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fangisms · 6 months

Note

HEYY so I love your writing and have been stalking your account since yesterday 🤭 I checked and I saw ur request were open so I figured I’d shoot my shot and send a request but if you’re not interested it’s totally fine !!

I saw that you don’t have Harry on ur master list so idk if you take request for him? So I won’t request smth for him here but if you do write for him pls lmk !!

Ok now my actual request, can you write smth for Theodore Nott x fem!reader where reader is like tough and usually goes against the grain of what other people are doing and for once she decides to actually go to a party when a Some Guy starts hitting on her and she’s like obviously very not into it Theo confronts the guy and gets into a fight with him.

Like maybe they’ve known each other since they were young and when they got to hogwarts they grew apart bc they were in different houses but Theo has been like hardcore crushing on her for years lol. And like after he gets into the fight she cleans him up in the bathroom and is all like “you didn’t have to do that I can take care of myself” and he’s all like “yah I know” but feeling smug bc she’s blushing or smth and he’s all happy bc yah it’s been a while but maybe he still has a chance and doesn’t just have to watch her from afar forever 🤭

SORRY this is so long but I have been having Theo brain rot and this idea has been floating in my head for a couple days now

respectable fisticuffs

A/N: yk what i didn’t think i would but i WILL write for harry, send it in anon 🫂 also this request is so good pls gif cred: @possession

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Non-Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Battered and bruised, Theo misses you like hell and now seems like a great time to tell you. 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, theo gets in a physical fight, unsolicited flirting, cursing, tw blood/wounds, kissing, lots of ‘bellissima’, soo much pining

"What's she doing here?" Mattheo welcomes Pansy with a kiss on the cheek, leering at you like he's amused by your presence.

"I convinced her to show up, so pretty please don't scare her away," Pansy coos, patting him on the shoulder before disappearing towards the couches.

"It’s a your lucky day," he huffs, guiding you towards the sound of drunken laughter and song. "I know someone who's dying to see you."

"Don't we all," you tease. By the looks of it, he's leading you into the belly of the beast—a group of Slytherin boys crowded around a brassy gramophone. "So, who exactly is dying to see me?"

"Don’t play dumb, sweetheart... you know who," he whispers before slinking off to find a drink.

"Mattheo!" you shout, "Coglione." Maybe you should hunt Pansy down. She's the one who forced you to come after all, she deserves to bear witness to your misery.

Theo had no idea you were coming. If he had, he might've tried a little harder to impress. You look just as beautiful as the last time you ignored him, and it's not helping his crush in the slightest. Over the years, he's grown a real talent for watching you from afar. Since the sorting hat took you away from him, it's all he can do any more, and suffice to say, he misses you like hell even now.

As he's mulling it over in his head, you glance over at him. He thinks your gaze will dart away like it always does while he take a drag of his cigarette. But you wave. You hold up your hand and wave. At him. And he nods back like some nonchalant idiot. He loves the way your eyes always seem to sparkle just before you look away.

Theo waits until you've visibly relaxed to approach you. And just as he's mustering up the courage to leave his chair, Graham Montague spills his drink down your shirt.

"Shit," Graham pants, stumbling forward and clasping onto your waist for dear life. He looks down at your top—or rather, down your top—and chuckles to himself. "Might actually be an improvement."

"You smell like piss," you say. He palms your shoulder and laughs, leaning closer to mumble low in your ear.

"Does that mean you like it?" His fingers flex against your collar bone and trail up the length of your neck. You want to vomit.

Just then, his body falls limp to the ground with a thud, and you gasp, turning to see Theo looming beside you.

"Theo!" you shout, but he gently sweeps you aside, falling to his knees and taking a fistful of Graham's soiled collar.

"Get off of me—ow, prick," Graham whines, clawing at Theo's shoulder and reaching to scratch at his face. Theo slams his back hard against the floorboards with a sharp inhale before landing a punch to his face. Graham lets out a yelp and whimpers when Theo stands above him. Theo presses his boot to the palm of Graham's hand.

"Go near her again, and you'll lose your hand entirely," Theo seethes. Mattheo finally yanks him away with a snicker, guiding him to the stairwell. But not before Theo shouts, "Mangia merde e morte."

"Alright, dickhead, I think you've made your point," Mattheo says, squeezing Theo's shoulders as his eyes zip back and forth wildly, looking any and everywhere he can.

"Where is she?"

"Calm down—"

"Mattheo, you know where she is. Tell me," he huffs. If it weren't for the haunted look in his eye, Mattheo would've kept his mouth shut. But he knows how bad his friend needs this. How bad he needs you.

"She's upstairs. Told her she could borrow our bathroom."

"Sei come un fratello per me, thank you," Theo whispers.

"Yeah, yeah," Mattheo says, "you owe me one." Theo leaves him a kiss on the cheek before taking the steps two at a time.

The light from the boys' bathroom seeps through the crack in the door. It's the only light in the whole dorm, and he can see your shadow as it crosses back and forth. He feels like he's out on the field before a championship game or about to take an exam he didn't study for. His hands feel weak when he reaches for the doorknob.

He presses his ear to the door before opening it any further. "May I come in?"

You shuffle around, and he hears you approach the door on tender foot. He can't take the way you open the door and stand back like you're faced with some predator. He hasn't spoken to you in so long, all he wants is to wrap his arms around you and never let go.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Theo?" you say, shutting the door behind him as he goes to sit on the closed toilet seat.

"Don't say that," he says, carding his fingers through his hair. He groans at the pain shooting up his fingers.

You look over him softly. Subtly, so he won't notice, but he's gotten good at noticing you.

"Are you hurt?"

He looks at his knuckles, sprinkled with blood, and feels for the scrape on his cheek.

"No—"

He doesn't have time to explain himself before you're kneeling at his side, dabbing a cold towel against his jaw and tilting his chin up.

"It's worse than you think, Theo," you hum, pressing the damp cloth to the column of his neck as he swallows.

"It's nothing I can't handle."

"You idiot," you say. He hisses when you hold his jaw and turn his head, wiping the shallow gash on his cheek. Most of the blood is not his, which is a good sign. That doesn't stop you from wanting to yell at him, though. He can tell with the way you're frowning as you wet the dried blood on his warm skin.

"I had it under control, you know,” you say.

He can't help but smile at your determination. He always admired that about you. Too stubborn for your own good. And his.

"I know."

Your eyes drift across his brow, narrowly avoiding the eye contact he so craves. He drinks in the curve of your lashes, the sweetness of your cheek, the way your thigh is pushed against his knee.

"He was harmless. And drunk. And you should’ve known better."

"I know," he huffs. You toss the pink-tinged towel into the bowl of the sink.

"We're not kids anymore, I don't need you to protect me." You stay knelt at his feet, focused on your knees digging into the cold tile. It makes you sad to think about you and him like this. You used to be friends. Best friends, in fact, the kind of friends adults would say were 'joined at the hip'. You used to cry over being sorted into different houses, but you got over it. That's life. You figured he moved on and so should you. Maybe neither of you moved on in the end.

"Look at me." His voice startles you out of your thoughts, and you meet his soft green eyes.

"Bellissima..."

"You are such an idiot," you huff. Theo looks down at you like he's been waiting to all his life. Like he's been cursing that very first day since it happened.

"I miss you," he coos, fingers twitching where they're rested on his knees. "I miss having you close to me."

"That's not fair."

"Not fair?"

You look away. "No."

"How?"

Oh, and you hate the way he smiles when he knows he's about to get what he wants. He knows exactly how to get you flustered. That's exactly why he was your first kiss. And your second.

"Come on, bellissima... tell me you miss me," he whispers, leaning his elbows onto his knees to be closer to you. To have his nose brush the tip of your own. He craves the shape of your mouth now more than ever.

Then you look at him. Him and his dastardly grin, how the charm pours out of him in gobs. The hair sweeping across his forehead and how you always catch him looking at you how he is now. Innocent and longing. Like you’re beautiful. Like you’re his again.

“Of course I miss you,” you sob, reaching out to cup his face in your hands, “I miss you, Theo.”

“Oh, bella,” he says, fitting himself into your arms, knees pressed to either side of your own as he slides to the floor. You shudder against his body, and he holds you tighter. “I never want to be without you.”

You pull away just to look at him, his face, the way time has changed him. He has his hands on your waist when you lean in to kiss his cheek. His eyes flutter closed and he waits for another. You swipe your thumb where you’d just pressed your lips, and you kiss the corner of his mouth. He smiles, eyes still gently shut as he manouvres his fingertips to the curve of your bottom lip. And you kiss him.

masterlist

#theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x fem!reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott fanfic #theo nott fluff #theodore nott x fem!reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fluff #fanfic #fluff #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #x fem!reader

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ripleylove · 5 days

Text

Drunk in love.

pairing: Rhea Ripley x fem reader.

genre: fluff.

summary: you were exausted after a night out at the club,and your girlfriend Rhea is here to help you.

A/N: writing this while im waiting for my brownies to get cold :)

⋆ ˚｡⋆𔓘⭒๋࣭

It was 2 A.M. and you were wasted.

All the the adrenaline started to wore off,and your eyes were starting to close,but you suddenly thought about something: Rhea.

Your wobbly hands reached out for your phone,and you texted her:

You: Rheaaahahahahsowoejd

You: cpme pick mw up at the clu

You: club

Rhea: baby? are u okay?

You: yessssssss hahahahajwh2kwwhksp

Rhea: come on honey,send me ur location so i can pick u up

You: noooooooooooo i wann stay herw

Rhea: if u come home,i will cuddle u

You: *location sent*

Rhea: good girl.

Rhea: im coming in 5 mins okay? wait for me and dont do anything crazy pls

You: *seen*

⋆ ˚｡⋆𔓘⭒๋࣭

While you were almost falling asleep on the bar counter,you heard the door open,and you felt familiar hands wrapping around you.

"Baby,I'm here. Wanna go home?" The australian accent was strong,and you turned around in her arms.

You wrapped your arms around her waist,and you softly put your head on her chest,her loud heartbeat blocking out the bar music.

"I'll take that as a yes,then." Rhea chuckled,and she picked you up effortlessly, as if you were a feather.

She paid all of your drinks,and she proceeded to leave the club.

You were heavily asleep in her arms,her warmth and her strong hold lulling you to sleep.

"You know that you will have to get rid of you clothes and your make up when we get home,right?" Rhea teased,and you groaned.

"Nooooooo please noooooo" Your words were muffled by her leather jacket,and she laughed.

"You're really something else." Rhea said breathlessly, whilst continuing her giggle session.

You finally reached Rhea's car,and you started to drive to your shared house,while you were snoring (and Rhea was struggling to not laugh).

It was 2:45 a.m. when Rhea softly put you on the bed,starting to take off your sparkly midnight blue dress,and putting on your cute mickey mouse pj's.

"Okay,now let's remove your make up." Rhea talked mostly to herself,since you were sleeping like a bear.

She found some cotton pads and micellar water in the vanity she bought you,and she started to carefully remove your make up,as if you were a porcelain doll who could break in any moment.

Your eyeliner was the hardest thing to clean up, (maybe it's because she almost lingered the cotton pad on your face,scared to hurt you.) but she managed to do it.

You were all fresh and clean,and Rhea was too,so she got into bed next to you,cuddling as she promised.

Feeling her embrace around you,you unknowingly smiled in your sleep,calm and serenity overtaking your senses.

taglist: @stellakiddsblog @bibibi-tchx

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley fluff #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley oneshot

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maxislvt · 1 year

Text

It's Begining To Look Like Christmas

Request: Wanda and looking at pretty lights pls

Warnings: None! This will not last long!!

A/N: This request was vague so I took some liberties! I am obsessed with making Wanda a huge nerd.

Event Masterlist

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

"Alright boys, do you know what time it is?" The smile on your face was unbreakable. Christmas was your favorite time of year. Take your kids on a drive, pick up hot cocoa, and wander around in a never-ending maze of beautiful lights. Everything about it was beautiful.

"It's light time!" The boys shouted in unison! Wrapped in puffy winter jackets and armed to the teeth with their favorite boots, your kids were ready to brave the cold and experience another wonderful Christmas adventure.

"Wait a minute," Your wife shouted. "You guys know the rules, no one is leaving this house until we put on the hats." Despite the disapproving groan from Billy and Tommy, Wanda began pulling the beanies over their heads. "Don't give me that! These are cute and you need to keep your head warm. Isn't that right, sweetie?"

Before you could answer, Tommy interjected. "Abba, tell mom these are embarrassing and no one that's really cool would wear these!" The young boy pulled his hoodie over his head in an attempt to cover the little cartoon eyes on his hat. "What if someone from school sees us!?" It didn't take long for Tommy to get wrapped up in the vicious social hierarchy of the elementary school playground. Though it made getting him to shower and clean his room easier, it broke Wanda's heart to see him already embarrassed at the thought of being kissed goodnight or tucked in.

You pretended to ponder the question for a second, then shrugged. "Abbabear doesn't make the rules, they just enforce them."A smile spread across your face as you put on your beanie. "Plus, I think I'd make a really cute bear!"

"I think Abba looks cool too," Billy shouted in agreement. Your other son was a lot more into the sillier traditions than his twin brother. It was unexpected. In all other aspects of life, he was a serious kid. Billy preferred calm walks and book reading while his twin would run off into a crowd and make friends, but the holiday season brought out a whole new side of him. "Bears are cool, so all of us are cool!"

The drive to the park was quiet before the storm of energetic children. Tommy quietly grumbled about the ears on his hat while Billy gasped and happily pointed at all the houses with pretty decorations and flashing lights. Fancy hot chocolate seemed to be enough to get your wife to relax while you drive.

"Alright, bugaboos, same rules as last time. Don't spend all your bucks at one booth and you have to be within eyesight of me or your mom." Once you parked the car, you gave your boys their allowance for the event and let them run out of the car.

Wanda watched on fondly as her kids excitedly ran out of the car. The smile on her face was wide and almost perfectly in the window. Her beautiful eyes were accented by the shining Christmas lights and her dazzling white smile. The sight was only ruined by the bright flash of your camera shocking her. She turned back to you with a heavy pout. "No, put that thing away! You always take pictures, just enjoy the walk!"

You pulled your camera away from Wanda's hands. "Noo, I have to take pictures! What about that scrapbook you love so much?" The pout on your face was just as heavy as Wanda's. "Please, you guys are so cute, I can't help it." Despite your pleas, a familiar red most wrapped around your camera, and carefully moved it off of your neck.

Wanda firmly shook her head. "Absolutely not. You always end up far behind me and the boys with this thing. You're starting to look less like my wonderful marriage partner and more like my deranged stalker." Your wife ignored your disappointed groans and got out of the car. "Come on, the boys will start climbing trees if we make them wait any longer."

You grumbled something bitter under your breath but followed your wife regardless. "Some Christmas week this is, I can't even take pictures of my beautiful wife and lovely children! Then my wife decides to break her own holiday rules! What happened to no powers on holidays?"

"What happened to Abba bear enforcing the rules and not making them?" Wanda carefully placed the lens cap on your camera and grabbed your hand. "Come on. If you need to take a picture, I'll take it." Your wife's eyes widened at your disapproving groan. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You tried your hardest to suppress the giggle growing in your chest. "It's just…y'know…you sorta take pictures like we already have grandkids." All attempts at not laughing flew out the window when Wanda playfully punched your shoulder. "Hey, I told you not to buy that stupid wallet case!" You were quick to kiss the top of your wife's head to calm her growing embarrassment. "But I love your old lady pictures!"

Wanda huffed. "I see where Tommy gets all his snarky from!" Even amid your teasing, Wanda stayed close to you. After a bit of poking fun, you two began to immerse yourselves in the bright lights around you. "That one reminds me of you," She whispered fondly. "I think it's the little button nose it's got."

