, your stomach fluttered when you saw him, expertly working the little saw that had rusted away in your shed.

"Not content with me furniture, are you?", you snorted as you laid the fish on the table.

"Sorry, I jus' thought...", Arthur stuttered and looked up.

"It's fine", you laughed, "Thank you for attempting to fix it."

"I'm not good at those things...or a little out of practice at least", Arthur admitted, stood up to have a look at his handiwork. The bedframe looked even, at least.

"Looks better than before", you smiled kindly. And if the bedframe was to break in two when you first sit on it, it wouldn't matter much. Arthur had cared enough to try and fix it.

His eyes now fell on the two big fish. He looked outside, to find the sun has wandered further than he would have expected, suggesting it was early afternoon.

"I should get going...", Arthur mentioned, more to himself than to you.

"You are telling me this after I caught TWO fish?!", you turned around, arms crossed. It had caught you a little bit off guard. Fishing had allowed some time to daydream and in that hour you had already prepared all the questions you wanted to ask him when you served him lunch. So that came like a punch in the stomach.

"Not because I don't want to stay", Arthur uttered, and you found his expression rather gloomy, "I told everyone I''d be back today...we're gonna hit a big score in two days’ time and I expect they want to go over the plan with me..."

"Oh..."

For a moment you thought about telling him that you'd help with the score, no matter what it was. Honestly, any excuse to be with him, be with other people. But you knew it probably meant running right back into Dutch's trap.

You watched sadly how Arthur gathered his belongings. His hat had found a place on the wardrobe and his jacket was neatly sprawled across the chair. In the span of one single night, everything had found its place like he had meant to stay for longer. But you knew that this was merely wishful thinking. Besides, even though you found your feelings for the man come back, you had to remind yourself that he hadn't reciprocated those feelings before and probably never was going to. Yet, he was a friend and a companion, and that, you reasoned, was enough.

You helped to saddle his horse, Arthur inspected the little braids you had worked into his horse's mane.

"Looks real fine", he mumbled.

"Thank you", you grinned, "I'll do your hair next time if ya ask kindly."

"What? With braids?", Arthur responded, looking at you with a comical expression.

"Sure", you grinned, watching as Arthur completed the final adjustments to secure the saddle and his belongings on his horse. He chuckled warmly at the proposition, as if the idea seemed somewhat absurd, yet there was a chance to convince him otherwise.

"Over my dead body, darl-", Arthur swallowed the last word as if he remembered it wasn't a good idea, "I'll stop by again."

"If you do, send word to Annesburg first and I'll have a meal ready", you said with a smile.

"Sure”, Arthur’s eyes fell on d/n as she excitedly circled him. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to say good-bye or if the saddling of a horse meant that she was to go hunting, but she was happy when pet her again.

“Good girl”, he scratched the dog behind the ears, “Take care of her, will ya? I don’t trust her being able to defend herself when a boar comes to steal some tomatoes off her precious plant.”

Despite it being your dog that he addressed so affectionately, you couldn’t help but blush. However, as you glanced to your tomato plants, you noticed a significant number of fruits missing. Yet, you forced a smile on your face and whispered a “son of a bitch” under your breath.

Arthur sighed happily and mounted his horse.  

"Good luck...with the score", you said.

"Thank you. It's Hosea's plan so I don't think we'll need much luck. But I'll take it", Arthur tipped his head and steered his horse away from your little cabin, not without a feeling in his chest that he'd rather stay.

When he had left you far behind, he began to undo the little braids. It wasn't exactly his style, though he couldn’t deny that they were beautiful. Before unravelling each one, he'd take it between his fingers and let it run through them, as if this was an excuse or a way to satisfy the urge to do the same with the fingers that had woven them. When Arthur realised this, he felt like a fool.

"You’re a moron...", he mumbled under his breath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to stay at your place because he envied the way you lived. That you had managed to escape from Dutch's crazy plans which became crazier every week. Or that your cabin was in a secluded and picturesque spot. He could see himself living there by himself. Or with you.

And yet, he had to open the braids because if anyone from the gang saw them, they might recognize your handiwork or realise that Arthur hadn't gone for stealing some pocket money out of idiots’ pocket. By lying to Dutch, he had prevented you to come back and take part in whatever insane score would be next. Arthur was proud of having you kept save, he knew it was the right thing to do. After robbing the bank in Saint Denis, the gang would have more than enough money to make an escape…maybe then he would be able to come back to you.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Next chapter: here

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan7

Thanks and kisses to @little-honeypie because we've been cooking this shit up together <3

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption community #rdr fanfiction #rdr #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan x fem!reader

[stinkysam]

Vinsmoke Sanji - Princes.

Warning : spoilers for opla fans only

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “sanji having a crush on a pretty male reader who is like a runaway prince and is now a tailor?” - anon

Reader : male (you/yours)

Today had been a long day at the Baratie, lots of people came and even fought a bit. But closing time finally came and Sanji went to look for you, a tailor who came here to eat and take measurements for the restaurant's new clothes. You stayed here for a few days, every time eating at the restaurant and even chatting a bit with Sanji, who was forbidden from cooking that week and served your table.

You two quickly hit it off and spent your evenings at the bar to talk and sometimes a bit more.

He found you at your usual spot and sat next to you, ordering a few drink as well as the one you seemed to like the most since you’ve arrived here.

As the night went on, the people at the bar began to leave as well, and now it was just the two of you and the barman, cleaning around.

Sanji was sitting next to you, your head resting on his shoulder as he held your hand, playing with your fingers, making your nails run across his palm. He was thinking of you. And his feelings.

He felt two things. One being deep affection for you and despite a short moment of shock he now had accepted his crush toward you. But he was now unsure of your feelings for him. Having trouble reading you at times. You could be really affectionate and close, like now, but grow distant and cold really quickly. Where you afraid he would discover something ?

The second feeling he had is that he knew you somehow. But he couldn’t remember where he had already seen your face. Which annoyed him because he never forget a pretty face.

“I have something to tell you.” You say suddenly, eyes looking at him.

He hummed gently, letting you know he was listening despite still being focused on your hands and his thoughts.

“I wasn't… always a tailor.” You begin. “I mean, you know I wasn't, I wasn't born one, obviously.” You start to ramble and stop yourself. “But uh, I wasn't meant to be one.”

“Really ? What were you meant to be then ?” He says, thinking about random careers you could be working in.

You stay silent for a moment, thinking. Was this a good idea ? You exhale, gathering some courage.

