#this certainly soured up my morning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whispereons · 5 months

Text

Oracle!Reader Part 21

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 20, Part 22

Warning! This series is SAGAU and Imposter AU so expect gore. Although this chapter focus more on mental distress rather then physical.

There's a soft light that shines in front of you, lulling you to open your eyes. Pure white greets you as you slowly come to your senses.

There's no feeling in your body, but it doesn't worry you. The boundless white space you exist in is comforting. The sky whirls around you as new colors burst into being.

The once blank canvas is now painted a dark sky on your left with stars sparkling like jewels. On your right is the morning sky, bright blue with clouds adorning it delicately.

It's silent but peaceful. Your relaxed conscious is stirred from its slumber by a voice echoing around you.

“Why have you returned?”

It’s commanding, yet graceful. A cold compassion or a warm hostility?

“The deal has been finalized, and your return was never meant to be. No, that's incorrect.” A pensive hum is heard before the voice continues.

“You were meant to return at some point, but… not now, not yet. Teyvat seems to have sped up the process. While that doesn’t break the deal, I certainly won’t tolerate it amicably.”

A darker tone is used at the end of their words, before the gorgeous sky is overcome by dark red blocks. The serenity you feel is replaced by panic. You’re helpless to stop it from taking over everything.

Your vision begins to swarm with the blood-colored familiar blocks. As crimson takes over, the voice finishes their words.

“I won’t let you back so easily.” The last bits of your vision is covered and your lungs wheeze from the pain of the panic-

“Gasp-”

You sit up in the bed as sweat dots your skin, your lungs burn, and your fingers tremble from the grip you have on the covers. Eyes darting around the small room you’re in, your brain is unable to process everything as it spins.

The dream lingers in your mind. The red blocks poke at the edge of your eyes, the voice continues to echo through your mind. Leaning back, you rest your head on the headboard, the cool wood is a relief on your sweaty skin.

Releasing your bruising grip on the blankets, you rest your palms on your chest. You do your best to pay no mind to how your hands shake. Closing your eyes, a breath is inhaled and kept in.

One… That painting like sky, where else could you see something similar?

Two… The voice that spoke about Teyvat and you so casually, as if knowing everything.

Three… A status similar to an Archon, or mage? No, maybe even higher.

Four… Those red blocks have only been seen once before.

Five… You know who it is now.

The breath is exhaled, and your eyes flutter open at your revelation. Not like she was meaning to hide it. In fact, you could be certain that she wanted you to know that she was Celestia.

Sunlight begins to stream past the edges of the curtain, the wooden floor is cold against your bare feet as you get off the bed. Yanking the curtains and opening the window, you’re greeted with the sun barely peeking out and dew still present on the greenery.

The thought of how early you’ve been forced awake already sours your mood further.

It’s not anytime near 9 am, you would be lucky if it was half past 7 am. Sighing, you flop back onto the bed and reach for that connection between you and Teyvat.

‘Did you see that dream?’ You ask as you stare out the window from your spot. Silence envelops the room as you wait patiently. The soft beating of wings comes from the window, a Geo Crystalfly glides into the room before resting on the bedding next to you.

‘I’ll take that as a yes. What deal did Celestia make that involves me? What part did you play in speeding up my migration to this world?’ Staring firmly at the Crystalfly you remain in your spot.

The amber wings pause and the rocky outline stick together, keeping the wings closed. The crystal exterior body offers no answer to your expectant eyes.

‘Why won’t you respond now? You’re not Zhongli who is obligated to abide by a contract. Am I not your god?’ A bubble of frustration rises at the continued silence. The Crystalfly lowers itself further against the sheets, as if bowing to you.

But you didn’t want a useless bow. You wanted answers.

‘This situation fundamentally involves me. You, or Celestia, or whoever else is in this mess brought me here. And now I’m stuck acting out this stupid Oracle role and I can’t even get a single answer as to why?’

More Geo Crystalflies enter the room, all of them perch on the bed and mimic the bowing gesture. As if that useless, passive action could subdue your ire.

‘I’ve spent every day in this damn world fighting for my life! I just barely recovered from the brink of death! And yet when I ask about this strange situation and suspicious behavior, I get no response? NOT EVEN AN INDIRECT ONE?!’

Maybe it was all the stress you’ve been under, or the pain that still lingers in your body. Some would even say it was all the emotional hurt you’ve felt at having all the characters you treasured dearly treat you like this. But you couldn’t stop yourself from raising your hand in anger, rapidly coming down on the quivering Crystalflies that just refused to move-

Clink!

Your hand is abruptly stopped by the sound of metal hitting the table. You tore your eyes away from the Crystalflies to land on a weasel sitting on the table, a single mora lays at it’s feet.

Recognizing it vaguely as the weasel thief or mora weasels that treasure hoarders train, you stare at it unimpressed. It comes closer to you as the Crystalflies gently flap away to form a path. Beady eyes stare up at you pleadingly as the backpack on it jingles with all the mora inside.

Fingers unbuckling the straps, you remove the backpack and peer into the bag. The brown bag must only hold about 500 Mora, but mora is still mora, and you empty it into your bag. Once finished, you turn back to the Crystalflies ready to intimidate and interrogate more. You only refrain when the scurrying of multiple feet catches your attention.

What has to be at least 10 weasel thieves climbing through the open window, all carrying bags stuffed to the brim. Some hold 750 Mora, while others hold 1,000. Each time you unclip the bag and pour the mora into your bag. And each time you turn towards the Crystalflies, more weasels come through.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” You groan aloud as you ignore the assortment of weasels in the room, choosing to instead sit on the bed. The Crystalflies return to the bowing position as you gaze down at them with an unreadable expression.

Carefully, you scoop up the first Crystalfly that arrived into your hands, guilt of what you had almost done wraps around your heart like a vice.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to hit you. Although this whole gatekeeping vital information is annoying, you’ve been nothing but helpful to me. Besides, you may be keeping quiet due to a threat of some sort that the divulging of information could pose.’

You could hear the sounds of the weasels returning with more and more gifts. No doubt a way for Teyvat to show its gratitude to your ‘mercy’. With pursed lips, you ignore the actions and speak to Teyvat gently.

‘I’m afraid, Teyvat. Afraid that Celestia will take drastic measures to keep me from ‘returning’ or whatever. I’m 99% that Celestia is the one who disabled my teleporting feature and why I was only able to telepathically teleport those few times. For all I know, it could be a permanent disability. I don’t want to be limited more than I already am. If it goes too far, then I may even lose those things that proved me as an Oracle. And if that happens…’

Trailing off, you close your eyes and let out a bitter sigh. Setting the Geo Crystalfly back down, its amber wings fluttering in response, you turn to the weasels. Bags of mora, jewelry, wild fruit and small gemstones are beginning to fill up the table.

Opening the flap of your bag, you point at it and then at the table. “I want you guys to put all of that into my bag. If you have bags for me to open for you, bring them to me.”

A resounding trill is heard from them before the horde of Crystalflies flew out of the window. Deciding to leave the window open, you grab the letters and gifts from your previous visitors and bring them onto the bed.

The pitter-patter of the weasels feet and occasional flap of the Geo Crystalflies wing is heard in the background as you prepare for the day. Exiting the room and crossing the silent halls, you get to what has to be the bathroom and finish your morning routine.

The shower you take was the perfect opportunity to examine how your body is after all the healing. The bandages are removed and disposed of as you look into the foggy mirror.

Small scars in the shape of slits are seen on your body, Yelan’s arrows were no joke. The ice from Shenhe’s attacks left lighter toned patches on your calves too. Minor bruises and cuts were still healing up, but the small sting from the water didn’t bother you. If anything, it was the jagged and uneven scars along your spine that brought your mood down.

You were lucky that your broken spine didn’t cut into your spinal cord and paralyze you…

Changing into clean clothes and wrapping some new bandages, you do it all with a sense of apathy. Wouldn’t the thought of nearly being paralyzed have more of an effect? Yet when you thought of it, you could only imagine a sense of relief…

Looking back at the now clear mirror, you reach up for your mask. The battered mask is slipped off and placed on the counter. Familiar eyes stare back, and a grimace plays on your lips.

A purple bruise makes itself known on your temple, and poorly cared for skin muddles your features. The bridge of your nose, the eyes that crinkle at your attempt of a smile, even the way your full face comes together is so-

Foreign.

It’s not yours, not anymore.

It’s the Creators. The God that everyone worships as the one and only bearer of gold blood and highest form of authority.

Y/N does not have a face.

You have a title and a mask to be known by. A manner of speaking that leaves all to be swindled and led by without a true clue as to what goes on.

Licking your cracked lips, you adorn the mask once more and return to the room. Both the weasels and Crystalflies have already left, leaving it bare of activity. Closing the bag absentmindedly, you grab the medication bottles left on your bedside table.

Following the instructions Baizhu told you last night, you drink the medication as prescribed and gag at the taste. Setting all the medication aside, you sit down on the bed again and stare at the pile on the bed.

The letters and gifts from everyone that tried to visit are quickly sorted into two piles. You dig into the designated gift pile first.

A small box is opened to reveal a pair of armored fingerless gloves. It’s not super hard to guess your size, but they fit perfectly. The second and cuter box is opened with a delicious scent imprinting its first impression.