You turned your head to the little deer light set. The helpless little thing shown took his first leap into the air only to fall miserably on the ground. "Well, I think that one right there is you!" You boldly pointed at the light arrangement of Mrs. Claus idly rocking back and forth in her rocking chair. "And guess those are our boys." You then pointed at the two little elves stuck chasing after each other in a loop.

Wanda giggled and rested her head against your arm. The two of you walked peacefully as the twins gasped and excitedly pointed at the different lights and setups they saw while exploring the park.

"Abba, Abba! Come look, they made one just for you!" The twins grabbed each of your hands and dragged you down the walking trail until you stood in front of what was easily the most complicated set of lights any of you would ever see.

Between two of the tallest trees in the park hung a magnificent piece of lightwork solely dedicated to your heroics. Lights were strung up and angled perfectly to make a copy of your iconic emblem and costume. It's almost embarrassing. You weren't like your wife or the rest of the Avengers. You had worked alone and amongst the shadows of night. Yet, there you were, idolized and accented with a Santa hat for the holidays.

All you could do was laugh. "Would you look at that?" You smiled proudly. Bending down to the height of your boys, you looked up. "Huh, I guess I really underestimate how tiny you two are. I look like a giant from down here." The sound of your boys' giggles filled your heart with joy. "I hope they gave your mom one, I can't be the only one getting all the spotlight." An adorable moment was interrupted by the harsh light of a camera flash. "Ah! What the hell was that?!"

Wanda laughed triumphantly. "Hah, how's that for an old lady picture?" She proudly walked over to you and showed off the picture she'd taken. "With enough practice, I'll be just as good as you!"

You carefully took your camera off of your wife's neck and looked at the photo. It was awful. The ISO created too much noise, her shutter speed much too low for the darkness of winter, and the depth of field was too shallow for the distance between you three and the camera. However, Wanda was your wife and didn't know a thing about photography. So of course, you lied. "This looks beautiful, sweetie. I'll print it out and hang it as soon as we get home!"

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

Later that night, you found yourself hauled up in your photography studio. Desperately trying to make something out of the photo your wife had taken earlier. Billy and Tommy had snuck out of their room just to watch you edit.

"I thought you said momma's photo was good?" Tommy asked, standing on the tips of his toes so he could see the computer monitor.

"Why are you doing all that stuff to it?" Billy asked, standing on the other side of you. He had a habit of finishing his brother's thoughts. It was cute, but it got a little unsettling after a certain hour.

You cleared your throat as you continued to manipulate the photo. "Well boys, if you ever find someone you love as much as I love your mom, you'll find yourself doing just about anything to make them happy." After a few silent minutes of editing, you finally printed out the photo. "Now help me decorate a frame for this thing."

#panther's 12 days of christmas #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda fluff

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bratshaws · 1 year

Text

through the hourglass 150. brb x oc

a/n: we reached 150 chapters. GUYS.what the hell..........<3 (reblogs and comments are super encouraged <3)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: JUST FLUFF!!!

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

/100/101/102/103/104/105/106/107/108/109/110/111/112/113/114/115/116/117/118/119/120/121/122/123/124/125/126/127/128/129/130/131/132/133/134/135/136/137/138/139/140/141/142/143/144/145/146/147

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(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @dhwanishah09 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @genius2050

“You know what,I kinda missed this.”

He looks up from his watch towards her, “What?”

Beatrice opens the doors that lead to their patio, holding onto the threshold as she inhales, “Warm,beachy air.” she murmurs, closing her eyes and feeling the breeze hit her cheeks, “I love Virginia, but I’m a San Diego gal.”

“You are,” she hears from behind, his steps getting closer, “You like the sun, the waves,” his arms slide around her waist and pulls her flush to his front, “And the diminutive clothing that I adore oh so much.” and he kisses her cheek soundly, “But you do look cute with that winter clothing.”

“Do I?”

“Like a teddy bear.” he coos, kissing her again and then propping his chin on her shoulder as they watch the dogs run around their yard. Beatrice places her hands on top of his arms as he hugs her, nuzzling her neck as she giggles softly because of his mustache against her skin. He huffs softly, pressing his eyebrows to her shoulder, “I don’t really wanna leave.”

“I know.” she whispers, “You are very touchy today.”

“Hmmmm…I spent so long with you that thinking about stepping out of the house is just,” a sigh, a heavy one, “Nightmarish.”

“That’s a bit dramatic.”

“And Nikki isn’t even up for me to say goodbye,” she could hear his pouting, “That’s cruel.”

In fact Nicole was still fast asleep on her crib, the jetlag got to her more than did her parents and she ended up sleeping more than she was used to, which was pretty normal considering how long the trip was. Beatrice and Rooster were just adults with responsibilities and couldn’t enjoy a few more hours sleeping in. “Aw, my poor husband.” she pets the side of his face sweetly, then kisses his cheek a few times, “She’ll be awake when you come back.”

“...I guess.” he sighs, then turned towards Bea,”What are your plans today? Anything I should know?”

“Well,I’m going to see what my mom wants, then I’ll go talk to Shells about you know what and then I’ll probably clean the house a bit? It is pretty clean but we were out for a week there’s enough dust in here already.”

“That’s fair.”

“What about you? Anything…that I should worry about?”

Like a sudden deployment?

“Mm,no, not really.” he replies with his chin still on her shoulder, his eyes following the three dogs as they run around the yard - clearly happy to be surrounded by heat instead of the below zero temperatures from Virginia - “I don’t think so at least.”

Beatrice nodded, still caressing his arm as they stood there quietly. Her mind, while happy to be back in California, couldn’t really stay in one thought right now, in fact she just kept thinking how to break the news to her blood family. Since the pilots already knew, “...do you have any idea how to break the news to Mav?”

Cue to a very deep sigh, “No. Do you know how to break it to your parents?”

“No…”

‘Guess we’ll just make it as we go along,huh?”

Beatrice giggled, looking back at him to meet his smile and those brown eyes she fell in love with. She gently touched his face with her hand, following his scars with her thumb before touching his chin, “We will…I guess I’m just nervous. Maybe we should wait for the second ultrasound.”

“Maybe so, it’d be a great idea.” he mutters, “Anything to make sure they are okay.” he however groans when he hears his watch just beep repeatedly. He sighs, bringing her closer to him - more than she already was - and nuzzled her neck, “Walk me to the door?” she nods, letting him guide them towards it with their hands interlaced and Rooster’s wide steps making them reach the location faster.

Beatrice smiles more because he hasn’t let go of her hand even when he went to unlock the Bronco, just tugging her along every time he moved and clearly hating the idea of breaking the touch. “Roos.” he hums, opening the front door, looking back at her only for the brunette to nod to their hands, “You have to let me go.”

He flicks from their hands to her face, “....do I?”

“It’d be wise because I don’t think Evelyn’s dad would like to see me hanging onto you like a keychain.”

He purses his lips, shaking their hands a bit before slowly letting her go, only to grab it again and kiss her knuckles,then the back of her hand and finally the inside of her wrist, “There,done.” he stands there, watching her smile knowingly, “Actually.” she already purses her lips for him to kiss her and he wastes no time, cupping her face in his large hands and bringing her face closer to his.

She laughs against his mouth because he kept peppering kisses over hers, so much she had to gently push on his chest and break them apart, “Roos.” he whines in complaint, “You’ll have much more when you come back home.” another sad groan, “Don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not a baby.” he mutters - pouting while doing so - playing with the ends of her hair, “I just like kissing you.”

“And I like kissing you.” she fixes his collar then runs her hands down his shirt to smooth any wrinkles that might be there, “But you have to work and I have to…do stuff. Like clean.” and she pecked the tip of his nose before stepping back, closer to the door where the three dogs were.

Rooster sighed, tossing the keys up and grabbing them in mid air, “Fine,but,” he points a finger in her direction, partially inside the car, “I’ll want those kisses once I’m home.”

“You’ll get them.”

His eyes narrow, “All of them?”

“Every single one.” she smiles, crossing her arms over her bust, “I promise.”

Bradley narrows his eyes even more but smirks, “Alright.” and he drops his sunglasses over his eyes, clearly pleased by the outcome once he’s inside the car. Beatrice waits until the garage door rolls open to step closer to the car - and her husband quickly rolls the window down with the same smile as before. “Yess?”

She laughs, leaning closer to kiss his lips one last time, “Have a good day at work, okay?”

He smiles more, pressing another kiss to her lips, “I will. I’ll call you.”

“You better.” she laughs, stepping back so he could drive off from the garage and onto the street. She walks out, the dogs following, until she’s by the sidewalk, placing a hand on her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun and waving at him with her free one - he reciprocates with a wink before driving off. Once she’s alone with Jolene - because Jack and Eleanor went up to check on Nicole, she sighs a bit.

The pittie tilts her huge head at her, then presses her body against her thigh for comfort, “Oh Jojo,I’m okay.” she mutters, scratching the dog behind the ears and dropping her free hand to her stomach as she feels the smallest amount of nausea hitting her, “Anyway, let’s go back inside, I gotta get enough courage to clean the house.” Jolene barks in agreement, following Beatrice as she wanders into the house.

She walks inside and pauses, trying to hear if Nicole was awake and closing her eyes when she hears only silence. She does check on the baby monitor app and sees Nikki is just sleeping peacefully, “But she’ll wake up in a few minutes.” she tells herself, pulling her hair up in a bun and rolling her pants up her calves, “Alright, time to clean.”

Cleaning should be considered a type of therapy, in reality Dr.Varma said it truly was a type of therapy and if it helped Beatrice, she should always try to do it.

She just liked when things were tidy.

So, she decided to start in the master bedroom, being close to Nicole and making sure she was around in case the baby woke up. She tries to be quiet while bringing the cleaning supplies up the stairs, peeking into Nicole’s room as the end of the mop hits the staircase but their daughter was a heavy sleeper. She slept through a storm, a mop handle hitting the railing wouldn’t wake her up.

She was happy she managed to do so much, and she finished just in time for Nicole to wake up. Okay, it was just the master bedroom, but it was good enough. Now she was feeding Nikki in the kitchen while checking her phone and seeing her mother’s message one more time.

Claudia wants to go grocery shopping, and Beatrice was okay with that idea since she had some stuff to buy herself, but she had to be careful when out with her mom…she didn’t want to share much about it yet. Which reminded her, “Shells.’ she immediately found her friend’s contact and brought the phone to her ear, smiling at Nikki as she waits.

“Hey babes. What’s up?”

“Well,nothing much.” she chuckles, bringing another spoonful of mango purée to Nikki’s mouth - she was really her daughter, the way her little eyes widened the second the spoon entered her mouth was a clear sign of that - “But I wanted to check on you.”

“Me?”

“Hmmhm. I’m sure everything we talked about is between us still,right?”

“Everything we- oh you mean the p-” Beatrice clears her throat loudly, she knows for a fact that Shells was with Penny right now, she knew the two often worked out together - more like Penny jogged and Shells just marched along like an angry child who got forcefully out of bed - “Oh-um,yeah. Yeah you can count on me.”

“You didn’t keep it hidden when Nikki was still inside.”

“Okay,in my defense, you were with me.” Beatrice just rolled her eyes, “And we couldn’t lie to my aunt. Like, she knows stuff, she knows everything…but I can handle things right now,I can keep a secret.” Beatrice says nothing and the lack of response clearly annoys the blonde, “I do!”

“Uh-huh, anyway,I was just thinking about that and if there’s anything planned for this week.I know Penny wanted to bring more stuff over?”

“She did ask for a new keg of beer. Locally made, she’s trying to give more people chances. If it works, it’ll bring more people to the bar…also did you hear?”

“About?”

“There’s a new Navy bar being built, not too far from here.”

Beatrice blinks, wiping Nicole’s face, “Wait, really?” she leans back on her chair as Nicole babbles happily while slapping her hands together, “I didn’t know that.”

“My aunt thinks it’s just a bunch of former executives trying to make big money with something they have no idea about.” the blonde explains, “Like in Bar Rescue.”

“You watch Bar Rescue?”

“Penny had this weird fear that Jon Taffer would one day come into the Hard Deck, she never mentioned it to anyone except me and Melia though.” she chuckles a bit, “Was kinda funny. Never saw her like that.”

“Hm, still, it’s okay to keep an eye out I guess.”

“I think so…how about you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,I think I got some nausea now but,” she frowns,rubbing her stomach, “Hopefully it’ll disappear by the time I meet with my mom. I know she wants to go grocery shopping but ugh, some smells can be so…triggering? I know when I was with Nikki I couldn’t handle the smell of wine or beer and I really wanted to have bananas…more than normal.”

‘Mhm”

“It’s a pain in the ass.”

“I mean the closest thing I had to that was throwing up in the uh, that Frat party. Remember? With the toga boys and the giant inflatable giraffe.”

“That’s…not the same.”

“It is a little bit…anyway, Penny is coming closer so unless you want her to know we better cut the convo short.”

“Right,okay.” Beatrice straightens on her chair, “Remember, don’t tell anyone. Please Shells.”

“I won’t.” Shells says and Bea was sure she rolled her eyes the second those words left her mouth, “Jeez, have some trust in me. Bye Bumblebea.”

“By Shells.” Beatrice ended the call with a soft laugh, then dropped the phone on the table as she rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers, propping her face on her palms as she looked over at Nikki who had just finished her breakfast and was grinning at her. Beatrice grins back, wiping some of the golden yellow baby food from her cheeks and then keeping her eyes on that little girl for a little while.

Beatrice hoped, she hoped nothing bad would happen while she was out with her mother. Because the plan was still to wait a little bit more, they were going to the clinic again this week, so they could hold it in…besides her family’s uh…’enthusiasm’ could be very overwhelming as she well knows. She tapped her nail against the table as she breathes in deeply, looking down at the slowly growing bulge in her stomach, it was just a tidbit more visible now and then looked over at Nicole, “Well,” she pushes herself to her feet, “Come on Nikki,we gotta clean up and see nonna.”

“Aaa?”

“Yes,” she picks her up from the high chair, picking what was left of the mango purée with her free hand, “Nonna, she hasn’t seen you in so long, you grew a lot in such a short week, hm?” she really did, that onesie was already going up her little legs and Beatrice didn’t know how to feel about that. She didn’t know if she should be happy or not that Nicole was growing so much already, “You know what, let’s just take a bath and forget about this for a second.” and maybe think how to react when she met her mother later that day.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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projectbluearcadia · 1 year

Text

Prologue

Barbatos is cleaning Diavolo’s study while the latter sits in a chair scanning a document titled “Magic Curriculum for Humans.”

Belphie: FUCK!

Diavolo and Barbatos hear a crash from the hallway, and Barbatos looks up from the lamp he’s cleaning and sighs before he leaves the room. Diavolo chuckles.

Diavolo: Don’t be too harsh with him, Barbatos.

Barbatos: Understood.

Barbatos finds Belphegor in a maid uniform, standing over a broken vase with water splashed all over the floor and several petals torn off from the flowers that had once been inside the vessel. Belphegor himself is panting and flushed.

Barbatos: Are you quite finished?

Belphie: Don’t come a step closer!

Barbatos: Why is that?

Belphie: Something’s... wrong. It feels like my skin is on fire. Every single sensation is too intense to bear. I can barely move, breathe, think.

Belphegor shudders, his hands thudding against the wall as he pants and gasps, and Barbatos stands there for a long moment before he gives a soft groan.

Barbatos: Every time...

Diavolo leaves his study to investigate.

Diavolo: Is Belphegor okay?

Barbatos: Short answer, no.

Barbatos takes off his gloves and replaces them with latex ones before he takes a mask out from his pocket and covers his face.

Barbatos: I suppose it contaminated the water... that was how I missed it...

Diavolo: Missed what?

Barbatos hands Diavolo a more durable mask.