“I… was meant to be a prince.” You say, looking at the floor. Waiting.

Sanji stares at you, shocked. That's far from anything he has expected and yet, it rings many bells. One of them being that yeah ! He knew you ! He’s seen missing posters of you. They even hung one in the restaurant !

“You're…” He says, still unsure of what to say or how to react. He wanted to say being a prince suited you, but preferred against it, thinking it wasn't maybe the right compliment at the moment. “I'd ask why you ran away but it's obviously because you weren't happy, right ?” He says, squeezing your hand lightly, bringing them to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

You nodded, huddling closer to him.

“Can you not tell people ?”

“Of course.” He moved his head to the side, kissing your forehead. “To be honest…” He hesitated. “I have a similar… story.”

“You ran away from your family ?”

“Yeah. I escaped after losing my mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

You squeezed his hand in return, interlocking your fingers together and he smiled.

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” He says quietly.

#male reader #m!reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #black leg sanji x male reader #black leg sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji x male reader #vinsmoke sanji imagine #opla #opla sanji #opla x male reader #opla imagine #one piece #one piece x male reader #one piece imagine #one piece live action x male reader #one piece live action #one piece live action imagine

[secretwritingspot]

Blurb #2: Handle Yourself

Pairing: Shanks X Reader (OPLA or OG, up to you really)

Rating/Content Warnings: pg-13ish? No actual suggestive content, but there is suggestive language.

Summary: being a barmaid, your career necessitates dealing with creeps. This is one such case- but this time, Shanks and the rest of the Red Force are there as witness.

Disclaimer(s): creepy guy being creepy, reader is stated a woman in this, some suggestive humor. Other than that pretty light.

Empty days ticked on long, but busy nights were longer.

So was the life of a barmaid- sit around busying yourself with maintenance and cleaning in the lonely hours of the day when it was still too early for most to drink, boredom seeping through every pore.

Night brought customers at 6 or 7 and chaos after 8. The kind of chaos that made you miss the mornings, though when the morning really came you knew that would change, too.

Always wanting for the other, never satisfied with this. Greener grass, and all that.

This time, it was a busy night.

Rowdy drunkards, the townsmen no better than the pirates, shouted and sang and tripped over their feet to call you over, sometimes for unsuccessful propositions and other times for more booze. Those were more pleasant, the ones who didn't want anything from you but more booze.

At least they kept to their own. Most didn't.

Most felt the need to grace you with their presence, and very few had one that was actually tolerable. Those few, you cherished.

“Hey, love! Come have a drink with us, rest your feet!”

Speak of the devil, and a red-haired man shall appear with a bafflingly quickly emptied mug and a bright, boyish smile, waving at you as enthusiastically as if you were a passing ship and not a regular person about 4 feet away from him, at most.

You roll your eyes but the rest of your face won't seem to listen to you, lips quirking into a smile.

“Some of us have jobs, Shanks,” you throw back, a dry observation that sounds a little more fond than you meant it to.

You almost wished he would wave you off with a glare or a muttered diatribe about you being a bitch like the majority of the men who came through your bar did when you turned them down. It would be easier to understand.

Instead, he throws his head back and laughs. Pretty. Genuine. Too fucking free for your liking. Jealousy inducing. In a day's time, he could be halfway across the world.

He probably would.

“Aww, c'mon- that's hardly fair!”

“You should know better than to annoy the person serving your drinks.”

Yassop cackles at that as Shanks shakes his head like a dejected puppy. Though he's trying to look upset, he can't hold back his grin for long. It's not even a moment before he's back to laughing again, smacking Lucky Rou’s shoulder.

“Hear that, boys? She's gonna poison me!”

You fight back the smile twitching at your face as you refill their drinks. It doesn't work very well.

“I was implying I'd spit in your drink, actually.”

You know it's a mistake the moment you say it, mischievous glint lighting in his eyes as his grin goes wide, wolfish.

“Well, I don't see why a gift like that should be a threat-”

“Stop talking while you still can.”

And he does, hands up placatingly. The smug look never leaves his face. Bastard.

The moment breaks abruptly when the door slams open and you're back to business mode- standing straighter, customer-service smile on.

“Hi, welcome to Open River! Take a seat if you can find one and pick your poison.”

He looks you up and down slowly, this new man, not budging an inch for the fraction of a second you can see him appraising you. It's hardly noticable, really.

But you notice. You've learned to notice.

He grunts a response and makes his way to the bar and you take a specific kind of breath - a Lord, give me strength kind of breath - before following him back.

Shanks’ eyes never leave you, but they're no longer smiling. His teeth are, but not his eyes. None of the rest of his crew notice the man much, or the way he looks at you, only that Something Is Wrong With The Captain.

This is the other kind of pirate.

“Whiskey.”

He speaks in growls and bare exhalations of breath. Never more than three words at a time.

It is not a question.

You slide the drink over to him and keep the plastic smile on your face - the one you hope says daughter, sister, long-lost dead wife. Someone he could know and maybe, in that different way that men like this do, love. His eyes are dark and blank, though they follow the flick of your hair when your ponytail swishes behind you.

This is good. It means he, too, somehow, can be swayed.

“Leave the bottle.”

He adds, cold and condescending, when you pull back. You do, and he seems sated. For now.

Despite the crawling feeling under your skin, for a while there is peace. The man drinks in relative silence, compared to the rest. The Red-Haired Pirates call you over frequently - at least once every five minutes, you think - but they take the no every time it's given. You get the feeling from the looks on their faces that they know you really would like to join them, but this is a job and this is your shift and shift ends at closing.

You cannot drink with them, but if you spend more time on your feet walking the space by their tables than you do behind the actual bar, it's no one's business but yours.

There's no rule against talking to patrons, after all. Some might even say it made you a good hostess.

The problem is, you let yourself get wrapped up in it.

You don't even notice when the other man empties his bottle. Instead, you go behind the bar for the Red Force’s umpteenth request of a refill, happier to provide it than you're willing to admit.

“In a minute, boys!”

In all honesty, your world had largely narrowed down to that warm bubble of companionship around Shanks and his crew’s table. You didn't even see anyone else, instead hurrying to get them a new bottle with a smile on your face. You only snap back into it when you collide with a wall.

Man. A man, not a wall.

The man from before is not taller than Shanks (and really, since when had he become your go-to comparison?) but he is taller than you.

“I'm all out.”

“Ah- my mistake, sir, I apologize-”

Your words and the accompanying giggle are nervous, as stilted and off-balance as you feel in the present moment.

