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hazelfoureyes · 2 months

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A boiling frog (Alastor x Reader smut)

saw someone talk about “boiling frog syndrome”, when a situation becomes dire so slowly you don’t realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late, like a frog slipping into death as the cold water comes to a boil, never trying to leap out. Made me think of Louisiana frog legs and, of course, our self obsessed deer demon. my longwinded ass used restraint and went for a PWP (I hope…. No, theres still plot. I’m a slut for plot. Sorry?)

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x fem reader, cunnilingus, biting, work attire, realistic descriptions of yet another job I once had, fingering, mentions of my favorite alcoholic beverage, southern shit, filing, that asshole in room 127

Minors DNI

When you first arrived at the hotel, Alastor was pleased to have some help. Charlie informed him of your experience on earth managing apartments and how you would be taking on the role of ‘Resident Relations Manager’. Any issues, complaints, or room adjustments would go to you first. Marvelous. As his underling, you often came to him with your own gripes and stories of the latest drama around the hotel. It became a sort of ritual to meet at the bar after work, talking about the day’s trivial matters over two fingers of rye and a cassis orange. One morning you joined him for coffee in the sunroom he added shortly after your arrival, silently enjoying the view. Then you returned the next day. At some point you started filling his mug and bringing it to the chair he always used. Neither of you spoke, which he found refreshing.

The group dinners were never his scene, the familiarity they bore was uncomfortable and dangerous to his plans. But he overheard your laughter as you and Angel teased each other about what could or couldn’t be defined as a kink. When he joined the table, he was pleasantly surprised at the in-depth conversations you sparked among the band of hopeless fools he’d come to enjoy.

So when he entered the sunroom one morning to see his cup, but not you, it ruffled his fur, so to speak. At dinner, he heard from Charlie you were eating in your office. The bar was full of residents and yet empty all the same when you never arrived.

Three days was all it took. Three days of not seeing you. When he walked past the bar at 9pm to see just Angel and Husk, he continued onward until in the safety of the darkened hall. Licking his teeth, he found himself getting angry. Annoyed that he was promised, by your actions, interesting conversation and like-minded company. His fists curled out of frustration, lights strobing as he stalked down the hall.

But that melted into something even more upsetting, he felt… worried. Not that his smile showed it, passing Vaggie with a nod of his head.

When did you manage to creep into his mind? Like an overlord taking territory, you had taken space in his thoughts with ruthless speed. Never one to be passive in competition, he realized he needed to take drastic measures to catch up to you. He knew of many ways to get *ahead, but he found an ambush always worked like a charm.

Alastor’s shadows gathered before he rose from the floor of your office.

You were standing near a filing cabinet, looking intently at something, “Hello there Alastor, to what-“ you turned the page, not looking at him, “do I owe the pleasure?” You hadn’t actually lifted your head from the file until you felt a hand in the small of your back. You flinched and took a step away, turning around to ask what he was doing when you noticed you weren’t in your office anymore.

The large hole in the wall that led into an endless swamp of a forest hinted at whose room this was.

Closing the file with one hand, you gestured around the room, “Is there a reason I’m here?”

He motioned for you to sit on the bed, and when you laughed he used the microphone to corral you to the edge. “You’ve been busy, as of late.”

“Swamped.” Usually your puns would get atleast a chuckle from your boss, but this time he passed right over it.

“I realized today we haven’t had one of our usual chats in quite a while. What’s been keeping you oh-so-occupied?” He pushed down on your shoulders until you came to rest on the bed.

Nervously, you scooted back a little from him, “Well, so many new residents has meant so many petty little issues. This guy on the 34th floor is angry that the man who killed him is on 37– Alastor?!” He had knelt down and lifted your ankle, slipping your shoe off.

“And?”

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?" He picked up the other ankle, "Listening. Continue.”

You laughed breathlessly, “wha-,” but the way he looked up at you seemed to catch your tongue, “uhm, so- yeah so he doesn’t think his killer deserves redemption-,” the other shoe was taken off, neatly set besides its twin. You took a deep breath to try and calm down, “and even if he does, he shouldn’t be—,”Alastor’s hand slipped up your right thigh, fingers taking your stocking and rolling it down. His gaze on your face never wavering.

“Keep going.” The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just suggesting it.

“-be on a higher floor.” He peeled the left stocking down, delicately pulling it over your toes.

You forgot to breath for a second. Instinctively you brought your knees together.

“That is quite annoying! What ever will you do?” That toothy grin widened as he looked up at you. His hand began to massage the sole of your right foot.

“Huh? Do what?”

“About the man on 34’s complaint”, his hand then moved up to your calf, he hummed, “what supple flesh, my dear.”

“Thank you?” Should you be scared or horny? Was he tenderizing his dinner? He looked up at you expectantly. “I told him if the angels return, higher floors would be the most dangerous.”

"Ha! Quite a clever response! Did it placate him?" He raised your right knee to his mouth, placing his lips above the joint. You felt his breath over your inner thigh as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, a reaction to your confused face. You were absolutely panicked; frozen. That wild look you were giving him, if he could he would drown himself in those eyes. Alastor felt his own excitement build, a twitch pressing his cock against the zipper of his dress pants. What a delicious reaction. His long hands crawled under your work skirt, nails grazing your skin as he grabbed the sides of your panties, "It's rude to leave someone waiting, dear."

You shook your head, crawling backward on the bed, "Okay, I get it. Ha ha, you managed to frazzle me."

A darkness fell over his face, "I don't think you do get it." He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over the skin of your inner thigh, "You've neglected me quite rudely! Most people wouldn't dare such a thing and yet you don't even seem slightly concerned about it."

Rude? "Alastor, oh my god. What did I do? I've been at work every morning on time, if not early. I have been staying up late to make sure the resident files are up to date. I've been meeting with Charlie like you wanted about-,” He brought the panties down your thighs.

"It is what you haven't been doing, mon cher.” He pulled them clear of one leg, leaving them to hang off the ankle of the other leg. "I've been drinking my coffee alone in the sunroom, do you think I had the set of rocking chairs delivered for my own amusement? Dinner has been monotonous without your conversation. And what about our nightly gossip at the bar?" When he lifted your leg and hooked your knee over his shoulder, you fell back on your elbows to keep from lying flat.

"Listen-- Alastor!" His name was squeaked out as a bite stung you, dangerously close to your now naked pussy.

"Sir." He chided.

"Sir?!" He pushed your skirt up, exposing you, "Sir. I don't really like people going down on me."

"That's odd.” His hands gripped your thighs and dragged your ass to the edge of the bed, your pussy now inches from his face. His eyes rolled from left to right, “I don’t remember asking.” Your other leg was pulled over his shoulder, causing you to finally fall onto your back.

A long, wide tongue licked from mid thigh to the place where your legs met your crotch. You felt the heat of his mouth before he finally made contact with your core, one long lick from entrance to clit.

You buried your face inside the file, inhaling the smell of ink and paper with each pant. Your heart was pounding, the rush of blood from your head to your lap left you dizzy and seeing spots.

“Ah ah! I need your full attention.” He took the file and tossed it to the side. He needed to see your face, this was pointless if he couldn’t watch you go dumb in his mouth.

He had started this wanting to ensure you would be thinking about him as much as he had been you, but the way you couldn’t even speak when he touched you shifted his mission. Now, he wanted to win. Maybe he would be bothered by the absence of your presence in the sunroom, but you’d lie awake at night pained by the absence of his tongue in your cunt.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” Your face was beet red.

“Good. I’ve never been very fond of sharing my toys.” His nose grazed your already throbbing clit as he sunk his tongue into you. Reflexively your thighs pressed against his ears, his head keeping you from closing them entirely. His tongue seemed to lick at your walls as if reaching for something, the sensation wet and warm. You whined, embarrassed at how you were twitching against his lips.

You could feel his smile widen, thumb pressing down on your clit. Gripping the sheets you tried to ease away, the pressure too rough. His nails dug into your left leg, keeping you from making any real difference.

As he dragged his tongue along your walls you felt something you normally didn’t when getting eaten out; the beginning tension of an orgasm slinking into your stomach.

When his mouth left your cunt you gasped, the air stinging at your wet hole and thighs.

“Starting from the morning, tell me exactly what you did today that was so important you didn’t feel the need to entertain me with your company. If your mouth stops moving, so will mine.” He brought his lips to your other thigh, nipping at the skin.

“I made your coffee but got a call about a resident.” His finger pressed against your entrance before breaching.

“Oh, it has been awhile. I thought you were just being modest”, he laughed, your embarrassed expression spurring him forward. He hadn’t expected you to be so tight on just a single digit.

“She feels unsafe, there’s a jackal demon on her floor who keeps”, his finger curled, hitting that bundle of nerves that made your eyes cross, “who is giving her really scary looks.” He bit down again, breaking the skin. You yelled, yanking your leg back but he didn’t release you. “Alastor- please. This is cruel enough.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me be cruel.” He lapped at the wound, finger in you slowly dragging out before entering again. Still bent, it would hit your spongey g-spot with every move. “After that?”

“I had a meeting with Charlie. About the different growth activities.” Eyes closed, you could feel your pleasure slowly inching up that peak. “I needed to organize the files first, so I ate at my desk again.”

His lips cupped your clit as he began to suck. Your hips rose off the bed and his mouth went with you.

“It’s a lot of paperwork, you won’t let me use a computer for it.” His hand pulled back as a second finger joined. The way your cunt was gripping his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how much you’d hiss around his cock. His hips rutted against the air beside the bed, out of your view.

You put your arm over your eyes to hide yourself in some way, breath hitching when his fingers began pumping in and out of you. The moans tumbling from your mouth made Alastor’s grip on you tighten further. His cock leaking into the front of his pants.

When his tongue stopped flitting over your clit you groaned a complaint.

“Ffuuuck, Alastor. D- Uh, Room 127 hates the view o-,” your jaw clenched around the words, “something something blah blah blah —nngh” your head went back, your hips now fully grinding into his mouth. You needed more friction, your orgasm rolling just to the precipice.

His tongue slowed.

“He- he uh, I said he could move,” his fingers curled, pressing over and over into your g-spot, “when he stops being such an asshole. fuck me, please don’t stop—,” you reached down for his head and took a fist full of hair, earning you a surprised moan from him.

Alastor removed his hand from your leg to palm his clothed erection. His nose buried into your bush as his own breathing picked up.

So close.

“-and now I’m here and you’re here,” your words breathy, “and I’m gonna cum—I’m so close, so close,” your lips tingled from the way you were panting.

You choked out a moan as your orgasm reached its climax and pleasure wracked your body. Your grip on his hair stinging, your pussy sucked his fingers in with so much need he closed his eyes and let himself cum against his palm at the thought of his cock in their place. He felt the warmth soak into his pants.

Both of your hands came to your face, too embarrassed to speak.

Alastor placed your shoes and tights beside you, and rested both of his elbows on either side of your head. His weight pressed into you, and you finally looked at him. He was resting his chin on his cradled hands, staring down at you.

With a smug grin and raised his eyebrows he said, “Apology accepted.” He pushed off of you, bringing both fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with a wet ‘pop’. “See you in the sun room at 8am! Bring that cheery smile I’ve come to enjoy!” He sunk back into the shadows and was gone.

You looked around, you were back in your office. He’d transported you seamlessly from lying on his bed to lying on your desk.

“Yes, sir.”

*get it? He wanted to “get ahead”… head. The slang for cunnilingus ? I’ll see myself out

༻Masterlist༺

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charliemwrites · 5 months

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Don’t get me wrong, I’m a childhood friend Johnny truther. Like, the man is made to be your best friend growing up who’s in love (obsessed) with you.

But childhood friend Simon? Ohhhhhh bitch.

Childhood friend Simon who looked forward to seeing what colors your braids or pigtails were tied in. Little Simon Riley who played rock paper scissors with you across church. Pre-teen Simon Riley whose mum sent him to yours sometimes, and he always looked so drawn and anxious at first, but you’d do everything to coax a smile from him. Teen Simon Riley who punched a boy in the hall for grabbing your ass even though he’d catch hell from his dad for it.

Your best friend Simon Riley who is quiet and pensive, but has a heart of gold. Who breaks your heart when he admits with guilty eyes that he’s enlisting as soon as he’s of age. And you hug him tight, promising that you understand, that you’re proud of him.

Your favorite person Simon Riley, who you kiss that day he’s set to ship out. He gives you his last boyish smile and breathes against your hair when you hug one last time, memorizing the scent of you.

Simon Riley, who writes and writes and writes to you until one day he stops. Simon Riley, who you take a bullet for when they come for his family because they knew to come for you too.

Simon riley who isn’t there when you wake up in hospital, having missed the funeral. But there are daisies on the nightstand - you used to pick them together in your backyard.

They tell you Simon Riley is dead, but you see him watching mournfully across the street one day and storm up to him, his pretty brown eyes going wide.

“You think I wouldn’t recognize you with your face covered, Simon Riley?”

You drag him into a sobbing hug and he grips you tight. Lets you cry all the tears he can’t anymore. You still smell the same in the ways that matter - like his.

#going to add more to this but I have to drive home lol #thoughts™️#cod #my writing #reader fic #simon x reader #simon ghost riley

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cinnamon-galaxies · 1 month

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Hi! I saw that your request box was open. Could I request a Alastor x fem!reader who is a mornigstar, charlie's older sister and she is engaged with Alastor. In episode 5, Dad beat Dad, I thought their relationship is kept secret and was revealed later on shocking lucifer and their friends

Dad beat Fiancé beat Dad

Pairings: Alastor x Fem!Reader / Alastor x Morningstar!Reader

Tags: hurt/comfort, (a little bit of) fluff, secret relationship/engagement, Alastor vs Lucifer, Morningstar!Reader, Fem!Reader

Warnings: language/swearing, kiss, argument/bickering, reader is Charlie’s older sister, English is not my first language!

Summary: You are Charlie's older sister and secretly engaged to Alastor. When your sister invites your father to the hotel to ask for his help with her rehabilitation program, you look forward to his arrival. However, things take a turn when tensions escalate between your father and your fiancé, leading to heated bickering. Overcome with frustration, you finally lash out and accidentally reveal your engagement to the King of Hell and the hotel's residents.

Wordcount: 5.4k

A/N: This one turned out so long! I really hope you like it and that the story meets your expectations! English is not my first language so I want to apologize for possible grammar and spelling mistakes. I really tried my best to make as few mistakes as possible!