Barbatos: I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but I’d strongly recommend you wear this. And... you must temporarily evacuate.

Barbatos winces, even as Diavolo puts on the mask Barbatos gave him.

Barbatos: Quickly.

Diavolo: Barbatos?

Barbatos: I said QUICKLY!

Barbatos claps loudly, and Diavolo jumps, startled before he does an about face and leaves the castle. Barbatos pinches the bridge of his nose as Belphegor groans on the floor, curled into a ball.

Barbatos: Goddammit.

—

Annelie: And that’s why you showed up at our doorstep like a lost puppy?

Diavolo: Yes... I can’t imagine what’s going on, but Barbatos hasn’t answered any of my calls since he forced me out.

Annelie: ...I have the strangest feeling this is my fault.

Lucifer: Don’t say that.

Annelie: Do you think something happened to Barbatos? Or Belphie?

Lucifer: ...Annelie, you’re making both of us anxious. Calm down.

Annelie: Sorry, I’ll just take a few deep breaths...

Count to ten, count to seventy by seven, 7, 14, 21...

Lucifer: For the time being, we’ll wait and see. Barbatos is the type of person that would sooner crawl back missing an arm and a leg than sit down and die.

Annelie: Are you saying Barb wouldn’t die even if you killed him?

Lucifer: Exactly.

Annelie: I was already scared of him before...

Diavolo: ...he’s always been a little scary.

Diavolo laughs, and Annelie and Lucifer look at each other. Annelie steps behind Diavolo and places her hand against his back.

It’s faint, but... he’s trembling.

Annelie: Satan just baked the most adorable cupcakes you’ve ever seen, and I’m sure he’d be thrilled to hear you enjoyed them.

Diavolo: Weren’t you on your way out?

Annelie: Were we? I don’t remember.

Lucifer: We weren’t.

Lucifer turns towards the foyer.

Lucifer: I’ll make tea.

Monologue

As I led Diavolo into the House of Lamentation, making small talk with him to try to distract him from his worries, the tension under my fingertips never released. It was the first time I ever saw Diavolo look so unsure and hurt. But who could blame him, when someone like Barbatos showed a hint of uncertainty?

Lucifer was concerned, and like me, was trying to keep his anxiety far at bay, where it couldn’t influence either of us. Though we had decided not to inform Lucifer’s brothers of what had happened just yet to prevent any undue stress, it was obvious that they knew something was amiss even with their brother’s nearly perfect acting.

Looking back, I keep wondering if what I did at that time was correct. Would things have turned out differently if we had gone out for lunch as planned?

#ffs author just leave them alone #author says no #obey me angst #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #shameless #self indulgence #fanfiction #obey me!#LuciAnne

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ejaydoeshisbest · 4 months

Text

People tell me to rest and heal, but there is this nagging voice in me that says my kind of healing is wrong and selfish.

People tell me to rest and heal, but there is this nagging voice in me that says my kind of healing is wrong and selfish. This might sound like I am devaluing rest and relaxation. No. Shoot, we’re all bone-tired and weary some days. By all means, we should prioritize ourselves before we crash and burn. We all should be kinder to ourselves and to others and do what is best for us. Recharge your crystals under the glow of the full moon. Take a walk in the park. Read your favorite book. Go to your respective communities: church, club, or coven.

It’s just that I’ve been “resting” for over a year now and I’m not regaining my energy. I am stagnating. There is a tiny bit of peace, sure, but whenever I attempt to step out and resume where I left my life, it all comes crashing back down. I’m not getting stronger. I’m just avoiding the inevitable triggers that I left. I am delaying problems.

I am not healing. I am wasting away.

One might say that I need to rest longer and not force myself to pick up where I left off immediately. I agree on the latter part, so I decided to take baby steps; minuscule changes that would not shock my body. Dispatch one small enemy at a time. Start with the low-level monsters, then the boss. Start with walking around the neighborhood, then walk farther up a short hill, then go out for groceries by myself.

Pace myself and not get discouraged when I eventually stumble. Healing isn’t instant. Pain is part of the process.

It's better than stagnating. I'm rested, I think, but not healed. I am stuck inside the house, trapped with all my thoughts and none of the healing juju. I try to “recover” while other people are struggling to carry my weight. Helping around the house; cooking, cleaning, taking care of people… these aren’t as effective as actively contributing to bills and, say, tuition fees. Being a freeloader sucks.

If I keep this up, nothing good will ever happen to me and I will be stuck in this condition or be in much worse shape than I was before I took this hiatus. I will drag the people around me with me as I fall. I don’t want that. As much as I am afraid of the world now, I am much more scared and disgusted by the image of being in my 30s as a palamunin, as a leech, living in his childhood house. This is just my personal nightmare living with my own unique experience, no judgments to others. I don’t want to be a selfish prick for the rest of my life!

I am impatient to finally fully heal because I wonder if I will always have this condition. Then there would be no choice but to act despite my circumstances. I must force myself to bear it. We all have to carry our crosses.

They say I'm not good to work anyway being like this, but I don’t know if I don’t try. I’m not going to apply in a corporate environment, that’s for sure. I’m probably going to be a liability. But maybe somewhere nearby, like in a mall, as a barista or a staff at Dunkin, Krispy Kreme, anywhere.

Besides, we don’t have the kind of privileged lifestyle that affords me to take years off and re-incubate. I only have limited time to find my center. We don’t have the security for me to take a breather for long. I can't sit around and wait for things to get better. I suppose that defeats the purpose of healing, but what can you do?

I know that forcing myself to be in a good-enough condition is wrong. The road to recovery isn’t instant. And this isn’t like the flu with a time frame of recovery. I know I shouldn’t rush this, but I feel like there is poison coursing through me and the antidotes are waiting outside. They're all the ones I fear, but they're out there. They're not in this house, and certainly not in my room. They're not in reading books, not in playing games, or watching endless shows. They're not in positive affirmations, though they do definitely help. It just seems like some days, positivity is like a tape plastering a leak.

I think that my healing comes by willingly taking the hits and blows of life again, just on a smaller scale. Already taking the first few steps these past few days. It's minimal, but I'll take any progress I get. Each day is a little bit easier than the last, and when a bad day does happen, I keep saying to myself that it won't last. This too shall pass.

Words: Ejay Diwas

#anxiety #loneliness #depression #mental health #mental struggles #abandonment #trauma

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ohmykazuha · 3 years

Text

♡ 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞

♡ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: xiao, kaeya, diluc, thoma x gn!reader

♡ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff + comfort <3

♡ 𝐚/𝐧: i love u all. mega hugs and mwahs for each of you! | like and reblog if you liked this!

XIAO.

- xiao is genuinely such a good roommate!

- he's responsible and cleans up after himself ><

- he also has this little duty roster to say who does what chores on what day XD he's very organised!

- i think xiao also cooks well >< yes. he pretty much eats almond tofu but he knows that you have to eat other things as well.

- the two of you study together at the dining table frequently! your table is a mess of cables and phones and pens and earphones but sigh. college students </3

- but...

- xiao. hates. mess. continuing from the previous hc, he would pack everything up really fast when you're done :"D

- i feel like he would be those types of people who get containers for literally anything. big batteries. small batteries. medicinal cream. plasters. kitchen utensils. literally everything

- oh, but you like it. >< it's such a wonderful sight to see him pack up like marie kondo XD

- there's so many things he just does for the dorm and you're super grateful to him for it hehe

- conclusion: clean freak. marie kondo. best college roommate <3

KAEYA.

- ooh kaeya. okay

- he's... messy, to say the least. he has a disorganised aesthetic, if that makes sense?

- cold winter nights mean that you get to see him in a turtleneck~

- he uses the excuse "but i'm cooooooold!" to hug you XD

- i think kaeya is genuinely a... clutter person. he's a hoarder bc he's sentimental? perhaps? he has lots of old trinkets lying around bc he can't bear to get rid of it.

- (its cute though)

- kaeya can cook.

- he can cook well. like pastas and soups and stews and stuff like that. he's awesome that way XD

- you'll see him doing the uh... he do the cooking but you do the cleaning <3

- he makes breakfast and dinner for the both of you! kaeya also makes sure you eat proper, regular meals – he doesn't want the two of you to be the stereotypical college student living off ramen

- yes. kaeya KNOWS how to get a good bargain at the market >:D

- conclusion: 10/10. best malewife. his food is AMAZING.

DILUC.

- diluc 🥺💕

- late night tea sessions with him. literally tea while you two talk about everything and anything

- like kaeya, winter season is turtleneck season <3

- cmon! you can't tell me that you can't imagine him being in a black turtleneck!

- anyways, i think he's pretty good at cooking! probably even better than kaeya XD he can make pasta and sandwiches and fish and chips and stuff like that •u•

- diluc likes to switch on the lamp next to the couch and read a book: a thread inspired by my neighbour <3

- so my neighbour has this beautiful lamp that she puts next to her couch, and at night its just this... cozy, warm place. i love it so so much

- and that's what i envision for your apartment!

- its just warm and cozy. the door is always open for anyone who needs shelter or someone to talk to, there's always a fresh plate of cookies

- conclusion: he's the besssst roommate <3 10/10 would recommend... maybe not. you want him all for yourself. XD

THOMA.

- ahhhh!!!!

- ahhhhh!!!!!! (2)

- thoma is genuinely such a malewife wonderful roommate

- he do the cooking he do the cleaning XD

- thoma is really organised! he's one of those people that stick labels on each thing so its all clear and neat >< he also cleans like.. you know the way of the househusband? tis him, but gentler!

- i mean. not that the mc of WOTH is not gentle LOL

- thoma is really good at keeping the house habitable!

- and good at taking care of you as well! he ensures regular meals and if you're sick, he'd boil chicken soup for you or something XD

- the two of you make dinners together frequently heh. one time he brought back an entire lobster LMAO

- but thats a story for another day

- he's such a good roommate pls come home c6..

- conclusion: I LOVE HIM. 10/10 an amazing roommate you'd definitely miss after college!!! <3

woooo its done!!! man that was long. like and reblog if you liked this please!!! lets try to get this past 100!

taglist: @bookuya, @mikachuchu, @starglitterz, @cherubbic, @noirkkat, @the-gayest-sky-kid, @ajaxeology, @icecappa, @almondoufu, @gnyuvile, @yeetmeoffjueyunkarst. @simplyxsinned, @heaven-dissolution, @xiaoyksa, @yua1106, @gnyuvrse, @mayple, @rim0na, @kamitoge, @abyssheart, @hushyouu, @thaliastea

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solsolace · 2 years

Note

no bc- i just read “snowball” and cuddly childe + winter/cold + his family has found its way into my hard and now i’m in need of comfort scenarios now that it’s so cold pls 😭 if you want ofc! this is just a suggestion as a very touch starved reader and fan of ur work :,)!!

home for the holidays

✧ synopsis: [fluff] headcanons and drabbles; childe brings you to his home for the holiday season :) ✧ ft. childe x gn!reader (+some of childe’s family!) ✧ warnings: slightly suggestive towards the end but nothing serious, mentions of food, spoilers for childe’s real name ✧ a/n: not super wintery, but i'm in the mood for family bonding and cuddles; i hope this is alright!! (sorry it took me forever to get to this btw lmao)

»»————-　 ✦ 　————-««

✧ okay, so, harbingers don’t really get time off- including for the holidays, buuuut- childe was finally given a chance to oversee some recruits in snezhnaya, and it just so happens to line up with the holiday season, aaaand… well, he can handle some work and still get to see his family, right? right, of course, he is tartaglia after all, there’s nothing he can’t do!! ✧ plus… he’s managed to convince you to come along with him. so, it’s like he’s killing three birds with one stone! hell yeah!

✧ as eager as he is, childe can’t help but feel oddly anxious about bringing you to meet his family for the first time (despite the fact that he has been begging you to come to snezhnaya with him ever since you two have gotten together. and probably way before that, too. he’s just been very excited to share the part of himself that isn’t completely tainted by the abyss and fatui with you) ✧ he’s aware that they’re going to love you, of course-why wouldn’t they?- but what if you don’t like them? what if his siblings annoy you (or worse, embarrass him) or his parents say something offputting? he adores you, but he doesn’t know if he could handle you and his family not getting on. ✧ though, if he’s nervous, you’re an emotional wreck, whether you show it or not. childe’s told you about his family before, and the fond smile and sparkle in his eyes when he thinks of them has always made your heart flutter- they sound so sweet. you’re excited, but perhaps a bit too eager to please. you’ve spent a lot of your time recently trying to find clothing and supplies that will both protect you from snezhnaya’s freezing temperature while also giving the impression of “really-good-partner-for-your-son-please-accept-me.” oh archons, you really hope that they approve of you. ✧ both of your worries are quickly swept away when you reach his family home-more of a manor if we’re being honest, the lad is rich and he keeps his mf family taken CARE of and one of childe’s sister’s opens the door before squealing happily and calling out for the rest of the family. ✧ childe’s mother absolutely gives you the biggest, warmest hug in the entire world- definitely hugs you first before hugging her son. she might also cry; it’s been a while since she’s gotten to see him in person, and look! he’s so grown up now! he even has a lovely partner!! :’((!!! she has chosen pointedly to not count being a harbinger as maturing. ✧ it’s honestly quite lively for the first few hours of your visit; the younger ones are bouncing around you in their excitement, the older siblings are discussing new happenings with childe (and teasing him about you, of course), childe’s mother is rushing around trying to clean their already very nice house, and childe’s father is… absent. he did not come down to greet you or his son. ✧ if you start to feel overwhelmed, childe is quick to notice, and will usher you to a different room away from everyone else for a bit to make sure you’re okay.

Childe tells his family he’s going to give you a “tour of the house”, taking you by the hand and leading you down the hall before anyone can say anything. He takes you to what must be a study, walls lined with bookshelves (save for the space where a stuffed bear head is mounted on the wall) and a desk in front of the window. Outside, the snow is blowing across the frosted ground in swirling clouds, a frozen howl echoing against the glass.

“You alright?” He asks, pushing to close the door behind him. You nod, working on maintaining control of your breathing. Childe’s hand reaches to brush just in between your shoulders, tentative at first, but as you lean into his touch, he snakes his entire arm across your back and pulls you into his side. He lets you recline against him, allowing you to take however much time you need to calm down. Ever so faintly, you can hear the relaxing rhythm of his pulse mixing with the winds outside.

Once you’ve been grounded and are feeling a bit better, you move from his arms to sit atop of the desk. There’s not much you need to brush aside, though you do spot an interesting paper reading, “Gifts for the kids”. You try to spot Childe’s name, curious about what his family would get him, but a clear of his throat summons your attention before you can.

“So…” He starts, taking a step toward you. His eyes wander away from you, and there’s an air of feigned nonchalance that you’ve come to know all too well.

“Sooo?” You mimic.

“Are they… My family, I mean, do you…?”

He’s cute when he’s stumbling over his words, you think. It’s rather rare for your boyfriend’s smarmy, talkative ass to be at a loss of what to say. You know Childe really values your opinion, but is worried about it at the same time.

“Your family is wonderful, ‘jax.” You smile reassuringly, and his eyes light up. “They’re a bit excitable and energetic, but… I like it. They remind me of you.”

Now you’ve done it; Childe immediately descends upon you to steal a kiss, causing you to laugh a bit at how abrupt he is. His kisses are excitable and energetic, just like his family, just like him.

You two are, however, interrupted by a chorus of “Ooo”s, “Eww”s and “Aww”s. You both part early, glancing over at the door to see his little siblings' pairs of eyes peeking through the doorway, watching your antics in amusement. Childe narrows his eyes at them while your composure flusters, before he puts his lips back on yours. The children shriek with giggles as they scurry off, chanting some Snezhnayan version of “kissing in a tree.”