No one else could make food that smells this good except for Xiangling. Taking advantage of the early hours AKA no Baizhu, you wolf down the meal without properly admiring it. The spicy dish won’t do your still sensitive stomach any favors, but at least you enjoyed it.

A folded up paper is the next gift. Unraveling it shows a crude drawing of a brown haired girl with a pink flower, a tall man with glasses, a boy with a color palette you barely remember and a masked figure that had to be you.

Yiran, the little girl that you saved, had to be the one who drew this. That’s who must have spread the word and why Baizhu asked you to be lenient. Only her father, Kuan, could afford to bring her here.

The uneven letters spelling ‘My Heroes!’ at the bottom of the drawing made you smile a little. It was good that she was not only healed enough, but also happy enough to draw this for you.

The boy next to her in the drawing brought a sadder feeling. You didn’t remember him, but you did remember his mother. Her gaunt face and pale complexion came to mind as you pocketed the drawing. You weren’t sure if you could handle facing her.

The next gift evoked a stronger sense of despair as a patchy pouch was opened to show various knick-knacks. Pretty rocks, a tin with a string, shiny coins and worn out dice. You were familiar with the nature of these objects.

Most would see it as trash, but you knew it to be toys that were just as much, if not more fun, than the toys found in shops. Bored kids with nothing to do and nothing to use will find ways to entertain themselves, and being impoverished only fuels their creativity.

Trying to push away those nostalgic melancholic feelings, you open the last gift. A simple string necklace with a dark blue stone hanging from it laid in the box. The icy blue engraved symbol on it reminded you of Chongyun.

After disposing the trash, you put the drawing and the pouch into your bag. You reached for the letters next and opened the first one that you touched.

It was from Kuan, not unexpected, but you were interested in seeing what he had to say. What part he played in your identity getting spread around.

Most of it was profuse thanks for your completion of the commission and that the Adventurers Guild had the payment. Then it was how once Yiran had woken up, she had sneaked into the room when Baizhu was working and saw you.

Apparently she hadn’t been able to heal properly and was stuck on bed rest due to her grief. The kidnapping, death of her friend and finding out that you were going to be punished by the Adepti from the other kids created a mental block preventing her from healing.

But after seeing you and that you were still alive, her pain was eased enough that she was able to finally recover. You felt bad that she was sick all this time while you were being chased down, but she’s better now. And that’s all that mattered.

The next letter was actually from Kazuha. It detailed the sights that he had seen during his exploration of the Lisha area. It quickly turned into how panicked he felt when the wind pushed him to return to Liyue Harbor. The agonizing pain he felt over the rumors of a masked person being rushed into Bubu’s Pharmacy.

As no visitors were allowed, he went to Beidou and relayed the news. She had already finished her business and was preparing to leave. So he left you this letter and the armored gloves from Beidou.

Folding up the letter with the red and orange patterned leaf, you put it back into your bag. A knock on the door caught your attention before it opened slightly to show Qiqi.

“Oh, you’re awake.” She stands at the door frame until you nod, allowing her inside. She ambles inside with a cart of food and medicine. “Please take your medicine with the tea and eat the breakfast.”

She leaves just as quick as she came. As you weren’t starving after Xianglings meal, you took your time with breakfast. The medicine even with the tea tasted pretty bad.

Grabbing the next letter, a faint scent of food lingers on it, letting you know who sent it. Xiangling’s letter was small enough to be confused for a note, but it still easily conveyed her wreck of emotions. It ended with her mourning the fact that she couldn’t visit after dropping off the letter due to a rematch with a Monstadter that she scheduled long in advance.

A letter with a fancy wax seal was next. Opening it, you found the most horrendous handwriting you’ve ever seen. No matter how many times you rubbed your fingers on it, hoping that Tevyat could translate the mess of a letter, it just wouldn’t get any better.

The most you could make out was that Xingqui and Chongyun tried to visit but were denied. That the amulet was a gift from Chongyun that had a spell to protect you from evil spirits. And finally, that they're going to visit sometime today.

Didn’t Xingqui have some connection with Albedo? That would be an easy way to be innocently introduced into Mondstadt.

The next one thankfully did have eligible handwriting, it was a mix of bold letters and graceful strokes. Yun Jin and Xinyan both came to visit, but only Yun Jin would have time to come today.

The thought of having to entertain all these guests with Baizhu still waiting on the explanation of your Oracle status was not improving your desire to just vanish from Liyue. You forgot how tiring it was to constantly string up webs of lies that make up a cohesive story. It was like being constantly at work with the threat of danger on a brand-new level.

That letter is quickly dismissed and you grab the final letter. The paper is stained, and the edges are worn, opening it a strange set of words are found inside it.

“Hello, do you remember me?”

Frowning, you continue to read it as you search through your memories. The words make little sense until you come across a line that summons a wave of needless guilt.

“Those children enjoyed choosing those gifts for you. They remind me of my son.”

You don’t really want to finish this letter anymore.

Despite your internal feelings, you continue to skim through the letter. It touches on how they’re all adjusting to life back on the streets.

How the kids work together more but wail even louder in the night. The people that curse them out for coming back, the few items they had left swept away by the government as ‘trash’. The empty and hollow feeling she carries now that her son is gone.

She wished that she had given him up at birth like she was advised. That maybe at least then he would still be alive.

She mentions her son at least once every line into the letter.

It’s only when you see the curves of the ink spelling out his name that you scrunch up the paper. The paper crinkles as your teeth grit together, the sounds perfectly in tune with each other.

The anger is confusing. You don’t know the kid, so why should you feel guilty? Why should you feel guilty that she chose to share her anguish with you? Why does the thought of being even more aware of that boy make your heart race?

Slowly, you open the now wrinkled and slightly torn paper and skip straight to the bottom.

“I know you probably don’t care. You never promised me that you could save him or deliver him alive to me. But it’s easier to share these feelings with someone separated from this situation than the people who are already suffering with me.”

“I should take these feelings to the Creator and beg for some relief from my pain, yet I can’t even muster the strength to care for the tongue I ripped out in my mourning. How could I possibly keep this pain to me and the Creator alone? Don’t fret about helping me. I leave that all up to our God.”

That end soothes your racing heart and warped feelings, it’s clear to you now.

You’re beginning to feel the guilt from being their God but unable to actually help with anything. Celestia somehow limited you, none of your acolytes would ever believe you to be the Creator, and the powers you do have access to now are useless.

Was it your fault? Could you have been faster and given that boy some food to have saved him? Can you speak to some form of authority and have them help those victims?

Mindlessly, you begin to tear up the letter. It’s therapeutic to watch the scraps fall onto the tray. Each ink stained paper is ripped with shaking fingers, almost like you’re ripping apart the physical manifestation of your guilt.

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.

You’re not their God, you’re just the Oracle.

The truth doesn’t matter now. If this world can’t accept you wholeheartedly as the human you are, then why should you work to be seen as the God they cherish so much?

As if on cue, ruby droplets fall onto the worn shredded paper on the tray from the paper cuts you gained from your actions. The new gloves you got from Beidou are threatened to be stained as the red begins to trail down, but you quickly swipe it away.

Cursing yourself internally over the mess you made, you fumble with the drawer next to you for some bandages, not even hearing the repeated knocking on the door. It’s only when it’s opened and the pitter-patter of steps nearing you make you look toward it.

Cold, small fingers wrap around your own as magenta eyes stare up at you past the talisman hanging down from her hat.

“What happened?” Qiqi drawls, her signature zombie-like tone makes shame bubble up within you. Hanging your head, you don’t respond as you avoid her eyes.

You don’t feel normal.

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

The pharmacy is noisy as people frequently pass by the door to your room. Humming a catchy tune, you drum your fingers on the window sill as you watch outside the window. You imagine the wood of the sill must be cool, but you can’t tell under the bandages wrapped around your fingers.

Baizhu had visited you not too long ago to check on your leftover wounds and apply the topical medication. The cool moisture of the herbal medicine cooled down your body and prevented your apparent fever from worsening.

The room is clean aside from the bag you have left sitting on the bed with your belongings safely tucked away.

A small bag lies inside with the bloodied paper remains sitting inside it. You still aren’t sure if you were better off keeping it or throwing away. The series of knocks on your door bring your attention away from the scenery outside the window.

Staring for a second to be sure if you heard correctly, softer rapping follows up.

“Come in.” You call out before moving closer to the middle of the room. It swings open to show a girl with a shiny pink flower hairpin and a tall man wearing glasses. The smile on Kuan’s face is such a stark difference to the dark circles and sullen expression he wore when you first met him.

Yiran has bright eyes and a smile that could rival match the sun. Propufse thanks leave them both as Yiran keeps her fingers wrapped tight around her father’s. She’s still pale and clings to her father's hand when he moves to give you a handshake, but you gracefully ignore it.

“-Oh, and I’m so sorry that you’re being talked about by so many people. I really didn’t expect it to spread so far when I let her tell those other children that you saved that you were alive and recovering.” He looks kindly down at Yiran before gently urging her. “You too, Yiran, you have to apologize.”

Her eyes droop a little, but she still bows her head slightly as she apologizes. “I’m sorry, I just wanted my friends to know you were okay.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Thank you for the drawing.” You smile at them with ease and maintain small talk with them both a while longer before they leave. The door swings close, and your expression flattens at the same time.

Turning back to the window, you sit again and stare outside. The fluffy white clouds roll past in the blue sky as you allow your mind to go quiet. You just want a brief reprise from the stress you’ve been under all this time.