This, apparently, is not enough. You hand him the bottle in hopes of placating him, and for a moment you think you've done it. Then, after taking it from you with a truly off-putting smile you think is meant to be grateful, he grabs your wrist.

Your heart suddenly feels too loud and the bar too quiet.

You liked him better when he wasn't smiling.

“C'mon, little lady. Drink with me.”

“I'm sorry, but I really can't.”

It's a different kind of rejection than the one you gave Shanks and the rest of the crew. Shanks seems to have noticed, too, from the look he's giving you.

For once, a man looking at you makes you feel safer than you did before.

You try to return his gaze with one that says both ‘I'll be alright’ and ‘please keep watch just in case’.

“Aww, I'm sure you can-”

“She said she's busy, man.”

The interjection is decisive and flat, a not-so-subtle hint of a threat. This time, the bar really does go quiet. For one, short moment, everything is silence. The rest of the crew seems to realize exactly what had Shanks so upset in the first place and you can see them exchanging glances. Exchanging a plan. You glare back.

“I can handle myself, Shanks.”

You turn back to the man, who smiles like this is some sort of victory. You know his face is about to go sour before you see it happen.

“I'd appreciate it if you'd let go of me now.”

The words are terse and cold and exactly what he doesn't want to hear. You see him snarl and his new bottle tip over above your head and in a flash it happens, over far sooner than anyone would expect.

Your hand is in the hair at the back of his neck, wound tight into the strands. Your knee is in his stomach. There's a crack when his forehead hits the bar in a slam as you double him over, and he goes down without the fight you'd expect from a man his size.

He drops like a man who hasn't slept in days.

A few men on the crew whistle, others cheer. It's different when it's coming from them, you decide, and you find yourself grinning at the response.

You wipe the look off your face as quickly as you can and grab a new bottle, heading back to their table like originally intended.

You do not bother stepping over the other pirate.

When you make it to the table their drunken cheering has largely dissolved, but when they take the time to look at you they're quickly in giggles again. You can't place why.

Shanks looks at you with a raised brow as you approach, amused glint in his eyes, something suggestive in his gaze. You can't place exactly what for, but you're sure he'll tell you soon enough.

“So. Handle yourself, can you?”

His eyes go pointedly down to your chest and you squint in confusion, following them with your own. Perhaps this is why the others are giggling, perhaps-

Oh.

Oh, yeah. That.

You hadn't really processed it during the scuffle- the sudden coldness, the damp, sticky feeling that wasn't sweat.

The man with the full bottle that was now suspiciously empty on the floor next to him.

When you look down to find your white shirt soaked with booze, black bra (because of course you'd chosen black today) starkly visible under the now practically transparent, soaked fabric that clung to your skin, you feel a feeling that shouldn't be surprise but is anyway. Your face tinges pink.

When your eyes go back up to meet his, about half of the crew have hands slapped over their mouths to muffle laughter. Shanks’ face is still drawn in a smirk.

“It looks good on you.”

#red-haired shanks #shanks x reader #opla shanks #opla shanks x reader #opla #opla x reader #shanks x you #opla shanks x you #opla x you #one piece #one piece live action #one piece x reader #one piece x you #opla x y/n #opla shanks x y/n #shanks x y/n

[delreykenn-punk]

i want your daddy too

(dilf!miguel o'hara x fem babysitter!reader)

warnings: porn with plot, filth, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), fluff?, miguel speaking Spanish IS a WARNING, soft miguel, age agap implied, many petnames, aftercare. This is an AU, the events of the movie do not exist, miguel is not spiderman, he has the life he deserves.

summary: you are so slutty for the dad of the little girl you take care of, he does something about it.

words: 3k

You had been working for Miguel O'Hara for some months, looking after his daughter in the evenings when he went to work and came back late at night. He had no one else to leave her with and couldn't take her with him either. He came into your life or rather you came into his when he contacted you through your ad on the internet offering babysitting services, you were at university and needed to pay for some things, so you started babysitting.

You weren't complaining, you never liked kids but you enjoyed your job. Miguel's daughter Gaby had won your heart completely. She loved you very much, she always waited for you to come home with her, she loved spending time with you. And you loved her too, but you also wanted her dad…

Fuck… the man was screaming DILF all over the place, just thinking about the burly man made your pussy clench, you could feel your panties getting wet and you unconsciously clenched your legs. You bit your lower lip every time you saw his muscular arms flex at the slightest movement, his thighs were huge and you constantly fantasised about riding them.

Sometimes you just wanted the man to slam you against the wall, whip you and fuck you hard and hard, or eat your pussy as if his life depended on it. But you also expected him to love you the way you loved him.

You wanted everything with him, it was impossible not to fall in love with the man, you just had to see how wonderful he was with his daughter, there was also the fact that he treated you so beautifully and how much he cared about you, all those things made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

But of course, first, he was your boss. And second, you didn't know if he was on the same page as you, you couldn't risk ruining everything, just not.

But you were still a slut for him and you weren't ashamed of it.

One night, you were finishing some last chores, Gaby had already gone to sleep, so you took the opportunity to wash a few dishes in the laundry room. It was almost 11 p.m. when Miguel arrived home, he sighed tiredly and went to the kitchen. "Good evening sir" you smiled kindly at him, turned off the tap and took your hands off.

"Please, I told you to call me Miguel" he laughed and set his briefcase on the kitchen counter, loosened his tie and undid the first two buttons, exposing a part of his skin. You weren't discreet about seeing his chest, and he noticed this, but he was still amused by the situation.

He walked over to where you were standing with a look you couldn't quite decipher. You became nervous and swallowed as he stood next to you. "W-would you like me to get you something? Shall I make you something to eat?" you asked as best you could, the man was making you flinch just by his presence.

"No, don't worry, I've already eaten at work and you're not here to serve me chiquita" he laughed and you felt almost faint from the petname, you felt hot and wanted to fan yourself a little. "But, I'd really appreciate it if you could pour me some of that whiskey from the cupboard. I know you know where it is," he winked at you before going to sit on the kitchen stool.

Your cheeks blushed and you were so embarrassed, your boss knew you were drinking from the whiskey, you almost wanted to cover your face in shame. You only drank it when you had a stressful day and you always drank it at night, when Gabi had already gone to sleep and you were waiting for her father to arrive. Miguel let out a loud laugh when he saw your condition. "That's ok, I'm glad you at least like what I buy" he said playfully and winked at you again.