✧ when the two of you return from your, ahem, departure, you notice a tall, tired looking man in the living room. childe’s mom is discussing something with him in hushed, adamant tones, falling silent when she spots you. the once vibrant atmosphere in the room seems to have vanished. childe’s hand stiffens against yours, but his gaze remains steady. the other man does not speak, merely allowing his eyes to wander from Childe, to you, and then back to Childe. He gives a small nod, before turning to kiss childe’s mother on the forehead and leaving through the front door. ah. that must have been childe’s father. ✧ you want to say something, ask about what the hell that was, but his mother prevents you from speaking with a cheerful announcement that dinner will be served soon. she’s already making her way to the kitchen as she calls childe to come and help set up, leaving you in the now all-too-cold living room by yourself. ✧ big families mean big meals, but your added presence apparently means childe’s mom is going to pull out all the stops. i need you to imagine a 7-course meal with all 7 courses served at once. an entire damn restaurant spread out on the dining table. roasted ham, pirozhki, salmon pie, olivier salad- you couldn’t even name some of the dishes. it kind of amazes you that she not only managed to cook all this, but was able to fit it all in one space. ✧ also. yes you can make your own plate but don’t even try to be coy or modest. you’re a part of this family now and they’re gonna make sure you eat like one.

“Here, sweetie, have some more ham.” Childe’s mother is already slicing pieces off and dropping it on your plate before you can respond.

Your plate is already piled as high as it can go. But, you are nothing if not polite and desperate to get on your boyfriend’s family’s good side. “Oh, uh, thank you, Mrs.-”

“Just call me ‘mom’, dear.” She speaks with a giggle. You nod.

“Oo! You should try the cabbage rolls, me and Anthon worked on those!” Teucer chimes toward you.

“Anthon and I,” Tonia corrects her little brother gently.

“Huh? No, you didn’t- you weren’t even there!”

The warmth had returned with the chattering and merriment of Childe’s family. You steal a quick glance at your boyfriend, who is being abnormally quiet, and see him smiling down at his plate. His blue eyes have an almost melancholic wistfulness about them, one you’ve often noticed when the two of you were in Liyue- always apparent when he’s talking about how much he misses his family. But, he’s here with them now, isn’t he?

You won’t pretend to know what he’s thinking about, but you do want him to enjoy these moments while they’re here. They mean a lot to him. You reach beneath the table to lace your fingers with his. He snaps out of his reverie at your touch, turning his head to look at you. His smile widens as he squeezes your hand.

“Oh, by the way, Ajax, where are you gonna be sleeping?” Childe’s older brother asks, covering his mouthful of food to avoid spitting.

Childe tilts his head. “Uh, the guest room?” Beneath his breath, you can hear him add, almost solemnly, “As usual.”

“But that’s where Y/N is going to sleep.” His older sister comments.

“Yeah?” Childe picks up a spoonful of borscht and guides it to his mouth. “The beds big enough to fit both of us.”

His mother looks absolutely aghast. “Ajax, you know how I feel about funny business under my roof!”

He sputters on his soup, quickly grabbing a napkin to dab the beetroot that spilled out and waving his hand. “Mom-”

“Oh, but, what the hell. It is the holidays!” She chuckles, before switching to a stern mutter, “but you two better keep it down, okay? Teucer’s room is right across-”

“MOM.” Your boyfriend’s face is a deep red, his freckles standing out against his tinted skin, and you can’t help but giggle. He buries his face in his free hand with a groan.

“Wait, so Ajax gets to sleep with his partner, but when I bring my girlfriend over, she has to sleep alone?” His older sister scoffs with disappointment. “It’s not like WE were gonna do any ‘funny business’ and yet-”

“Wait, what’s ‘funny business’?” Teucer asks innocently. The table is filled with roaring laughter-and Teucer’s confused pout- and you lean into your boyfriend’s shoulder. You can practically feel the heat radiate off of his cheeks, but he’s grinning, too.

You’re only about halfway through your monster of a meal when Tonia stands up, clapping her hands cheerfully. “I think it’s time for dessert!” She calls, skipping off to the kitchen.

“Oh goodness, she’s so proud of her kutia.” Mom remarks fondly. “ We don’t normally eat it until a few days from now, but Tonia was really excited to make it for you, Y/N. Please, be a dear and compliment her on it when she comes back, won’t you?”

You shoot Childe a look of surprise and horror, whispering, “There’s more?” And he just chuckles. You should’ve expected this. As with anything to do with Childe, there’s always more.

✧ with his mother’s blessing, you two finally get some real alone time in the guest room. though, for a guest room, it’s huge- probably bigger than your own room at home. it does feel… emptier, though, especially in comparison to the rest of the house. there are no decorations, just a large bed, a nightstand with a lamp, and a dresser. you and childe’s suitcases are tucked neatly under the bed. ✧ already in your pyjamas, you hop on top of the mattress and shimmy beneath the blankets. the soft bedding sinks until you are comfortably encased in your cotton cocoon. if your boyfriend doesn’t hurry up, you might just fall asleep without him. ✧ thankfully, he comes into the room pretty soon after you, dressed in a large shirt and his boxers. he’s more modestly dressed for bed than usual, but you’re not too surprised- this isn’t exactly a private home, after all. ✧ he flops on top of the blankets across your legs, sighing loudly and melodramatically. you stretch down to ruffle his hair lovingly.

He twists his head toward you, catching your palm and planting a kiss on it. You smile before beckoning him to join your side. As soon as he’s spread the blanket haphazardly over himself, he’s weaving his arms across your waist and smushing his cheek against your shoulder.

“Was today okay?” Childe asks softly. He always seems to get unbelievably soft when he’s sleepy. You wonder if he’s aware of it.

You lift your hand to brush the side of his face. “Today was amazing, babe. Your family is really fun, and they’ve made me feel so, so welcome.” You kiss his forehead and he hums, almost relieved. “Thank you, for bringing me.”

Thank you for coming, he wants to say. Thank you for trusting me, thank you for staying with me, thank you for loving me. The words won’t come out, so he instead tightens his arms against your core.

“Ajax, are you okay?” You swivel so that you can wrap one of your arms around his neck, his head falling into the side of your chest.

There’s a pause as he considers it. Is he okay? He doesn’t get asked that a lot- and when he is asked, he always lies. He doesn’t want to lie to you any more than he has to. But what can he say? He’s home, but it doesn’t feel like the home he knew. His family has grown, and he has, too. They’ve changed, he’s changed… He misses everything he had, and there’s no way to go back.

You gently tap his shoulder, bringing him back to you. You, another change in the life he once recognized. He raises his head to look into your eyes, patient and yet worried- for him.

Childe smiles. “I’m okay, sweetheart.” He has you now, after all. He can’t go back to the way things once were. Maybe he doesn’t need to go back, if going back meant not having you at his side. Maybe one day, he’ll find the words to tell you this.

You lean in to kiss his forehead again, but he straightens up to meet your lips with his. It’s a bit clumsy, you’re both sleepy and warm and together, but you melt into each other.

Childe separates from you after a moment, and in your tired, loving haze you miss the sudden devious glint in his stare.

“You know what would make me feel even better than okay, though?”

“Hmm?”

His hands begin to roam under your shirt. “Well, you remember that ‘funny business’ my mom mentioned earlier-?”

You groan, pushing away from him and picking your pillow up to shove into his face, a bark of your boyfriend’s cackle following. He continues giggling as you turn away from him with a huff, making a point to lay down.

“Good night, you big dork.”

His laughter dies down as he slides further beneath the covers to join you, rewrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer. He kisses the back of your neck with a contented sigh.

As long as he’s next to you, Childe is already way better than okay, he’s certain of it.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

#i wanted to write some hcs about him taking you ice fishing and talking about his dad but. idk i like the sweet ending more #.sol writes #.request #.anonymous #genshin impact #genshin x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #childe x gn!reader #ajax x reader #childe headcanons #childe fluff #childe

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tothemeadow · 3 years

Note

I haven't seen much people requesting for snake bby so obanai x demon reader pls?Reader is like a succubus type of demon and when sent on a mission to kill her he falls into her clutches and it ends with smut 👀

‘in my dreams’ / Iguro O. x Reader

PLEASE STOP SLEEPING ON THIS MAN

warnings: NSFW, Obanai is a boob man, dream fucking?

words: 2,793

(a/n): I might’ve gotten carried away a bit

He’s always heard that sharks can smell blood on the water.

He isn’t a stranger to blood himself, used to the sightly images of gore and the rancid odor. It’s simply another part of his hellish life, bearing witness to mutilated remains of bodies and hunting down their killer.

It’s all in a day’s work.

It’s strange, though, when there aren’t any bodies to be found. Rumors of disappearances plague the night, travel from lips to ears, slowly spreading throughout the small town.

Takahashi’s daughter disappeared last night.

The doctor’s oldest son? Haven’t you heard? He’s gone.

For such a large number of people to be suddenly up and vanishing, it’s no wonder concerns have risen. It’s why Obanai’s here in the first place, determined to sniff out the culprit and promptly execute them. He’s dealt with similar cases before – finding the missing persons, only to find their remains or couple of bones – but this time… Well, it’s weird, to say the least. Not one person in this town knows where anybody could be, no strange sightings or feelings, nothing.

And, if Obanai is going to be completely honest, it’s infuriating as hell.

He’s not a patient person in the slightest. Perhaps that’s his curse and the sole reason why this case isn’t going anywhere; still, with the lingering danger hanging over these poor people’s heads, he needs to end this quickly. And so, cooped up in a small room at the town’s inn, he pours over his scribbling of notes, wondering just what kind of force he’s dealing with.

A demon’s nature can vary, depending on what kind you encounter. Obanai’s had his fair share of strange interactions – whether it be demons with multiple arms, pygmies, the facial features of a fly - he's nearly seen at all. But to take victims without leaving a single trace? That's where things get complicated.

"Dammit," Obanai grumbles, dragging a hand over his face. Kaburamaru flicks his tongue in concern, sensing his owner's unease.

This isn't going anywhere. The amount of time or effort spent trying to figure out where everyone has vanished isn't amounting to anything. How could this be? Obanai isn't some low level slayer, for gods' sakes - he's a Pillar. It shouldn't be this hard to put two and two together, yet here he is, staring blankly at his collected information. The idea of sending his crow to summon for help crosses his mind, but he hastily throws away the thought. No, that's not how this is done. He isn't willing to give up so easily.

As the hours drag further into the night, Obanai grows restless, twitchy. His striped haori sits to the side, folded neatly along with the shirt and overcoat of his uniform. Kaburamaru is already fast asleep, coiled into a tight circle at the edge of the futon. The wooden hatches of the window hang open, the night breeze drifting into the room with the sound of a singular solemn cricket.

A long, ornate kiseru dangles between his spindly fingers; it’s a rare occasion whenever Obanai smokes, so much to the point that the ones closest to him don’t even know he possesses such a fine pipe. He takes a slow drag as his he stares up at the moonlit clouds, the chilled breeze whipping the choppy strands of his hair against his bared cheeks. He wonders, truly, just how the hell he’s supposed to get to the bottom of this case if he can’t find anything to work with.

Perhaps the gods heard his woes - or he’s finally lost his mind - for an intoxicatingly sweet scent fills his senses.

Jasmine.

As far as Obanai knows, he hasn’t seen any jasmine plants when he came into town. This had to mean something - it had to. Opting his kiseru for his blade instead, he easily slips out the window, feet hitting the ground without a sound. Taking off into the night, he races through the town’s streets, eyes darting back and forth for anything out of the usual.

He comes to an abrupt stop when the scent of jasmine grows even stronger. He’s sure now that whatever he’s been looking for is here. A slight shuffling catches his attention; whipping his head to the side, a wooden hatch to a window bangs against the side of a house, but there’s no one to be seen on the other side.

“Found you,” Obanai breathes.

Rushing over to the house, he drops into a crouch as he creeps closer to the window. Jasmine floods his senses, the irresistible aroma gripping onto his consciousness and practically demanding for him to come closer. Swallowing thickly, he ignores the sudden wave of heat flushing over his body as he peeks into the darkened room. A family of five lays on the floor, their bodies moving gently with the deepened breathing of a heavy slumber. Even now, Obanai has to resist the urge to shut his eyes and succumb to the flowery scent.

Although the room is dark, he can make out a strange pillar of smoke; ah, so that’s where the origin of the smell is coming from. Is it some type of mist demon? Flower? He isn’t entirely sure, but he doesn’t have the time to care. He needs to get rid of it now.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he unsheathes his blade, not wanting to attract attention to him yet. It’s a wish in vain, though; as soon as his blade is hanging in the air, the pillar of smoke rushes towards him, slamming into him and sending him flying. Obanai grunts as his back hits the ground, the sharp edge of rocks biting into the skin.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to sneak up on others?” a low, creamy voice drawls. Goosebumps break out across the surface of Obanai’s skin and a shiver races down his back. The smoke dissipates, then, revealing a feminine figure.

Obanai’s breath catches in his throat. This demon - you - are unlike any other he’s encountered. Immediately, his eyes latch onto the pair of horns protruding from your skull, pearly at the tip and then fading into ebony. You’re strikingly beautiful, facial features soft yet demanding. Embarrassment warms Obanai’s face as his eyes drift across the curves of your body; your breasts swell over the tight, strappy top while the entirety of your legs and hips frame the long loincloth-like garment between your legs. Both your arms and legs have the same pearly sheen towards the end, just like your horns.

By the gods, you’re ethereal, even if the claws on your fingers could easily tear Obanai’s throat out.

“So is breaking into other’s homes,” Obanai manages to croak. Bringing himself to a stand, he takes a defensive stance, his blade held out before him. He feels strangely heavy, almost like his body craves to stay flat on his back.

Much to his surprise, you pout at him, arms crossing beneath your chest and pushing your breasts further up. “But it gets so lonely at night, you know?” you say, that seductive lilt in your voice deepening. At that, you make a show of sweeping your eyes over Obanai’s bare torso, and a slight smile grows on your pretty lips.

Obanai clears his throat. He can’t let himself fall for your tricks, no matter how incredible you smell or alluring you look. If these are the methods you rely on, chances are you’re a weaker demon.

“What did you do with the missing persons?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

“Missing persons? Is that what they’re calling them?” you say, a giggle following your words.

Obanai growls at your nonchalant confession. If there’s one thing he can’t stand about demons, it’s their inability of basic human emotion, the inability of compassion. Yeah, he decides that your head is going to look even better once it’s separated from your body.

“You see, pretty boy,” you purr, pressing a hand to your throat and dragging it downwards, brushing over a luscious breast and tracing over your exposed tummy, “in return for making their dreams come true, I get to have a snack.”

“Enough,” Obanai grunts, switching to an offensive stance. “Maybe I’ll be gracious enough to meet you in hell someday.”

Before you even have a chance to react, Obanai springs into action, launching himself off the group in a great leap, lungs tightening as he releases a breath form.

It doesn’t hit.

It doesn’t fucking hit.

In fact, you’re nowhere in sight. Instead of the dusty, moonlit road, Obanai finds himself in an onsen; a great bamboo pavilion stands tall above the pool of water, blocking the golden rays of sunshine from hitting him. Thin trees are scattered about the area, riddled with stone lanterns and garden rocks covered in moss. With a chorus of birds singing overhead, it’s like he’s in an entire new world.

Muttering to himself, Obanai scans his surroundings, wracking his brain and trying to figure just what the hell happened. One moment, he’s about to slice your head clean off and put an end to your terror - the next, he’s in broad daylight in some overt paradise.

“Your dreams are beautiful,” that wonderful, wonderful voice of yours speaks.

Whirling around, Obanai sends splashes of water flying. “What did you do to me?” he spits.

You flash him a sly smile. “Why, I merely put you to sleep, pretty boy. Can’t be much of a threat if you’re not wide awake, no?”