───*✱*.｡:｡*✱*.:｡.*✧*.:｡*✰*｡:.*✧*.｡:.*✱*｡: ｡.*✱*───

“Well, I’m actually running a hotel to rehabilitate sinners. Maybe you saw our commercial,” you heard your younger sister speak into the telephone, releasing a nervous chuckle here and there. Then a sigh escaped her lips. “Listen, dad, I’ve got kind of a big ask…” You stood a few feet away and stared at her, unsure what to think of this whole idea. Was it really that smart to ask your father to organize another meeting with heaven? The last one already didn’t end well. But what other choice was left for you? Still, it released a weird feeling inside your guts, now that you watched Charlie calling your dad, since your and your sister’s relationships with him were kind of… special. Your father tended to distance himself from the both of you for the most time, bathing in his own emotional dilemma and not even trying to do anything about it. Thus neglecting the both of you. Well, at least he called your sister five months ago regarding that meeting with Adam in heaven’s local embassy. But when it comes to you it’s been even longer since you’ve talked. Maybe a year? Or even longer. You didn’t actually know and also some part within you didn’t even want to. But what you knew is that you missed him. Although, in contradiction, you weren’t really fond of him at the moment. It’s not that you didn’t love him. He was your father, regardless, and you both shared a lot of wholesome and fun memories. But since your mother had left him seven years ago, things had turned out strange and you didn’t really approve of his weird-ass behavior towards you and your sister. Still, you hoped your father would agree to help you out. Maybe, just maybe, there was a probability that you saw him again. You had so much to tell him. Your life has changed a lot since you started supporting your sister in the hotel. And even before, when you met Alastor…

Lost in your thoughts you missed parts of the phone call and as your consciousness returned to reality, you saw your sister taking the phone down and ending the call. Curious about the outcome you cocked your head. “What did he say?”

“Well,” Charlie stared at an empty space for a brief moment, “it seems that dad will be coming over.”

Your mouth fell agape and your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, really?” you asked her and a huge smile grew on your face. “That’s awesome! When?”

Charlie proudly straightened her back and stemmed her hands into her hips. “We have an hour until he gets here.”

You turned around to face the other residents who sat on the couch and raised your voice, “Okay people. Dad’s on his way, so we’re getting this place presentable and we are all going to make an amazing impression. Let’s go!”

That’s when Vaggie spoke up, “That’s a great idea! Husker, Angel and I will go get some decorations for the lobby,” her eyes wandered down to Niffty, “Niffty, you and Sir Pentious will bake some cookies so we have something to eat when it’s time for coffee.”

Nifty nodded exaggeratedly, almost vibrating from that force she put into her motion. She instantly grabbed Sir Pentious’s hand and dragged him down the hallway towards the kitchen. When Husker, Angel and Vaggie went to get the decorations from the storage room you and Charlie were left alone.

“Are you as excited as I am?” You asked her with a moving voice and examined your sister expectantly. It was no secret that Charlie took that whole situation with your father a bit differently from you. While you almost imploded waiting to get a chance to meet him again, your sister was more reserved and kept herself a bit more distant from him. Even though she was the one your father seemed to favor when it came to dealing with the conflict with heaven. It didn’t matter that you were the older daughter…

“Ahm… I don’t know,” Charlie responded nervously stroking her neck, “I mean, yes, I am. But at the same time…” She hesitated and you put your hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, sis. I can understand,” you reassured her with a calm voice and smiled at her with genuine eyes. You could feel her shoulders relax under your supporting gesture.

“Thank you,” she responded and returned your smile. “It’s just… You know, since he and mom split, I often don’t feel like his daughter anymore. Yet he sounded very excited to come over.”

You took a deep breath and removed your hand from her shoulder. “We’ll see how things are going when he arrives.”

Charlie chuckled. “Well, I think you should go and inform Alastor about our special guest,” she requested, raising her eyebrows in concern. Charlie was the only person at the hotel who knew about your secret relationship with him. When you decided to knock on the door to propose your support to your sister, you and Alastor were already dating. In fact, you were the one who dragged him here because – regardless of his fearful and sketchy reputation – you knew he’d make a great hotelier and protector for the residents during future exterminations. But you both didn’t introduce yourselves as a couple right away. Instead, you found common ground in letting your sister know but keeping it hidden from the other residents. There were several reasons you both had decided against making your relationship public: Alastor’s reputation as the Radio Demon, yours as Lucifer’s oldest daughter, the gossip, the media… These and many more were all things you didn’t want to deal with. Especially since Alastor was a very private person who despised showing affection outside his private space and you, as a person who had no desire to brag about your partner, were totally fine with it. What happened in private chambers stayed in private chambers. That was your agreement, and if you let your friends know about your relationship, there would be too much risk that it would eventually become public. The only other person next to Charlie, and outside the hotel, who knew about your and Alastor’s connection, was his decades-long friend Rosie.

Repeating your sister's request in your head you nodded in agreement. It was the best to prepare Alastor. Even though an hour alone wouldn’t be long enough for him to digest the fact that he was about to meet your father. “Oh, I think he’ll be excited about the news,” you responded with a sarcastic tone and couldn’t help but release a malicious laugh. Oh, how much he will hate this...

You heard Charlie laughing along and shaking her head in amusement. But as quickly as the amusement appeared, it disappeared as you continued to think about the fact that Alastor was actually going to meet your father. With a deep breath you dropped your smile and lowered your voice. “Do you think it would be a good idea to tell dad about Alastor and me?”

“Ahm…” Charlie seemed to think about it more carefully before commenting, “I actually don’t know… I wish I could tell you but that’s something you and Alastor have to decide. First of all, I’d wait until after they had their first impressions of each other. Then… maybe… introduce him to the truth? I mean, if you and Alastor plan to stay together, what I hope – I mean… It’s obvious, why else would you date if it isn’t for staying together?” She chuckled at how much she was lost in her words and cleaned her throat. “I’m sorry. What I mean to say is that it would be beneficial for your shared future if you let dad know. At least at some point in the future.”

You nodded in understanding and gifted her a slight smile. “Thank you. Maybe I’ll talk to him about this later. First of all, I need to prepare him for meeting his soon-to-be father in law.” You laughed and excused yourself before you left the lobby and went upstairs.

When you arrived at Alastor’s radio station you knocked on the door.

“You may come in!” you heard Alastor’s dulled voice through the door and opened it. When you entered the radio station you immediately saw him sitting at his desk, leaning over some papers and holding a pen in his hand. When you closed the door, he placed the pen to the side and turned to look at you.

“Why hello, darling,” he greeted you, his signature smile on his face but his red eyes revealing a neutral expression. “What brings you here?”

“Well...” You took a deep breath and strolled towards him with your hands folded behind your back and your lips pressed to your teeth. “I’ve got some news for you that you’ll probably hate.”

“Oh?” he responded curiously and tilted his head to the side. His red hair swayed with the movement.

You arrived at his desk and leaned against the tabletop, your front mostly faced towards him. You tilted your head in the same direction as he did and couldn’t manage to suppress an amused smile. “My dad will be here in less than an hour,” you said with a cocky voice and watched Alastors expression shift as his lips curled up around his smile and his eyes immediately twitched. An awkward silence fell over the room before he broke it with a snippy tone, “You’re right. I hate that news.” His neck returned to a straight and more natural position and you chuckled.

“Vaggie’s the one to blame. She came up with the idea that Charlie should call him to ask for help because she could no longer bear seeing my sister ripping her hair out in despair over her missing rehabilitation success,” you explained and a growl escaped Alastor’s throat. He already didn't like Vaggie and now he probably liked her even less.

“Splendid,” he said without enthusiasm and stood up from his chair, grabbing his microphone cane and leaning on it. Now taller than you, you had to tilt your head back to be able to look him in the eyes. “How about I excuse myself and disappear for another set of seven years?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” you responded, raised your index finger and waved it in front of him. “You will stand your ground and behave. It’s just my dad.”

“He’s the king of hell, darling.”

“And that's why you'll be going down there and prove to him that you're a worthy partner for his princess daughter.”

He gritted his teeth and your smile widened as you nonchalantly brushed the wrinkles out of his coat.

“Are you questioning my abilities, darling?” He asked, placing one of his hands on top of yours, thus stopping your movements and squeezing it.

You felt your cheeks blush at his affectionate action and stepped closer to him, your body now close enough that it almost touched his. You could feel the warmth radiating off him and tilted your head slightly, your eyes still locked with his. “No, I’m not. And that’s exactly why I want you to do as I said.”

“Oh, is her dear royal highness misusing her mightiness to give me an order?” he asked with a low and unusually soft voice and a shiver ran down your spine. Oh, how you loved it when he became flirty. His charm was able to captivate you instantly, weakening your legs and waking those tingling butterflies in your stomach. He removed your hands from his coat and pulled you closer to him. Your body now touching his, you felt the urge to rest your head into the crook of his neck but resisted.

“She indeed is. And you better behave, peasant,” you teased him back and Alastor narrowed his eyes at you degrading him like this.

He let go of one of your hands and instead cupped your cheek before using his fingers to lift your chin up. “You seem to forget that I’m your finacé”, he purred, leaning in closer until only a few inches separated your noses from touching. His hot breath stroked your face and you could’ve sworn that his eyes had turned to a darker hue.

Without further hesitation he pulled you into a tender kiss. His lips brushed over yours and you leaned in closer, succumbing yourself completely to him. Your free hand roamed up and slid through his hair, pressing his face closer to yours. After a few moments of togetherness both of you let go of each other.

“We should return to the foyer. My dad can arrive any minute,” you said and stroked his cheek before heading towards the door. You could hear Alastor sigh behind you.

“Just as a reminder: I can’t promise you things will go well.”

You rolled your eyes as you left the radio station together. “At least try.”

After you entered the foyer most preparations were already done and it didn’t take long until your father arrived. Your body was shaking from excitement as you and Charlie went up to the door and your sister opened it.

"Charlie!,” your father shouted with joy. A huge grin sat on his face and his yellow eyes sparkled as his gaze fell on your sister who stood much closer to him. He held out his arms and approached her, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, dad,” Charlie pressed through the tight hug of her father, overwhelm and a little bit of uncomfort in her expression.

When Lucifer let go of her his eyes fell on you. "Y/N! You’re here too?” his pupils dilated in surprise and you immediately found yourself wrapped in his arms as well.

“Dad!” you greeted him as you placed your hands around his torso and squeezed, the soft fragrance of his cologne entering your nose. He smelled the same he always did, the scent taking you back to the past when your family was still together and healthy. It was wonderful to be this close to him after such a long time and you wished this moment could last longer. You looked to the side and saw Alastor standing near your sister. But what you didn’t see was one of his eyes twitching at your father’s gesture.

You let go of each other and Charlie held out her hand, spinning and pointing at the lobby. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

The other residents greeted him with waving hands from afar and your father smiled back at them, walking through the lobby and letting his gaze wander around. “Wow, this place looks, uh…” he twisted his mouth in an unpleasant manner and frowned, searching for the right words. He chuckled nervously and you and Charlie exchanged glances as he stammered around, turning to the side and surveying the establishment as if he was a property inspector. You could tell that nervousness spread across Charlie’s face as she probably hoped his words wouldn’t be too dismissive. You shrugged your shoulders at her to dismiss your father’s unsettling behavior and followed him.

“What do you think, dad?” you dared to ask him in hopes he’d come up with a response a little faster if you pushed on him a little.

“It’s got a lot of character,” he eventually said and winched with a squeak when he turned around and laid eyes on the bar. “What in the unholy hell is that?” he asked repulsively and pointed to the swampy-looking counter decorated with skulls and two full snake skeletons wrapped around the poles. The green wood paneling disrupted the noble red wallpaper of the looby, making it appear like an eyesore amidst the otherwise mostly luxurious decor.

A dark shadow crawled around the floor and took the form of Alastor who appeared right next to him. “Just some of the renovations we had done! ” he explained, pointing his cane at the bar, his signature smile wide and confident before he turned towards Lucifer and leaned on his cane. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?”

“And you are?” Lucifer asked with raised eyebrows, a skeptical tone in his voice.

You, again, exchanged glances with Charlie and held your breath. The moment has come in which your father and your financé had their first contact and somehow you got the feeling that this won’t end well. Your sister seemed to be fearing the same and she stepped closer to you. Her presence calmed your tension at least a little.

“Alastor,” your finacé introduced himself, “Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure!” He shook your fathers hand and you could see the disapproval in both their eyes, before they let go. Your father grimaced while Alastor wiped his hands over his coat.

This most definitely won’t end well. But before you and Charlie could say something, Alastor continued, “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. You are much shorter in real life.”

You breathed in sharply. Your father didn’t seem to take his comment well as his expression immediately turned to annoyance. You and Charlie both approached them, your sister standing next to your father while you kept closer to Alastor. You really hoped that he’d notice your disapproval over how things were going and slow down a bit. But you knew him well enough to be sure he wouldn’t notice the tension in the room and also wouldn't care if he did.

“Who is this?” your father asked, his eyes fixated on the demon before him. “Who’s this now? Are you the bellhop?”

Alastor laughed in response. “No! I’m the host of the hotel. You might’ve heard of me from my radio broadcast,” he explained.

Your father pretended to ponder his words for a very short moment but then denied with a derogatory snort. “Nope! I guess that’s why Charlie called it the ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” He laughed at his pun, this time more maliciously. The tension grew stronger and you didn’t even realize that you held your breath and pressed your fists so tightly together that your nails painfully stung your palms. Your sister, on the other hand, nervously rubbed her hands.

Hiding his offense, Alastor piled into your father’s laughter, “It was actually my idea.”

“Well, it’s not very clever!” your father responded, increasing his laugh.

Alastor did the same and leaned in closer, “Fuck you.”

“Alastor!” you yelled at him in shock and disbelief over his rude words and took him by his arm, dragging him to the side while your sister shoved your father into the other direction.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you scolded him with a lowered voice to keep your conversation as private as possible. He’d never been someone who cussed so why did he have to do this now of all times?

“He started it,” Alastor explained, keeping his face turned in the other direction to avoid eye contact.

You breathed in sharply, anger boiling within you as you hissed, “I don’t care about who did what. You were supposed to make a good impression!”

“Excuse me, dear, but it seems that your father and I don’t get along. And this seems to be based on mutuality. I don’t know if you noticed this but he already looked at me disapprovingly before we even exchanged words.”

Oh, you did notice this. But you didn’t care because in this moment it was important for both of them to at least pretend to tolerate each other. You couldn’t afford your father and your finacé to already disembowel each other during their first encounter. Important aspects of your shared future relied on their correlation. And… Was Alastor even listening to you?!

You snatched his cane out of his hands and spinned it around.

Alastor finally turned to look at you, his teeth gritted and his eyebrows pushed together. His gaze became softer as he eyed your expression but he still seemed tense.

“You’ll put this right, Alastor. Or otherwise…” You don’t finish your sentence and instead poke the pointy end of his cane between his ribs.

“Fine,” he growled and took his cane back.

You both turned around and saw Charlie pushing your father in your direction, her arm resting on his shoulder while she talked to him insistently with a calm but worried voice, “Without Alastor, we wouldn’t have been able to pretty it up this much!”

Alastor took a step closer, tapping his fingertips on his cane. “Charlie has a very unique vision,” he started and stood next to her, forcing himself to sound as honest and courteous as possible, “I am happy to fulfill her bizarre requests.”

“Thank you, Alastor”, your sister responded, ignoring your frowning father who looked anything but amused.

Alastor continued, “Quite an impressive young lady. We’re all very proud of her.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and Charlie gave him a genuine smile before he let go and turned towards you. “And her sister, Y/N, well…” He laid his red eyes on you with a genuine and almost loving smile and rested his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in an almost unnoticeable but reassuring manner. “She’s an extraordinary being. Introduced me to this very special place so we can give her sister all the support and assistance she needs.”

You smiled at him, grateful that he followed your request to at least try to make things right.