You laughed nervously and headed to the cabinets to get out the bottle of whisky. You grabbed a glass and added a couple of ice cubes, poured the liquid and walked over to the small table to hand it to Miguel "Here you go si- Miguel" you corrected yourself and laughed a little.

He thanked you with a nod and took a sip of the drink. "Oh, I needed this. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome" you smiled kindly. "W-well I was just about to leave, do you need anything else before I go?" you asked as you grabbed your bag from the couch and slung it over your shoulder.

"No, wait, don't go" he almost choked on his whiskey to tell you that. "Pour yourself a drink and drink with me, I'm sure you deserve it. Besides, it's too late for you to go alone, I'll gladly drive you home later" he offered and you couldn't refuse. You left your bag on the couch and headed back to the kitchen with him, grabbed a glass and poured some ice cubes and then poured yourself some whiskey. You sat down on the other stool next to him.

After taking a sip of the whisky, you started talking and laughing together. Sharing random stories of the two of you, getting to know each other better, and the flirting was never lacking. You felt happy and comfortable around him, he was a very kind and gentle man, you also discovered that he was actually very soft and sensitive, another reason to fall in love with him.

As the night progressed, the conversations became even more flirtatious, glances here and there, a lustful atmosphere began to fill the room.

There was a moment when it was just you talking and Miguel simply couldn't pay attention to you, too focused on the movement of your lips and how soft and kissable they looked. "Miguel, are you okay?" he snapped out of his trance and looked up at you, a little embarrassed that he wasn't paying attention to you, but mostly at the thought of the fact that you caught him looking at your lips.

"Sorry, I think I got disconnected for a second, lo siento chiquita" he chuckled softly and his cheeks turned a nice red, you couldn't smile at that.

“Don't worry, no problem” you smiled sweetly at him.

Miguel doesn't know if it was the result of alcohol, most probably it was, because sober he would never have had the courage to say what he thought. “I want to kiss you so much chiquita” he said and looked at your lips again and then looked into your eyes.

You opened your eyes in surprise and swallowed saliva at his words. But, like him, the alcohol was giving you courage and confidence. You weren't drunk, you were aware of what was happening, but you could still feel that the liquid was giving you the guts. “What's stopping you?” you replied with a mischievous grin on your face, you were eager to know what would happen.

If Miguel was surprised by your answer he didn't show it, instead he decided to break the tension once and for all. Finally he leaned towards you and kissed you passionately, taking your face in his hands. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his body, pulling him much closer to you. You felt his tongue against yours, and you shamelessly sucked on his, earning a growl from him. You smiled into the kiss and continued kissing him.

A few seconds later you broke apart for lack of air. You opened your eyes slowly and sighed when he placed a kiss on the tip of your nose. “I wanted to do this for a long time…” he caressed your cheek and you placed your hand on his, “I wanted it too” you giggled softly.

He caressed you some more before kissing you again. This time, without breaking the kiss, he stood up from his place and made you do the same. He cornered you against the kitchen counter and continued kissing you, this time gently caressing your body in the process, running his hands up your thighs to your chest, caressing your breasts over your blouse. When you felt things were intensifying you broke the connection of their mouths.

You caught your breath before you spoke “Are you sure about this? I don't want you to-” you cut yourself off for a moment, thinking about your words and swallowing before speaking “-I don't want you to regret it later. I-I really want you” you averted your gaze from him in embarrassment, you were somehow exposing your feelings for him.

“Hey look at me” he said in a hard voice, with his fingers he turned your chin to look at him “I'm not kidding, I've wanted this for a long time, I like you a lot chiquita, you're so beautiful and you drive me so crazy” you smiled shyly at his words, you felt your cheeks burning and your heart racing with excitement. “And if you're really sure, we can see where it all goes, ok?” his face was serious and reflected security in his words, but you could still see the softness in his eyes.

“I really like you too Miguel” you pulled him to you, kissing him again.

He moaned into the kiss, grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you up onto the table. “Ay chiquita, you are so lovely” he said between kisses as he began to unbutton your trousers, you moaned and trembled at his movements and words.

“Miguel, please…”you closed your eyes and sighed as he slipped his hand into your jeans, his fingers were close to your centre, you could already feel it throbbing for attention.

“Hmm, tell me what you want baby,” he whispered against your ear and bit the lobe of your ear gently. You flinched and squealed as he rubbed your clit over the fabric of your panties, you squeezed his shoulders and buried your nails in them. “Come on, tell me what you want or I won't do anything” he stopped his movements on your clit and you despaired, he was determined not to give you what you wanted if you didn't speak.

“I-I want your fingers” you begged and took his hand to bring it back to your centre, but he wouldn't let you. “Tell me exactly where you want them…” you moaned in frustration and stirred in place. “Fuck, I want your fingers in my pussy!” you squealed loudly and he laughed smugly.

He slipped his hand back into your jeans and touched above the fabric, stealing moans and sighs from you. “Buena chica…” he said against your mouth, kissing you as you gasped.

You squeezed your breasts above the fabric to increase your pleasure. Quickly, Miguel with his other hand helped you remove your blouse, exposing your naked tits to his gaze, his eyes glistening with lust. “Mierda chiquita, the most beautiful tits I've ever seen” he crooned before leaning down and taking one nipple into his mouth, biting the nipple and sucking on it, then doing the same with the other.

“Oh Miguel!” you moaned louder as you felt his tongue circle the nipple. "I-I need your fingers inside me, please…" without coimplaining, he pulled away from your tits, pulled his hand out of your trousers and removed them, exposing the pink lace panties you were wearing. You were inwardly thankful that you had worn them today, as Miguel seemed to really like them, it made you blush.

Fuck babygirl, you're trying to kill me” he moved closer to you and started kissing your neck, leaving trails of wetness as he went. You arched your body as you felt his hands slowly pull down your panties, your pussy becoming exposed, as did your whole body.

He pulled away from you to look at you completely naked, hissing under his breath at the sight of you looking so beautiful. “Eres tan preciosa bebé.” you bit your lip shyly and spread your legs a little wider.

He laughed at that. “You're a desperate one, can't wait to have my fingers in you again huh?” he brought his hand to your cunt, which by that time was already too wet, and started stroking your clit slowly and gently.

You moaned with satisfaction as you felt his fingers in your pussy again, sighing and rolling your eyes back in pleasure. Without warning, he slipped a finger inside your cavity, making your eyes open and squeal. His fingers were so long and thick, and they hit all the right spots in your cunt. You felt a little embarrassed as you felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn't care in the end, you just wanted him to keep finger fucking you.