Time to just exist without having to worry about proving why you deserve to live in this world or your old one. Especially with Ningguang and your travel to the next region so close.

Maybe you took a nap or just dozed off, but the strum of a guitar brought your hazy mind back to awareness. Lifting your head from your arms crossed on the windowsill you see Xinyan taking steps two at a time as she runs from Millelith soldiers.

She quickly jumps off the top step onto the concrete so far below as she continues to play her guitar. It’s impressive, but you can’t help but be irked that soldiers had enough time to chase Xinyan but not help find kidnapped children.

That spiral of thoughts is interrupted as Yun Jin walks up the same set of stairs to Bubu Pharmacy as the soldiers disappear deeper into the city. Outwardly, she’s perfectly maintained, but the slight fidget of her fingers are like a warning sign.

The first and last time you spoke to her was the day of her ‘Lonely Chameleon’ performance that you vaguely recall had her promising to clear up the misunderstanding with Keqing.

What a bunch of good that did.

Yun Jin leaves your sight as she enters the building, and you move away from the window to crack the door open. Sitting on the foot of the bed, you patiently wait for Yun Jin to arrive. The biggest thing you relied on her about was her conversation with Keqing. So at least the situation with the Liyue Qixing can’t get any worse.

A polite knock sounds on the door before you call her in. Yun Jin steps in and closes the door behind her with a graceful smile that you return pleasantly.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you Y/N. I’m unsure if you read the letter but Xinyan and I were incredibly worried. Are you feeling any better?”

It’s not small talk, she’s genuinely concerned, but you have to force the undeserved annoyance down. “I’m feeling way better, and I’m basically almost back to normal. I’ll be discharged today, so don’t worry. Thank you for your concern.” God, you haven’t felt this fake in a while.

Yun Jin walks closer before stopping in front of you, polite as she is, she's not going to ask for a seat so you pat the spot on the bed next to you. Small talk is needlessly exchanged for a few more minutes, but you’re beginning to feel antsy from being stuck in your worry over how Keqing reacted.

“What performance did you do the day after we met? I remember you mentioning how you would speak to Keqing on my behalf after that play.” There it goes again, her fingers twitch before she tightly clasp them together on her lap.

“The performance went well. Thankfully nothing like the Geovishap hatchling accident happened so it wasn’t as stressful. I-I did get to talk to the Yuheng, but I’m afraid she didn’t put much trust into my words.” Just as you thought.

Her eyes squint slightly as she stares down at her lap, the little tremble of her lips and crack in her manners surprises you. You didn’t think she would feel this guilty over it.

“The questions she asked me about how or even just proof of your oracle status were troublesome to say the least. I genuinely didn’t have an answer for most of them and the ones I did weren’t very in-depth. I apologize Y/N.”

Placing your hand on her shoulder, your head shakes softly to deny her words. “Don’t worry about it, Yun Jin. I have a chance to personally refute some of the suspicions on me today. Thank you for at least trying, I just have one question.”

A part of you feels bad that you’re unintentionally displaying your frustrations on Yun Jin but not enough to stop you from asking your question. Her shoulders tense under your hand, and her face freezes when she hears your question.

“Did all those questions make you question whether I’m actually the Creator’s oracle?”

You can only force your lips into a smile that threatens to dissolve into a scowl with every fiber of your self-control at her body's reaction.

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

It’s disappointing, you think to yourself, as Yun Jin basically flees the room. The excuses she gave you and topic changes she tried to pull were pathetic, but you weren’t surprised considering how you went straight for the throat.

Yun Jin was a beast when it came to stage affairs and directing in arts, but there’s little to nothing she has to counter your precise attack. In a way, it’s smart for her to run rather then stand her ground and try to answer.

Standing up, you stretch your body, enjoying the absence of pain. The sly grin you wear is so much more comfortable than the bitter frown you’ve worn these past few days. Yun Jin was simply a good warm up, a nice way to get back into the ‘Oracle’ headspace you’ve developed.

It didn’t matter if you were their God or the Oracle.

Money, shelter, food, and a sense of security were all you needed in life. That is what you’ve focused on to survive all these years, and Teyvat will be no different. If playing along to the cult’s belief of the Creator being the Almighty guarantees your survival, then you’ll happily do so and benefit from their obsession.

Smiling with renewed vigor, you relax on the bed as the sound of footsteps came closer. The hissing of a snake and the muffled words of a man could be heard steadily arriving.

If Yun Jin was a warm-up then Baizhu was your practice. Tonight you had to face Ningguang and that required all your skills to be in top shape lest you end up being killed by her hands.

The door swings open without warning as yellow snake eyes and fushia eyes meet your own eyes hidden beneath your mask. Smiling without a care, you call out to the contracted partners.

“Nice to see you again so soon Dr. Baizhu and it’s nice to meet you Changsheng. You’re here for the scar tissue sample and to ask some questions about my background, right? Come in! Just be sure to close the door behind you…”

Still alive, surprisingly… It's hard to believe that my last update on this story was Nov 14. If you want to hear my excuses as to why it takes long, it basically boils down to school, sick, holiday, and family lol. Plus money but when is it done a problem? But I came back and was working on it very slowly throughout all this time! The next update will take long too as finals are till the 22nd. And then the next semester on the 17(?) of Jan so yeah, little to no break. Thanks to my editor who got it done quite fast which is why the chapter is up now, Sunday night or rather early Monday. I hope it gives you all a good start to the week. To actually talk about about the story, I gotta say that it's longer then I thought. There's still a few leftover tasks to complete before Y/N can truly leave. As well as a hint to the overarching threat now that we got this Celestia hint. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and the series! If your name is in italics that means I couldn't tag you for whatever reason. If you are missing from the taglist and I didn't respond to your comment or ask to be added to the taglist, leave a comment here so I can check it. Taglist: Open as always!

@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername

@zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100, @waveto-earth, @flyingpansaurus, @silverstarred, @iamapotatoe, @ghosthii, @beloveddroplet, @uchihaeirin, @ibelieveinsleep, @idk098, @thefirstonetoeverlikemeback, @toramune, @haaaaaades, @horologiumwise, @melovaaaa, @alittletiredcry, @aphxdea, @atsukawolfcat, @desirabletravel, @pinkpainc, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @yuyuzi-ling, @hyperfixationwhore

635 notes · View notes

ki-yomii · 9 months

Text

phases of a daydream | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 2.8k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, oral (f receiving), squirting, soft dom!yoongi, pet names, mild degradation kink, mild praise kink, begging, teasing, implied established relationship, brief threesome fantasy feat JK

➥ summary | you get up early to surprise yoongi with breakfast in bed, only he ends up surprising you instead.

➥ notes | this man has made my oral fixation 10x worse. for all the sleepy girlies out there 🫡

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

The early Sunday morning sun hovers low on the horizon, its golden light peeking through gaps between downtown Seoul’s high risers.

The cacophony of city life sounds muted, far away, foggy with sleep. Slow to rise as vibrant brushstrokes of color chase away the velvet nighttime sky.

Some of the only ones awake are food stand owners with tteokbokki and eomuk in hand, Hongdae club go-ers, and you, apparently. It’s peaceful - certainly different from your usual routine.

But it’s also an experience you don’t see yourself repeating soon.

As nice as watching the sunrise is, you’d rather be dead than awake at this hour, especially on a weekend. You’ll never understand how some people like getting up while the world’s still cold and dark.

It’s criminal.

Couldn’t be me, you think while swirling oil around the pan, and ignoring the fact you did that just this morning.

It’s a minor miracle when you’re fully awake before 11 AM, and that’s after you guzzle down so much caffeine you vibrate in place.

Woe to whoever expects more than dispassionate glares and unintelligible grunts as you migrate from the bed to the couch.

What can you say, you’re not a morning girlie: you hate the half-drunk awareness, the sour taste clinging to the back of your tongue, the sticky sweat, and how overwhelmingly bright everything is.

Instead, you’d much rather nestle into bed, groggy and warm.

So Min Yoongi better count his blessings because he’s the only reason you’re in the kitchen at 7 AM, wearing nothing but a shirt that barely covers your ass while trying - and failing - to flip nurungji.

Quiet Spotify tunes and Min Holly’s rumbling snores are the only background noise amid your bitten off curses.

Before you met him, you used to make fun of girls so far gone for a guy they lost touch with reality. And now, you’re one of them, fighting for your life in the trenches.

He’s got you so whipped, it should be illegal.

Furthermore, it’s downright unfair how endearing you find it. It should infuriate you. Instead, you’re kitten soft.

And Yoongi knows how to use it to his advantage - knows it’s that stupid smirk paired with a face that makes smart girls dumb.

It never fails to win you over; the pretty eyes, the plush lips, the sharp jawline - you’re an absolute goner. If only smug didn’t look so good on him…

Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?

The only thing that somewhat mollifies your bruised pride is the fact that should everything go to plan, your less than innocent intentions will come to fruition.

After all, your stolen shirt leaves so little to the imagination, you needn’t have bothered. And when Yoongi sees you practically naked, with breakfast in bed?

Fire meets gasoline.

While he might never say it outright, there’s no denying the way Yoongi’s eyes go soft and hungry whenever he catches you prancing around in his shirt.

He swears he’s going to throw it out, threadbare and worn, yet there it sits. Waiting in the back of his closet for the next time you stay over.