Your father growled and narrowed his eyes as he noticed the way Alastor looked at you, the demon’s hand on your shoulder triggering his already strained nerves. He snatched his head in the other direction to face your sister. “Charlie… Why don’t you introduce me to your other friends?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” she called out and walked up to the other residents. “This is Vaggie. She’s my girlfriend!” She pulled Vaggie with her who shyly raised her hand in a reserved greeting gesture.

Your father laughed and his mood immediately switched from annoyance to excitement. “Oh my golly! You like girls? So do I! We have so much in common!” He pulled Vaggie in a rushed embrace, letting her go as fast as he got close to her. “She’s beautiful!”

You felt your heart sink in your chest at your father’s opposite reaction to your sister’s partner and a strike of anxiety hit you at the thought of telling him the truth about you and Alastor. It wasn’t only the fact you both were a couple that made you this insecure but the fact that you were even engaged to him.

Alastor seemed to sense your inner tension and squeezed your shoulder again, now with more pressure and you were grateful for him that he hadn’t removed his hand yet. His closeness was exactly what you needed at this moment. You moved a bit closer to him, hoping that you both didn't appear too close in the other eyes, and breathed in his scent while your thoughts raced in your head. You reviewed the events again and realized that Alastor was right. You had little reason to be so angry (only) at him because your father didn’t really behave either from the first second. Hopefully you could somehow dismiss this conflict as a matter of miscommunication between them.

You watched your sister introduce your father to the other residents which he seemed to get along with very well – contrary to your finacé who seemed to be the only one he immediately despised.

You sighed and that’s when your father turned around to face the lobby. With a determined expression he raised his voice so everybody could hear him, “Well, it looks like I could give you some help. With a little bit of alakazam,” he wiggled his fingers, indicating a magic spell, “we could turn this place into something much more appealing! I mean, who needs a busboy now that you got the chef?” He faced Alastor with narrowed eyes and poked his elbow teasingly into Charlie’s side.

You could feel Alastor’s grip on your shoulder tightening. His smile turned into a strained grin as he obviously thought about saying something. You begged that he kept his mouth shut to not reinforce their conflict…

“Well, Charlie…” your father continued before Alastor could even say something, “I’m not almighty but I could give you a lot. Almost anything, if you ask for it. You know, normally, I’d charge a lot for my help but since you’re my daughter and I love you with all my heart, it’s a matter of course I do it for free. Unlike that sketchy prick who probably has some devious intentions in his mind.” He raised his cane and pointed at Alastor.

Charlie blinked a few times and pressed a nervous and drawled ‘Thank you…’ through her uncomfortable smile. It was obvious that she didn’t approve of your father’s comment but she also didn’t want to increase the drama by intervening.

Alastor took his hand off your shoulder and leaned on his cane. “At least I’ve been here from the start,” he commented and eyed his claws with a hint of arrogance.

You breathed in sharply but tried your best to keep your patience up as Alastor continued his monologue. “Let's not forget that I’ve always been faithful to you, Charlie. I support you, care for you and this hotel, and execute whatever you demand”, he exclaimed with such confidence that it was almost awkward listening to him.

“That’s true,” your sister responded carefully with a grateful smile on her face and your father rolled his eyes. “You know, dad, Alastor does a lot for the hotel and its residents.”

“No matter his capabilities, because sometimes, Charlie, there’s no substitute for pure angelic power, which – not to forget – also happens to be your blood!”

“Dad…” Charlie sighed and you growled, the anger cooking inside of you.

“Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud,” Alastor interfered again, his grin still as prominent as always but his eyes narrowed, darting invisible arrows at Lucifer. He straightens his back to appear even taller in comparison to your father, the arrogance undeniable in his expression. “Seems like the family you chose is better.”

“You’re such a loser!” your dad spat out.

“And yet here you are proving me right with every word you speak,” Alastor snatched back.

“You know nothing, you prick!”

“Well, unlike you, I don’t abandon my responsibilities!”

“How do you dare question my commitment?”

“At least I care for your daughters.”

“Oh you tacky little piece of–!”

You jumped between them. “Shut the fuck up! Both of you!”

you yelled as your anger burst through the walls you’ve tried to maintain hold of. Your voice cracked with the strain of suppressed fury and your appearance began to morph into a much more demonic form as pointy horns grew out of your head and your eyes turned a gleaming bloody red. “I’m sick of you bickering like children, you fucking attention whores! Is this how you get your kicks, by not being able to keep your mouths shut over such trivial nonsense? Do you even realize how goddamn irritating it is for the rest of us to be subjected to your constant squabbling? You know each other for ten minutes and already start pushing each other to the limits!”

“Y/N–,” Alastor tried to interrupt you but you stretched out your arm, pushing him away from you.

“No, Alastor, back the fuck off!” you scream, looking up in his red eyes and poking his chest angrily with your index finger. “Everytime I tell you to keep your shit together and make a good impression, you make things worse!”

Your head snatches around and you now stare at your father with the same fury in your eyes. “And you, dad, stop your irresponsible nonsense and don’t taunt him as if he were a punching bag for your own insecurities!” Now you poke at your father’s chest, towering over him with floating hair and fire in your eyes. “Because Alastor’s right! Where have you been all the time? Instead of helping us and supporting Charlie in her project, you didn't even contact us! Especially not me! The last time I heard from you was over a year ago! And now you come here, finally ready to help your daughters, and the moment you arrive you start lashing out at my fiancé to deflect from your own mistakes because you can't stand the fact that he was there for us while you preferred to wallow yourself in your depression!”

Silence fell over the room when you finished your rant, all eyes locked on you in shock and disbelief over your courage to attack the Radio Demon and the King of Hell himself in such a manner. Your heart raced, pumped your blood through your veins with such a pressure that you felt your whole body pulsating under your tension as relief washed over you.

“Y–,” your dad tried to say, stuttering and completely overwhelmed by your confrontation and what you just revealed to him. “You–, Your… fiancé?” He ripped his eyes open, his mouth agape in disbelief.

You breathed in heavily and closed your eyes for a brief moment, realizing what you just revealed, before you opened them again and responded to his question with a much calmer but also weak and tired voice, “Yes, dad. Alastor is my fiancé.”

“What the fuck?” you could hear Angel exclaim in the background but ignored him.

“Well…” your father hesitated. He struggled hard to find the right words and put his hand over his mouth, rubbing his skin like a stress ball. “Well, I’m… Wow…”

Alastor approached you, his steps echoing from the high walls in the silent room and he put his hand on your shoulder. Feeling his touch through your blouse, caused a jolt of electricity to rush through your body. It erased the rest of your anger and your appearance returned to your normal form. Alastor’s presence calmed you down to an almost relaxed state. You felt the need to lean on him but resisted because everything that just happened was already enough – for you, for your father, your fiancé and all the other residents who were forced to witness this nerve-wrecking spectacle.

You watched your father’s gaze roam over Alastor’s presence, from his head to his toes and from his toes back to his head.

“I–, I don’t know what to say… Uh… I–... I’m speechless,” he stuttered, unable to look away from the man that stood next to you and encouraged you with a little but meaningful gesture and with who you wanted to spend the rest of eternity with. “I–, excuse me. I need some time to think.”

Your father indicated to turn around and leave as your sister grabbed him by his arm, holding him back. “Would you like me to give you a tour around the hotel?” she asked him reassuringly in hope he would agree, what he then did.

“Yes. Please.”

Your sister gave you an encouraging look before she turned around and guided your father towards the stairs, Vaggie following right after to accompany them.

Now, you and Alastor were alone with Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk and Niffty. All of them stared at you, speechless. Especially Husk appeared a bit traumatized by your accidental announcement.

“So… Mister fancy-talk-creepy-voice managed to slide into the royal family?” Angel asked you with interest but you raised your hand, interrupting him.

“Stop it, Angel.”

The spider demon pressed his lips together in a thin line and hummed.

You turned towards Alastor. “Are you mad?” you asked him, afraid that you damaged his trust by revealing your biggest secret you had sworn to keep.

Alastor leaned his head down sideways to look you in the eyes. His grin was replaced by a genuine smile as his red eyes surveyed your expression. “It’s alright, my dear.”

He looked over to the other residents, walking a few steps closer to them and cocked his head in an unnatural and unnerving way. His antlers grew in size with pointy ends while his eyes changed to a black color with red, moving radio dials as irises. “If you dare say a single word about mine and Y/N’s relationship outside of the hotel, I will tear you apart and hang your guts as flags on the hotel roof so everybody will be able to see what happens if you dare gossip about the radio demon and his lady.”

*****

2K notes · View notes

tangyangie · 11 months

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— 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐊 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒!!

we all know that saiki isn't too excited when it comes to romance.

so... how did he land you? he doesn't know either. all he does know is that you're the only person he'd actually accept romantic gestures from.

hugs, kisses, cuddling—don't expect him to jump into it suddenly at the beginning of the relationship. he'll definitely need some time do do these things, if he'd do them at all.

but, once he does sort of settle down, he basically lets you do whatever you want. so what if you're harassing him? he prefers it be you over anyone else.

and maaaybe he's okay with cuddles. a little bit. he gravitates towards you in his sleep.

cafe dates!! or, anything with sweets, at all. take him to hershey park, for all he cares—as long as he gets to buy all some candy.

he watches your TV shows with you. he does his best not to get spoiled, and if he does, then he keeps it from you and acts like he wasn't.

he takes interest in the things you like. the music genres you prefer, your favorite hobbies, and so on. unless it involves bugs, he'll probably give what you like a chance.

he tells you about his powers eventually. he doesn't really know how he expects you to act, but he definitely doesn't expect you to just shrug it off. which is exactly what you did.

"you're a what, now?"

"a psychic."

"oh. you're serious?"

"...yes."

"oh.. cool."

please buy him coffee jelly. one second of seeing him in pure bliss is filled with enough joy to last you ten lifetimes.

one time, you tried feeding him coffee jelly while making an airplane "brrrr" sound. you did the whole, "here comes the airplane!!" as you'd spin around and twist the spoon until it came to a rest in saiki's mouth.

"and... that was supposed to taste better, how?"

"it just does. i don't make the rules."

you will playfully flirt with him all the time. doesn't mean he'd respond, but he tolerates it.

from time to time, he may humor you with a quick remark to counter your statements. but, it's always out of the blue, and always will leave your face feeling like an oven with your jaw dropped.

if you think he's one to do it in public, though, then you're crazy. pda is a big no-no.

you got him a pair of sunglasses once, and he stared dead in your eyes (with his glasses on). he asked you why you thought he needed it, and you responded that they were for when his green glasses got tired.

he blinked slowly, shook his head, and ruffled your hair. (it was an excuse to wear his glasses for a bit. don't think he wouldn't read your mind. not like he can help it, anyways.)

if you're cold in public, he stands near you and uses his pyrokinesis to warm you up, and may hold your hand. in secret only. if you tell anyone, his hand in yours is as good as gone.

he doesn't really get jealous. he's fine with being alone, but if you ask him to come along, he most likely won't say no. but if teruhashi is coming along, forget about it.

you play with his hands. like... i can just imagine gently grabbing his fingers and bending them like a seesaw or a bicycle.

he makes you come with him to take care of yuuta, hoping you don't have a resemblance to anyone else in cyborg cyder man no.2, or else yuuta will be all over you.

notes: okay guys 5 finals to go 🫡

#screaming in the void #and the void screams back #saiki k #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#tdlosk #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo #saiki x reader #saiki #fluff #hee hee #headcanons #dating headcanons #reader fic

4K notes · View notes

milfjuulpod · 21 days

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Taken For A Ride

Downtown celebrating and socializing with your Abbott friends, Melissa seems to be more affectionate towards you than usual, and enjoying every second of it.

warnings: consumption of alcohol, smut, 18+

A/N: hey pookies long time no see, after taking a long break from writing i finally finished something i enjoyed. i hope u all enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it :)

After the stressful few days that was the smoking fiasco, it was needless to say everyone at Abbott Elementary was relieved when Janine was able to help out the troubled student, even if that meant it included the “no smoking” sign somehow being attached to the brick wall. Mr. Johnson never failed to amaze the rest of the crew.

“You know what would be an ironic way to congratulate Janine and celebrate today working out? Going out for drinks and dancing downtown this Friday,” Jacob pitched to the usual suspects on their way out the door for the afternoon.

“Please, you’ll come up with any reason to get us all out and do something. You’re almost as bad as Janine.” Ava retorted. “But…I do know of some PR event happening that night, I could get us all in after a few shots.”

Unsure of your own decision on Jacob’s idea, you just listened to a few of your friends go back and forth between places to go, before settling on somewhat of a decent plan for the weekend. Looking between faces, a pair of jade eyes met yours. Melissa was already looking at you, realizing that caused a light pink spread across your cheeks. Luckily everyone else was busy caught up in the details of it all. Shifting your eyes away from hers, you walked closer to Ava.

“I’ll be at both this event Ava speaks of and whatever bar you all decide beforehand, but I gotta run. Text me the details?” You asked, picking up your pace once you were met with agreement from everyone.

Truthfully, you didn’t have anywhere special to be, but here in the car was better than being a flustered mess in front of the redhead. Melissa had clearly taken a liking towards you. At first it was innocent, her walls slowly coming down in an effort of friendship. Slowly but surely, her favoritism towards you became more and more clear. She always made sure you were close to her when the two of you were in the same room, she would let her touches linger while she watched your face for any sort of reaction. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume it wasn’t just curiosity, Melissa liked getting such a reaction from you.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts before beginning the drive home. The evening was filled with mundane tasks, grading, cleaning, planning, nothing too out of the ordinary. The rest of the week was similar, mundane, but easy. That was, until Friday. Shortly after you had gotten home from work and started getting ready to meet everyone out, you got a call from Melissa. “Hey you,” came from your end as soon as you picked up.

“Hey sweetheart, can you do me a favor?” Melissa asked over the speaker. You couldn’t see, but you knew she was twirling the end of her hair and lowering her voice on purpose, she always did when she wanted something.

“What is it now, Schemmenti?” You teased her.

“I need you to get ready as quickly as you can and come to my house.” She answered rather quickly.

“And why is that?”

“Because…I don’t know what to wear,” She admitted.

You couldn’t contain the laugh as soon as you heard her answer. She couldn’t be serious, right? “Mel, why do you need me to come all the way to your house for an opinion on an outfit? Can’t you just tell me what you’re wearing or send me pictures? Or, oh! Just FaceTime me.”

“C’mon hon, it can’t possibly take you long to get ready, you look incredible without even trying. Plus, we can carpool. Save the planet.”

You knew it wouldn’t take long for her to convince you. “Fine, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

After a few songs and quick outfit adjustments, you were out the door and on your way to Melissa’s. As far as you knew, the clubs Ava tended to go to were more on the luxurious side, so you hoped your bodycon skirt and baby tee were cute enough to get past security. The drive was nice, but not long enough for your nerves to calm down. You had only been to Melissa’s house a few times, you wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into just as you pulled into the driveway and went up to her front door.

“Hey, did you at least pick out a couple options? Or am I going in completely blind?” You asked, taking a step into her house. Melissa didn’t answer you, though. Instead she quietly shut the door behind you two and very obviously looked you up and down. “This…This what you’re wearin’?” She asked before giving you a once over (again).