Obanai curses under his breath. Of course you’re a dream demon - no wonder why there hasn’t been any bodies turning up. If only he had acted faster, got here sooner, more lives could’ve been saved. With a huff, he slithers further away from you, sinking below the water until only his face can be seen. “So what now? You’re going to try to kill me in my sleep? That’s a low blow and you know it.”

Sucking air through your teeth, you shake your head. Now that the two of you are no longer shrouded by darkness, Obanai really gets a good look of how utterly stunning you are. Again, he curses himself out, calling himself a fool for thinking such things when he should be killing you instead.

“Your blade isn’t here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him, a look of mischief crossing your features. “Silly boy - this a time meant for the two of us, not for you to end my forsaken life. Allow me to help you... relax.”

As you step to the edge of the onsen, Obanai finally notices the feeling of water caressing his thighs, his bare buttocks. You just had to make him naked in his dream, huh? What are you trying to accomplish, anyway? His eyes widen incredulously as your hands find their place on your torso, slinking over the swell of your breasts and around your neck; with a simple tug, your top comes loose. You merely let the garment fall to the rocks below, a small ‘oops’ slipping from our mouth.

Heat immediately floods to Obanai’s face and his groin; his insides squeeze in on themselves and he swallows thickly, thankful for the hidden protection the water provides. The look on your face is simply irresistible. Hell, even your breasts are as pretty as he imagined-

Shit, he inwardly curses, I shouldn’t be thinking like that.

But oh, you’re just so tempting, your hands squeezing your breasts, fingers rolling your hardening nipples as you stare directly at his flushed face. “Pretty boy,” you purr, “what’s your name?”

“Obanai.”

It’s out before he even knows it.

“Obanai...”

He really likes the way it rolls off your tongue, the dark glint in your eyes as you say it. Perhaps you can tell by his reaction alone - or maybe you like saying it - but you repeat his name, once, twice, thrice, and fuck does it drive Obanai insane. And then you’re reaching down, unfastening your lower garment and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground. Obanai’s cock twitches at the sight of your glorious body, the soft curves and glowing skin.

“Naughty boy, my eyes are up here,” you say. Again, you squeeze those beautiful fucking tits, a soft groan spilling from your lips. Obanai nearly goes feral from the sound; without further thought, he wades over to where you are. Jasmine clings in his nostrils, clouds his mind in a delicious haze, and he loves it.

You’re all too willing to meet his touch, body slipping into the heated water as he wraps his arms around you possessively. His body kicks into autopilot, mind going blank as he presses his lips to your throat. He should rip your throat out with his teeth, but there’s something magical about the way you arch into his touch, breasts pushing lewdly against his chest.

“Fucking-”

“Yes.”

A breathy moan spills from your lips as Obanai kneads your pretty tits, long fingers gripping possessively, wantingly. It’s almost ridiculous how hard he already is, his cock sandwiched between your bodies. He jolts as your hands land on his face, thumbs brushing against the ragged scars lining either sides of his mouth.

“Don’t,” he grits, but it goes ignored. The air is sucked from his lungs as you brush your lips over his scars, murmuring something about how pretty he is before stopping at his mouth. You kiss him fervently, clawed fingers scratching his shoulders as you tongue the inside of his mouth. You swallow the husky groan that spills from his mouth, hand dropping down from his shoulder and wrapping around his hardening cock.

“Ah, shit,” Obanai murmurs into your mouth.

“Tell me what you want, pretty boy,” you whisper, hand slowly jerking on his cock. His breathing picks up as you quicken your pace, the water rippling with the movements of your wrists. “Your wish is my command.”

“Gods, you’re such a fucking tease,” he pants, eyes practically glowing against the pink hue of his face. Ducking his head, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, the wet warmth enveloping your breast and eliciting a delicious moan from you. Obanai wastes no more time, opting to prop you in his lap and pressing your back against a smooth stone. “I shouldn’t... but fuck...”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re angry with me anymore,” you husk in that damned sexy voice. A moan bubbles from your throat as Obanai starts rocking against you, cock slipping against your folds. It’ll only take a little push for him to fill that pretty cunt of yours, to stuff you full of his cock and fuck you raw. It’s what he wants.

“Shut up,” he grunts, mouth latching onto your nipple, his hand beginning to play with the other. A low, drawn out curse gets muffled by your chest as he finally slips his cock into you; it shouldn’t be physically possible, but your velvety walls seemingly clench around him and suck him in, your arousal making the slide impossibly easy. He hiccups on a breath, his entire body twitching as he pants.

“The thing about succubi,” you drawl, sharp nails tracing down his spine, over the muscles in his back, “is that we’re the demons of sex and dreams. Oh, pretty baby, how much I’ve lucked out. Everyone else seemed like an appetizer - and you...” You pause, suck air between your teeth. “You’re like the damn main course.”

A helpless little grunt graces your ear as you fuck yourself on Obanai’s cock. His hips match your movements, your sopping cunt eagerly sucking him back in and squeezing around him. You’re so damn wet that it’s infuriating; Obanai wants more, more of your touch, your voice, that sweet scent clogging his senses. He can’t bring himself to stop touching your breasts, whether if it’s his hands or mouth. They bounce with the erratic rhythm of your hips, way too beautiful and hypnotizing.

A breathless whine breaks through your cute little pants whenever Obanai smacks a hand against the ample flesh of your ass. “Is that you meant when you said you make others’ wishes come true? Have them fuck that tight pussy of yours? Huh?”

“Obanai, don’t be mean,” you pout.

“Says a fucking demon that eats people.”

You hiss as his cockhead hits against your g-spot. “I can eat you too, so don’t get cocky, pretty boy.”

Obanai clicks his tongue, his brows furrowing. “You better keep that promise,” he grunts, thumb grazing your bottom lip. “I won’t take no for an answer.” He growls as your walls clench around him.

“If that’s your wish, Master,” you purr, a slight chuckle following your words, “then it is my command.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #obanai iguro x reader #iguro obanai x reader #obanai iguro #iguro obanai #request

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autumn-writes · 3 years

Note

Hello! May I request Nagito with insecure s/o that often skips meals and does unhealthy stuff?

sure thing! as someone who does a lot of unhealthy stuff on a daily basis (pls i can't help it </3) this hits close to home. don't follow my example ><! always be sure to take care of yourself!!

notes; headcanons below are not proofread, do expect typos and errors here and there. i haven't watched any danganronpa gameplay in a while so please do bear with me if nagito is extremely ooc </3 i'm slowly watching gameplays again so i can get back into the fandom

Nagito Komaeda with an S/O who has a very unhealthy lifestyle

nagito komaeda — ultimate lucky student

i could not think of a way to mix the two subjects together although they're a very common pair- so i made separate thoughts for them :D! let's start with the insecure part

woooohhhh boy, nagito is also very insecure of himself so hah- expect compliments from him that include degrading speech directed to himself

"you look beautiful, y/n" "really? you... think so?" "more beautiful than the sun at sunset. i honestly can't believe that someone as beautiful as you would be with someone as trashy as me—"

cut him off there before he does a whole speech on how he doesn't deserve you

whenever you achieve something he's the first person to congratulate and compliment you! he's very supportive <3

if ever you feel insecure about yourself, may it be about your appearance, your personality or your intelligence, he's immediately shutting down every negative word about yourself that leaves that pretty mouth of yous and instead counters with compliments and reassurance!

he just— can't see all the bad stuff that you see and he wishes you could see just how much he admires you and how he sees you as someone so far above him.

even if it takes a million compliments to get you to see yourself the way he sees you, he'll be sure to gift you 100 compliments for every flaw and imperfection that only you seem to spot.

now onto the unhealthy lifestyle hcs :)!

i personally headcanon nagito as someone who doesn't know how to take care of himself very well

yes he can cook, bathe, clean, watch his hygiene and all those other stuff but when it comes to just generally taking care of himself like eating his meals, sleeping early or keeping himself well kempt? he's not quite the best in those areas

nagito wants you to take care of yourself so bad but he can't even watch out for himself :( so he tries to make a few changes here and there to his own schedule that end up benefiting both him and you :>

every morning before school starts, nagito is sure to head over to your house with some food that he either made himself, or got at a shop/bakery before heading to your house

knocks a few times before entering your house with a spare key you gave him, and if he finds you still asleep when he goes to your room, he'll just let you rest for a few more moments knowing that you slept late the previous night and instead decides to prepare some of your stuff for the day and make you something to drink for when you wake up :) he's a sweetheart < 3

nagito is a malewife

when you're awake he greets you good morning and compliments you on how beautiful you look which makes you blush before carefully ushering you to the bathroom so you can prepare yourself for the day before going with you to school

whenever it's lunch time he's sure to accompany you to the cafeteria so he can buy you lunch. he's not letting you pay cause he believes he should be treating you to food and not the other way around. won't allow you to split the funds either >:( but that's okay you just quietly slip a dollar into his wallet when he isn't looking

actually he did see he just keeps quiet about it cause he finds it cute how you really want to pay him back even though he said that the food is 100% on him and he just wants to see you happy :)

after classes if you two have homework or projects or a test, he'll accompany you to the library so you two can get some stuff done. he doesn't want you to end up panicking over deadlines or approaching test dates and then end up stressing yourself out which leads to cramming and sleepless nights

if you don't have anything to worry about he'll go with you to a cafe so you two can eat something and just spend time with each other

idk why but i can envision him just going "let's get some food? i have a feeling that you'll skip dinner tonight which isn't hopeful at all" with a playful smile while you lightly elbow his side

brings you home and reminds you of your plans for tomorrow and to sleep early tonight before heading home— not before getting his lil nose kiss tho :) he can't leave without it, makes him think he didn't do a good job as ur bf today (which isn't true he deserves all the kisses he can get. you did a great job today boyfie nagi :>)

when it's a bit a late, around 9:30 or 10 he'll check if you're awake and if you still are, he'll tell you to go to sleep

if you can't sleep however, he'll chat with you until you end up getting tired

if that doesn't work he'll nervously ask if you want to video chat

"would you like to uh, video chat perhaps?" "hm?" "of course, i can understand if you wouldn't wish to see me right now. who would even want to listen to me and have my voice be the final thing someone hears at ni—" "i'd love to have a video chat with you nagi :D!"

you broke him when you sent that message but he's quick to start a video chat with you

you two talk until nagito can see you peacefully snoozing off (he takes a picture of you sleeping cause he thinks you look adorable)

10/10 would recommend as a boyfriend who takes care of you :) he just really cares for you and wants you to take care of yourself. though the best part of taking care of you is that in turn, he was also able to take care of himself <3 yay!

here you go anon! sorry this was late but i hope you like these <3! do tell me if you wish for these to be redone. take care and stay always my lovelies!

#nagito komaeda x reader #nagito headcanons #danganronpa x reader #mod mahiru writes #mod mahiru

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mandelene · 2 years

Note

Number 4 for Al and Art pls?

4. “Against my better judgment, I’m alive.”

The DIY Dad Word Count: 628

“Dad, don’t you think we should call a professional to do this? And besides, I read online that you shouldn’t scrape moss off of shingles because it can damage them.”

“I’m not paying an arm and a leg just to have the roof cleaned,” Dad huffs before going up another step on the aluminum ladder he’s standing on. “And if a thorough power wash didn’t get it off, then what other choice do we have? Moss is the gateway — soon we’ll have mold as well, and that’s the last thing we need.”

Alfred paces back and forth in the driveway nervously. Chills run down his spine every time the ladder creaks under his father’s weight. He doesn’t understand why he’s being so stubborn about this or trying to prove that he can handle it himself. Isn’t he always saying “safety first?” Why can’t he listen to his own advice?

“Why are you doing this when Papa and Matt aren’t home?”

“Because they would just get in the way.”

“You mean they would stop you because this is dangerous.”

“Alfred, you’re testing my patience.”

In his moment of exasperation, Dad suddenly drops the scraper he’s using to dislodge the pesky moss. The tool is attached to a 36-inch rod, and the whole thing starts sliding down the roof. Dad tries to catch it, but it slips out of his grasp and falls to the ground with a loud clang.

And it turns out that thrusting his arm and half of his body out to the side in an attempt to rescue the scraper was definitely the wrong move because it causes Dad to lose his balance. The ladder topples over to the right, and Dad goes along with it.

Alfred slams his eyes shut. He can’t bear to watch. He hears the thud of Dad landing in the grass. The ladder ends up in the bushes.

He opens his eyes again. “Dad!”

Alfred sprints over to him, and he swears his heart is suddenly lodged in his throat. “Dad, oh my fucking God. Are you okay? Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Please don’t be dead.”

Fortunately, his father isn’t dead. He’s fully conscious, but his face is pinched with pain.

“Against my better judgment, I’m alive,” Dad grumbles, and Alfred is both immensely worried and outraged at the same time — now he knows what it must feel like to be a parent.

“Can you get up?”

“Yes, yes — I’ll be fine,” Dad says, but Alfred isn’t convinced.

He sits up very slowly. He keeps his right arm tucked against his chest. Clearly, he must have fallen on it.

“Did you break your arm? I can’t believe you! You’re always yelling at all of us to be careful, but look who’s injured now! I’m calling Papa and telling him to come home because you’ve gotta go to the hospital.”

Dad manages to get up. He’s a little unsteady on his feet at first, but he recovers after several seconds. “You’re grounded,” he declares.

“What!?! Why?”

“For being a pest.”

“If I’m grounded for that then you’re grounded too.”

“You can’t ground me! I’m your father.”

“Well, you’re acting like me right now! I can’t believe I’m the one yelling at you!” Alfred shouts, beside himself with a hurricane of emotions. He doesn’t waste any more time — he pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Papa while Dad disappears inside the house to tend to his injuries and his wounded pride.

And once Alfred’s done explaining the situation, Papa agrees with him; Dad is grounded. Scratch that — he’s mega grounded once an x-ray reveals he’s broken his arm in two places.

No gardening for six weeks, and he’s banned from cleaning the roof ever again.

#hetalia #hws england #hws america #aph england #aph america #drabbles #getting injured because they wanted to do something themselves is a universal dad thing

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lantsovsupremacist · 3 years

Text

tiberias (cal) calore vii: illicit affairs

i’m only on the 3rd book so a) pls don’t spoil you’ll break my heart and b) my perception of the characters has only been developed to this point so if you come for me do it with the correct context lmao!!!

you knew what it was.

leaning your forehead against the cool metal post of your bed frame, a shaky exhale escaped from your lips. you wished just like that lost breath, you too could leave behind your body and with it, mind. a few minutes was all you needed, really; some semblance of relief.

even with your door shut tight with a deadbolt, the danger contaminating the palace lingered outside of it. you were not foolish enough to deny the cracks it could slip through. you would give any adversary a worthy fight, though. you could not afford not to, especially now.

for the first time in your life, you had truly encountered a problem that you could not use your abilities to maneuver out of. as much as your lungs screamed and your legs ached to run, you could not. being a swift, your first instinct was always to run. your speed always gave you the advantage in pursuit.

a familiar knock at the door broke you from your trance of pity. you stood up, sniffling as you ran the back of your hand across your nose and mouth. the action of clearing your throat sounded more like a whimper, but you managed as you gathered your skirts and headed for the door. you pushed down the nausea and wrung your hands to settle yourself.

your fingers shook on the deadlock before you pried the door open. the amount of weight on the wood, the length of the echo, and the momentary pause before the second, lighter knock gave away the identity of the person on the other side. you were in his arms before you could take another breath.

despite offering you the comfort you had craved all morning, his touch triggered the sobs caged in your chest. perhaps, it was because your heart was only safe in his hands. but, without the key to let them out, they messily tore through and paved their own path.

a year ago, your greatest worry would be the shame brought to your family on account of conceiving a child out of wedlock, let alone to the crowned prince. now, it seemed the impending war took precedence. you could have laughed; a red threatened your livelihood. a girl, really.

you were always careful, and it did not even happen very often. both you and the prince were very busy people, after all. send offs and reunions.