But that’s how it’s always been; a game of cat and mouse. You tease, he reacts - a constant push and pull, flirting with the boundaries of his restraint.

Though admittedly, you’ve never been this brazen before; ass out and nipples hard.

Although it’s not like he lives with the rest of the members anymore, so why not up the ante?

Even if imagining someone walking in on you (no matter how improbable) gets your blood pumping, and your pussy aching.

No one has to know about the dirty little fantasy you indulge in more often than you care to admit.

No one has to know how wet you get at the thought of getting caught bent over, stuffed full of Yoongi’s cock and unable to do anything but moan as he makes you take it.

Certainly, he’d play along.

The smooth thrust of his hips wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t stop. He’d fuck sweet whines out of you, make you cum so hard you gush.

Would keep you pinned in place with his hands, and tease you about how much you liked getting wrecked in front of his friend like a perfect little bitch.

Especially if it was Jungkook.

Yoongi thinks it’s cute how frazzled you get around the maknae; a silly, schoolgirl crush. In fact, he’d probably use it to his advantage. After all, he loves to taunt, tease.

Oh, he definitely would, you think, biting your lip as your stomach clenches and your thighs twitch.

His fingers would dig into your jaw, force you to look if you tried to hide; make you stare deep into those wide Bambi eyes with his chin hooked over your shoulder and his voice rough in your ear.

Grinding his cock head over your g-spot with every flex of his hips as your pussy tries to milk him dry, “You just gonna stand there, huh? C’mere, let’s have some fun. She doesn’t mind.”

...

"Ow, shit," you hiss, jerking back from the stove as angry heat blooms through your fingertips, "fuck, that hurts!"

Dropping the spatula, you scramble to the sink and run cold water over your hand while glaring at the sizzling pan. It might have been your fault for getting distracted, but rude.

Even if the pain helps calm down some of your raging hormones.

Okay, down girl, you think, chill out.

So despite your fingers feeling tight and swollen like a bad sunburn, and as hot a fantasy as that is, you take your sign from the universe and recollect yourself.

For now, you need to focus on the task at hand which comes at the expense of no more daydreaming.

Resolutely ignoring the sticky cling of your inner thighs, you slip the spatula under the rice patty and quickly flip it over.

It sizzles as it drops back into the pan, little splashes of oil kicking up.

Thankfully, the bottom isn’t too badly scorched. A little darker than you’d like but beggars can’t be choosers when they burn themselves because they’re too distracted by the thought of dick.

Giving the other side a few minutes to crisp up, you frown down at the forming blister. You poke it with a wince.

It’s not too big, and the sting isn’t terrible. You were able to sap the heat from the wound quick enough.

Honestly, what hurts worse is your pride - a total rookie move.

When its ready, you dump it onto a plate without ceremony before turning to grab the sugar. Only to gasp as you run into a solid chest instead of open air.

Forearms snake around your waist as Yoongi tugs you into the curve of his body. Pressed together from chest to hip, he feels the hitch of your breath when his thigh wedges itself between yours.

“Oh, y-you’re up!”

Fingertips flirt with the hem of your (his) shirt, inching higher to caress the slope of your rib cage. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your nipples pulling taut as a shiver judders down your spine.

Low-slung sweats cling to Yoongi’s trim hips, his erection tenting the cotton.

“Mm, morning,” he says, the greeting slurred out in a voice raspy with sleep. “Smells good.”

You swallow. “Good morning, baby.” You lean forward, and kiss the tip of his nose. “How’d you sleep?” Your hand scrapes over the nape of his neck, playing with the soft baby hairs.

It wasn’t until sometime after 3 AM that he’d wiggled into bed, most of the night spent in front of his MIDI, fiddling with chords and arrangements.

He rests his chin on the top of your head with a sigh, his breath ruffling the hair of your crown, “Hnng, slept alright.”

Arms tighten around you in a light squeeze while cheeky fingers inch up your torso to trace along the underside of your breast.

“Had the best dream though.”

Your breath catches in your chest, your heart stuttering against your ribs when he grinds forward, languid and loose. Your gut clenches hotly in interest as his cock rests heavy against your hip.

A temptation, a promise of what’s to come. Your palms sneak around his sides, resting on sleep-warm skin.

When you speak, its more of a breathless whisper than actual words, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“C’mon, baby, don’t you want to help me out?” Yoongi hums, peppering kisses along the length of your neck. A rough thumb drags over the peak of your nipple. “Promise it’ll be good for you.”

“Yoongi!”

“Fuck,” a kneecap grinds up against your tender pussy, spreading your slick, swollen folds open, “can feel you through my pants. Let me, I know you want to.”

Your hips stutter, and you swallow your whine. “I do…”

Pleasure sings in your blood as you soak the fabric covering his thigh, a needy desperation rearing its head from deep within.

Flames lick along your skin, liquid fire pooling low behind your navel like a shot of whiskey.

“But,” you long for the bite of his teeth, the snap of his hips, the roughness of his grip, “I just finished making breakfast.”

Pouting, you stare up at him.

A tender expression softens the lines of his face. But the desire simmering beneath the gentle veneer remains, rough and rude.

There’s a raging tempest in his gaze, twin rings of rich coffee consumed by the black holes of his pupils.

Utterly ravenous, greedy as he traces your features.

It’s a look that’ll leave you weak-kneed and pumped full of cum.

“I know, and I appreciate the effort.”

He’s earnest, aflame with craven desire even as he presses a tender kiss to the side of your face.

“But I’d rather eat you out. You’ll let me, won’t you, pretty girl?”

You nearly choke on your tongue, and say, “Well, how am I supposed to say no to a face like that?”

You’ve barely got the words out before you find yourself flat on your back, the unyielding marble of Yoongi’s counter top cold against your heated skin.

Calloused palms pry your thighs apart, grip so firm it dimples the fat as Yoongi holds you open and exposed.

He runs his nose along your sensitive inner thigh, his lips warm and ready as his breath pants over your soaked core.

When your clit throbs, he groans low and wrecked, “Just look at this pretty pussy.”

Almost reverently, he strokes his thumbs over the length of your folds, dips his fingers into your entrance to spread the gathering slick.

Whimpering, your head smacks back against the granite and your hips jerk up towards his face

“Can’t wait til I get my mouth on you.”

“Shit, Yoongi, you can’t - you can’t just say stuff like that.”

He flicks your clit, relishing in how your whole body jumps as he demands, “Why not?”

“B-Because you just can’t, okay?” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. There’s no doubt, he’s going to be the death of you one day. “It’s not-”

Fair.

“I think you don’t want me talking like that because you like it. Don’t you, baby?”

“I-”

The words turn to ash on your tongue. A loud, sloppy lick up the length of your slit shuts you up while a harsh suck to your swollen clit makes you whine. Your back bows hard, your hands flying down to sink into the dark mane of his hair.

“Ohh g- ah!”

“That’s it,” Yoongi smacks his lips, humming low in his throat, “Let me hear you.”

Forearms anchor themselves over your thighs. Using his body weight to keep you pinned, he tugs you close and strokes his fingers over your sticky folds, humming in approval at the obscene squelch.

Slick oozes out of you with every talented caress, dripping down your ass to puddle on the countertop.

“Always get so wet for me, don’t you?” Yoongi buries his smirk in the crease of your thigh, his tongue darting out to tease the very edge of your cunt. “You’re such a messy little slut, just how I like it.”

Before you can properly respond, he’s spreading you open and bowing his head. You squirm as his plush lips glide over the top of your mound, butterfly kisses tracing the beginning of your needy slit.

His bangs brush the soft underside of your belly. “Ready?”

He doesn’t wait before diving in, sucking the hard nub of your clit into his mouth. Stars burst behind your clenched eyelids. Soft, warm suction sends pleasure ricocheting through your limbs, your stomach caving in with every tender pulse of his mouth.

Your mouth drops open on a silent gasp

“That’s so - fuck,” you pant, hand scrambling for something to hold onto, hips jerking beneath his firm grip. “Yoongi!”

The wild movements nearly dislodge him, and he grunts in displeasure before readjusting to keep you better pinned.

His tongue retreats from your clit, and he sets his teeth against your pussy in warning, a gentle bite that doesn’t break skin but carries the slightest sting.

“‘m sorry, please - haahhh - please don’t stop,” you slur, fingers digging into his scalp. “I’ll be good, just please don’t stop, I can’t-”

He grunts at the rake of your nails, tongue lashes out in retaliation. He dips the tip into the tight clench of your entrance, teasing your sensitive walls.

Meanwhile, his nose grinds against your clit. The sensation’s almost too much, your body alight like a live-wire. You feel like you’re about to rocket off of the countertop, one of your hands de-tangling from his hair to yank at your own.

“S’too much - s’too good. Please, baby, I can’t!”

Yoongi ignores your cries, knows you’d sooner stab him with a knife if he stopped.

Anyway, you can take it.

You’re his good girl, after all.

You both like it wet and messy; love when the honey of your cunt soaks his face, sticks to his lips and drips from his chin.

All you can do is cry out, your chest pointed towards the ceiling as his tongue fucks deep, never stops chasing every drop of pleasure. Your toes curl from the alteration between flat, firm licks and gentle sucks.

Sweat gathers in your hairline, behind your knees as a heady rush sends you spinning, mind a haze of sensation.

You can’t stop rolling your hips, chasing after his talented mouth. In no time at all, Yoongi’s going to have you violently, explosively cumming on his tongue - just like he always does.