“I was going to, why? Do I not look good?” You began looking at yourself in the mirror in the hallway of her home, trying to fix any imperfections you could have missed. So focused on fixing yourself up, you missed Melissa sneaking up and getting in your space. That is until you could see her dark eyes in the mirror, her lips so close to your ear as she said, “No baby, you look good. Follow me,” She said, and walked away like she didn’t just turn you into the darkest shade of red.

Upstairs in her room, she motioned for you to sit on the bed while she went into her bathroom. You took a short amount of time to compose yourself and take in your surroundings. It wasn’t messy, but it was lived in, well loved. It was very Melissa, and you wouldn’t expect anything less of the woman. When she emerged, you realized she had color coordinated the two of you. Her white top underneath her jacket matched yours, and her black leather pants matched your skirt.

“Looks okay?” She asked, fluffing up her hair in the mirror once more before walking over to you. The redhead seemed to sway her hips more as she came closer, drawing more attention to the pants that hugged her tightly.

“Y-Yeah Mel, you look good.” You took the opportunity to stand back up and change the subject. “Are you ready to go? Who’s driving?”

Melissa gathered the rest of her things and motioned for you to continue ahead of her. “Barb is coming to pick us up, figured we could plan the rest out later since both our cars are at mine anyways,” she said, closing her door and following you down the stairs. You hadn’t considered that at the end of the night, you would be coming back to Melissa’s. Interesting.

The ride to the restaurant was nice, a bit of time to catch up for the work wives before meeting everyone else. You, on the other hand, zoned out for most of the ride. It wasn’t until Melissa turned around that you came back to life. “Hon, you in there?” Both her and Barbara were now looking at you, Barbara just stopping the car.

“Yeah, sorry. Just taking some me time before giving all my energy to the kids,” You replied, earning a scoff from both Melissa and Barbara.

“Those ‘kids’ are the same age as you sweetheart,” Barbara said, turning off the car and getting ready to go in.

“Doesn’t mean they don’t tire me out just like actual kids do,” You said, and shut the door behind you. You joined the two older women in stride, Melissa sneaking her hand on your lower back as you three entered the restaurant. It was easy to find your group of friends, all gathered at the high top closest to the bar. “So glad to see you could all make it!” Jacob enthusiastically said as you all sat down. “I have to say Jacob, I’m not mad at the place, so far.” Melissa teased her friend across the table. She reached for a menu in front of her, and turned to you. “Have you been here before?” She asked.

“I have, actually. It’s nice, the bar food is surprisingly decent and the bartenders know what they’re doing, which is a nice change of pace,” You answered honestly. The redhead laughed at your response, but it was clear she was genuinely listening to what you had to say.

After a few minutes, everyone had ordered a few appetizers and the first round of drinks, courtesy of Ava. “What? Yall think I don’t have principal money?” She laughed. “But you better make this first round worth it, all of yall. Drink up people!” The first round was quick to arrive, and the second round was close behind. “I’ll get this one, just in case I get too drunk and forget to pay for drinks later,” You said, half to your server and half to your friends.

Melissa’s hand snaked its way onto your thigh, squeezing it gently. “Don’t get too drunk now, I don’t want you puking in my bed later,” She said quietly to you. You laughed off her teasing, but couldn’t ignore her lingering touch on your thigh. The combination of the alcohol and Melissa’s touch made warmth spread throughout your entire body.

She didn’t stop there either. It seemed with each sip she took of her own drink, she was letting go of those walls and showing you more and more affection. As much as you loved the attention, it was driving you crazy. Every time she laughed she would lean into you, followed by meeting your eyes to see if you were laughing as hard as her. Whenever the redhead had a snarky comment to make, she would nuzzle into your hair and whisper it into your ear. Those times were the hardest to get through.

Luckily after the third round, everyone decided to change locations. Barbara was the only one who stopped after her first drink, leaving that version of Barbara for another time—someone had to wrangle in the kids.

“Alright everyone, whoever is coming to Ava’s club needs to follow me to my car, I’ll be dropping you hooligans off.” She laughed, but everyone knew she cared and would never hesitate to give any one of you a ride. Ava, Janine, Jacob, Melissa, and yourself followed Barbara’s trail in the parking lot. Gregory, despite many pleads from everyone, decided to head home. Something about getting up early for the perfect gardening weather, your memory was foggy since Melissa was drawing patterns on your back at the time.

“Wait, we have one too many…Someone has to sit lap. Couldn’t be me though, I get shotgun since I’m giving Barb the directions,” Ava told the group and quickly took her spot in the front.

“You’ll be fine, right hon? Besides, I’m a good seatbelt,” Melissa said to you, walking with you to the car and taking her spot without leaving you much choice. You took your seat, and silently prayed the club wasn’t too far away. As soon as Barbara started driving, Melissa had her hands on you. One splayed across your stomach and the other wrapped around your thigh. Luckily Ava was already in party mode and took over the music on the drive, leaving no room for conversation. If you tried talking, you fear it would be full of stutters and gasps.

Once everyone got comfortable in the car, Melissa took advantage of the position the two of you were in. She lowered her hand a bit on your stomach and tightened her grip on your thigh. You could feel her nails through your skirt and you attempted to close your legs more to get her to ease up, but of course it didn’t work. You felt her lips against the shell of your ear for a split second before you heard her voice.

“Stop squirming so much baby, or I’ll really have to hold you down.”

Although the music was loud, you knew Melissa was close enough to hear the whine that escaped you. And if she didn’t, she certainly felt your body’s reaction to her. Just a minute later you were thanking your lucky stars as Barbara pulled up to the club and lowered the music. You knew you were blushing, way too warm, just an absolute mess thanks to the woman underneath you.

“Alright kiddos, have fun and be safe! Everyone please get home safely, and make good decisions!” Barbara said her goodbye, and everyone thanked her as they made their exit. Ava led the way to the bouncer, and though you took the opportunity in the cold air to calm down, Melissa stayed close by. Even when Jacob started talking about the famous drinks they had here, she pretended to listen all while keeping her beautiful green eyes focused on you. She was driving you insane.

As soon as Ava got everyone to their VIP spot and drink orders were placed, you took off to the bathroom. Cold water and alone time was exactly what you needed. You stood in front of the bathroom mirror obsessively looking yourself over, worried that the whole club would somehow be able to tell Melissa had you wrapped around her finger and was tugging on the string like a play toy. Focused on the cool water on your hands as you began to turn on the sink, you missed the sound of the door opening.

“Everything okay, hon? You left pretty quickly. Don’t tell me Jacob’s list of ingredients scared you from the drink you ordered,” Melissa’s voice was heard from behind you. Quickly you turned off the faucet and faced her, your body betraying your mind in an instant. “Please, not much could scare me off from a drink at a place with a bar like this one,” you joked. She took a few steps closer, inching you against the back of the counter.

“Then what’s going on, amore?” She asked, but there was a tone in her voice you couldn’t pinpoint. The nickname didn’t help your state either, it never did. “N-Nothing Mel, everything’s okay.” You would’ve walked away at this point if you didn’t feel cornered by such a beautiful woman.

As if a switch flipped in her, Melissa put her hands by your sides on the counter and pressed herself against you gently. “Don’t lie to me, I could sit here all night,” she said lowly.

“Melissa…” was all you were able to get out. She pushed herself against you harder, her breasts flush with yours at this point. “I’ll ask you one more time. What’s going on?”

“I…You’ve been teasing me all night,” You felt Melissa put her hands over yours on the counter and squeeze them gently. “Mmm, I haven’t been that mean, have I? I figured most of my attitude tonight was directed towards Janine, not you dolcezza mia,” She tightened her grip on your hands with her last two words. If she wasn’t making your body feel on fire, you would’ve rolled your eyes just then.

“You know that’s not what I mean Melissa,” You said sharply, growing tired of this game with her. “Oh, this teasing then?” She asked, and a second later had her thigh pressed against your core, bodies closer than they ever have been. You groaned at the feeling and had to fight every urge to not grind against her in that moment. All you could do was nod, which drove Melissa crazy. You didn’t know it yet, but she loved teasing you until you couldn’t take it anymore, making you beg and plead for what you want.

“Aww, you poor thing, let me help you then.” Melissa slowly began rubbing her thigh back and forth against you, and captured your lips in hers to keep you quiet. She let go of your hands and let you touch her, and you wasted no time pulling her closer. The older woman moaned at how tightly and desperately you pulled at her. She broke apart the kiss to continue her way down your jaw and throat, and you felt her use her leg to open yours even more.

“Melissa…S-Someone could walk in,” you said between gasps. “No they won’t, I locked the door behind me,” She stopped kissing you for a moment to smile up at you, and you realized Melissa had planned this, and you went right along with it. In your moment of distraction, Melissa had pulled your skirt up, and it wasn’t until you felt her nails on your thighs again you realized it. “God, Melissa, you’ve been teasing me all night…please,” You muttered.

“Please what, my love?” You rolled your eyes at her response, to which Melissa dug her nails harder into your skin.

“Please touch me, fuck me, I need to feel you. I need you.” At your words Melissa brought her lips back up to yours, ever so slightly brushing them together. “Good girl.”

Melissa tugged your underwear to the side and slowly drew a finger up and down your center. The bathroom was filled with your moans and Melissa’s gentle shushes and kisses across your body. She didn’t hesitate giving you exactly what you wanted, the feeling of her fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to the edge every passing second. Her lips felt so soft as they left red and purple marks along your neck, her perfume surrounded you entirely, all you could feel was her. Opening your eyes, you looked at her. Her red hair falling across the two of you, the way her pants looked so good on her tonight, her fingers pumping in and out of you.

“Baby I’m s-so close…please Melissa,” You moaned. She kissed her way back up, stopped right by your ear again and said, “Let go sweetheart, let it all go for me.” After a few more touches, you rode your orgasm out against Melissa, overstimulated from the senses. She let you catch your breath, every once in a while planting a gentle kiss somewhere she left a mark earlier. Once you opened your eyes and met her green ones again, she spoke up. “Hi beautiful.”

“Hi,” you giggled out. You felt higher than ever, post alcohol and orgasm. Melissa took your hands again and helped you stand up straight, adjusting your skirt in the process. It was sweet seeing her like this, so caring without having to say a word. You pulled her back up to you, kissing her again. This time it was less rushed, and you hoped she could feel your admiration and gratefulness in it all.

“I guess we should go back out there before our drinks get watered down,” Melissa said once the two of you finally pulled apart. “Yeah, I guess. But only if you let me hear what your moans sound like when we get home,” You replied.

Melissa giggled and led the two of you to the door, “Deal.”

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #reader fic #wlw fic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fic #abbott elementary fics #lisa ann walter

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cas-kingdom · 5 months

Text

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

A/N: Just a little something.

Title: Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Summary: Ten is back, and by God are you going to hold his hand so he never leaves again.

Words: 1220

He had registered it when it happened, of course. The feeling of warm, human skin—your warm, human skin—against his own, that familiar rapid pulse beneath his fingertips, was not something he could ever forget. And when it was this specific hand you were holding onto, attached to this specific arm leading to this specific face, he truly couldn’t blame you.

He guessed it had been a good hour. An hour since he’d regenerated, since you’d recognised his new-but-not-at-all-new face and your own face had lit up, utterly devoid of the dread you’d had before. And you’d hugged him, and he’d hugged you, and you’d latched onto his hand and hadn’t yet let go. Running around the TARDIS, landing her, holding Donna’s box, riding in the taxi, sneaking through the crash zone…your hands had been wrapped tightly around the other, each a constant, solid presence.

So, though he had registered it, the conscious recognition didn’t come until he yanked you towards him when he instinctively reached with that hand for the screwdriver. Balancing on your haunches beneath him, you stumbled a bit. An apology was on his lips until he glanced down and saw the white knuckles wrapped around his.

He looked up. Recovered from your little topple, you were staring straight at him.

“Y/N.” He said it softly, eyebrows raising, and you blinked. There was a deep concern in your bright eyes. Not visible on the surface, only he could see it, because he could always see through you.

He lifted his hand, the one attached to you, and the corner of his lips lifted slightly. “I need my hand back for a minute,” he said.

Your face seemed to visibly pale. You sat properly on the ground and slowly released your death grip, your fingers returning to their pinkness. You didn’t quite let go though, your gaze seeming anchored to your hands as though…as though it was the one thing keeping him there with you.

The Doctor hummed. “Hey, you.” You caught your bottom lip between your teeth and looked at him. He stretched out his free hand and tapped your nose. “It’s alright,” he promised you, offering a smile.

You nodded, hesitant at first, but more assured as you quickly dropped his hand and drew it back to your chest, holding it there with the other. “I know.”

The Doctor reached into his pocket for the screwdriver, eyes never once leaving you. You were distracting yourself from not physically feeling him, scratching at your head, twirling hair around your fingers, that leg shake you did whenever you felt restless. He couldn’t quite remember you being so anxious when he’d been him all those years ago. An inquisitive child, you’d followed him absolutely everywhere, but you hadn’t needed the assurance of his hand in yours to know he wasn’t going to leave you. But then, times had changed, and so had the both of you. He’d regenerated and regenerated and regenerated since, each one sucking a tiny bit more life from you than the one before. No wonder you’d grabbed the first hint of familiarity you’d received in fifteen years and not let go.

The Doctor stretched his legs out and rested his crossed ankles on a concrete block. He drew a box in the air with his sonic, a map of sorts, hoping to figure out what exactly the spaceship was and how he was expected to save little old Earth this time. Without looking down, he jerked his head a little to the side. “Space next to me,” he said.

A moment later you were beside him, crossing your legs beneath you, hands on your lap as though you had no clue what else to do with them. You watched as he fiddled with the sonic and sat in silence for a good ten seconds. Until he stopped. And he turned to look at you. And when your eyes met, his brows furrowed, and a smile, full of nostalgia and sadness, slowly spread across his face. He reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing the skin. Tears sprung to your eyes.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

“I know. Come here.”

He stretched his arm out, allowing you to move closer and all but bury yourself in his side. His arm wrapped around your back and the other went instinctively to your head, holding you close to his chest.

Your gentle sniffles weren’t hard to miss. He kissed the top of your head, lingering there for a bit, shutting his eyes. “I’m here now, Y/N. I’m here.”

“But for how long?”

He couldn’t answer that. Something was niggling in the back of his mind. This face was being borrowed for an undetermined amount of time, some cruel trick from the universe that by God he couldn’t help but be thankful for.

“Let’s not worry about that now,” he said. He removed the hand from your head and put it between you, feeling you grasp it. You held it tightly, that little hand, that hand he had watched grow, that sweet girl he had raised, and sent a silent prayer to whoever would bloody listen that he’d have longer than he dreaded this time.

“You look different, you know,” you spoke softly a moment later. You turned your head to rest your cheek against him.

The Doctor rose a brow, running his tongue along his teeth. “That so?”

“Still the same, but different.”

“Ah. You look different too, you know. From when this face last saw you, that is.”

“I grew up.”

The Doctor frowned, subconsciously holding you that bit tighter. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, you did. Can you stop that, by the way? Growing up? I’m not the biggest fan, you know.”

You pretended to think about it wiping at your eyes with your free hand. “Don’t think so.”