“You're such a slutty princess…you think I don't notice everything you do to get my attention?” he slipped another finger into your cunt and you closed your legs in reaction, but he quickly pulled them apart. “Stay fucking still, or I won't let you cum.” you moaned softly and said nothing anymore.

“You have such a nice tight pussy baby” he caressed your clit with his thumb as he continued to penetrate you with his fingers. You could hear the wet splash he created and that only made you that much more excited, the noise made you wetter.

“D-daddy, don't stop please.” you moaned louder, completely forgetting that the girl was already asleep in her room and could hear them if you kept it up. But Miguel wasn't helping to keep you quiet, it seemed like he was doing it on purpose, just to challenge you. “Hmm, so I'm your daddy? begging to finger fuck you, pequeña zorra” you clenched around his fingers at the words he was saying. You didn't understand what he was saying, but it excited you anyway.

Miguel takes his fingers out of you, you moaned frustrated at the lack of them, you were almost about to reach your orgasm. She brought both fingers to her lips, sucking one by one and savoring your juices with a moan.

“You taste so good babydoll,” he growled before falling to her knees in front of you. He spread your legs and placed them on his shoulders, "this pretty little pussy deserves to be taken care of, don't you think?" He took a deep breath before delving into your slippery folds with his tongue, licking your clit and tickling the sensitive flesh. You arched his body, leaning fully back against the kitchen counter and digging your heels into his back, running your hands through his hair and pulling the soft strands, pulling him even closer to your dripping cunt.

“Oh yes daddy, just like that” You moaned as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. He moved his hands to your chest to grab your tits, squeezed and pinched your nipples, twisting them between his fingers.

Miguel pulled away slightly to spit on your pussy, watching the droplet of saliva slide from your swollen clit to your puckered hole and then fall to the floor beneath you “You're so fucking hot, you drive me so crazy chiquita.” He moaned and continued to eat you like a hungry animal.

You could feel his saliva dripping down to the floor, your body trembled from so much pleasure he was giving you. You began to fuck his face, moving your hips into him and smothering him with your pussy. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer against him, squeezing the plump flesh as he grunted and moaned, alternating his movements in sucking your clit and thrusting his tongue into you. By this time you were a mess, drooling and mumbling incoherently as you felt his tongue in all the right places in your pussy, mewling as he gently bit down on your swollen clit.

Your body began to tighten, and you began to jerk like crazy, you were about to cum. Quickly, you closed your legs around Miguel, smothering him with your cunt, your head snapped back, and you could hear Miguel's grunts. He held your legs next to his face, as he continued to penetrate you with his tongue and suck on your clit.

You arched your back, your toes curled, and with a scream, you finally cum. You felt your juices splash on Miguel's face, and you were about to pull away but he wouldn't let you, continuing to grind his face into you, soaking up every last drop you had expelled, moaning at the sweet taste of your juices.

He continued to lick your center, this time more gently and sweetly, knowing you were numb from your recent orgasm, and when he was satisfied and you were clean he placed a tender kiss on your clitoris and pulled away from you. He leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss.

You kiss him back with the same intensity, savoring your taste in his mouth. You wrap your legs around his waist and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You stick your tongue in his mouth, sucking on it and hear him growl during the kiss. You pull away from him with a snap and a trickle of saliva still binds them together, he looks at you for a few seconds and you let out a giggle.

“Such a pretty baby… ”, he strokes your cheek, you blush and sink your face into his neck. You heard him chuckle softly, still wrapping his arms around you and gently caressing your hips, squeezing the soft flesh lovingly. You rested your head on his shoulder and yawned, your body had relaxed and you were already sleepy. You were trying your best not to fall asleep because you still wanted to fuck him, but you were already tired. He seemed to notice.

“As much as I want to fuck you, we'll have to leave it for another day, sí corazón?” he said and you felt happy and excited, with your face still in his neck you nodded quickly and enthusiastically, that made him laugh a little, he gave you a kiss on the top of your head and lifted you off the table.

You felt him carry you up the stairs and he hurried to take you to his room, he didn't want his daughter to suddenly find them. He closed the door behind him and locked the key, went to his bed and laid you gently on it. In your drowsy state, you snuggled into the pillows, burying your face in them, your hair tousled over your face. Miguel smiled tenderly at how effortlessly you were falling asleep and how beautiful you looked in that state. He took the opportunity to wipe you with a damp flannel, careful not to touch your sensitive clit and disturb you.

When he finished he lay down next to you, covering you both with his sheet, he pulled you to his chest and stroked your hair softly, he could feel your relaxed breathing and the light snores you let out. “Duerme bien chiquita” He kissed you on the forehead, hugged you and fell asleep

He was sure this was how he wanted his life to be from now on.

Translations:

chiquita (petite), lo siento (i'm sorry), mierda (shit), buena chica (good girl😮‍💨), pequeña zorra (you little slut), corazón (the literal translation is “heart” but I'll leave it as “sweetheart”), duerme bien chiquita (sleep well petite), eres tan preciosa bebé (you are so precious baby) aaaand I think that's all (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #I'm crazy about this man #miguel spiderman

[janitorhutcherson]

hi! can you do a fluff piece with Mike where he expresses his love to the reader through the different love languages? (like words of affirmation, gift giving, physical touch, acts of kindness, and quality time?) I feel like he would be especially great at acts of kindness with cooking :) thanks!

hii omg this is such a cute idea. this is gonna be quickish i’m sorry, i’ll totally do a longer one later. if y’all like it i’ll maybe make a series?!? but for now just a silly little blurb.

i feel like mike would be very loving and showing his love to you would be extremely important. like, extremely important. so he’d def be the kind of guy to take all of these seriously, even if they weren’t… easy… for him since expressing emotions doesn’t come as natural.

words of affirmation: words of affirmation is one of my favorite love languages. this is one that doesn’t come easy for mike — and not because he doesn’t love you, but just because he can’t really express himself well. if you’re like me, being reassured, told you’re doing great, etc, is important to you. mike would do his very best to remind you every day how important you are to him, leaving the occasional note in the morning before you head to work. it may say something like, “Reminder I am so proud of you for everything you do. I love you, baby!” he’s also ramble to you at night sometimes, just telling you how much he loves you. if you were ever down, he’d make sure to sit you down and point out all of the things he loves about you, physically and mentally.