“we can fix this,” cal murmured into your hair.

“no, you don’t get it,” you broke out with a defiant shake of your head, “there’s nothing to fix.”

he pulled back, stroking your hair and pushing it behind your ears. your golden strategist was at a loss. your heart fell further into the pit of your stomach. you chewed on the inside of your lip, desperate to look anywhere but his eyes. yet, in the space of the same moment, you never wanted your gaze to leave his.

“i won’t leave you,” his warm hands ran up your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, “and i won’t let my father have a say in any of it.”

“it’s not the king i am frightened of,” you admitted with a sour taste in your mouth.

cal nodded with a grimace, “then i’ll be sure she is controlled until the end of the month.”

but who could control the queen who could twist minds? you chewed on the thought to avoid choking on it, forcing it down in distaste. both cal and yourself needed time neither of you had the privilege to claim.

cal communicated the importance of waiting until the traditional queenstrial to propose publicly. while the larger part of you agreed with this position, a small piece of your heart reserved for crippling doubt and senseless paranoia wondered if he was stalling for a different reason. if you could at any time expect desertion, it would be now but true to his word, cal had done no such thing—a loyal soldier until the end.

“and if they don’t chose me?” the secret fear you had harbored far before you had even become aware of your current condition felt a traitor to expose to the boy who had given you everything, kept every promise he could.

he studied your face carefully to ensure he held your full attention (though he was foolish to ever think otherwise), “make them, my dear.”

despite the event’s purpose of selecting a bride for the princes themselves, all of the noble houses knew the eldest had little choice in the matter. while your relationship with cal was not overt due to the inherently illicit nature of the affair, servants were known to talk. even in your deepest frustrations, you could not necessarily blame them.

his confidence in you was endearing but what other choice did you truly have?

you pulled away from his arms and lingering stare, wrapping your arms around your middle. pacing the length of the room, you suppressed a bitter laugh, “and then what? when a baby is born after less than eight months? and that’s to say we can persuade your father to rush a royal marriage.”

“let them talk,” his fingers twitched at his sides and you caught the scent of smoke, “nobody will be able to do anything.”

he thought he could protect from anything. sure, there would be little opportunity for any political action after a marriage was solidified but rumors would swirl. born into the pressures of eyes always watching you, they did not cut deep, but a queen needed a reputation demanding of respect. you did not want to be cruel but you decided that if need be, you could.

you wanted so terribly not to cry but willing it away only drew your focus to it more. you did not think the act made you weak but you would rather avoid the complete exhaustion it often caused. you were already so tired. but, some things were inevitable.

cal caught on before you did, “baby,” his voice was croaky, maybe laced his emotion of his own, “please don’t cry.”

you giggled at the irony. it was watery and your voice was nearly gone but it was there. confusion spread across cal’s features. you studied his face as he began to understand. a slow, crooked smile spread across his freckles and indicated the transition.

“suppose i could have chosen better words.”

“mhm.”

you had not noticed he was slowly rocking you in his arms. calm rushed into your senses. cal radiated your favorite kind of warmth. he monitored his body temperature around you, never too hot but always comfortable. it reminded you of home. he was your home. he smelled of pine and dying embers.

now nearing nineteen, you met the prince at fourteen. your elder sister married sooner than your parents expected, hastening your introduction into political meetings as a representative of the swift house of nornus.

who could blame a young and inexperienced teenage girl for falling in with a powerful, older boy who dared throw her an extra glance. what began as a benefit to palace life at fifteen soon turned into a vice. it was easy to tell yourself that you could stop any time you desired but you were addicted to the way he touched you, the way he tasted, the way he spoke your name.

for a while, you were foolish enough to believe he maybe even loved you. when you turned sixteen, you understood you were a pastime for the prince. so when at seventeen he told you he loved you, you did not believe him. he was gone for service quite a bit and your training schedule stole away any time for secret meetings when he was home. you began to purposefully avoid him but the withdrawal from the high that was cal left you dizzy.

when he did not make a move to find you, you tried even harder to move on. you had both made a mess of your hearts, left bleeding and shattered on the floors of the palace. you watched him escape the palace more often, always finding another place to be. one night, however, you followed him. you told yourself it was curiosity that caused you to slip out of your covers and into a warm coat, a coat you would not have needed if you left with him.

you caught up easily with your inhuman perception and speed and yet, he still saw you coming. he always did. that night, you wandered through a village and blended in. that night, you could be normal. he helped you clean up the mess between the two of you and things were different but the same again. they were better. you still took the long way to his room and pulled him into hidden corridors but the longing stares across meetings reignited.

you cleared your throat, “when you returned from delphie.” you tone held the pace of a simple comment, not the answer to the unspoken question pressing down on both of your minds.

cal turned his lips into his mouth and nodded, taking a deep breath, “i remember.”

it was a good memory, a good time. slow and gentle and loving. rane had worn you ragged sparring evangeline from sun up to sun down. you enjoyed the younger classes attending for the exposition but your muscles felt like weights lodged into your body and your breath had not yet fully returned after running circles around evangeline.

usually when one of you returned from an excursion outside of the palace, you wasted little time in attaching to every piece of each other. but, you were both exhausted—exhausted but greedy for the attention of the other. it had been a month ago, nearly to the day.

you and cal never discussed the prospect of children. even if one of you did not favor the idea, there was no choice in the matter. cal, as a future king, needed heirs, and if you wanted to be queen, you would have to bear them. but, you did want them and secretly, you knew cal did, too. it was more than a superficial requirement.

cal always looked at you, found you in a crowd, so it was hard to study him in secret. when he was with children, however, all attention transferred to those at his feet. it was then you saw him fully relax, the weight of his crown falling off his back. he loved them. you loved him more for it.

“and i don’t regret it,” he continued, dipping his head to place it gently on your shoulder. he kissed you neck once, twice, and then dropped his head back down.

#red queen series #red queen #cal calore #tiberias vii #tiberias calore #mare barrow #maven calore #cal x reader #kings cage #glass sword

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sorjuanas · 3 years

Text

june 22nd

taglist idk honestly i'm just tagging a few friends lol pls lmk if you don't want to be tagged and if you do want to be tagged also lmk 💘💗💝💕💓 @ruckenfigurs @dilfdeclan @chaosofbattle @dreamertrilogys @richardsiiken @boysaints

[Transcript.

what happened? nothing. i think that's the problem really, i can sit and do nothing sometimes. more accurately i cannot do anything. i can't move my hands, or get the words to come out. i feel like i'm never going to finish doing it and even though i know - my brain knows it, i will have to start to finish, eventually. my body refuses to acknowledge it, i think my body is tired. i think i should sleep more. i think maybe i should cry more, too, because today when my hands couldn't move i just started crying wailing sobbing. i haven't done that. sobbing wailing crying my heart out like that since i was, i don't know.

i don't think i remember. at eleven, maybe, when my mother found out i used to hurt my wrists because it was the only command my hands responded to. i don't do that anymore though. i'm good now, i'm kinder, i'm hard-working. i am exemplary. i think i'm trembling right now. i think im shaking. i think i'm not thinking at all and i am simply moving my hands. it's strange how i can move my hands for this, but not anything else, something useful, something people can get, something that reflects my value, my intelligence my will to participate in this society. i think my hands don't want me to participate in this society. i think they just want me to sit down and write, scroll past it all, to not think ever again, they want to wipe my tears and they don't want to muffle my sobs. my dad texted me asking if i wanted to go ride my bike with him. i didn't answer, my fingers were motionless in front of the screen. he told me it was okay if i didn't want to (and like i don't even know if i did want to. if would be beneficial to my health, he says, to clear my mind and flex my muscles and breathe actual air rather than whatever else i've been inhaling these past twenty four months.) he told me it was okay, because he is good like that. he just asked me to say no. to tell him no.

and i think that’s also the hard part, many people have told him no before. he’s very nervous these days. i can tell he’s trying his best but i think the distance is killing him. i think he’s so incredibly sad and i don't know how to help him if not getting good grades so he can look at me and not worry about my grades and my future and how successful and happy and fulfilled my life is going to be, so he doesn't have to worry about me being miserable the way he feels. i don't want to make him sad. i just wish i could move my hands, move my eyes, read what i need to read and not what i want to read, listen with my ears open to what i need to listen. i want my hands to have a brain of their own but no free will, so i can use their knowledge and predisposition to make up for the fact that i have none of those things left.

i don't know what to do anymore. i don't know where my phone is. i don't want to look at my phone ever again i think i'm going to cry again. its close, it gets closer, the tears are closer. the tears are closer, the sobs in my throat feel strange and a hundred times more familiar than my hands and my ears and my eyes. i haven't heard of these sobs in my throat in years. decades. not like this, not with such an intensity. i wonder how mom is. i wonder if she’s happy with my academic achievements - scratch that i know she's not happy, but i at the very least can mildy hope she is content. not that the results require a happy response they are mediocre at best.

i just think i have done worse before. i have been so deep before, i don't know how i got where i am now but i think it was too hard, too much work, i don't know how to do it again. i don't know how to do it for me, instead of whatever else is pushing me through. probably my father’s grief. probably my mother’s anger — disappointment. everything else. anything else. i don't know what i'm doing, i don't know what to do. i am going to try and breathe. breathe breathe breathe. i really wanted today to be the day. i don't know what happened.

dad will be home soon. he will know nothing. it saddens me, in a way, knowing nobody will know i cried my heart out in these walls today, with only me and myself to hear and bear witness to it. i don't want to have to deal with it alone, but i don't want anyone else to deal with it. this is something mine, my burden and my secrets. explaining sounds like too much work. i do wonder sometimes how many times my dad or my mom have cried their heart out in my house while i was out. and when i arrived the crime scene was clean, and so i never found out. i do wonder. because after i finished crying, i cleaned my room, i organized my closet, maybe so not to think, maybe to give myself the illusion that there is a fixable mess out there. something i can fix. dad will come home at any moment now. i hope he’s happy with the room.

End Transcript.]

#i just wrote this while having a mental breakdown 😗✌️ enjoyè #tam.w #original writing #original poetry #prose poem #i think. idk my braincells are still buzzing lol #self harm mention #self harm tw

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princessofravenclaw · 3 years

Text

Time Changes

Paring: Draco Malfoy x Reader && Harry Potter x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: This is my first EVER imagine/fanfic so pls be nice!! I’ve had this idea for a while but haven’t ever actually done anything about it. I’ve got more ideas to continue but we’ll start with this. If there’s spelling/grammar problems, don’t come for me!! Ya girl is not an English major. This is based off the “19 years later” but doesn’t follow that story line!

Italics is a flashback!!

September 1st. Walking into King’s Cross Station brought back a flood of fond memories. You remembered the first time you ever entered those doors. You had grown up hearing all of the beautiful things Hogwarts offered from both of your magical parents. The day you received your Hogwarts letter was the best day of your life. Now, here you were, hand in hand with your husband and three children, sending off your oldest and middle child to start their journey at the magical school. How lucky were you? You had married one of your childhood best friends, Harry Potter. Though you two never looked at each other as romantic partners until after Hogwarts, you loved being his wife. The two of you had been blessed with two boys and a girl. Today, the family of five would be downgrading to three, as James and Albus would be boarding the Hogwarts Express. You would still have your sweet Lily with the two of you at home. You stood back with your daughter as Harry helped calm Albus’s nerves. James had already said his goodbyes and boarded the train with his friends. Hermione and Ron would be sending off their daughter, Rose, this year. They engulfed her in hugs, saying their goodbyes. You watched fondly as you ran your fingers through Lily’s strawberry hair. “Why can’t I go with them, mummy? It’s not fair!” Lily exclaimed, breaking your gaze from your husband and son. You chuckled and leaned down to kiss her head. “You will have your chance, my love. You’ll have your letter soon.” She looked up at you, bearing her father’s bright eyes, and smiled. “I hope to be in the same house as you, mummy.” You smiled and nodded, hoping the same. You loved being a (Y/H). Albus and Rose boarded the train together, waving more goodbyes through the train window. Harry had joined you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Can you believe it, love? We only have one more to send-off.” He said before kissing your temple. You smiled and leaned into his kiss. “I just hope they don’t have to go through everything we did as kids.” Ron pipped up. “They will do great, Ron. I know it.” Hermione said, wiping a tear as she continued to wave as the train pulled away from the station.

Once the train was out of sight, you all began heading back to the exit when a pair of cold, grey eyes met yours. A pair that you had not seen or wanted to see in many years. The pair that belonged to Draco Malfoy. What was he doing here?! Your husband felt you tense up, stopping to look down at you. He followed your eyes and saw exactly what was causing the problem. He knew of your history with the Slytherin blonde boy. You loathed him from the minute you saw him your first year. He constantly bullied Harry and your friends, jealous of Harry’s fame. Things began to change, however, during your fourth year. Draco had been dared to ask you to the Yule Ball by his fellow housemates. He accepted, wanting to make the night terrible for you. You accepted his terrible invitation, as you couldn’t find a date and you had a slight feeling there was something more to the invite.

“Are you mental (Y/N)?! You’re seriously going to take Draco’s invite to the ball?!” Hermione shouted. You silenced her immediately, not wanting Harry or Ron to find out, at least not yet. “Well, I don’t exactly have a date, Hermione. I wasn’t lucky enough to get someone like Viktor.” You didn’t mean it to sound hurtful, part of it was jealousy, as every girl wished the Tri-Wizard Champion had asked them. You looked at your long, black ballgown in the mirror, running your hands down the front out of nerves. You picked black for two reasons, one, you always loved the color on you, and two, you felt the color matched Draco’s cold heart. “Ready, then?” Hermione asked, breaking you from your trance. Nodding, you spun around and headed for the Great Hall. As the two of you approached the Great Hall, you could hear Draco and his idiotic friends laughing. You rolled your eyes, asking yourself why you decided to do this. Harry and Ron stood at the bottom of the stairs, Ron catching a glimpse of Hermione first, leaving him speechless. Harry followed his gaze and also became silent. The two of you smiled and began the descent down the stairwell. You looked over to the opposite side as your two best friends to where Draco stood. ‘He does clean up nice', you thought. Making eye contact, he stops mid-sentence with Crabbe and Goyle. You notice his Adam's apple bob up and down, indicating a hard swallow. Hesitantly, you separated from Hermione and approached the Slytherin boys. “What in the bloody hell is she doing?” you heard Ron ask the two other friends. Hermione just patted his shoulder before locking arms with Viktor, also surprising Harry and Ron. Draco let his eyes run up and down your figure, taking you in. “(Y/N) ... you look…wow…” Draco said, stumbling over his words. Did Draco Malfoy just compliment you? Chuckling, you looked down at you dress. “Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself.” He stepped closer, putting an arm out for you to grab, “Shall we?” As you picked up you dress with one hand, you looped the other through Draco’s as he led you into the beautifully lit Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle stood amazed, glancing between each other and the two of you confused. Yes, they were part of the dare, but they didn’t think it would play out like this.

While Draco isn’t a dancer, you two did manage to slow dance to a few songs. Draco was a true gentleman when placing his hand on your side and holding your hand with the other. This surprised you, knowing the reputation his family has for being so cold. “I really did mean what I said, (Y/N). You look amazing.” He whispered in your ear. Feeling the coolness of his minty breath sent chills down your spine. You could not understand why; did you feel something for Draco deep down? “Thank you, Draco. So, was this truly a dare, or did you want to go with me?” He flashed a smile. “Even if it was a dare, I think it’s worked out pretty well, don’t you?” he teased.