“Big shame, that. Massive shame. Probably the biggest shame of all. I remember when you were little little, when I had to tie your shoelaces for you and peel your oranges.” The latter was still true now, come to think of it. “But you’re still that same little girl, aren’t you, hm?” He lifted his head a little to peer down at you, trying to catch your gaze. “Aren’t you, Y/N?” There was a point hidden in those words. A point he’d had to reiterate so many times before on so many different levels. No matter his face, no matter his personality, no matter anything, he was still the same. The same Doctor. The same alien. The same being who loved you with all of his hearts. And he needed to remind you of that, to prepare you, because if what he feared would happen happened, he wanted—he needed it to be easy. For your sake. As easy as it could be. In whatever way helped you. In whatever way gave you back that life he’d inadvertently had a hand in destroying.

You drew away from him to look him in the eyes. Your own eyes were glistening, but you sniffed and held them back. You smiled lightly, then rose on your knees to wrap your arms around his neck in a tight hug. The Doctor returned it without hesitation, shutting his eyes.

“‘Course I am,” you said quietly. “Just like you.”

“Just like me.”

Doctor Who Masterpost

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spooky-holtz · 3 months

Text

Kelly Green

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: fluff, some VERY suggestive language, alludes heavily to smut

Word Count: 2.3k

Prompt: "mel x reader where they’re dating and the r keeps stealing mel’s eagles sweatshirt and one day mel finds the reader all curled up on the couch sleeping with the sweater on.."

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“Honey?” You hear Melissa call in your shared bedroom from where you sit at the bathroom vanity that was once just hers. The products that litter the surface are a mix of both of yours; Melissa’s various pens and bottles sitting on one side, neatly tucked into a makeup back, your own strewn across the surface as you try to prepare yourself for the day ahead, “Have you seen my lucky sweatshirt anywhere?”

You know exactly the one she’s talking about. It’s game day so there is only one item of clothing she will wear and it’s her relic of a sweatshirt. The heather grey material is a little discolored and frayed around the edges from years of constant use and the green print that displays the Eagles logo across the front is cracked beyond belief, making it nearly impossible to read the Kelly green font.

“Babe?” She calls again, “Are you even listening?” The slight panic in her voice is evident as you realize you haven’t actually answered her yet. You stare back at your reflection in the mirror from the padded stool on which you sit, hair curled and makeup half-applied after your shower, Melissa’s silk robe you grabbed from its hook on the back of the door currently resting on your shoulders and tied loosely around your waist.

You sigh as you realize you should probably go and help the redhead and rise from your seat, anticipating the level of stress you’ll no doubt find her in.

When you cross the threshold from cold tiled flooring to the soft carpet of the bedroom, you immediately find Melissa torso deep in the chest of drawers that holds most of her clothing. She hasn’t even noticed you yet, the entire top half of her body nearly submerged in the sea of shirts as she rummages through them frantically. You can hear her mumbling something about “that goddamn sweater” as she digs through the drawer, your presence unnoticed.

You don’t want to get too close to the scene, knowing that you could get hit by one of the sweater-turned-projectiles that your dear wife is currently throwing halfway across the room, not bothering to look back and see where they land. Instead, you choose to lean back against the doorway from which you just entered and admire the view of Melissa bending over in the tightest pair of leather pants she owns. Game day has its advantages, and every single one of them are those pants. You decide to finally put her out of her misery and break the silence.

“You know it’s not going to be in there, right?” The sound of your voice immediately catches her attention, and she jumps, caught off guard by the intrusion and nearly hitting her head on the drawer above her head that sits ajar above the current focus of her attention. “The last game day was literally a week ago, so it’s probably folded up by the dryer somewhere downstairs.”

In reality you know it’s not anywhere near the dryer; it’s in your own chest of drawers that Melissa doesn’t dare to touch. She can’t know that you’ve taken it, especially not now when she’s this far into what is coming close to a nervous breakdown.

You didn’t even mean for it to take up residence among the rest of your clothing. It just happened last weekend when Melissa was out shopping and lunching with Barbara and you quite simply missed her, choosing to curl up in the sweater that she’s worn since long before you met. It just never found its way back to its rightful home and is now tucked away safely among your countless band t-shirts on the other side of the bedroom.

After what feels like an eternity of watching your wife rifling through her own clothing, she finally stands from her crouched position, grumbling about her knees and gripping the edge of the cabinet, and turns to meet you.

“How about I check the dryer for you, hm?” You ask as she turns slowly, her stiff muscles making it difficult to do so quickly. The stress in her features is evident, the crease between her eyebrows prominent from her furrowed brow. Her face softens as she meets your eye-line from where you rest against the door from, arms folded and head leaning against the wood.

“I’ve already checked, it’s definitely not there,” she replied, taking a few steps closer to where you stand. As she moves you can’t help but notice her eyes dipping down your frame, taking in your form. Her expression has gone from stressed, soft, to starving in seconds. “You know, I never even noticed that this is what you looked like right now.”

She’s crossed the room already and stands in front of you, arms reaching out to wrap around your waist and bring you away from the door frame, toward her. Your own arms unfold and lace themselves around her neck, her red curls brushing against your wrists as you move. You scratch at the nape of her neck lightly, knowing that it calms her even in her most tumultuous of moments.

“I haven’t even put my eyelashes on yet,” you huff. “I’m literally nowhere near ready.”

Her eyes dip down again, your own following her gaze to see exactly what she finds so interesting. She wraps her arms tighter around you, bringing your body impossibly closer to her own. Her hands dip lower, brushing against the small of your back, bunching your robe and holding you in place.

“You know, that isn’t a bad thing at all.” You can hear the smirk in her voice and your suspicions are confirmed when you look up and see that all too familiar expression laced across her features. Her dimples are deepened by the quirk of her lip, her eyebrow raised almost as if in a challenge. Your eyes dip down to her lips just as her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, coated with sticky pink shimmering gloss. When you look back up again you know you’ve been caught.

You feel the heat rise up your neck, covering your chest in a pink blush. Even after all this time, Melissa’s flirting still makes you feel like a teenager. You can feel her subtly maneuver your body so that your back rests against the painted wall and not the sharp doorframe, narrowly missing the large wooden picture frame that protects an image of the Philly skyline.

You know she’s proud of herself and the flustered state she’s got you in. Her lips haven’t even touched your own yet and you’re already putty in her hands, the task at hand completely forgotten. You feel her press into you, pushing you further into the wall, her leg coming to rest between your own.

Her hands still hold your waist, keeping you in place and precisely where she wants you. The contact burns through your robe, the same way her eyes burn holes into your skin. When her eyes meet yours, you can see how dark they’ve become, the emerald green almost unrecognizable from the blown nature of her pupils. Her one hand leaves the comfort of your waist and instead trails up your body to rest at your jaw, her thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip.

“You know, we’ve still got some time,” she says lowly, her eyebrow arched again. She knows you can never say no to her, especially when she looks as delicious as she does right now. The combination of her tight pants and buttoned plaid shirt makes your head spin, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and buttons undone slightly so you can see the smooth expanse of milky skin beneath. Her gaze runs down your body again and you feel yourself shiver under her scrutiny, goosebumps instantly appearing where her eyes follow. She leans closer, pressing her lips to your rosy cheek. “What do you say, pretty girl?”

“My eyes are up here,” you whisper, the words catching in your throat as she presses her lips to your neck, using the hand on your jaw to keep you still and precisely where she wants you. You can feel the tackiness of her lips as they press into your skin, moving their way up toward your ear. Melissa’s breathing has gotten heavier, and you know there must be a trail of pink across your skin from the redhead’s attack.

“I know,” she breathes into your ear, her deepened voice making your knees weaken. “Can’t I admire my beautiful wife?” She asks. You can hear the smirk in her voice and feel it where her lips press into your jaw, immediately giving her intentions away, as if the thigh pressing into the heat between your legs and the fist she has burrowed into the back of your robe doesn’t already. That same hand snakes its way around your waist, your wife pulling you impossibly closer as she continues to melt your hard exterior and quickly make use of what little time you have left.

She uses the positioning to her advantage by sliding her hand around your thigh and lifting, bringing her even closer to your core. The sudden movement causes you to gasp, and her smirk only intensifies against your neck, turning into a full-blown shit-eating grin. You wrap your leg around her waist from where you stand, not letting her move away any time soon.

She pulls her head back to look into your eyes, the green entirely replaced by her black pupils. Her lipgloss has smudged past the edge of her lips, almost matching the rosy hue of her cheeks, and her hair is mussed from where your hands have been buried within her red locks. This is one of your favourite versions of Melissa. She’s clearly hungry for whatever you can give.

“How long do ya think we’ve got before Janine panics over us not being at the bar?” she asks, eyes trained on the pink glittery trail she’s left across your jaw. She’ll have to help you reapply your make-up later.

“Probably an hour?” You respond, following her eyeliner as she admires her work, “But it’s never going to take that long, let’s be real.”

Your words cause her eyes to snap up to meet yours, her mouth breaking into an instant grin, the lines around her eyes growing deeper at her joy.

“I say we test your theory,” she says seconds before she spins you, leading you backward toward your bed.

That was three weeks ago and she had all but forgotten about her sweater, her thoughts preoccupied with the other more important issues at hand. That was until she had walked back into your home one evening after her usual Saturday afternoon lunch with her Nonna. You would usually attend these lunches, finding the older Sicilian woman’s takes on the world incredibly entertaining but a week of testing means that you were far too behind on grading.

When Melissa closes the heavy wooden door to your home, her belly and heart full, she can’t help but notice the eerie quietness. The usual music is playing from the radio on the kitchen counter, but instead of blasting some cheesy pop song that Melissa loves to pretend to hate she’s greeted by the dulcet tones of Carly Simon’s subdued crooning.

She makes her way across the wooden floor, stepping carefully so her high-heeled boots can’t make the usual cracking noise with each step. When she rounds the corner into the living room, she is greeted by the dim light of a candle that has nearly reached the end of its wick, the sickly sweet scent of vanilla filling the room. She can see where you sit on the couch, the top of your head where a hastily thrown up bun sits giving away your location. You clearly haven’t noticed her presence yet, not moving at the noise of her walking closer.

When she rounds the side of the sofa, Melissa can see that you’re not in fact hard at work but have evidently fallen asleep mid-grading. Your legs are a tangled mess where they rest along the length of the sofa, the plastic that protected the material had been removed long ago when you moved in with the red head, your relationship still fairly new but clearly thriving.

Your head rests against the cushion of the sofa behind you, pen still in hand and paper discarded where it lays in your lap. Melissa can’t help but laugh lightly, thinking about just how many times she’s managed to find you in this exact position over the years. Your fluffy socks and bright red plaid pyjama pants are the image of comfort, she thinks, as she takes in the sight of you- wait a second, is that her Eagles sweater? The sight makes her jaw fall open in disbelief and everything clicks into place.

The subject changes whenever it was brought up in conversation suddenly make so much sense to her now. She can’t help but chuckle and shake her head slightly, impressed that you had managed to misdirect her for so long but so enamoured that you could do all that just for a sweater. She would have let you wear it if you had asked, but she thinks it’s probably better to make you feel the achievement of swindling her out of her favourite item of clothing.

Her heart feels impossibly full as she looks down at you where you rest, glass askew on your face and soft snores filling the room. Even if the losing streak the Eagles endured at the end of the season are a result of Melissa not wearing her sweater on game days, she would take the losses a million times over if it meant she could come home to this sight every evening.

#writing #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #fluff #reader fanfic #reader fic #self insert #wlw #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti self insert #melissa schemmenti x y/n #lisa ann walter fic #lisa ann walter x reader

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c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak · 8 days

Text

Scarred Beauty

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Word count: 809

Summary: It had almost become a tradition for you and Zuko to talk after the sun had gone down, leaving the both of you wrapped in a blanket of secrecy. But after Zuko falls asleep a little too early, it leaves you to wonder.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with 'Tracing Scars'

When you first met Zuko, you honestly thought he was trying to kill you. The way his lip would curl up upon laying his eyes on you, or how he would single you out in a fight so he could make sure he was the only one who had a shot at you, it all made every moment between the two of you dreadful and when he decided to join your 'team' you could only think of the worst case scenario.

But now, now that you've got to know Zuko without the usual heat that came with his arrival or the scornful glare that he had to keep up, he was starting to grow on you.

It hadn't been instant, you, but probably Katara, took the longest to warm up to him. It was hard to look past all the times he had tried to capture you, burn you alive, hunt you down and even sell you out, but once you had tried, you felt your efforts rewarded tenfold as Zuko did his best to get to know you.

His mannerisms have changed a lot since the first time you met him. Instead of the brash, whiny and impatient prince who needed to get his way, you were met with a gentle, intelligent and peaceful warrior who had joined the fight against the Fire Nation.

He had grown more protective, making sure no one got hurt and always seeking you out first to check for injuries. He offered his guidance to both Aang and whoever else would take it, leading to the two of you bending together. Whenever the two of you would, due to your clashing elements, it always put on quite the show for the others as they watched fire try to wash away water.

It was how you believed you ended up here, lying beneath a sea of stars. The two of you were side by side, the others quite a distance away as they slept peacefully, getting ready for a day of adventure. Not the two of you though. You both had grown accustomed to the late-night talks that you weren't sure who had first started them.

It was such a regular occurrence that if one of you noticed the other one waiting out, you would rush the night along, getting into positions like you were currently in. Even the rest of the gang had grown used to this and wouldn't question it if the two of you went off together or when they awoke they found you both laying next to each other somewhere.

The topics that you would speak about were vast, never being a copy of the night before. You had spoken about what it had been like growing up and how your childhoods had varied, though you both found comfort in one another for a feeling of isolation. Talk of tradition and training, even gossip that the other would have a hard time following along with. Whatever could be spoken about had been.

Except for the large scar that took up a good chunk of Zuko's face. You had never felt the need to ask, even now, as you had turned away from the stars above to face Zuko, the older boy asleep far too early than he would've liked to be, you couldn't bring yourself to ever ask. If it was something that Zuko would ever want to talk about, then he would bring it up himself. But since that was yet to happen, you kept any topic of conversation far from it.

That didn't stop you from staring at it now. Even in the darkness, it was a large contrast from the rest of his face. For so long you had only ever allowed your eyes to briefly linger on the scar, only ever allowed your eyes to trace the corners of it and take it in. But now, a delicate hand reached forward and with a feather-light tip of your finger, your skin came in contact with his scared.

Where others may have seen brutality or felt disgust and pity at the sight, you couldn't help but wonder how such a large portion of his face seemed to bring so much life to Zuko's being, how though it may hide the beauty that may have once been there, a new beauty bloomed with it.

Only when you were satisfied did you draw your hand away. You had done enough looking for tonight. Instead, you curled in on yourself, trying to store as much heat as you could for the night, not wanting to leave Zuko's side.

And when the others found the two of you wrapped around one another in the morning, they turned a blind eye and allowed the both of you to come to your own senses and figure out the mess you were both slowly creating.

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aurianavaloria · 22 days

Text

KoH - April Boops

Inspired by the occasion here on Tumblr, I decided to try my hand at one of these (Y/N) reader fics that are so popular in the KoH fandom. 😄Enjoy!