gift giving: okay i feel like this is a big one. money doesn’t come very easily for mike. after he got “fired” (that’s what he pretends happened!😜), he had to find another job that still had shitty pay. his resume didn’t make him a great candidate for anything high quality. with that being said, every month he attempts to scrape up enough money to make you a little gift basket. it varies from month to month, depending on how much he was able to save. sometimes they’d be big baskets he’d have abby help him pick stuff out for. there may be a fuzzy blanket, some candies, face masks, maybe a candle. sometimes they’d be smaller, just a little note and some candy, maybe a stuffed animal from the dollar store. regardless of how big or small, you always appreciated it when you’d walk into your shared home and see it sitting on the table.

physical touch: oh my god i think this one is a huge one for mike. given his past, he is so touch starved. every second he gets, his hands are on you. of course, at night he loves to curl up with you in bed. he’ll have his arms tightly wrapped around you, playing with your hair or maybe rubbing your back. even when he dips down on the bed to tie his shoes in the morning, he keeps his hand on your sleeping shoulder until he absolutely has to move it. he’s the same way out in public. at the supermarket, he’ll hold your hand, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist when you’re standing in line for something. when you’re out to eat, his hand will be on your knee underneath the table. when you’re cooking at home, he will always come and wrap himself up behind you, moving with you to the point that it’s slightly obnoxious, but you don’t mind. as long as he’s with you.

acts of kindness: i so agree that this would be a big one for him that he’d be good at. before you, mike was a one trick pony when it came to cooking, and for that, he could barely do it. he could make something that was edible enough to be spaghetti. once you two started dating, he learned for you. he wanted to be able to make your favorite dishes and desserts. he surprises you all the time when he’s off of work or if he gets off before you, making your favorite dish and having it served up on the table with candles when you walk in the door after work. he’s also big on doing things like running you baths, putting the bubbles in and the epsom salts in. sometimes he’d get into it with you, holding you. i also think he’d like to take showers with you. if you struggle with mental health at all, i think he’d be the type of partner to help you wash your hair. of course he’d do chores for you sometimes, knocking out necessary errands. overall he’s a very loving partner who will do anything to make you smile.

quality time: quality time is something that isn’t easy to get. as much as you love abby, alone time is especially hard to come by. since mike is working day shifts now, you two will do your best to have a late night together at least once a week. you’re both usually pretty exhausted, taking care of abby, working, running errands. but once a week, usually on a friday night, you both stay up until 3am/4am, just talking, snacking, maybe watching a movie. otherwise, for quality time, he makes sure to sneak some time in with you here in there. he’d make sure to run simple errands with you, maybe even to sit with you at the nail salon. i also think he’d love to help you cook, go shopping. any chance he’d get to spend time with you, he’d take it.

#mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #michael schmidt x reader #michael afton

[nolita-fairytale]

make my heart surrender (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) | chapter two: wednesday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, lots of angst in this one, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, smoking (plz remember smoking is injurious to your health, ppl), avoidance tactics, mentions of al-anon, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

word count: 3.3k

summary: while you get to know the kitchen staff of the bear a little better, you and carmy finally acknowledge the elephant in the room.

a/n: the song 'about you' by the 1975 makes me think of these two and is where the title comes from. also, i totally made up the pete has an airbnb thing but i just feel like he'd be in real estate or something with his little patagonia vests lol. anyways, happy valentine's day babes & enjoy!

read: part one | masterlist

Wednesday 

“Okay, this is some next level shit,” Marcus concludes, in between chews as he tries the brioche donuts you let rise overnight. “It’s got everything I like about the yeast donut but the flavor is so much more pronounced.”

“Carmy said you knew how to throw down but.”

Sydney nods, taking another bite of hers, and you watch as Fak holds the donut up to his ear, letting out a wild, “Wow.”

“Oh fuck,” Sydney practically groans, the salty-sweet flavors of the caramel hitting her taste buds.

Last night, pre-dinner shift, you were introduced to the colorful cast of characters that filled up this kitchen. There was Richie, Carmy’s not-biological-cousin cousin, and Tina, who’d been working in this kitchen since before any of you were born. And Neil the handyman, who somehow actively chose to go back his last name, Fak, which puzzled you. Then there was Ebrahim, who seemed to serve as the meat prep cook and the onsite first-aid guy. And Sydney, the brilliant sous who’d worked in fine dining kitchens till she came here, eager to learn from Carmy. 

It was a far cry from the kitchens you and Carmy used to work in but this kitchen there were similarities… things every kitchen has. Everyone has their own little quirks, preferences, styles…. 

They’re just a little more, well, allowed to be themselves and while overwhelming, you find it refreshing as well.

Fak smells the donut next, followed by another ‘wow,’ and your eyes widen as Fak begins licking just the icing. 

“Wow,” Fak repeats, carrying on his more-than-peculiar behavior. 

“Is he-?” you start, sharing a look with Sydney next. 

…alright? Is this normal? Is he okay?

“Yeah, sometimes we just let him–,” Sydney tries to explain, but she’s not quite sure how to explain Neil Fak to anyone outside of their ecosystem. 

“Okay.”

“Anyways, so this is just a personal preference and perhaps a symptom of too much time spent in fine dining, but I like to fuck around with weird flavors,” you continue to explain, in reference to the salty miso caramel creme pat you’ve filled the donut with. 

“I’m not much for too sweet-of-sweets,” you announce, earning a laugh from Marcus and Sydney. “... which yes, is a very odd thing to say for a pastry chef. So I like to find combinations that cut the sweetness of anything and give the taste buds another experience at the same time.”

“Which isn’t the direction you have to take your pastries, chef.”

Marcus shakes his head, “No, this is… super cool. And I like it a lot.”

“I apologize in advance if I sound like a total loser,” Sydney starts, placing her donut down on the paper towel. “But when I was at the CIA, I actually had your lemongrass creme brulee.

“With the black sesame ice cream?”

“And the sesame crumble.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaim. What a blast from the past. “Yeah, I had to fight hard to get some of those ingredients on the menu. You know. Before everyone thought it was cool to do shit like that.”

Sydney smiles in agreement, going back for more of her donut. 

“So what’re we workin’ on next, chef?” Marcus asks. He has his notebook out and has a few renderings drawn up with ideas he had last night. 

“Well now that we’ve built a great brioche together, I’d love to keep practicing your piping technique and-,” you begin, stopping mid sentence as Carmy joins the three of you. 

“Mornin’, chef! Hey, try this,” Marcus greets, ecstatic about the results of just a day of working with you, as he hands Carmy a donut. 

He takes it, immediately taking a bite. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he processes and dissects every single flavor note he experiences. You’re all quiet as you wait for his response. 