After that day, you began to share lingering stares during classes and in passing in the halls. Soon, those lingering glances became notes passed during class, which lead to sneaking out of the common rooms late at night. The two of you had kept what you had under wraps, knowing how much would be coming your way if the school found out. All anyone knew, except Hermione, was that you two attended the Ball together, and even that was a ‘dare’. Your relationship began to fall apart during the sixth year, however. His family had pressured him to become a Death Eater, now baring the dark mark on his inner forearm. You despised it. Watching it move on his arm made you physically ill. You knew he had been put up for a ‘special mission’ from Voldemort, but he could never tell you what it was. You found out, though, after seeing Professor Dumbledore fall from the Astronomy Tower that night. Draco had ran off with his parents and other Death Eaters, not returning to finish the school term. Once the term had been completed, you joined together with your three best friends to find the remaining Horcruxes. Your parents weren’t thrilled you would not be returning for your final and seventh year, but there was a war that needed to be fought.

Draco stood near the exit of King’s Cross, wearing one of his famous all-black suits. His hair is still as striking blonde as you remembered. Facial features the same, just a little more aged. A woman stood slightly behind them. You recognized her as Astoria Greengrass, a fellow Slytherin. You remembered her from school, and she always stayed a little too close to Draco for your liking. Did they have a child the same age as one of your boys? “C’mon, love, let’s get Lily home,” Harry said, placing his hand in the small of your back and kissing your temple again. You loved it when he did that. Harry was always so caring and affectionate towards you, even after all these years. Draco watched the interaction, making you wonder if he even knew you ended up with Harry. Surely, he knew.

Ginny had tried to run towards Harry during that final battle in the courtyard as he dangled from Hagrid’s arms. Voldemort cast a spell her way, knocking her back and causing her head to hit a rock. She was carried inside the castle so Madam Pomfrey could help. She tried everything, but Ginny was gone. It took a long time for Harry to mourn and return to normal. He truly loved her. You suffered as well, not in the same extreme as Harry, but still in a poor mental state. You ignored Draco’s letters. Draco and his mother had managed to avoid Azkaban; however, his father wasn’t so lucky and was sentenced again. Eventually, Draco’s owls became more and more spaced out until they stopped coming altogether. Your father offered to burn his letters, as you refused even to open them. You decided not to, instead shoving them in a bin hidden from sight. Hermione and Ron became tired of seeing their two other best friends so depressed and decided to invite yourself and Harry to dinner one night. Once all together, it was as if nothing had changed and no time had elapsed. Ron and Hermione were very happy and very much in love, leaving yourself and Harry out. The two of you vowed to keep in touch better, as you both worked at the Ministry together, different departments, but still. You two shared your hardships and struggles, finding comfort in one another. One thing leads to another, and now you sit holding his hand with three beautiful children.

The following morning was bizarre. Not hearing the bickering of the boys was strange. The house felt empty and quiet, which is something that you had not had in ages. You would now have to practice only making breakfast for three instead of five. After Lily was dropped off at your parents for the day, the two of you headed to the Ministry to start your workday. Harry could tell you were still thrown off by the events from the previous day. “I’m fine, really.” You said, squeezing his hand. “I have a hard time believing you, (Y/N). He can’t hurt you now. It’s been ages.” He said, trying to reassure you. “I know, just seeing him brought back so much.” “It’ll be alright, love. All of that is in the past. You’ve got me now, know it?” Harry leaned in and pecked your lips. “Come get me if you need me today, okay?” Harry said, walking in a different direction than you were. Harry worked as an Auror, and you worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures along with Hermione.

Walking into your office, you said hello to your receptionist. “Mrs. Potter, your first appointment is already in your office.” She stated bubbly. You looked at her puzzled. “I thought my first meeting was much later?” you questioned. She looked as confused as you. Taking a deep sign, you walked into your office and was in disbelief at what stood by the window. Draco. How did he find me? He turned to face me as soon as he heard my bag hit the floor. “Draco, you need to leave.” You said as firmly as you could. All you wanted to do was scream for Harry, but his department was on the complete opposite side of the Ministry from you. “Don’t.” Draco spat. “I needed to speak with you.” He continued. “And I need you to leave before I call someone.” He laughed. “Oh, is your Potter going to come to save you? He’s already taken you away from me once, and I won’t let him do it again.” He said before reaching into his suit pocket. You stood there, not knowing what he was planning to do. Draco pulls out what looks to be like a Time-Turner. Hermione used one during our third year to ensure she was able to take all of her classes. It was said all of those devices in existence were destroyed. How did Draco get his slimy hands on one? “How-how did you...” you trailed off, your mind racing as to what his plan was. “A gift from my father. The only one left. You know how this works, right (Y/N)?” he said, stepping closer to you. “Draco…” you started, but before you could push him away, the extended chain was draped around your neck along with Draco’s. His fingers moved the locket quickly before you could think or do anything.

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#draco malfoy imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #imagine #fanfiction

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consumedkings-archive · 3 years

Text

party favors ✤ no-cult au

honeyseed + “this isn't what i meant when i yelled fuck you” requested by @blissfulalchemist and “i’ve dreamt about this” requested by @chyrstis! (i hope you don't mind my combining these!!) sequel that nobody asked for to this oneshot

word count: 5.4k

warnings: mentions of a daddy kink in passing (you'll get what i mean), painfully awkward family dinners, mentions of "putting a dog down" (because ambrose is NUTS), mentions of abusive/neglectful parenting, needy!john, posessive!john, also john thinks that he has to compete with elliot's absentee father all the time so he does dumb shit to "assert" his "dominance". all in all this has no explicit smut but bear these things all in mind pls

The time it takes them to “get vodka” from Scarlet’s house is longer than anticipated, but not as long as Elliot would prefer. She takes a little time to clean herself up in the bathroom while John tends to his car—not that there’s much of a mess, anyway, the house was barely a forty-second turn around the bend—and she brings out her mother’s preferred bottle of vodka (Ketel One) and finds John leaned against the hood of his car, waiting expectantly.

“I can’t believe you didn’t go inside,” Elliot teases, picking her way down the path between the rose bushes and stopping in front of him. John’s hands go to her waist, gripping where there’s still a dull, pleasant ache from their previous activities. “You know, get some more snooping in.”

“Considered it,” he relents, pulling her between his legs so that he can kiss her, “but since I’ve only been up here once before, I figured there’d be plenty more to come.”

Elliot hums, curling her fingers into his now-buttoned up shirt (disappointing). “Very presumptuous of you.”

“It seems I’m making mistakes left and right tonight,” John agrees, nose brushing hers and his hands sliding beneath the hem of her dress, up the backs of her thighs. He makes a low noise and digs his fingers into her skin, adding, “Surely your mother doesn’t need her vodka that quickly.”

“You’d be—surprised,” Elliot replies as she tries to keep her voice even. It’s fairly successful despite the brunette’s wandering hands making her want to squirm. “She’s a beast without it.”

“Ell,” John rumbles, “I think you and I both know that your mother is a beast of her own, period.”

“I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“Oh, please don’t.”

“I like the sound of that.” She says the words against his mouth. “You saying please.”

The brunette makes an intrigued sound, as though the prospect of saying please in other, more sordid ways has greatly interested him. She grins, kisses him once, and then a second time, longer, curling her fingers into his beard at his jawline for a moment as she indulges in the feeling of it all—sated and pleasantly achy, with the humid heat of the night sticking to her skin and the smell of John’s expensive cologne filling her up like a wineskin—before she reluctantly pulls away and makes her way to the passenger side of the car.

“Let’s go,” she says, “I’d like to get my parents out of my house as soon as possible.”

John grins, boyish and wolfish all at once. “Boy, you really did miss me.”

Elliot resists the urge to roll her eyes—but it’s hard not to return the smile, especially considering how earnest he’d been before. Wrong, and insecure, yes; but earnest about a lot of it, which is more than can be said for any boyfriend that she’s had before. Joey keeps reminding her that just because John is beating the bar, which is low set already thanks to said past boyfriends, doesn’t mean he’s actually good for her; but she thinks he is. In a lot of ways, he is. She’s never felt safe with someone like she has with John.

“We should probably talk about the fact that you believed I was cheating on you,” she says as he pulls down the drive. His mouth downturns into a grimace. Joey would be proud of her.

“We could,” he agrees. “Or, we could pull over and make out instead. Doesn’t that sound more fun? You’re already out of your underwear, half the work’s done.”

“John.”

“Look,” he says, lifting a hand to stop her—not that she was going to say anything than an admonishment in the form his name, anyway—and she lifts a brow expectantly. “I didn’t really date, before you. You know that. It was always just a passing, temporary bliss kind of thing.”

Elliot nods sagely, because she does know. That is another part of his allure, that he wants her enough to stay just with her, where he hasn’t before.

“So I’m just not used to it,” he finishes. “Having to worry about if you’re...cheating on me, or not. And maybe it’s really annoying that Jacob gets to see you all the time and I don’t. That’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?”

“That’s all.”

Elliot musters up a sound that she tries her best to make unimpressed and then settles back against the car seat. She’s happy he’s here, even if he came under malicious pretense; and there’s a part of her, too, that’s worried. That maybe it’s a failing on her part to assure him that she likes him, like really likes him, because she tries so hard to keep him and her family separate. Through no fault of his own—it’s all entirely because her mother is dreadful, and she doesn’t even know what kind of man her father is beyond ‘the type what readily abandons his wife and child, periodically over an extended stretch of time’. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue the way she’d like it to when making an introduction.

She tries not to think at all about Ambrose, if she can help it. She calls him her daddy and her mother says things like well, give your father a hug, Elli, like she’s supposed to want to touch someone who left her alone all this time. It’s the most sacred language, she thinks, touch; the idea of her father shaking John’s hand—a hand which would inevitably be on her body—had been nauseating. What had Ambrose’s hands been doing, this whole time? Where did all of their scars come from? Did she want to know?

John’s fingers brushed the inside of her knee, hooking beneath to rest there comfortably. He was always touching, gripping and tracing and feeling her out, like he’s still not sure if she likes it or not. She tries to make it obvious when she does and when she doesn’t, but she knows he still wonders. Like he’s waiting for her to turn around and say, actually, I don’t like it when you touch me, it’s repulsive and we need to break up right now.

“Awful quiet over there,” he ventures.

Elliot rests her hand over his, dragging the pad of her thumb across one tattooed finger. “Tired out.”

“Yeah?” John hums, turning down the road and back into town. “Getting fucked against the side of a car will do that to you.”

“I hope you’re just getting all of that out of your system before we sit down to dinner with my mother,” Elliot says dryly. The words make a familiar heat crawl back up her throat.

“And your father,” he points out.

Elliot opens her mouth; there’s an instinct to say, well, who knows if he’ll even still be there? That’s all it takes, just a few minutes, or, I’d prefer if he wasn’t there anyway, or, you don’t get it, John, that he’s not really there, it’s a man wearing my father’s face but he’s not there at the dinner table at all, just a fleshbag that calls himself my father. I don’t know him.

But all of these things feel very un-sexy and like it might ruin the mood. So she closes her mouth.

John lifts a brow. He says, “Go on.”

“It’s not really pillow talk,” she replies uneasily. “What if we pulled over and made out instead? My underwear’s already off, half the work’s done.”

“Ell,” he says, parking the car in front of the house and looking at her. Looking, like he could see right into her. Right down into the marrow of her bones. “I want you to say what you’re thinking.”

It’s very annoying. She sighs and says, “Maybe he left.”

John watches her; he seems to be waiting for more. When she doesn’t give it, he prompts, “Sure.”

“And, I would prefer it if he did.” Elliot’s mouth twists. “That’s a stranger in there, if he is. In there. All he is to me is skin and bone that walks and talks like my dad but everything about it—about him—is wrong. Off. Like—”

She stops herself again, and the brunette’s fingers squeeze her knee again, prodding. Prompting. Greedy to know. She’s never been with someone who wants so badly to know precisely what is going on in her brain at all times, but John does.

“Like something put his face on and walked through the door,” Elliot finishes after a minute. She feels a little crazy saying it out loud, and more and more unsexy as the seconds pass, but John leans across the console and reaches up with his free hand to thread his fingers into her hair and kiss her. It’s a slow and unhurried kind of kiss, one that assures her that he doesn’t want to fuck her any less for saying what she’s said.

John says, against her mouth, “Should I take a swig of that bottle before I go in?” and she laughs and kisses him again because it feels like what she said is really fine and alright and not at all an indicator of turmoil.

“She’ll glass you if you do,” Elliot replies. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John is unsurprised to find that Scarlet struggles to hide her disdain for him upon their arrival back in Elliot’s house.

“Oh,” she says when he opens the door and ushers Elliot in ahead of him. “You’re staying for dinner, John?”

“I invited him,” Elliot interrupts, before John can spend the next forty-five seconds figuring out how to politely tell Scarlet that he’d be staying a lot longer than dinner, given that Elliot’s intimates are still deposited in the back of his car. The desire to absolutely scandalize his girlfriend’s mother is almost too strong. “Be nice, mama.”

“Well,” Scarlet replies primly, “I suppose that’s fine.”

“I would hope so. It is my house.”

“It just would be nice, bunny, if we had some family time.”

Elliot’s expression tightens. John can see it there, sitting on just the tip of her tongue, following the vein of what she had confided in him before; that it won’t feel like family time even if he’s there, that it would never feel like family time because Ambrose is her father in name alone.

John says serenely, “Can I make you a drink, Scarlet?”

It’s the magic phrase. He’s a quick learner, and he knows this, and he knows that Scarlet can see exactly what he’s doing but cannot resist the urge to put John in a position of servitude, so she narrows her eyes and says in a saccharine voice, “Sure, honey, why don’t you?”

There are a lot of reasons why he shouldn’t, but he plants a kiss on Elliot’s cheek and squeezes her hip before he takes the bottle of vodka out of her hand and makes his way into the kitchen.

It’s been a minute since he’s been inside of her house—and admittedly, the times that he’s been inside of it before, his attention has been elsewhere; even now, everything in the house looks and smells and feels like her in such a way that it feels like his attention is constantly being pulled to wherever it is she’s standing—but the kitchen is also housing her father, and Ambrose sticks out like a sore thumb.

Everything in Elliot’s house is soft and meticulously manicured. She doesn’t strike as the kind of woman who’s driven by a ferociously attentive eye for detail, but there are plenty of things that he’s still discovering about her, and her penchant for placing things exactly where and how she wants them, making them just the color and shape she likes, is a strong one; each throw blanket, pillow, shade of paint on the wall, rug. Her home is designed to be a soft place to land.

So it’s no wonder that Ambrose Honeysett, whose sharp, angular face and wolfish smile with full, too-white teeth, does not blend in.

“Have a nice drive?” Ambrose idles. He’s smoking in the kitchen. John knows that Elliot hates smoking in her house.

“Oh, I suppose.” Briefly, spitefully, he thinks about Elliot, pinned up against the side of his car, and, Fuck, I love your hands. “Hope County’s not really my choice of backdrop.”

“Mm. City boy,” Ambrose drawls in response. He plucks the bottle of vodka from John’s hands and pours himself a double in to a glass—no ice cubes, no mixer. The man balances the cigarette between his pointer and middle finger as he screws the cap back on. “Elli told us about you. Not sure if I like my little girl bein’ with a city boy.”

John resists the urge to grimace. He instead busies his hands with making Scarlet’s preferred alcoholic beverage (it’s been seared into his brain, you see—“Vodka martini dry, John—that means a drizzle of vermouth, not equal parts, and I want three olives”—and he can no longer see such a drink being ordered by a random in a bar without instantly disliking them) and says, “I’m flattered. I haven’t heard much about you.”

He’s feeling a little emboldened. He keeps replaying the last forty-five minutes over in his head, keeps thinking about how Elliot is already more his that she has ever belonged to her father, and maybe that’s a little deep-set greed in his heard reminding him that he hates sharing. John can see that the words do not skip over Ambrose’s head—not in the least—and the redhead cocks his head to the side and takes a long drag of his cigarette.