(Featuring Baldwin IV x Time Traveler!Reader [gender neutral])

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

Y/N snickered a little as they realized the date. April first. A day of friendly – and sometimes not-so-friendly – pranking back home. Not so much here. In a way, Y/N missed it, and memories of a particularly humorous online event elicited the briefest of smiles…

“You’ve found something amusing?”

Y/N glanced up from the book at the sound of His Majesty’s voice. He really could be too perceptive for his own good, sometimes.

Carefully holding a finger to mark the spot in the book Baldwin had generously lent for leisure reading, Y/N closed the cover and grinned sheepishly. “No, I was just reminded of something. A tradition back home.”

“Oh?” His interest seemed well-and-truly piqued, then. Something about the way his eyes squinted briefly behind his mask. “Would you care to share this tradition of yours?”

Y/N glanced away for a moment, unable to say no but wondering how he would react to the explanation of this – frankly ridiculous – event. “Well, it’s the first of April, you see. And we call that day ‘April Fool’s' day.” As soon as Y/N returned their attention to him, there came the signature head tilt of curiosity that confirmed the suspected interest. “It’s a day of mostly-friendly pranking. Teasing. That sort of thing.” Y/N laughed a little, partially out of true humor and also partially out of awkwardness. “I just remembered a rather funny community event I took part in one year that was… oddly popular.”

“Do tell.”

Make that an interest that was starting to sound strangely like a potential hunt for blackmail material…

“Well,” Y/N continued slowly, “it was an event where we went around poking our friends in the community by surprise. We called it ‘booping’. After what we sometimes do to our pets as a greeting.”

Baldwin made absolutely no movement as he echoed questioningly, “‘Booping’?”

That alone caused Y/N to snort with laughter. Never had the thought crossed their mind that Baldwin IV of Jerusalem would ever say the word “boop” in any way, shape, or form, much less with the serious tone he employed.

Still chuckling in amusement, Y/N stood up to demonstrate. “Like this.”

Before he could react, Y/N approached where the king sat, reached out with a finger, and as one might with a dog or a cat, poked the sharp nose of his mask. “Boop!”

Indeed, much like a cat, Baldwin leaned backwards a little on reflex the moment before impact, his eyes almost crossing in a way that only made Y/N laugh harder.

He blinked, his manner suggesting slight bewilderment. “That’s… all?”

“Yes!” Y/N squeaked.

A dreadfully-long moment or two passed before he shook his head, a light laugh echoing behind the mask. “Well, then. In the spirit of your tradition…”

A white-gloved finger lifted and gently tapped the end of Y/N’s nose.

“…boop.”

#kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #baldwin iv #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv x reader #reader fic #baldwin iv of jerusalem #the leper king #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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lemoncrushh · 21 days

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Tattooed Heart - Part II

SUMMARY: You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion.

PAIRING: Waitress Y/N x Artist/Tattoo Artist Harry

TROPES: Enemies to Lovers

MUST BE 18+ TO READ

WORD COUNT: 3799

STORY PAGE

The pavement was wet from the rain as you stepped onto the curb. You cursed yourself for wearing your best shoes, knowing you’d have blisters by the time you got home. Looking up at the sky, you noticed the rain had let up, so you quickly shut your umbrella, eyeing the cafe in front of you. The HELP WANTED sign in the window caught your attention. With a sigh, you pulled open the door. If you couldn’t find a job today, at least you could dry off with a latte and a muffin.

“What can I get you?” asked the woman behind the counter.

“Yes, I saw your sign up front? What’s the job?”

The older man who had his back to you called out, “You got experience?”

“Uh, yes sir, if you mean waiting tables.”

The man turned around, his face expressionless. “What about cash register?”

“Yes, sir, I’ve done that too. All kinds of retail and customer service.”

“Any days you aren’t available? I need weekends.”

“Yes, sir. I mean…no sir, I’m free everyday.”

“Good. Fill this out.” The man reached behind the counter and pulled out an application, then grabbed a pen from a nearby jar, handing them both to you.

“Thank you,” you grinned. “Oh. And can I get a vanilla latte and a blueberry muffin?”

After paying for your order, you sat down at the nearest table to begin filling out the application. You were nearly halfway through it when a shadow fell over your paper and you heard a familiar voice.

“I don’t believe it.”

Looking up, you saw him standing next to the counter. He wore a black hoodie and shorts, his windblown hair pushed back by sunglasses.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, gripping the pen tightly. If it had been a pencil, it would have snapped. “What are you doing here?”

“Um…it’s a cafe. I’m getting coffee.”

Pursing your lips, you shifted your chair so you were facing away from him. You heard him order a flat white before his sneakered feet squeaked past you to a table by the window. You grimaced as you watched him open his backpack and pull out a laptop.

“Here you are ma’am,” said the woman who had been behind the counter.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at her as she set your coffee and muffin on the table. Then she walked over to Harry, serving him his order.

“I can’t believe this,” you mumbled to yourself, knowing he had no plans to leave any time soon.

Trying your best to concentrate, you managed to get to the last page of the application before raising your head to find Harry staring at you.

“Do you mind?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Looking for a job?”

You couldn’t tell if he was being facetious or genuine.

“What do you care?” you grumbled.

“I…” he began before changing his mind with a shrug. Then he took a sip of his coffee and returned his attention to his computer.

Signing your name at the bottom of the application, you rose from your chair to turn it in.

“Why’d you leave your last job?” asked the man after he scanned your paper.

Your stomach went sour, your throat closing up. You’d dreaded that question all day. Seemed no one wanted to give a smart-mouth cocktail waitress a second chance.

“It just…wasn’t the right fit for me,” you replied.

“After two years? Zelda’s huh? That some fancy joint?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you think this coffee shop is a better fit?” the man chuckled.

“I don’t know. But I’d like the chance to try.”

Hesitating, the man shrugged. “I’m gonna need a good reference. Is it alright to call your last employer?”

“Oh. Uh…” You thought you might throw up. “I don’t-”

“I can vouch for her, Stan.”

You swung around, incredulous to what you’d just heard. He was vouching for you?

“You know this young lady, Harry?” asked Stan.

“Yeah.” Harry stood up and walked over to you. “Celebrated my birthday at Zelda’s, and she was my waitress.”

“Oh?”

Harry looked you straight in the eye and said, “She was brilliant. Best waitress I ever had.”

If your knees hadn’t just about buckled then, you might have noticed your jaw dropping. What?!

“Well, that’s good enough for me,” offered Stan. “Tell you what. Come back tomorrow. Ten o’clock. We’ll see if it’s a good fit.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Did Harry just help you get a job?

“Thank you,” you let out a breath and quickly beamed at Stan. “See you then.”

Although he remained standing near your table, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Harry as you gathered your things, gulping down the last of your coffee. Then swinging your purse over your shoulder, you turned for the exit.

“Y/N,” you heard him say, but rather than make the situation more awkward, you merely muttered a quick thanks.

It wasn’t until you were out the door that you heard him call you again, this time louder.

“Y/N!”

With a deep sigh, you stopped walking. Harry caught up to you, something of yours in his hand.

“You forgot your umbrella,” he explained.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

As you took it from him, your hands brushed, sending an unexpected electric current through your skin. You finally looked at him then, his eyes sincere. For the first time, you noticed they were a light green, a darker circle lining the irises. The wind whipped around you, and you caught a whiff of his…cologne? Perhaps it was just soap or some kind of body wash. Either way, he smelled nice. Clean. Like he’d just showered, though he’d skipped the shave. You noted the facial hair on his top lip and along his jaw, and found yourself wondering how many unshaven days it took to grow.

Suddenly, you stepped back, worried that you’d been staring and that he’d noticed. Surely, he’d noticed.

“Um…good luck tomorrow,” you heard him say as you pretended to check for something in your bag.

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” Why was he being so nice?

“Well…see ya,” he gave a slight gesture of his hand before turning back toward the cafe.

“Harry?” you called after him.

“Yeah?”

You took two steps closer to him, but careful to still keep a distance.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why…did you do that?”

Harry shrugged as though the answer were simple. “I caused you to lose your last job. So I helped you get a new one.”

Unable to respond, you stood still as you watched him reenter the cafe, feeling completely bewildered.

You sat in the small room in the back of the cafe during your break, sipping on a nitro cold brew that your co-worker Jill had taught you how to make. It was only your third day, but so far you liked working there. It definitely wasn’t Zelda’s, but it was better than nothing. The clientele was different to say the least, but you were enjoying the somewhat pleasant and low-key atmosphere.

Stan, the manager, had seemed to take you under his wing. You wondered if it had to do with Harry, and what exactly his relationship was to him. You assumed he was a regular customer at the cafe, though you hadn’t seen him return since you started working there.

As you scrolled through your phone, you suddenly got a text message from Shae.

Look who’s having a special this weekend.

Underneath was a link to Fine Line Ink’s Instagram page. You’d told your roommate about the entire encounter with Harry and how he’d basically helped you get your new job. Shae had wondered why on earth you hadn’t just kissed him right there in the middle of the cafe, but she always was a bit dramatic.

The truth was, you didn’t know how to feel about Harry anymore. Your head told yourself you still hated him, that he was a dick who was feeling guilty and needed to cleanse his aura. But your gut told you that he was something more than that. That he truly was sorry for getting you fired, and wanted to make amends.

You scrolled through the photos on the Instagram page, beautiful and striking images of ink on skin. Everything from delicate bracelet tats to full back tattoos and sleeves, some in basic black ink, and some in a rainbow of colors. They were all exquisite. He truly was a good tattoo artist.

Checking the time on your phone, you realized your break was over. Tossing your phone in your bag, you returned them to your locker. After a quick stop to the restroom, you stepped out into the cafe to find him sitting at the same table as before, beside the window. This time, however, he didn’t have his laptop, but rather an iPad, a stylus pencil in his hand. Jill had just set down his flat white when she gasped.

“Wow, that’s gorgeous!” she exclaimed. Then looking up, she saw you. “Y/N, c’mere, you have to see this!”

You shuffled hesitantly over to Harry’s table where he sat with his back to you. Gazing over his shoulder, you saw that he had drawn a raven. The detail was so intricate, down to the branches, flowers and moon. You almost felt as though if you were to reach out and touch the drawing, you could feel the bird’s feathers.

“Isn’t it amazing?” asked Jill.

“Stunning,” you breathed.

“He’s a tattoo artist. I keep telling him I’m gonna come get a tattoo from him, but I’m too chicken,” Jill laughed as she made her way back to the counter.

A couple at a corner table got up to leave then, so you quickly walked over to clean it. As you moved the sugar container, you heard your name. You looked up at him quizzically, though you didn’t say a word.

“How’s the job going so far?” he asked.

“It’s good,” you nodded sharply.

“I’m glad. I come here at least twice a week. Have been for a long time. Stan and Carol are good people.”

“Yeah…I…I can tell.” Carol, you’d learned the other day, was the woman who had been behind the counter when you’d walked in. She was Stan’s wife.

The door opened then and a young woman entered. You secretly hoped you could go help her as an excuse to stop talking to Harry, but Jill beat you to it.

“Do you…need another coffee?” you asked him as he lifted his cup.

He gave you a smirk. “Just got this one.”

“Oh. Right. Anything else?”

“No, I’m good.” Taking a slow sip, he watched you over his cup.

You gave a curt nod before returning to the counter. It was a fairly slow afternoon, and other than a handful of customers who came and went with their coffees to go, you didn’t have much to do. Jill continued to train you on a few more things, and you were grateful for the distraction. Because even though he wasn’t doing anything other than drawing on his iPad and sipping his coffee, Harry’s presence was getting to you.

Making the rounds, you refilled napkin dispensers and Sweet & Low packets, all while sneaking looks at what Harry was drawing. You didn’t know why it even mattered to you, but something about his art was captivating. You watched as his pencil glided across the screen, how he’d sometimes use his thumb and forefinger to zoom in and out. Once, you caught a view of a scene he was drawing - not just one focal point, but rather a series of buildings along a city street, nightfall in the background. Each building had various windows lit up, as well as street lamps. If you hadn’t known better, you’d have thought it was a photograph.

Sometime in the process, you finally took notice of his fingers, how long and slender they were. You paid attention to the way they moved and flexed as he drew, and most importantly, how nearly each one was adorned with some kind of ring. Lost in thought, you almost missed it when he lifted his head to look at you.

“It’s so easy to watch him, isn’t it?” remarked Jill, saving you from embarrassment as she stood next to you. “Sometimes I forget where I am!”

Clearing your throat, you grabbed the rag you were cleaning with and stuffed it in your apron. Then as you finished with the last napkin dispenser, you caught a small smile curling on Harry’s mouth.

Finally, an hour later - an hour and eleven minutes to be exact - Harry slipped his iPad into his backpack and zipped it shut. Pretending to busy yourself behind the muffins, you watched as he slipped his arms through. Then shoving his hand in his pocket, he pulled out his wallet, grabbing a couple of bills and leaving them on the table. As he made his way toward the door, he gave a small wave.

“Goodnight, ladies,” he said.

“Bye, Harry,” Jill called. As soon as he was outside, she slumped against the counter. “Oh my God, I hate when he’s here. I can hardly function!”

Holding back a chuckle, you asked, “Does he just come here to draw?”

“Mostly, yeah. Or sometimes he works on his website. He doesn’t just do tattoos. Like, that’s his livelihood and he’s really good at it. But he’s like…a legit artist.”

“Oh,” you sounded. “You mean, like in a gallery?”

“Mmhmm. I think he had some sort of exhibit a few weeks ago. It’s on his website if you wanna check it out. Harry Styles art dot com.”

Huh. So there was more to Harry than just some drunk prick at a bar. You were anxious to get your phone and look up his website.

“Oh my God!” Jill gasped from the table Harry had just left.

“What?”

“Harry usually just leaves a couple bucks for tip. He left two twenties!”

“Seriously?” you asked, rounding the counter. Why would he do that? “He only had one coffee, right?”

“Yep. What a sweetie! Here!”

Jill handed you one of the twenties, but you shook your head. “But I didn’t wait on him.”

“Doesn’t matter. We split tips at the end of the night anyway. This saves us time.”

Taking the bill, you mentally added one more reason to your list of why this Harry Styles was more than he seemed. Mysteriously generous. Was it a good thing? Or did he have an angle?

You didn’t know. But you were determined to find out.

Shae had a date. For the first time in forever, you had a Friday night off. It was weird, being in the apartment alone on a weekend night. After making a quick, easy meal and watching a couple of episodes of SVU, you were bored. You thought about visiting your old pal John at Zelda’s, but you didn’t wanna take the chance of running into your former boss.

Tapping on your phone, you opened the last website you’d visited - Harry Styles art dot com. Over the last twenty-four hours, you’d opened it at least half a dozen times. Displayed on the main page were photos from an art exhibit in January, the one that Jill had mentioned. While the art itself had no doubt been exquisite, your eyes kept veering to the photos of the artist. He stood in a suit, much like the one he’d worn at Zelda’a. In fact, he looked very similar to the way he had that night, the main exception being that he didn’t appear to be drunk, nor was he frowning. On the contrary, he was smiling in nearly every photograph. You noted the dimples in his cheeks, the crinkles beside his eyes when he smiled, the five o’clock shadow. Even you had to admit - albeit secretly - he was a very handsome man.