And honestly, you’re still pretty pissed off about him leaving you hanging the day before. After you and Marcus finished up your prep, you had made your way back to your airbnb – the one he set you up in when he asked you to come here. 

You had tried your best not to feel like a total loser as you hoped he'd reach out with an explanation. No call, no text, no nothing, wondering why he asked you to come in the first place. 

Carmy takes his time savoring his first bite. 

“I almost forgot how good you are at this,” he compliments, his tone neutral as if it’s just a fact. 

“Thank you, chef,” is all you say back to him. You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze, and continuing to go over today’s bake with Marcus. 

You don’t mean to ignore Carmy, but you’re not sure how to act around him either. One minute he’s ignoring you, and the next he’s making you breakfast. And then he’s standing you up, leaving in the hands of his brash cousin? Maybe, you think to yourself, it’s best to keep things professional between the two of you. 

*

You work with Marcus till an hour or so into the lunch shift. You both agreed to start your days early, since you’re only here for a week, so that you could cram as much knowledge in as possible.

Marcus asks if he can take point on flavor pairings for tomorrow’s donuts, and you agree, before parting ways till later this evening. You’ve got to come back later today from one more late night prep. 

You haven’t spoken much to Carmy at all since he came in. As much as you’ve tried to focus all of your attention on working with Marcus, Carmy has a commanding presence as he expedites. He’s got something most chefs don’t – true leadership – and it seems like his skills have only improved since he left New York. You gather up your things, preparing to take the subway home for a midday nap, heading out the back door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were… out here,” you gasp. You're surprised to find Carmy sitting behind the shop, sitting a few stacked crates and smoking a cigarette.

Well, that part isn’t surprising – the smoking part. You contemplate taking a seat next to him and asking him for one, but you’re really trying to cut back these days.

“It’s-, you’re good,” he says, taking another drag. He exhales smoke and the eery feeling of deja vu overtakes you.

Instead of leaving, and continuing this game of avoidance, you stand your ground.

“Are you avoiding me?” you finally muster up the courage to ask. You try your best not to sound as angry with him as you are, to no avail, as more words begin tumbling out of your mouth. “Because, if I recall correctly, Carmy, you asked me to come out here.”

Carmy waits a beat, avoiding your gaze, and it only infuriates you further. You watch as he takes another hit off of the cigarette as you continue, your rage boiling up within you.

“I don’t get it!” you exclaim, shaking your head in pure disbelief. You’re trying your best not to shout. “You ask me to come out here, and make it as easy as possible for me to be here by putting me up in this airbnb, you make me breakfast, and then… what? It’s like-, it’s like I don’t exist?” 

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s always been like this with you. One step forward and five steps back.” 

You wait before saying the next thing. 

You’re not trying to be mean, but you’re hurt, and this whole experience has all been so confusing. 

“I guess I was fucking idiot to believe that you-, that you wanted me out here or something.”

“That’s not true,” Carmy denies, finally breaking his silence. Finally looking at you, even if just for a moment. His eyes return to the concrete pavement below him as he says, “I just-.”

You don’t want to scare him away now that he’s finally talking to you, but you also want answers. And there’s an elephant in the room that maybe, if you both just acknowledged it, could go away. He puts his cigarette out on the cement beneath his feat, tossing it away onto the concrete.

You lower your voice before speaking again. 

“Are you… do you still feel weird about what happened between us?” you ask cautiously, eager to fix whatever the hell it is between the two of you. “Because I didn’t think we’d have to talk about it since, well-, I just thought we said we’d just forget it. I mean, I’m not-, I don’t-, I just don’t want things to be this weird between us, Carm." 

In some ways, you don’t blame him. You had seen him at his absolute lowest: the day Mikey died. You wonder if he felt too ashamed of how vulnerable he had been. You wondered if he still felt weird about what had happened next….

You had argued with him that day – practically demanded that he not go in for dinner service that night. You knew he had wanted a distraction, but after the phone call, after learning what Mikey had done, you knew he was wrecked – even if he wouldn’t admit it. That level of denial couldn’t be healthy, but he'd snapped at you and you didn't think there was much you could do about it. It didn’t take long for him to blow up at a line cook mid-shift, and you had quickly ushered him into the walk-in. 

“Hey! You can’t do this shit. Not here. These people look up to you!” you had chastised him. “Listen, I’m going to give you five minutes to fuckin’ lose it in here, and then you’ve gotta pull it together and finish dinner service, okay?” 

Carmy had grabbed at his chest, and you knew he was having one of his breathing episodes. 

“Carmy, are you o-?"

He’d held out his hand, as if to stop you from coming any closer, so reluctantly, you’d left him to it, closing the door behind you. The sound of empty storage containers being thrown across the walk-in filled your ears, reinforcing your exact reasons why you hadn't thought it was a good idea for him to come in that night.

That night, you had made sure he got home okay, and he’d practically begged you to stay with him. It hadn’t been the first time you’d slept in the same bed, and you knew he was at his lowest point, in need of company. It hadn’t been until he started crying – sobbing really – that he finally broke.

“Carm,” you had whispered, unsure if he wanted you to acknowledge it or not. 

“Carmy.” 

He had turned to you so tenderly, practically folding himself into your body. You had never seen him like that as he’d buried his face into your chest, his body shaking against yours. 

“I’m so sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry,” you had whispered, over and over again. You stroked his hair, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain of your best friend, but you knew there wasn’t much you could do. You’d let him cry, continuing to run your fingers along his scalp and through his delicate curls, desperate to give him any kind of comfort your could.

When he finally looked up, all he could think to do was to kiss you. You had been taken aback -- caught off guard as you'd pulled away from him.

“Carmy, stop it. You’re not-, you’re not okay right now,” you had said, pushing him away. 

At that moment, his eyes were swollen, his face red, and he looked like you had just kicked his puppy. He had leaned his head against your chest again with a sigh, letting out another sob, and you’d felt that he’d put you in an impossible position. 

You’d have been lying if you said you hadn’t wanted it – hadn’t thought about it before – but Carmy had never given you any inkling that he was even interested in dating anyone. You had been perfectly fine being ‘just friends’ with him despite the whispers between the kitchen staff when no one thought you were listening. And now? You knew he wouldn’t be in the right headspace. It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

“I’m sorry, Carm,” you’d apologized softly. “I just feel like-, well I’d feel like I'd be taking advantage. I don’t think we should.”