“Give it to me,” he growls, “Wanna feel this pretty pussy gush.”

You moan,” Yoongi, I’m - please, don’t stop. R-Right there!”

Your thighs clench around his head, biting down on your lip to hold in the scream threatening to break free.

“Fuck, please, ‘m almost there.”

Your pathetic cries spur him on.

With renewed enthusiasm, Yoongi twirls his tongue across the top of your slit, the tip playing with the hood of your clit. You clench down hard. It’s almost too much, like he’s reached deep inside and plucked at your nerves.

Then, the leaden ball of heat behind your navel contracts. Expands into a blazing inferno that threatens to swallow you whole, spreading out along your limbs like bolts of lightening until you shake.

“That’s it, come on,” Yoongi says, coaxing every ounce of pleasure he can. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Now, cum for me.”

All it takes is one last talented pulse of his tongue. Your orgasm rips through you with a loud, keening cry. Your back arches so high your spine feels like it’s about to snap, and slick gushes from you in a warm flood.

The ball of heat snaps, races down through your body from the crown of your head to your toes. Your thighs tremble from where they’re clenched around Yoongi’s head, soaked. Your heart slams against your ribs.

“F-Fuck…”

Collapsing against the cool stone, and panting hard, you push away stray hairs sticking to your face.

Glancing down the length of your twitching body, you see Yoongi still kneeling between your splayed thighs.

The lower half of his face is soaked with cum and drool. His sweatpants were kicked off at some point, you’re not sure when but it doesn’t really matter when his cock throbs against his belly, hard and wanting as the tip weeps pre-cum.

But it’s his eyes that really do you in; hot, hungry, and awe-filled.

“Can’t believe I’ve never made you squirt before.”

Those sinful lips part, red and swollen as his tongue swipes out to gather any leftover slick clinging to his mouth. A rough moan rumbles from his throat.

“Think you can do it again for me, baby?”

A weak laugh escapes you, and you think - not for the first time - that Min Yoongi is going to be the reason you die.

#yoongi #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic

532 notes · View notes

mrwavellswaps · 9 months

Text

The Parental Solution - Loose Ends

(Make sure to read The Original Story first!)

I woke up to a sight I never imagined I’d see. My own dad sound asleep next to me in bed. A couple weeks it would’ve seemed insane. Sleeping in bed next to my dad who I could tell was naked just by how close we were under the sheets. Not that I could say anything since I was as well. I listened to him snore ever so slightly as I reflected on how the hell I’d even managed to get in this situation.

My best friend Jason took over my dad’s body using the potion I bought from a magic shop so he could get away from his terrible parents. Immediately after he picked up on my hidden crush for my dad and started teasing me about it all the time. Whispering dirty things in my ear using my dad’s raspy voice. Wear almost nothing around the house to show off his body to me whenever he could. And with everyday it got harder and harder to hide my growing lust for him. Finally he managed to tip me over the edge last night by sticking a hand into the bulge of his underwear before shoving that very same hand in my face moments later once it smelled deeply of my dad’s balls. After that I lost it and was sucking him off in the middle of the living room while he watched sports on TV as I finally gave in and started calling him Dad rather than Jason, even referring to him by my dad’s name Bryce from time to time. Then later in the evening, after he’d made me swallow his load and clean off his cock and balls, he made me service the rest of his body as well. That is until he’d recharged and decided to scoop me up before carrying me to his bedroom with a smug look on that stolen mature face of his.

Remembering what happened after that only made my ass throb more than it already did. My ‘Dad’ practically ripped open my clothes and tossed me onto the bed before drilling his dick into me in lord knows how many different positions for what felt like hours. All the while telling me how he was plowing me with the same dick that made me. I know I should’ve hated it but… I didn’t. I loved it. I loved every fucking second. And even as I looked over at him in bed with me, his morning wood pressing against the bed sheets, part of me wanted him to do it all again right then and there. Unfortunately I didn’t think my ass could handle another pounding just yet.

With a sigh I got up out of bed as quietly as possible to not wake my dad up. I tugged on some of my clothes from yesterday and made my way downstairs where I brewed myself a hot cup of coffee. I put some bread in the toaster and waited a couple minutes for it to pop out again before spreading some butter on it and digging in. Having some nice toast in the morning was certainly one way to try and distract myself from my painfully pulsing anus.

My attention however was then turned from my breakfast to a knocking at the door. It was a brisk but loud knock, as if made by someone that didn’t particularly want to be doing it. Regardless I set down made toast, wiped off my hands and marched towards the front door. I groggily opened up and of all the people I thought might’ve been knocking at our door, the man that I saw stood on the other side was the last person I could’ve imagined.

He was a middle aged albeit very handsome man. About average height with a sturdy body that’d definitely seen some time in the gym. He adorned a well trimmed salt and pepper haircut with a short beard that accentuated his somewhat thick mustache. But he wasn’t just any hot older daddy. He was Jason’s fucking dad!“Mr Simmons?”

“Ah. Aaron…” I could tell by the sour look on his face that he wasn’t exactly pleased to see me. “Is your father home? I’d like to speak to him.” He asked in a forcefully polite tone.

I had to stop myself from blushing at the mention of my own dad as my mind couldn’t help flashing back to last night. “Uhh yeah but he’s still in bed right now. Long day at work yesterday and what not…” I lied.

Mr Simmons sighed. “In that case I’ll ask you. It’s about my son. Jason.” He began and already I was trying even harder not to blush at the mention of my best friend turned father. “He’s been missing for over two weeks now and we haven’t found a single trace of him anywhere. It’s driving his mother and I mad. We’d begun to think the stupid boy had just ran off on his own until just the other day I was told someone saw him going into your house the night he disappeared. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you? Boy.” His tone turned threatening very fast.

“N-no. I have no idea where Jason is. All we did was hang out and then I thought he went home. I’ve got no idea where he is.” I expressed, clearly intimidated by the scouting man in front of me. Obviously it was another lie but what else could I say? Oh yeah sorry Mr Simmons but your son took over my dad’s body because you’re such an asshole and a terrible father? Yeah no. Unfortunately the older man didn’t seem pleased with my answer.

“Yeah? Well I think you know more about this than you’re telling me. I know you were the one always filling Jason’s head with all the queer bullshit. Trying to turn him into a faggot like you unlike the Christian man his mother and I have been raising him to be.” And there it was. One huge part of the reason Jason had hated his parents so much. On top of all the abuse and manipulation, they were also homophobic bible thumpers. I still remember Jason telling me how they’d always drag him to church while telling him he’d go to hell if he wasn’t straight and christian like they were. Apparently I was the only person he’d felt comfortable coming out to after all that. “You probably convinced him to run away with a bunch of those disgusting fairies didn’t you.” He continued to accuse, his fists balling up slightly.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel extremely intimidated at that moment. “I already told you. I don’t know where Jason is! He didn’t tell me anything alright! If I did, I promise I would tell you.” Once again bending the truth quite significantly but it was all I could do. Thankfully he seemed to buy it for now.

“Fine.” He relaxed his shoulders slightly, no longer looking as though he was gonna beat the shit out of me. “But if I find out you had anything to do with this…” his scowl was more evident than ever as he poked his finger against my chest. “I’ll make sure your faggot ass gets sent to hell sooner than you think.” And with an angry snuff he backed away before turning to leave, prompting me to let out a huge sigh of relief. Thankful to still be in one piece.

Seconds later I heard a pair of heavy footsteps behind me followed by a familiar set of thick arms wrapping around me. “Who was that?” Bryce, my new and improved dad, asked as he kissed my neck.

“It was your asshole father.”

Bryce immediately looked up to see the man marching away from our house. His former father. Before he took over this body of course. “Jesus… sorry you had to deal with him.” He apologised to me. “Though, this might be weird of me to say but, Mr Simmons is pretty hot now I think about it.” He admitted, knowing I couldn’t exactly judge him for it all things considered. “He’s got a pretty nice ass don't ya think?” As he said that I could already feel his hard cock pressing up against my back.

Naturally I couldn’t help checking out the ass of that bible thumper, still being just close enough for me to get a good view of how well those jeans framed it. “I guess so… I mean he’d probably be super fucking hot if he wasn’t such homophobic piece of shit among other things.” As I’d already admitted to myself, the man was a total daddy stud just like my own dad.

“If only a body like that belonged to someone who actually deserved it…” He murmured in my ear with a grin.

Right away I knew exactly what he was implying. But could I do that?! I mean his dad has quite the reputation around here. Being revered by some of the more radical church goers in the community as the perfect example of what a man should be while being hated by most others for being a complete dickhead. Even a lot of other Christian’s around here didn’t like him for how much he screamed about how the rest of us are gonna go to hell or whatever. Especially when it comes to the LGBTQ community. It was honestly disgusting the way he acted most of the time, even towards his own son. Yet I couldn’t help but agree that because of all that… maybe he didn’t deserve such a hot body.

———

There was a jingle as the door to a familiar magic shop opened up. “So this is where you got that crazy potion from before huh?” Bryce asked as he walked inside first, myself following close behind him. He looked around marvelling at the well decorated shop as his eyes scanned across all sorts of items that would seemingly have some kind of magical property I hidden within them.