As you had scrolled through the various pictures from that night, you soon came across a handful of him standing next to a woman in a long, champagne colored dress that fit her curves, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. Taking a closer look, you recognized her as the girl at the bar, the one whose ear was attached to Harry’s tongue.

Nicolette.

For some reason you felt a twinge in your stomach. Jealously? Shaking your head free of the notion, you continued to peruse the website. Eventually you came to a link that brought you to the site for Fine Line Ink. There you saw the announcement at the top, advertising thirty percent off all tattoos, and forty percent off body piercing, just like the text Shae had sent you the day before.

Setting down your phone, you thought for a moment. You figured he’d be pretty busy on any Friday, but particularly this Friday with the special. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea, but somehow you found yourself driving to Fine Line Ink anyway.

The familiar fragrance of incense wafted through your nostrils as soon as you opened the door. Classic rock seemed to be the genre of choice for the evening as Aerosmith pumped through the speakers. You were right in assuming the shop would be busy, as three other customers sat in the waiting area, filling out their forms.

“Hi, how can I help you?” asked a guy who emerged from the back.

“Yeah, um…I don’t really know yet,” you replied. “I just need to talk to Harry…for a second.”

“Oh. Well, he’s in the middle of a tattoo right now.”

“That’s okay,” you grinned. “I can wait.”

“You sure? It may be a while, and he’s pretty booked up. We have other artists who can h-”

“It’s fine,” you held up your hand. “Seriously. I just need to talk to him when he has a minute.”

“O-okay.”

When the guy shuffled away, you took a seat in the waiting area. You scanned the walls, various artwork adorning them until you spotted a large drawing of the Beatles. Had that been there before? Had Harry drawn it? It was really good, the artistic detail spot on.

You watched another man say goodbye to a customer and then bring another one to the back before Harry finally made his way to the front. To call the look on his face surprised when he saw you would have been an understatement. As he chatted a bit with the client he’d just finished, you suddenly felt butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey,” he said when the guy left. “Kyle said someone was waiting to talk to me. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you let the words slip from your lips.

Harry shook his head, blinking slowly. “That’s not what I meant.”

You exhaled, hoping your quick response hadn’t offended him. Your reflexes were still on alert. Addressing the other customer who sat next to you, Harry smiled.

“I’ll be right with you, Carlo.”

“Yeah, no problem, man.”

Carlo and Harry both looked at you as Harry gave a tiny grin. “Wanna come back?”

Rising from your chair, you followed Harry through the shop, to the very back where he pushed open a door.

“Come on in,” he gestured.

As he shut the door behind you, you noted the desk in the corner, more artwork on the walls, and bookshelves. Pulling out a chair, Harry asked you to sit.

“Everything going well at the cafe?” he asked you.

“Oh, yeah. It’s fine. Actually, that’s what I came to talk to you about.”

“Yeah?” Harry leaned against his desk, his arms crossed. You noticed how tall he seemed standing while you sat.

“Yes,” you cleared your throat. “I realized I never properly thanked you…for helping me get the job.”

His lips twitched as he held back a smile. Or perhaps a smirk. “Alright.”

With a sigh, you looked up at him. “I’m afraid I haven’t acted very grateful. I let my pride and my ego get in the way when you-”

“Y/N,” Harry interrupted. “It’s okay. You have every right to hate me. Still. I said what I did to Stan because I regretted the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve any of it. It was…the only way I knew to make it up to you.”

“Okay…” you swallowed. “Still…thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But…”

“But what?”

Harry shrugged. “I reckon I should have tried to get you your job back at Zelda’s.”

You smiled, looking down at your hands. “It’s fine.”

“Really? ‘Cause…you can’t possibly be making the tips at the cafe.”

Biting your lip, you lifted your head. “Thanks for that, too, by the way.”

“What?”

“The extra tip yesterday.”

“Who said that was for you?” Harry teased with a smirk.

You couldn’t hide your chuckle.

“Listen…” he continued, placing his hand over his chest. “I feel bad. I was honest when I said that wasn’t me that night.”

You nodded, sliding your palms across your thighs. Were you sweating?

“You’re an artist,” you commented.

“I am.”

“I saw your website. You do beautiful work.”

“Thank you,” Harry grinned.

“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

Shaking his head again, Harry pulled his chair in front of you and sat down. Then leaning towards you, he seemed to study your face.

“I gave you plenty of reasons to jump to conclusions about me. Can we start over?”

“Start over? What do you mean?”

His dimples dipping in his cheeks, Harry held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Harry Styles.”

Mimicking his grin, you gently shook his hand. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m really excited to get to know you better.”

“Really?” you blushed.

“Yes. Do you work tomorrow?”

“I have a morning shift.”

“How about dinner?”

“No, I don’t work the dinner shift,” you shook your head.

Harry threw his head back laughing, startling you. His cackle rang through the office, vibrating every pulse in your body. What was happening? How did this guy suddenly have this effect on you?

“That’s not what I meant, love.”

“Oh,” you blushed again. Damn it.

“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“Oh.” Oh! “Um…you don’t work here tomorrow?”

“Nope. My night off.”

Though you tried your best to fight it, you couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across your face. “Yeah. I guess I can do that.”

After settling the plans for the next evening, Harry walked you out to the front where Carlo sat patiently waiting.

“By the way,” said Harry. “What happened with your friend? The one who wanted the tattoo.”

Biting the inside of your lip, you hesitated. “She um…went somewhere else.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Don’t be so disappointed, Harry,” you chuckled. “You forgot one thing.”

“What’s that?” he asked, holding the door open for you.

“I haven’t gotten mine yet.”

FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED

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charliemwrites · 15 days

Text

There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #konig #konig x you #konig x reader #nikto x reader #sebastian krueger #krueger x reader #cod nikto #konig cod #neighbor!reader

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cinnamon-galaxies · 19 days

Text

Unspoken Feelings

Pairings: Alastor x gn!Reader

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader, tension, lots of tension, unspoken feelings, hurt but also comfort?, Alastor is bad at feelings, inner conflict, suppressed feelings, does the ending count as (light) angst?, bittersweet ending, I'm bad at tagging

Summary: Loving you is hard, but being with you is harder. And being with Alastor is dangerous.

Wordcount: 1.9k

A/N: This one is very short compared to my other fic but full of (heartbreaking) tension.

*****

{Masterlist}

───*✱*.｡:｡*✱*.:｡.*✧*.:｡*✰*｡:.*✧*.｡:.*✱*｡: ｡.*✱*───

You sat at the grand piano in the dimly lit lounge of the hotel. Your fingers glided gracefully across the keys, seamlessly transitioning between the notes with a captivating elegance. With closed eyes you surrendered to the enchanting melody, completely entranced by its spell. Your soft voice sang along, a subtle sound that harmonized with heartbreaking lyrics of the ballad that had such a special place in your heart, reminding you of bittersweet moments and cherished dreams.

Alastor sat not far from you in an armchair with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His crimson eyes remained fixed on you, captivated by your fervent performance that fully caught his attention. Though he heard you play before he had never witnessed such a fiery passion put into the music that came from your fingers. Your singing voice was enchanting, echoed from the high ceiling like a siren’s song casting a spell on every person who could hear you. It was as though you were revealing a concealed message and opening your heart to whatever you had in mind.

He closed his eyes while he let himself get bewitched by your spell, fully succumbing to your beautiful performance. Were you even aware that he was watching you? Listened to you singing and playing like a muse? He didn’t know it but also he didn’t care as long as you kept playing and filled the hole in his heart with the sound of your song, as a clenching feeling tugged on his stomach, clouded by a pang of longing. He knew exactly what he felt right now. How he felt about you, but expressing those emotions was a different story. He wasn’t good at feelings, let alone at admitting them. It was hard to even admit them to himself, just to begin with. He found himself caught up in denial for far too long and had blamed it on his mind playing tricks on him – he even preferred to diagnose himself as mentally ill than to just accept the fact that he had grown fond of you. Way too fond.

That he started longing for you.

Loved you.

Love.

He let out a dismissive laugh that was far too quiet for you to hear over the sound of the piano.

Love was a feeling he had never felt before. At least not in this way. He had loved his mother unconditionally. She had been the closest and dearest person to him that ever existed in his whole lifetime. And there were other people who were close to him and who he cared about. A lot. But nothing like this could be compared to what he felt in your presence. What feelings you evoke deep inside of him as he looked you in the eyes, felt your lingering gaze on him, listened to you talk and laugh with all your heart. The way his thoughts about you occupied his every breath and kept him awake at night because otherwise if he closed his eyes all he could see was your beautiful face haunting his mind like a tormenting ghost. Oh sweet hells, he even dreamed about you. Was this really the love people were so obsessed with and that was considered the most beautiful thing in the world? There was no way he could comprehend this; no matter how hard he tried. You possessed his every thought and made him question his sanity. It was an uncomfortable feeling that tugged on him, almost completely tore him apart. He hated it. But yet he didn’t want to miss it.

He opened his eyes again, watching your graceful silhouette moving in front of the grand piano and couldn’t help himself but smile contendly, his eyes glowing with sparks of joy. Though no matter how many feelings of happiness tingled in his guts, he felt heartbroken at the same time. Your relationship has always been complicated. You danced around each other, both too far to take the leap. There was so much on you that Alastor admired. Your view on life and your admiration for the smaller things. The way you animatedly gestured around while you told him a story and how your eyes sparkled with anticipation whenever you were about to do the things you adored the most. He admired your creativity and your talent, the passion you put into your music when you played one of your instruments and used your powerful voice to sing along. The way you danced with him as if you were a graceful swan. He also admired your strength and independence, your self-confidence, your stubbornness, your abnormal sense of humor and psychotic tendencies that always reminded him that you were in hell for a reason. He admired the way you weren’t afraid to show off your insanity, even implemented some of your sickest fantasies on hell’s worst spawns. He admired you.

Alastor took a sip of his whiskey. His thoughts made him sound like a fool – an immature and cheesy teenager – whenever he tried to unravel the clot that every oh so normal person considered love.

By now he was aware that he himself had become a victim of this cruel but also beautiful torture. But no matter how confident he was of his actions his own demons held him back to fully committing to you and the feelings he harbored in his chest, carefully tucked away in a heart shaped box. He was everything but a saint. He’d never be enough for you because he knew that he would never change. All he could give you was sorrow and pain and if there was one thing he didn’t want you to bear, it was you suffering from his incapabilities of being the lover you deserved.

The song came to an end and that was when Alastor noticed that he had swallowed his whole drink within the shortest amount of time. Not good, as he already felt the effects of the alcohol starting to cloud his senses.

Through the corner of his eye he saw you move and when he turned his face towards you, you caught him by surprise as he met your gaze. Time stood still for a short moment, his heart pounded in his chest as he returned your startled gaze. You obviously hadn’t been aware of his presence until now.

Alastors smile widened in amusement at your dumbfounded expression but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his voice was calm and smooth as he said, “That was quite the performance, my dear.”

You forced yourself to smile, trying hard to hide your embarrassment in front of him – unsuccessfully. What a cute sight, Alastor thought but shook off the thought as soon as it entered his mind.

“Thank you, Alastor,” you responded to him, your voice much more confident than your startled body language expressed. A wave of reassurance overcame you and you calmed down, recovering from the surprise of your unexpected listener. “It’s always nice to have a captive audience. Even though I would’ve preferred to be aware of it,” you then added with a soft voice, a genuine smile forming on your lips.

Alastor chuckled softly. “Well, consider me captivated, indeed.”

The room became silent for a moment as you and Alastor exchanged glances, the air heavy with unspoken words. There was a moment of silent understanding between you, a shared acknowledgement of the unspoken feelings that lingered beneath the surface. Alastor knew he had to say something, to break the tension between you, but the words caught in his throat, unable to be spoken out loud. It was one of those moments when he should have risen from his seat and approached you, embracing your delicate presence and pulling you in a tender kiss. It was what he had dreamed about for weeks, one of those perfect moments that needed no words but mere actions to confess your feelings for each other. There was no doubt that you felt the same for him. Alastor knew that you returned his feelings (at least in some similar way). You had to. Otherwise you would have acted differently in his presence, less nervous, less attentive in his personal needs, less affectionate. You would’ve maintained less eye contact with him, not lingering your gaze longer on him than necessary and not secretly stealing glances. Yes, he knew about it but not only because he could feel it when he was watched, but also because people had told him. Not only Charlie had tried to confront him about the supposed ‘tension’ between the both of you, but also Angel couldn’t help but joke loudly about it. Alastor was told how much you smiled in his presence, how much more vivid you behaved in his presence, that subtle tries of yours to catch his attention without raising suspicion. Well, your attempt to remain inconspicuous seemed to have failed – at least in the eyes of the other residents. If no one had told Alastor about it and he wouldn’t have spent time actively paying attention to your changes in behavior around him, he would have never noticed. Never guessed it. You were truly bad at concealing your feelings. Did you even try?

Normally Alastor would’ve laughed at this thought. But in this moment there was nothing to laugh about as the tension between you burned with a subtle passion, drawing the both of you to each other in an unspoken longing.

You loved him at least as much as he loved you.

You wanted him at least as much as he wanted you.

And you needed him at least as much as he needed you.

At least that’s what Rosie had told him when he had spent a whole afternoon conversing with her about that peculiar demoness that made him feel things he never thought possible. But yet, Alastor remained in his armchair, returning your loving expression with unveiled eyes. His breath was heavy and his heart pounded in his chest like a drum on a battlefield.

Oh, how much he wanted to touch you.

To get close to you.

To hug you.

To kiss you.

To make him his. For the rest of eternity.

But he knew his inner demons would show you no mercy. That he would just hurt you to a point of no return. And that was something he was determined not to allow under any circumstances. Something he would never forgive himself for. And he would hurt you. He knew that.

Alastor felt a lump building in his throat and held his breath as it was too painful to continue breathing with that pressure clenching his chest.

The both of you stood there for a moment longer, staring at each other but remained in your unmoved state, silently confessing to each other without a spoken word.

Without making a sound Alastor stood up, his hand wrapped tightly around his empty whiskey glass, knuckles whitening under the pressure. He offered you a small, toothless smile before turning around to leave. His heart was heavy from unspoken desires and the pain of his decision tore his heart into shreds as he left you alone. The door swung close behind him and Alastor couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss wash over him. He knew that loving you was hard. And being without you was even harder.

Cruel.

But it was for the best.

He could never love you the way he wanted to – the way you deserved it. And if protecting you meant tearing himself apart in the most gruesome ways possible, so it should be.

*****

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tangyangie · 8 months

Note

What do you think Karma would react if his s/o sat on his lap?