“You’re funny, Slick,” he drawls, and flashes a grin, wide and pearly, as he claps John on the shoulder like they’re college buddies. “I think I do like you.”

Well, John thinks, sucking his teeth and feigning a polite smile, that goes for one of us.

Before he can try and figure out Ambrose’s game (and it is, in fact, a game—John knows it when he sees it), Elliot has come into the kitchen and made an exasperated sound.

“I told you, no smoking in the house,” she snips. She gestures with her hands for him to depart.

“Sorry, bunny. Forgive your daddy his bad habits.”

Annoying. John can barely stand sharing Elliot’s attention with her mother, let alone the man that has caused her so much grief for so long. It’s not like Ambrose deserves her attention.

“You’re not sorry,” Elliot replies wearily, “but you will be if you don’t get that out of my kitchen. Scoot.” And then, in an effort to be somewhat nicer: “Please.”

Ambrose laughs, and squeezes her into a one-armed side hug that Elliot grimaces through, and then walks through the kitchen into the dining room and out onto the front porch. John pauses his work fishing a martini glass out of Elliot’s cabinet to turn around and look at her, thinly veiling his amusement.

“What?” she asks, annoyance still bleeding in from her father’s blatant disregard of her house rules.

“Every time I hear him refer to himself as your daddy,” he says, fingers snagging the hem of her sundress, “I just can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’d sound saying—”

“If you’re about to ask me to call you daddy, John—”

“—it to me,” he finishes, grinning wolfishly into the curve of her throat, hands sneaking below the hem of her dress. It’s distracting. How’s he supposed to mind his manners, he wonders—make a good impression on the parents he doesn’t give a shit about (except for Scarlet)—when she’s looking like this?

Elliot makes a little noise. “Hands,” she warns, as John’s fingers dig into warm skin Scarlet’s voice drifting in from the front doorway where she’s talking with Ambrose.

“You don’t even like it a little bit?” He murmurs the words into the hollow of her jaw. “You know... yes daddy, no daddy, please—”

The blonde slaps a hand over his mouth, her eyes narrowed playfully. “I will cut you,” she says. “We’re not negotiating a kink in my kitchen with my parents one room over. Mind yourself.”

John thinks about his slightly-new information—I love your hands—and he thinks about Ambrose smoking in Elliot’s kitchen even though she doesn’t like it, and he thinks about Scarlet—It would just be nice if we had some family time—and he thinks, Maybe I am family now, Scarlet, did you think about that? He gives the back of her thigh a playful slap, delighting in her surprised little yelp, her hand slipping from his mouth.

“John!”

“Sorry,” he says, not feeling or sounding particularly sorry at all despite his words. He grins. My girl, the thought permeating idly through his mind. “Promise I’ll behave.”

Elliot takes his chin in her hands. “Or else.”

“You’re so sexy when you’re threatening me.”

“Shut. Up.”

He grins and pulls her close by the backs of her thighs, until she’s flush against him. There’s nothing he wants more than to lift her up on the counter and have his way with her—but he’ll do as she asks. He’ll play nice during dinner, just like she wants, and pretend like it doesn’t drive him fucking batty.

“Sure,” he murmurs, kissing her jaw, the corner of her lips, and then full-on to rumble against her mouth, “anything you want.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Dinner is just as excruciating as Elliot thought it would be. She spends the first half of it pretending to be very interested in what it is her mother has to say about Delia and the other women back in Weyfield are up to (spoiler: it’s almost nothing interesting—it’s all about this one’s son getting kicked out of uni and this one’s daughter wrecking her car and don’t you just think it’s vapid, Elliot, these women who won’t even parent their own children?) and then the last half is spent—not to sound dramatic, or anything—wanting to end her fucking life.

It’s all quite harmless to start off with; John is trying to be his usual charming self, which Scarlet is handily unimpressed by but which her father engages with frequently. It's fine, but it’s got a weird energy to it. Elliot knows that John likely does not enjoy her father (he’s a hard man to enjoy) and certainly has a choice opinion about him given what he knows of his clinical and methodical abandonment of Elliot and her mother. It’s painful enough that she’s told John about how her dad left her alone in a mall at eight years old so he could fuck off for another ten years.

Like he promised, though, John behaves. He talks about real estate with Ambrose (which her dad knows nothing about—he just regurgitates shit he reads in the papers, Elliot knows) and leaves one hand on her thigh while they eat, hidden beneath the table cloth. Occasionally, it drifts upward, skimming the inside of her thigh and dangerously close, and she clears her throat loudly (much to his amusement). All in all, she thinks maybe she’s going to get out of this dinner relatively unscathed, and she thinks, this isn’t so bad.

John is in the middle of listening to Scarlet’s opinion on the Prescott girl’s wedding colors (saffron yellow, yuck, Scarlet thinks) and Elliot says, “Daddy, can you pass me the pepper?”

It’s just a question. She will tell herself this later—it’s just a question, it’s just a stupid fucking question—but of course, it is just her luck that things are not ever just something in her life, because Elliot glances up from her plate to see her father and John reaching for the pepper at the same fucking time.

There’s a very strange, awkward moment where John and Ambrose’s fingers meet at the pepper shaker. Elliot wants to sink into the floor and disappear.

We’re not, she wants to say. We don’t, I mean, I don’t say that, John doesn’t ask me to, we’ve just been joking with it, we don’t actually and if you let me tell you, it’s a pretty funny story when you think about it—

“Well,” John says, and he sounds gleeful, “this is a bit awkward.”

Her father is watching him from across the table. Elliot drags her hand over her face. Of course. Of course John says he’s going to behave and then he does this, he pulls some stupid fucking move out of nowhere because he knows it’s going to push her fucking berserk button and she’ll fume through the rest of the dinner until her parents leave so she can rip his stupid fucking Dolce & Gabbana shirt off and—

Scarlet sighs. “My God.”

“Mama, it’s not—” Elliot sighs. “We don’t—”

“I thought she said Johnny,” John deflects easily, taking the pepper and setting it beside her plate. She has never once called him Johnny, except to be condescending. “Sorry, Mr. Honeysett.”

“No harm,” her father replies. His tone is light, but his expression is not. He leans back against his chair, draping an arm around the back of Scarlet’s chair. “Simple mistake, Lettie, don’t let it wind you up.”

“Untoward,” is what Scarlet says tightly. She has never liked John. She may never like John. And John’s proclivity for button-pushing is certainly not helping his case.

And amidst it all, Elliot’s face is ten degrees hotter, and she thinks, if this is some stupid way of John trying to assert himself I’m going to come un-fucking-glued, and she puts her face in her hands and exhales. Loudly.

“Excuse me,” she announces abruptly, the headache already beginning to pound behind her eyes.

“Bunny, sit down,” her father scolds. He’s been smoking in her kitchen after she explicitly told him not to, and he’s shown up after not being around for who knows the fuck how long, and he still has the audacity to tell her what to do. “It was a mistake. Wasn’t it, John?”

I’m going to kill, she thinks, I’m going to fucking kill the next person who tells me what to do.

“Sure,” John replies agreeably, “a mistake.”

Don’t you fucking push me.

“So sit down,” her father insists. “You get your dramatics from your mother, you know, it’s just a little—”

“Fuck you,” Elliot snaps, and Scarlet blinks rapidly. Immediately, she regrets saying it—not because she doesn’t feel immense relief when it finally comes out of her, but because she wishes she’d said it at a more appropriate time. Is there an appropriate time to tell your spawn-sponsor ‘fuck you’? she wonders. Oh, well. “Excuse me.”

Pushing the chair out of the way, she takes her glass into the kitchen and closes the sliding door that keeps it separate from the dining room. Most of the time, it’s open—but she wants it closed. A clear and unmistakable separation between herself and everyone else.

You get your dramatics from your mother, you know.

“Oh, you motherfucker,” she grinds out between her teeth, scrubbing her hands under the faucet. “Gonna fucking—kick your ass to the fucking curb, you stupid-fucking-dumb-shit—”

The door to the dining room slides open, and then shut. She doesn’t look behind her. She can tell from the waft of expensive cologne that it’s John, and not her mother or father, and she’s not quite sure yet how much she wants to gut him yet.

“Ell,” John says, barely capping his delight at what is, she is sure, his ideal dinner date. “Elli—”

“Stop talking.” She turns the faucet off, dries her hands, and turns around to find him very close. “Right now, John, if you want to keep those pretty teeth in.”

“I thought,” he murmurs as he blithely ignores her threat, “that it was just a funny little joke. You know, because we’ve been joking about it. I wanted you to lighten up a little. You’re so unhappy when your dad’s around, I hate seeing you like that.”

“You fucking—” Elliot sucks in a sharp breath. “You thought it would lighten me up for you to play Freddy Fuckaround out there? It’s one thing to have to tolerate the stupidity of listening to my dad talk to me like he’s got anything worthwhile to say, but for you—”

John kisses her. He takes her face in his hands and he kisses her, and it’s not a simple peck; it’s open-mouthed, his tongue sweeping the seam of her lips as he makes a low noise into the liplock. She reaches up and grips his wrists, but she can’t tell if she wants to push his hands off or keep them there.

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I yelled fuck you,” is what she says against his mouth, and he laughs, breathlessly. “You know that, right? You seem to be getting confused about when someone's talking to you.”

“You’re irresistible when you’re this riled.”

“You said you’d behave.”

“You’re right,” John admits, and nips her lower lip with his teeth just a smidge harder than normal, the sting of it earning him a slap to the side of his forearm. “Ow! Mean, cruel woman.” His eyes narrow. “I ought to bend you over this counter.”

The words flush her with wanton heat. “Stop being an insatiable fuckhead,” she threatens. “Play nice.”

“Hm. Boring.”

“John.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll play nice.”

“Mean it.”

“I will play nice,” he reiterates silkily, dragging his thumb over the slightly sore spot on her lower lip. “For you, my love. This time. I swear it.”

“Good,” she murmurs. Kissing the pad of his thumb, she adds, “If you fuck around again, I’m sending you back to Georgia.”

“I shan’t risk it,” he vows solemnly. There’s a moment where she thinks he might be genuine, and he brushes their noses together; his thumb sweeps her cheekbone now, and he kisses her temple. Those butterflies she feels any time John is unexpectedly gentle with her return, incited even further by the way he noses the hair away to kiss there again.

And then he says, “Your mother is scandalized,” and ruins it.

“Get out of here,” she scolds. “Go—do something. Be useful. I’ll deal with my mother after I’ve had a breather.”

One breather. Maybe two, or five, or ninety; she’s not sure how much of a breather she’ll need to get ready for whatever’s waiting for her back out there.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The evening is significantly cooler now than it was even during his and Elliot’s little foray out to the Honeysett house, but John can barely register anything; the temperature, the burn of cigarette smoke as he takes a drag of the thing he puts in his mouth so rarely nowadays and typically only recreationally, in some strange attempt to bond with the man who is technically the father of his girlfriend. None of it matters, not really, because the last thing he wants to be doing is this.

Playing nice with Ambrose Honeysett.

Still, the moment feels a bit absurd given their previous little misunderstanding, in that John has to keep stopping himself from laughing at it all, or else Ambrose might think he’s nuts.

“You ever have to put down a dog, John?” Ambrose asks after a minute, tapping ash off the end of his cigarette and glancing inside. The window is open to let in airflow, and in the warm lights of Elliot’s kitchen he can see her clearing plates from the table while her mother drags on about Delia said this and did you know Blair, the other day, was talking to me about that. Apparently, Scarlet has foregone discussion of what she thinks might be Elliot’s sexual inclinations.

John idles, “I don’t know that I have.”

“You know, like a sick dog. Sometimes when they’re mean, you’ve gotta put ‘em down.” Ambrose leans against the front pillar of the porch and takes a drag of his cigarette. “Say, if a dog bites your daughter. Can’t have a dog biting your kid, you know?”

He can feel Ambrose’s eyes on him. It’s a pointed statement. Willfully ignoring it, John replies, “I’ve never had pets, growing up.”

Ambrose makes a hm noise. “Dunno if I can like a man who never had a dog before.”

“My parents were strict.”

Another hm. He shrugs, takes another drag, lets it slip out through his nose rather than his mouth. He looks like a lazy dragon; like he’s going to wind his scaly body around and around the house until he’s strangling it. Elliot’s rubbing off on me, John thinks absently.

“I want my girl happy,” Ambrose says after a minute.

My girl, and maybe you should fuck off, then. “Of course.”

“And Scarlet worries about her,” the redhead continues. “You know, that she won’t find someone good for her. I told you, I like you. I just wanna make sure you’re—you know. Not a bad influence on her.”

John doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a long inhale of his own cigarette, in an effort to excuse his responsibility to respond.

“Ambrose, we’re leaving,” Scarlet announces from the doorway once she swings the door open. “Put that dreadful thing out.”

Ambrose flashes a crooked smile. He puts the cigarette out in the ashtray and elbows John like they’re friends. “Ball and chain summonin’ me.”

He can’t relate. He likes when Elliot gets bitey with him, literally and figuratively.

Elliot’s come out, too, having taken a few minutes by herself in the kitchen earlier and then changed into some pajamas—little shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She lets Ambrose hug her like she didn’t say fuck you viciously at a dinner table to him, and then kisses her mother’s cheek and says, “Drive safe.”

She turns back into the house before they’ve even left the driveway, and John follows dutifully. The house is finally quiet; he thinks, at last, at last, I have her all to myself, not because he doesn’t feel like the time they had pre-dinner wasn’t good (it was) but because it wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough, he thinks.

“So glad he’s gone,” Ellliot murmurs, collapsing onto the bed, rubbing her face. John hums his agreement, working out of his jeans and button-up, planting a warm kiss on the inside of her thigh before he scoots her up onto the bed all the way and settles over her. The blonde looks worlds more relaxed, now—he knows how important it is for her safe home space to be just that—and when he brushes some loose hair from her eyes, her lashes flutter prettily.

He buries his face against the warmth of her neck; kisses there, feels the jump of her heartbeat when he drags his teeth against her pulse-point.

“I’ve dreamt about this,” she says breathlessly. John lifts his head from where he had been busying his mouth and narrows his eyes playfully.

“Dreamt about me driving you batshit during a family dinner?” he asks. “Or was it the part where I told you I was going to bend you over the counter?”

“No, you idiot,” she groans, blushing. “Just having you here.” True to form: “Dumbass.”

“You are so mean to me.”

“Am not,” she replies petulantly. “I am the nicest. The nicest, most flexible—”

“Hm.”

“I was saying, having you here with me. Instead of having to—you know. Run back and forth all the time. It’s hard with work and everything.” She plays her fingers against his chest, tracing ink that she’s memorized with her mouth several times already. “I’m not used to it. Wanting someone around all the time.”

John ducks his head to kiss her. There’s less urgency in this one, this time; but she parts her lips just the same, and sighs against him, and arches up a little when he digs his hand beneath the hem of her shorts, and he says, “I’ll be here whenever you want me to, Ell.”

“Yeah?” She’s breathless, and her eyes are bright, and she rolls her lower lip between her teeth for a second. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course,” he rumbles. He leans in and grins against her skin. “Especially if we’re still gonna negotiate about that—”

“John, shut up and kiss me.”

“Only if you call me Freddy Fuckaround again.”

She laughs, this time, and the sound is so warm and genuine in an evening that has been filled with force pleasantries that John thinks he might like to hear it all over again. Elliot squirms up against him and kisses his cheek and then his jaw, and combs her fingers through his beard.

“Anything,” she promises, “except for daddy.”

#my writing #far cry 5 #fc5 fic #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy #far cry 5 fic #john seed/female deputy #no cult au #it took me like a month but: here it is #i am not taking criticism at this time please and thank youuuuu #this is entirely a self-indulgent piece of work meant to comfort me while i am under duress : ^ )

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