“Yup. This is the place. I thought it was all fake when I first came here.” I replied as we made our way towards the front desk. However, the man standing at the desk wasn’t the same guy who’d served me last time. He wore the same strange uniform as the other guy had but it was a slightly older looking man this time. I couldn’t put my finger on it but he had a very ‘high school teacher’ vibe about him with the silver flecked hair and the glasses.

He smiled and ushered us over. “Welcome sirs! What can I help you with!” He asked enthusiastically. “We’ve got all sorts of magical items on sale here. Some are even sample-able!”

At first I assumed this was just another dude that helped run the shop. That is until I saw his name tag. “Simon? The guy who helped me out last time I was here was named Gil. He mentioned you were his boyfriend. When I was here he took a potion that made him huge and hairy to prove the magic was real.” I laughed

“Oh so you’re the customer he did that for eh? If I remember correctly he told me you bought nectar of the bodysnacher. How was it? Get the body you wanted?” He asked curiously.

I shrugged and turned to my dad who was standing behind and motioned towards him. “I dunno you’re gonna have to ask him. He’s the one who used it.” I explained. “He’s actually my best friend Jason. Same age as me. But we used the nectar so he could take over my dad’s body. And if you ask me he’s a better dad than my old one ever was!” I smirked, having fully embraced having a horny dad that wanted to fuck me.

“Woah! Now that’s something.” Simon commented. “Good choice though if I may add.” His eyes ran up and down Bryce’s body. The muscled dad had decided to wear some of his tightest clothes to show off every inch of his form, leaving very little to the imagination when it came to the curves of his muscles and the bulge in his crotch area.

“So what about Gil?” I wondered. “Did that potion finally wear off?”

Simon chuckled a little. “Well… uhhh no actually. It should’ve worn off by now but I’m gonna be honest, I was obsessed with what that muscle bear potion did to him. He’s so thick now that hardly any of his clothes fit and the few that do are skin tight. He’s got that massive jiggling belly and such thick arms and legs. God don’t even get me started on his huge ass. And all that body hair just drives me crazy!” He went on a bit of tangent about every minor detail of Gil’s new bear bod. “Long story short, I might’ve begged him to some more temporary muscle bear potions to extend the effects of it.” He admitted with a slightly embarrassed look. “I was thinking of even asking him to take a permanent one that doesn’t have a time limit hahah…”

“God that sounds hot…” Bryce chirped in, his own stolen cock pressing tightly against his pants as he pictured everything this man was saying.

“Anyway. Sorry. That was slightly unprofessional of me to share all that.” Simon stood up a little straighter and attempted to hide his own boner. “Oh! And speak of the devil!” He added, looking past me and Bryce.

The pair of us turn to see a huge bear of a man appearing from behind one of the aisle. I recognised him right away as the same man that sold me that potion last time I was here. Gilgamesh! And just like Simon had said, that potion certainly hadn’t worn off. He was even now wearing the same clothes as last time except a much bigger size to accommodate his bigger body. He recognised me right away and came up to say hello.

“Hey what’s up! Is this your friend that you told me about?” Gil asked as his eyes scanned Bryce’s body just like Simon’s had.

“Yup! But now I’ve gotta call him Dad.” I went on to explain everything to Gil. Telling him all about how Bryce and I had snuck into my Dad’s room while he was asleep after getting Bryce to drink the nectar and putting a pair of my dad’s used socks. We even ended up telling him about how our relationship had progressed to… new depths since then.

“Well I’m glad to hear everything worked out for the two of you!” Gil said as he went in for a big bear hug. “Sorry. Side effect of the muscle bear potion. Makes me wanna bear hug everyone.” He apologised with a guffaw though I certainly didn’t mind being squeezed against his big belly. “Anyway, as much as I love seeing the aftermath of one of my sales, I get the feeling you’re here for something else.”

Bryce and I shared a glance. “Well you see. There’s a man that lives on our street. Total asshole. Harasses those who don’t go to church. Threatens innocent people that do things he doesn’t agree with. And treated his own son like dirt.” Bryce began using my dad’s gruff voice, knowing he used to be that son before everything changed for the better. “But the thing… despite all that he’s still hot as fuck.”

I took over from there. “So the two of us have decided that someone as horrible as him doesn’t deserve to have such an incredible body and that someone else should be given it instead. So we were hoping you might still have some of that bodysnachers nectar around here?” I wiggled my eyebrows a little at the man who’s name was displayed on the shop sign.

Gil smirked. “Ahhh I see. Well in that case we better go take a look.” He enthusiastically slung a big hairy arm over my shoulder before leading Bryce and I over to the very same aisle he’d taken me to last time. I could see out of the corner of my eye how Bryce was stopping here and there to read the labels and descriptions of certain items. My attention however was swiftly brought back to Gil as the burly man stopped in front of some rather empty looking shelves. “Ahhh yes. A large group of old men came here the other day and bought a bunch of bodysnatcher’s nectar in bulk. They were planning something about sneaking into a college frat house and taking over all the young jocks there I think. They wouldn’t stop talking about wanting to be young dumb and full of… well you get the idea.” He explained nonchalantly. Just the idea of that had me hard as fuck. “But if you’re lucky… there might just be…” Gil stuck his arm down the shelf and reached right towards the back until his meaty hand finally grabbed something. “One left at the back!” He he pulled out one last bodysnatcher’s nectar with a big cheesy grin before handing me the vial.

“Thanks so much Gil! I’ll promise I’ll put those to good use. You can count on that!” I reassured him. “How much do I owe ya again?” I reached into my pocket for some money but as I did the bigger man stopped me.

“It’s on the house this time.” He generously offered. “All I ask in return is that you come back again once you’ve taken your new body so my boyfriend and I can judge for ourselves just how hot this asshole really is.” Gil gave me a reassuring pat on the back. “Besides, judging by how interested your ‘Dad’ is in those spell books, I suspect the two of you’ll be bringing us some more business soon enough.” He gestured over towards Bryce who had his nose deep in one of said spell books.

———

“Do you remember where the spare key is?” I whispered, now stood outside Jason’s old house where both of his religious parents of course still lived. Bryce didn’t say a word. He simply reached up and into the hanging flower basket above my head before pulling out a key. “I’ll take that as a yes.” We discreetly unlocked the front door, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible as we slipped inside.

With how many times Jason had been to my house over the years, I’d never actually been to his. I gotta say though, it’s exactly what I’d imagined. Dull, muted colours. Mundane decorations and furniture. Crosses hung up on half the walls in the house. There was even a huge bible quote on one of the living room walls as if it were a live laugh love sign. And the awkward, blank faced family photos only made it weirder.

“Now you can see why I hated living here.” Bryce stated bluntly. He almost always acted like my dad to an extent but right now he couldn’t help remembering his old life before becoming a dilf and it wasn’t pleasant. “Let’s just get on with this. My parents' room is upstairs.” He hurried us along, ascending the steep staircase.

Before long he led us to a rather large and tidy bedroom. Freshly cleaned sheets, sparkling mirrors, not a single item of clothing lying around. If I had to give Jason’s parents something, they were definitely clean and organised. Not that it was much everything else considered. I didn’t let the cleanliness distract me from the reason we were here though. “So. Where’s your dad’s stuff?”

“Over here.” Bryce took us over to the left side of the bed. There he swiftly yanked open a few of the bedside drawers until he eventually pulled one open filled with men’s socks and underwear. “This is his. Grab something quick. It won’t be long before he’s back from work.”

I reached into the draw and quickly pulled out a pair of white socks with black stripes on them. “And you’re sure your mom isn’t gonna be with him or anything?”

He shook his head. “Nope. She works late on Monday’s. She shouldn’t be back till the late evening. We’ll have hours to do this before she even leaves work.” Bryce explained. “My dad on the other hand should be here any second so you’d better drink that magic stuff now.”

I didn’t argue. Right away I reached into my pocket and pulled out the vial. Nectar of the bodysnatcher. The very same stuff that’d given Bryce the more mature body he flaunted now. I twisted off the lid and without a second thought downed the entire thing. Right away I could feel something strange. It was the magic settling inside my body and waiting to be activated. Once that was done I kicked off my own shoes and socks before tugging on the clean socks belonging to none other than Nolan Simmons.

“Did you feel it?” Bryce asked.

“Feel what?”

“The spark. When you pulled the socks on?”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “Spark? What spark?”

He looked just as confused as me. “A couple weeks back when I pulled on your dad’s socks before taking his body, I felt a weird spark the moment I pulled them on. You’re saying you didn’t-” Bryce cut himself off as suddenly we heard the front door swing open and a familiar voice from downstairs muttering about how his stupid wife hadn’t locked the door before leaving this morning. Well if we needed any more proof that he was an asshole, there it was.

“Shit, shit. Quick! Hide!” I whispered in a panicked voice. We did exactly as we’d planned. Bryce quickly hid behind the bedroom door while I hid in the closet. I feel like there might’ve been some irony there but I was far more distracted by the sound of Mr Simmons’s angry footsteps ascending the stairs. As he did I could only hope everything went according to plan otherwise Bryce and I would probably end up in a jail cell.

Quickly the footsteps reached the top of the stairs before trudging down the hallway and towards the bedroom. Bryce readied himself. Another moment or two passed by and my heart practically skipped a beat when I saw the same man that’d been threatening me this morning enter the room through the cracks in the closet door. He seemed as though he was heading in my direction and immediately I began to think of what a man like that would do if he found me hiding in here. Luckily however, before he could reach the closet, Bryce came out from behind the door before quickly sneaking up on the man and grabbing him from behind without warning! Restraining the man he once called his father as best he could.