— 𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘. 𝄪

notes. uh oh !! i hate him (i love him but AUGH he's so annoying)

OHMYGOD he's such an asshole.

he's probably the reason why you're sitting in his lap in the first place. you're about to sit next to him when he just pulls you and plops you down onto his lap.

or, you could've done this on your own.

probably makes a 'tsk tsk tsk' noise and shakes his head playfully. then proceeds to tease the life out of you.

makes eye contact. looooots of eye contact and an innocent-looking smile that's spouting (not-so-innocent) words.

does whatever it takes to get you flustered. if you try get up to leave, he just wraps his arms tight around you and buries himself in your chest.

or, you might not have the ability to leave in the first place. that's a definite possibility—he probably holds you in place with a very firm grip. he's strong, we all know this very well...

so, there's almost no chance of you getting to escape.

anyways, he's definitely surprised if you initiate this. he doesn't show it on his face, but if he had less control of his facial features, his eyebrows would be near the moon and his mouth would be in the core of the earth.

after he thinks he's done making fun of you (for now...) he'll probably give you a kiss. short, but lingering.

he's so unpredictable, though—there's so much he could do from this point.

he might suddenly stand up and throw you onto his back to give you a piggy-back ride. he might cradle you in his arms like a baby while continuing to make fun of you. he might toss you onto the couch and bury you with pillows (and kisses).

point is, he does soooo much to be extra and annoy you. but... he does let you know he loves you a lot !!

notes. guys i think i'm going crazy i have literally so many little dreamland scenarios in my head of all my favs. (they're the only thing that gets me through school so i don't want them to go i'll stay crazy)

i think i'm kinda getting back into the groove of things...

#screaming in the void #and the void screams back #fluff #assassination classroom #ass class #hee hee #karma #karma akabane #karma akabane x reader #akabane karma x reader #karma x reader #akabane x reader #assassination classroom x reader #ass class x reader #mwahahaggagagaa #that was unintentional #reader fic #gn reader

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milfjuulpod · 5 months

Text

I Bet On Losing Dogs

after realizing your feelings for Melissa, you stop putting yourself in the position to be hurt over and over again.

content warnings: angst, eventual comfort, mentions of alcohol

A/N: heyyyy…so this was more of a therapy session for me so ignore how sad it is lol

It was your first open house at Abbott Elementary when you realized the feelings you had for Melissa were more than friendly. Throughout your second year at the school, the redhead and you became closer than ever. The first year was cordial between the two of you, but upon seeing you return for another go at the underfunded school, Melissa’s view on you changed from just another newbie to someone who might mean something. You took advantage of that change, taking up on her offers to help you with planning or grading after school, listening to her few open moments about her personal life with all the attention you had. There was something about the older woman that drew you to her, a constant need to be in her presence. To learn from her, to make memories, to exist in her world. You chalked it up to being impressed, wanting to be mentored. Until she started acting friendly, giving you space to learn about who Melissa was, not just Ms. Schemmenti. She felt like a breath of fresh air and the strongest of drugs all rolled up with a red ribbon tying it together.

It was when you sat and watched Melissa play Jacob in poker it hit you. It wasn’t wanting to learn, or wanting to be friends, you wanted her. She sat smugly as she threw down her cards, beating Jacob after she had just lost to him. “So, we’re tied. Dealbreaker?” She asked her opponent. Upon his agreement, she started shuffling cards for the third time. Without looking up, she called to you. “Hey hon? Could you go grab my purse for me? I’m gonna need to put all this cash away after I win, again.” It was small, but for some reason, it awoke something deep inside. The pet name slipping from her mouth, the fact she knew that you knew where her belongings were, and the way she trusted you with it. It felt domestic and familiar, and you wanted more.

It was the wanting of more that killed you, knowing she would never feel the same. At first, it was easy to ignore the sadness that came with the euphoria of being around her, her attention was worth the pain. Shortly after that moment in the break room, your view on every interaction changed. Did she notice the way your cheeks flushed at the slightest touch? The way you held on to her every word? Now that you were aware of your feelings, they only grew stronger by each passing day. Which meant everything Melissa said or did, was taken a lot more seriously. You barely survived the day Gary first came into the break room, the way he looked at her and talked to her. Most importantly, the way she ate it up. She seemed to love this attention from a new person, taking all of it in. As if you didn’t do everything she asked, and even things she didn’t. It hurt, more than words could describe. But you couldn’t act out, of course not. So you swallowed the anxiety and sadness that washed over you every time he came in.

And yet, you always came back. The minute her attention was back to you, it was like nothing bad had ever happened, she made it all worth it. Every moment of melancholy, she could take it away, despite being the reason for it all. You knew that she was hurting you, even though she didn’t mean to. She would never do something on purpose to hurt you, which made all the pain even worse. She cared so deeply for you, just not the way you wanted. For whatever reason, you continued down this path. Romanticizing every interaction together, every time she called you hon or love, you told yourself maybe it meant just as much to her as it did to you. Until she didn’t give you what you wanted, and the vicious cycle continued.

The wake up call could not have come sooner. After a Friday spent practically alone, you had a breaking point. Melissa didn’t stop by your classroom at all that day, when usually she would check in multiple times with you. At lunch, she spent the whole time working, shooting you a text letting you know she wasn’t coming to the breakroom. You opted to stay in too. You were happy she was able to spend some time working, always admiring the dedication she had for this job. But after her unusual absence in the morning, it hurt a little more than usual.

When she left with a simple “See you later, kid,” you knew it was time to create some distance. For whatever reason, it felt like your heart was breaking (the reason was love, of course). You had become so used to Melissa’s constant attention that the moment you didn’t have it, it was like the world came crashing down. Maybe it would be easier if she knew how you felt, if you could just tell her everything that’s been going on inside your head the past few months. Except it wasn’t that simple. The fear that she wouldn’t return the immense feelings, or laugh, or stop talking to you all together, it was too much. And it stopped you from ever opening your mouth about it.

The pain had begun to override the love you felt, and you were tired of letting yourself go back to such a dark place. So after the boring Friday without much from Melissa, you decided to skip your weekly wine night with her. Every Saturday night, Melissa would cook for the two of you, and she would task you with picking a wine for the evening. You felt like a coward sending the text saying you couldn’t make it, but it was better than confronting your feelings. Her response made it even worse.

I understand hon, take it easy tonight. But I will miss you.

That cancellation was the first of many. Day after day, and week after week, you pulled back from Melissa. The two of you went from being inseparable to you avoiding her at all costs, even if it meant taking hours to respond to her texts.

It was stupid to think she wouldn’t notice. Sitting on the couch with a near empty bottle of wine, you felt your phone buzz.

You’re not coming tonight, are you?

You stared at the screen, Melissa’s name at the top, rereading her message over and over again.

Not tonight, I’m sorry.

You half expected her to respond with care, or maybe anger. But when an hour went by and she still hadn’t answered, you knew she was upset. What you didn’t expect, however, was a rather aggressive knock at the door. Standing up from the couch, you realized opening the second bottle of wine might not have been the best idea. Opening the door, there she was.

“What the hell is going on with you? What did I do?” Melissa asked as soon as she saw you, voice filled with so many emotions. You were surprised to see her so emotional.

“Hello to you too, Mel.” You teased, hoping to lighten the situation. It didn’t work.

“You don’t get a hello, and don’t call me that. You have been hurting my feelings repeatedly and I still don’t know what I did. Every day and night I think about the last time we hung out and what I could have done to make you hate me so much.” Somewhere in her speech, the redhead walked past you and was now pacing in your living room.

You felt awful. In the midst of distancing yourself for the sake of your own emotions, you completely disregarded hers.

“I don’t hate you, Melissa. I…I don’t know…”

“Yes you do. You don’t pull away for no reason. Is this the wine we were supposed to have tonight? You don’t do that for no reason either.” She gestured to the empty bottle on the table. Her voice was loud and angry, but you could read on her face how hurt and sad she was by all of this.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I had to pull away it’s-it’s too much. You’re too much. My feelings for you are too much and it’s suffocating and as much as I love spending time with you it hurts too much now. I can’t do it Melissa.”

“Can’t do what?” She asked, slowly stepping towards you. At the same time, your words that just left your mouth came back to your brain, and you felt sick. But you were in deep waters already with her, might as well sink.

“I can’t be around you knowing you look at me differently than how I look at you.” Melissa didn’t answer to that, so you continued. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, you’re so kind to me and sweet but at the same time the strongest person I know. I admire everything you do. I love you.”

“I love you too, but-”

“No, Melissa. I love you.”

You watched as the gears turned in her head, but quickly looked away. Tears began filling your eyes and despite not facing her, you were worried she would see. You felt arms wrap themselves around your torso and the scent of perfume engulfed you. For a single moment things were okay, until you remembered who it was. You tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let you, instead, she turned you around to face her. To your surprise, her eyes were watery as well.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She said so quietly you could barely hear, but her arms still held you so closely you were able to understand.

“I didn’t know how you would feel, I was terrified to lose you. So I just did it myself. I’m sorry. I was scared of what you would say.”

“I would say I love you too.” Melissa responded, louder this time, so you would absolutely hear her. You were silent, still unsure of what was happening. As if she could read your mind, she rolled her eyes and smirked. “Oh my god, just come here.” That was the last thing you heard before you felt soft lips on your own.

She kissed you like her life depended on it, and she tasted exactly how you imagined. Not wanting to push it, she pulled back. “You taste like wine,” she smiled. “I love you,” you replied. That made her laugh, and it was so lovely to hear that sound again. “We’ve established that. And we’ve established I love you too, hon. Y’know we could’ve avoided all of this had you just told me.”

“You could’ve told me too, Mel.” You giggled, feeling silly that this whole time, you could’ve been with her instead of avoiding her. “I thought you knew, you think I treat anyone else like I treat you?”

“What about Gary?” You nervously asked.

“What about him? He’s a flirt, and you were avoiding me. You are the only one I want that attention from.” She erased those negative thoughts from your head immediately.

“Good, I know it’s late but, can we still have dinner?”

“Of course, I would love to. But I think you’ve had enough wine for the night.” She smirked, and pulled you with her into your kitchen to start cooking.

#abbott elementary fics #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #wlw #reader fic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti

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thelov3lybookworm · 8 months

Note

newly-mated cassian x reader or azriel x reader finds out his mate is pregnant, and his primal protective instincts go crazyyyy,overprotective isn’t even the word, like if someone looks at her funny he has a knife to their throat. or imagine someone pushes her and she falls and he just beats them to the brink of death

Overwhelming.

A/n: thank you anon for the ask, I love it 🫶

•○🌑○•

"And then– Cassian?" Y/n groaned, realising her mate wasn't walking next to her anymore. She turned, searching for the overgrown bat, and it didn't take long to find him as he towered over everyone.

She made her way through the crowd towards the mouth of a darkened alleyway, where Cassian was furiously whispering something to a male, who was pressed up against the wall.

"I swear to the cauldron–" Her mate was saying when she finally reached them.

"Cassian!" He turned immediately, most of his attention now on her.

"Yes darling?"

She glared at him, hands on her hips. "Let him go."

"But he was looking at you weirdly–"

"I wasn't! I–" The victim in question began, but one look from Cassian had him shutting up, swallowing thickly. A glint at the male's neck caught Y/n's eye, and she realised that Cassian had a knife to his neck.

"I'm pretty sure he wasn't. Let him go."

"But–"

"Cassian." She sighed.

He grumbled but sheathed his knife. The male ran off with a grateful look at Y/n.

"Why would you do–"

"Cassian. Can you please stop doing that? I'm tired." Since he'd found out about her pregnancy two months ago, he'd almost made life living hell. For both Y/n and whoever dared to look at her. It wasn't that she hated it. No, she loved when her mate took care of her. But it was starting to get too much now. And if this was the case when it had only been two months, she couldn't imagine what he'd do for the rest of the term.

He nodded, his head low, shoulders slumped. She sighed before walking up to him and pecking his cheek. He smiled, and they continued on their way.

It had been a long time since the two of them had set foot outside of the home, with him insisting everyone out there was out to get his mate and child, and her not wanting anyone to die at his hands. So she had stayed at home, but she couldn't stay cooped up forever. They were taking a walk around the Rainbow as she told him of the new book she was reading when he cornered the male.

As they now walked on, Y/n spotted an Illyrian male walking towards them, talking to another fae male. She knew his wings would bump into her, so she tried to steer clear of them. But the place was jam packed, and his wings knocked against her shoulder.

Immediately, Cassian was on him, growling and snarling. He punched the guy, who tried to deflect. But one should always steer clear of a protective fae male, let alone an Illyrian, when their partner is pregnant.

The two went down as the people passing by stopped and stared. Some started muttering to each other as heat rose to Y/n's cheeks. She tugged at Cassian's collar, trying to get his attention by calling his name, to no avail.

She took a deep breath and then screeched. "Cassian!"

He stopped immediately, giving the other Illyrian the opportunity to slip from his grasp. He leaned heavily on his friend, looking halfway todeath. He was bruised badly, blood trickling from his nose and mouth as he stared incredulously at the General of the Night Court.

"What the hell?!" He said, glancing at Y/n who gave him an apologetic glance.

"I'm so sorry, he didn't mean to harm you."

"I most certainly did." Cassian snarled, standing and again starting to advance on the Illyrian.

"Cassian, please stop." She pleaded.

"Apologize. Now. You hurt my mate, and you will apologise."

"What?"

"You heard me. I will not repeat myself. Apolo–"

"There is no need to apologise. How can you expect him to ask for forgiveness when you nearly beat him to death?" She glared at her mate, exasperated.

The fae male sniffed the air, then his eyes went round. "Are you pregnant?" The Illyrian turned to her as well while Cassian continued grumbling.

She smiled and nodded.

"I'm so sorry then. I didn't mean to hurt you." The Illyrian smiled.

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it." Turning to cassian, she crossed her arms. "Cassian, say sorry. Please."

"Why me?" He burst out, his eyes wide. Before Y/n couldn't answer though, the Illyrian spoke up.

"There is no need. I understand. I had a similar reaction when my wife was pregnant." He turned away, giving a wave to Y/n before clapping Cassian on the back and walking away. Cassian eyed him until the crowd swallowed him up. Then he turned to Y/n.

"Take me home." He blinked at her demand.

"But didn't you want to spend some time here?"

"I would like to stay locked in the house if you are going to kill every citizen of Velaris for just even breathing the same air as me."

He opened his mouth, but picked her up to fly back when she gave him a look.

•○🌑○•

She hadn't talked to him since they returned, and she was as sad as he was.

The door creaked open, but she stayed lying on her side. She heard his footsteps coming closer, but he didn't climb onto the bed. She waited.

"Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?" His voice sounded so sad, like a kid who knew their parent was angry. She turned to him then.

"Why would I want that?"

"You're angry." His shoulders curved inwards, as if awaiting punishment.

She sighed. "Come here."

She spread her arms, and he climbed onto the bed, his arms going around her as his head rested on her chest. "I'm not angry, love. I just get a little upset when your protective side becomes overwhelming."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She told him, stroking his hair. "Just try to control the instincts. Yeah?"

He nodded, and when she glanced at him, she saw that he was pouting. She smiled.

"I love you." She murmured, kissing the top of his head. She flooded the bond with love, receiving the same amount of love that crashed into her soul from his side.

"I love you more. And you too." He mumbled, poking her belly.

She smiled. They talked into the night until sleep claimed them both.

As she drifted off, she knew the child growing in her would be the most loved child in the entirety of Prythian. And her mate would be the best father in the whole world.

Becuase, just like his protectiveness, his love was overwhelming.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess

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