His silence had only made you more nervous, beginning to over explain yourself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I-, I do. I just… I don’t want you to regret it because… because you’re upset right now and cause you more-.”

“Please,” was all he'd said, breaking his silence and looking up at you with those sad, swollen blue eyes. He leans in to kiss you once more. 

“Please.”

In between kisses you’d managed to ask, “Are you- are you sure? Is this really what you-?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Just-, please,” he whispered, murmuring your name into the soft kisses he had left on your skin. “Just wanna feel good.”

“Just wanna feel good.”

It was then that you’d realized what absolute fucking idiots the two of you had been for the past few years by ignoring this thing between the two of you. 

The truth was that you were fully, wholly, and stupidly in love with each other. 

“Yes,” you’d repeated, finally giving into him.

Even though it should’ve been a beginning, it felt like an end, but for one night, you’d indulged the both of you. 

“I know,” he says, his voice pulling you back into the present. His eyes are fixated on the pieces of gravel that sat between his feet. Even though you both agreed to it, he hadn’t forgotten about what happened between the two of you and he’s not sure if he should tell you that too. 

But that’s not what’s wrong. It’s not why he’s avoiding you. Or maybe it’s part of it. He hadn’t expected seeing you to be this hard. That it would bring it all back – wanting you – so much so that those incredibly big feelings had sent him running to a meeting. 

He just needed a place to be unapologetically fucked up. 

He’s not sure what he thought would happen – like you’d just fall into the same old rhythm of your friendship without a care in the world. 

He’d called Sydney yesterday and he could barely breathe. Sydney had told him to take the night off – that it wouldn’t help to come back to the kitchen that night – and that he had a whole week of you to prepare for. To figure this shit out. 

“I um,” he starts. He’s not sure why it’s so hard to get these words out; why it feels so difficult to tell you. “I’ve kinda been going to these al-anon meetings…ever since, well you know… since I got home.”

“Oh.”

Well that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say. You’re not sure what you were expecting him to say. That he hates you? That he couldn’t stand being in the same kitchen with you and yesterday brought it all back? That it was a mistake reaching out to you?

You sit down on the curb, next to Carmy, leaving plenty of space between the two of you. 

“My sister nagged me to go. Thought it was bullshit but… I don’t know why I kept going back. I still go three times a week.” 

You stare at the ground, not sure what to say next. All that comes out is:

“Well I feel like an asshole.”

He scoffs, moreso to himself, “No, you’re not. I-, I’m sorry. I should’ve-.”

You can tell he’s frustrated as he huffs, “I don’t know why this is so hard for me to tell you.”

You sigh, scooting a hair closer to your old friend. 

“I don’t know either, Carm. I-, we used to tell each other everything.”

“I know.” 

You catch his gaze, your eyes meeting with his, and it feels like you can’t breathe for a moment. 

“I should’ve called. Should’ve kept in touch. Guess I just feel like-, I don’t know,” Carmy admits, regretfully. “I know I’ve been….”

“Uh huh. You’ve been….” you trail off. 

“But I do. Want you here.”

And that’s the problem, he thinks to himself.

“I know I’ve been a dick. I shouldn't have-.”

You take a breath, processing all of it. 

“Can we… not have this conversation again?” you ask, taking a lighter tone this time. “I mean, we sorta had a very similar conversation to this yesterday… and now today… like… are you gonna stop being such a fuckin’ weirdo or what?”

He lets out a small laugh, “Yeah. Yeah I-, I’m gonna stop, well, you know.”

You chuckle in response, continuing to tease him, “Good because… you know usually when your friend comes to town you hang out a little, catch up, say hey hello how are you? I mean, maybe I’m totally out of pocket for this, but sometimes, you know… they even hug. Yeah, Carm, like, normal people.”

“Oh fuck you,” he mutters, jokingly. 

It’s quiet between the two of you, but for the first time in the last 48 hours, it's not weird. It’s a familiar quiet intimacy – something that reminds you of the before times. 

Before Mikey died.

Before you hooked up. 

“Hey, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to be here too,” you reassure in response to what he said earlier, bumping your shoulder up against his, playfully, earning the slightest smile from him. 

“How’s the place?”

“Surprisingly, very nice,” you answer, a mischievous tone in your voice like you know it’s going to start something. 

“What? You think I’d put you up in a shit place?” Carmy asks, feigning offense. 

“I’ve been in your New York apartment, Berzatto. Which is mostly why we spent most of our days off at mine,” you continue. 

He laughs dryly in response. 

“My brother-in-law manages a few airbnbs so… it’s the least I could do for… you know… you comin’ out here,” he explains. 

“Well thanks. It’s-, it’s great.” 

*

“I gotta get out of here early, and pick up the kid. Have a goodnight, sweetheart,” Richie says to you, about to head out of the restaurant. 

“Richie, what the fuck did I fuckin’ tell you about saying shit like that!” Carmen shouts back at his cousin, with an eye roll. 

“So sorry,” Richie says sarcastically, emphasizing your name after. “Gotta woke-ify everything in front of Carmen. Just a little baby.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Carmy yells across the kitchen, moving quickly through the closing shift chores. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie brushes off Carmy’s comment with an eye roll. 

“See you fucks tomorrow.”

“This look good, chef?” Marcus asks you, motioning for you to come over and take a look at the mixer. 

You reach down into the mixer, checking the dough for texture. 

“Yeah, looks good. Go ahead and grab a few sheet pans so we can shape these and we’ll cover ‘em so they can proof overnight,” you order, Marcus nodding in response. 

“Thank you, chef.” 

As Marcus disappears, in search of a few sheet pans, Carmy’s wiping down one of the prep stations. 

“Hey, you,” you say, a smile on your face as soon as you see him. 

After your talk this afternoon, things feel lighter. He feels lighter. 

“Hey,” he says, finishing up with his cleaning duty before making his way over to you. Carmy checks to see that Marcus hasn’t come back yet, and you notice.

“Great dinner service, huh?” you congratulate. 

“We’re gettin’ there,” he replies. “Smoothest it’s been so far. Since the reopen.”

Ah yes. The reopen. You’re still waiting to hear that story. 

“I was thinkin’, maybe we could do that catch up thing? Over a drink?” Carmy proposes, changing the subject, and you think to yourself that it’s the most confident you’ve ever seen him. 

“I-,” you start, as Marcus makes his way back towards the pastry area. “We’ve got one more late night prep tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, spotting Marcus as well. “Tomorrow’s good.” 

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

“Goodnight.”

read: part three

#Spotify #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #make my heart surrender