“W-WHAT THE!? GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!” Mr Simmons shouted in a blaze of shock and panic. “LET GO OF ME YOU-GRAHH!” His protest was interrupted as James forced his former father to the ground. Nolan Simmons might’ve been strong but my dad was pretty strong in his own right. Strong enough to overpower Nolan in a surprise situation like this. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!? WHO ARE YOU?!” He continued to scream and shout, not being able to get a proper look at the man that was holding him down.

“Stop struggling asshole. Just give in and soon you’ll feel soooo much better.” Bryce cooed into the protesting man’s ear.

Nolan's eyes went wide. He recognised that voice. The voice of a man he once had a close friendship with that was eventually ripped apart. All because their sons began hanging out and ‘encouraging each other to be queer’ as Nolan put it. “Hold on…Bryce??”

“You’re half right.” I cut the struggling man off as I stepped out from my hiding spot. “You know when you came to my house this morning asking about Jason? Well. I lied. I know exactly where your son is.” I took a few steps closer until I was stood looking down at the very same man that’d seemed so intimidating to me not so long ago. “He’s right there, holding you down.” I said bluntly, causing Mr Simmon’s face to twist in confusion. “I’ve gotta say he makes a much more loving father than you and my former dad combined.” I taunted.

The bible thumper could hardly believe or even understand what he was hearing so instead he resorted to throwing a slurry of homophobic slurs at the two of us. All the while trying in vain to kick his way out of Bryce’s grip. Usually hearing those kinds of hurtful words would’ve pissed both of us off but right now, knowing what was to come for this man, we couldn’t help but pity him. Even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Lift him up a little for me would you dad?. I’ve gotta kiss him to activate the magic, remember?” I asked.

Bryce smirked, adjusting his position a little before carefully maneuvering himself and the other man until Nolan was on his knees with his arms restrained and his ankles pinned. Unable to move. “How’s that?”

“Perfect.” I said while getting a better look at the body before me. That handsome face that seemed so masculine yet somewhat adorable at the same time. Those pecs pressing tightly against his shirt. That noticeable bulge in his work pants. And so sooo much more. And Nolan didn’t deserve a single bit of it. But I did. Then much to the man’s disgust, I stripped off all my clothes in a blink of an eye leaving only the pair of stolen socks on my feet. Standing proud with a victorious look on my face as I let my average dick swing free infront a homophobe.

Part of me wanted to bask in the moment a little more but I was far too eager to get this underway. And so I quickly got down onto my knees and before Nolan could do anything to stop me, I pressed my lips hard against his. He tried to recoil but he couldn’t go far. I had him… or at least I thought I did. I kissed him for a good 10 seconds or so and nothing happened to the point where I eventually found myself pulling away.

“W-what?” I muttered, not understanding why it hadn’t worked. At the same time Nolan took the opportunity to spit at me and shout even more slurs. Even angrier than before as he called us before disgusting perverts. I asked Bryce and he didn’t seem to have any idea either… that is until I remembered what he’d said earlier just after I’d pulled on the socks. “Wait… no spark.” I mumbled. That’s when it hit me. Step 2 of getting the nectar to work was wearing a recently worn article of clothing. These socks were washed and put away unlike the dirty pair of socks Bryce used when he took over my Dad.

“What is it Aaron?! Why didn’t it work?” Bryce asked, starting to get a little worried as they didn’t really have a backup plan.

“I think I know.” I pulled off the fresh socks I’d stolen before walking around and behind to two men. “Just keep him still. I’m gonna try something.” I crouched down and shuffled between Bryce’s legs a little until I had easy access to Nolan’s large brown loafers. Against his wishes I slipped his shoes off and put them to one side, finding it hard to ignore the strong scent that came with them. Unleashing those large socked feet. “If these don’t work then nothing will.” I stated before gripping the sweaty black socks and pulling them off Nolan’s feet one at a time. And I knew I probably shouldn’t since I criticised Bryce for doing it before but I couldn’t help giving the pungent socks a quick sniff. With that I made my way back around in front of them.

“What!? You wanna huff on my socks now you disgusting cock sucker!?!” Nolan yelled.

I took the large pair of socks and began tugging them on. “Oh I want a whole lot more than that.” Just then, as I pulled the second sock on, I felt it. The spark. Coursing through my body. My confidence that’d been wavering momentarily then rushed back in full stride. “I want to touch, smell and see your body wherever I go. I want to turn your homophobic ass into homo this side of the earth. I want… you.” There was an almost crazed look in my eyes that even spooked Bryce a little as I grabbed the sides of Nolan’s head. “And now. You’re going to be all mine.” And with that I slammed my lips against his with even more passion than before. Feeling his thick mustache forced to rub against my upper lips while he groaned in protest through the kiss, unable to stop me.

His groans of protest would quickly turn to grunts of fears as the magic began to activate. It seemed all I needed was a more recently worn pair of socks as now our lips were stuck together and impossible to part. Seeing that the process had begun, Bryce let go of his father and the first thing the panicking man tried to do was pull away from me. But to no avail. Because of this Nolan began freaking out! Forcing both of us up to our feet before stumbling around the room. For a second Bryce looked as though he was about to step in again until I used all my strength to push Nolan onto the bed causing him to fall back onto the soft sheets with my naked body on top of him. And before he had another chance to move I wrapped my arms and legs around him tight.

Nolan made every effort to break free but I’d latched on tight and wasn’t about to let go. Before he could fight against me any further though, the most delightful sensation imaginable passed over my entire being causing me to let out an involuntary moan into the kiss. And to my surprise Nolan made a similar groan. His eyes had begun to roll back slightly as I could only imagine a similar sensation had overtaken him. If anything he must’ve been in even more ecstasy than I was judging by how his thick rod had begun to harden in his pants, causing his bulge to rub up against me. But through all the grunts and groans I could tell he still wanted to fight but the pleasure that ran through him was draining any strength he might’ve had to fight back against me. Before long Nolan's body couldn’t help but give in to me and before long, the next phase was underway.

It’d been one thing seeing Jason disappear inside my dad’s body but actually feeling my own body and limbs begin to get sucked inside Nolan’s large muscular frame was something else entirely! My hands were one of the first things to go, phasing through his shirt and into his back as I still had my arms wrapped around him. My legs then began naturally aligning themselves with Nolan’s bulky ones before slowly sinking in. The feeling was beyond anything I’d ever imagined. Even as my torso began to lower itself into the older man’s frame, there wasn’t even an ounce of pain. Nothing but pure bliss as my entire form went completely numb! I rubbed my crotch against his as much as I possibly could before that too phased through the man’s pants and was pulled down into his body.

Soon enough my arms, legs, ass and cock had all disappeared, pulled inside Nolan’s body much to his distain. Honestly I was surprised he hadn’t gone delirious from the raw amount of satisfaction the magic seemed to bring. Yet somehow he regained some semblance of awareness only to be horrified seeing my torso sinking into his. He practically screamed into the kiss as our eyes were forced to meet. His eyes were darting all over frantically, trying to move his body but feeling too weak to do anything. It was too late anyway as I could feel my face drawing nearer to his as even that was being pulled down at last along with the rest of my head. Before long my vision completely blanked out…

After that Nolan regained full control of his body to an extent. “N-NO! Get out of meeee! Gahhhh!…” he yelled and grunted, feeling my presence inside of his body. But despite his best efforts he couldn’t fight against me nor could he stop his cock from getting unbearably hard. He practically begged Bryce to help him but the idle man did nothing but watch in satisfaction, finally getting to see his horrible father get exactly what he deserved. “Y-you’re demons! Both of you! Unholy demons!!” He claimed while writhing around on the bed, struggling to control himself. He tried to get up from the bed but his cock pulsed even harder, threatening to burst out of his pants at any moment. His balls swelling up fatter than ever before as they prepared to unload every ounce of his free will. “Nooooo… I can’t… I-Urrghhh…” He grabbed at his crotch uncontrollably, mouth hanging open with the overflow of stimulation being forced through it until finally… “FUUUUCKKKKK GRAHHHHHhhhhhhhuuuhh…” What started as a massive roar of protest slowly faded as Nolan blew the fattest load of his life. A massive dark spot forming over his bulge as he flooded his pants with cum.

The second Nolan spilled his ball batter, I found myself being hurled into the driver’s seat. Right away I was hit with the tail end of the orgasm and couldn’t help grinning. Feeling my new fat cock buck as it squirted a few final ropes of dad nut into my already sticky pants. “Ohh yeahhhhh…” I let out a huge sigh of relief knowing that I’d won. Even as the cum soaked into my new work pants, I could feel Nolan soul being absorbed by my own. Feeling every memory and personality trait of his slowly became accessible to me as I became the one and only Nolan Simmons.

“How do you feel Nolan?” Bryce moved closer towards the bed, knowing now that the man he’d once hated was gone for good. Replaced by someone far superior. Me.

I grumbled a little, holding my head before slowly sitting up. I glanced down at myself, seeing the thick muscle I now adorned still hidden underneath Nolan’s clothes. I even had on the same black socks that I’d stolen from him again. Back on the feet they were meant for. I flexed my arms a little, feeling my biceps strain against my shirt before bringing my hands to my chest so I could feel juicy pecs that sat upon it. God feeling this kind of bulk on another man was one thing but feeling it on myself was a whole other level of euphoric. Feeling the power that now flowed through my bigger and stronger body with every movement I made. “I feel fucking fantastic Bryce.” I replied while running a hand over my wet bulge.

Slowly I pushed myself up off the bed, my new larger feet touching the ground for the first time. I wobbled a little at first, not used to my new weight, but I quickly adjusted. Bryce simply stood back and allowed me to explore myself for a moment. Watching on as I made my way towards the circular mirror sat on the dresser. And what I saw made me feel a whole flurry of emotions. Staring back at me was the same handsome face that’d been screaming obscenities at us not moments prior. The piercing eyes belonging to the homophobe that made Jason’s life a living hell for so many years. The salt and pepper hair along with this beard and mustache that were trademarks of a man that embodied all the worst parts of the christian community. But I was none of those things. I might’ve stolen his dashing looks and gorgeous body but I was a proud gay man and an ally to all others in the LGBTQ community. Something the old Nolan would’ve despised being. But what he wanted didn’t matter because I was Nolan now and I plan on putting a hot ass body like this to far better use.

Not being able to resist the temptation, I pulled off my new shirt before tossing it at Bryce so I could finally get a better look at what I was working with and I certainly wasn’t disappointed. Though he kept in very good shape, the old Nolan wasn’t one to show off his physique all that often so I’d never had the luxury of seeing him shirtless before. But if anything that only made this moment sweeter as I freed my new pecs from their prison and began groping them to my hearts content. Adoring how squishy they were but so firm when I flexed them. Admiring the dusting of chest hair that spread across them. I was only able to pull my hands away from my chest when the desire to flex my biceps again grew too strong to ignore.

Once I was satisfied with the admiration I’d given to my broad upper body (for now), my gaze couldn’t help shifting towards my lower half. A toothy grin spread across my face that seemed extremely out of character for this face as I unhooked my belt and undid pants. I could feel Bryce's eyes watching intently and I yanked down both my pants and cum soaked underwear at the same time, allowing my still half hard cock to spring out. And what a cock it was. It’s length was about average sitting at around 6 inches but god the girth! It was one of the thickest chicks I’d ever seen from the base all the way up to its fat mushroom head which was still drooling cum. And it was mine along with the heavy set of balls that came with it. No wonder Nolan always acted like a hard ass with a pair of bull nuts this big to inflate his ego.

I went on to admire my legs a little after getting over the initial shock that came with my new still twitching dick. Running my hands along my sizeable quads before giving my bulky calves a squeeze. But by far what stole the show was my hot muscle dad ass. We’d already gotten a good idea of how big it was by how its shape was still visible even through some of Nolan’s baggiest pants. But now we got the full show. Nolan’s thick cheeks on full display. And naturally it didn’t take long for me to start squeezing and jiggling them to your delight. Though, considering how the rest of my body had a decent coating of hair, I was surprised to feel how smooth my new ass was.

“You havin fun over there…” Bryce commented, prompting me to turn my attention to him for a moment. When I did I noticed he’d at some point whipped out his own dick as was slowly jerking it to the display I’d been putting on. I guess deep down we were both hot for daddy. Our own daddies at that.

“I’ll be having even more fun when I get this tight virgin hole of mine stretched.” I paced over towards Bryce, giving him a truly affectionate look that he doubt he’d ever seen on his fathers face before. “So how’s about you get in the bed and get your cock ready for me.” I commanded, allowing Nolan’s somewhat dominant nature to seep through.

I didn't need to ask him twice. In a flash Bryce was completely naked, showing off his hairy body once again, before practicing leaping onto the bed with his hands behind his head and his cock standing tall and ready. Now this was a sight. Two best friends stealing the body of each other’s dad only to wanna fuck one another immediately after. In Nolan’s case I suppose it was somewhat poetic justice for everything that he did and said. But it didn’t really matter because the only Nolan left around here was me.

With a lustful smirk I sauntered my way towards the bed before crawling on top of Bryce. Allowing my brand new dad ass to hover gently above his cock as we stared into each other’s eyes. Completely lost in the fantasy of it all until I lent down and pushed my lips against his. It was probably the first time these lips had ever kissed another man willingly but it certainly wouldn’t be the last as I felt our beards gently rubbing together while our kiss deepened. As it did I slowly lowered my ass until Bryce’s throbbing cock was massaging my entrance.

It was then that I broke the kiss and pinned Bryce down with my newfound strength. “Now. I’d say it’s about time we use that big dad dick of yours son to fill your old man’s needy hole.” I sneered down at him, letting him know exactly how I felt all those times he used my dad’s voice to call me son. And by the way his dick began lathering my ass with precum moments later, I could only assume he enjoyed it. However I didn’t let him waste too much of his precious seed before reaching back and grabbing his cock, aligning it perfectly with my hole. “Now gimme that dick!” I roared before lowering myself onto the rod with a deep and guttural moan.

Right away I got to work. Bouncing up and down on that dick as best I could while holding Bryce down. It was intense to say the least. With an asshole this tight I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t quite painful at first but I was willing to push through it if it meant being able to take cock even better with this formerly straight christian ass in the future. At times I moaned my own dad’s name, Bryce, while at other times moaning his original name, Jason, in an attempt to fulfil both our fantasies at once. But as I was slowly able to force more and more of his dick inside me, I eventually stopped calling him Jason all together and decided just to stick to Bryce. Because that’s who he was now. My boyfriend Bryce. Another dad that lives across the street from me. Nolan. A former homophobe turned gay power bottom. Aaron and Jason were simply the names of our two sons who ran off together and memories of them would soon fade into obscurity.

At multiple points I could tell Bryce was eager to flip up over and do the fucking himself but I refused to let him. I might’ve been the one getting fucked here but I was still the one in charge. Whether he liked it or not he was gonna stay put and be my personal fuck pole until I was nice and full. And between all the kissing, touching and dirty talking, I could tell that time was starting to grow near. His balls prepared themselves for the tsunami that was bound to come at this rate.

Feeling this only served to drive me further onwards. Making sure to grind my thick dad butt all the way down to the base. Honestly I didn’t think I’d be able to do it on this body’s first time taking dick but lo and behold I pulled it off. It was painful but boy, just the feeling of filling this new ass of mine completely with cock released an almost incomparable amount of dopamine in my brain. The only thoughts running through my mind were ‘dick’ and ‘cum’ as the levels of joy I was feeling almost matched the pleasure I got from hearing Bryce’s moans echoing through the household. Moans that only continued to get louder and needier until finally I got exactly what I wanted.

The man below me tensed up as his cock began to spasm inside me. I didn’t need three guesses to know what that meant. Especially when I felt his thick hot seed coating my insides while I drained Bryce’s balls to the last drop. Watching as he writhed in pleasure beneath me while unloading buckets worth of cum inside. Seeing his hands grip the bed sheets as his former father pressed his ass down on it a couple more times. Continuing to bounce on his cock until he begged me to stop due to how sensitive it was. Eventually, when I felt as though his cock had nothing left to give me, I adhered to his pleas and released his cock from my asshole’s tight grip.

“Better get used to that babe. From now on I plan on making you drain at least one load into me everyday. This new ass of mine is hungry.” I grinned deviously at him before kissing along his neck, feeling my new mustache rub against his skin. “Your dad was wasting it for so long so I’m gonna make up for all the years he neglected this beautiful ass.” My face moved closer to the hairy pit under his arm. “Mmmm now it’s time for papa to get a good taste of that!” I stated before shoving my nose deep into one of his sweaty armpits and inhaling the gorgeous post sex scent they exuded. I couldn’t help but notice how they smelt subtly different now that I was sniffing them with a different nose. Regardless, they still smelt just delicious. So much so that before long I was running my tongue along his pits greedily to lap up the sweat.

“Do you think… we should head back… to my place before… your wife gets home.” Bryce said between labored breaths.

“I suppose so.” I agreed. “Let me just finish cleaning off your pits. Then we can grab some of my clothes and get out of here.” I added before lapping up more of that delicious salty sweat his hairy pits produced.

———

It’d been roughly three weeks since that day. After we left Nolan's house that day, we hardly ever went back. We took everything of Nolan’s that I might need and brought them back to our place where we stayed after that. Of course my new Wife was furious when I said I was leaving her for Bryce but there wasn’t shit she could do about it. I even told her all about the furious gay sex we had and how he satisfied me more than she ever could by filling me up with cum. It might sound harsh but she wasn’t much better of a parent than the old Nolan so it was karma really. After that she was quick to file for a divorce which I was happy to sign upon being given the papers.

Now Bryce and I live happily together. We both worked pretty much the same jobs our dad’s did before which wasn’t all that hard with their memories. We even went to the gym together which was incredibly fun. However the best part was always getting home and taking off our sweaty clothes so we could swap 'em and sniff each other’s damp, pungent gym clothes. While I usually went for the pouch on his underwear first, my ass sweat must’ve smelt particularly good to him as he always went for the back of my underwear first.

This was then almost always followed up by some hot steamy dad sex. I would always make him bust a load in my hole first but if the prostate stimulation wasn’t enough to make me blow my own nut then we’d flip and I’d fuck his ass relentlessly until he was just as full of cum as I was. Regardless it would seem the power dynamic there had certainly shifted in my favour which I wasn’t gonna complain about.

Besides that however we were already living happier lives than we ever had before. The only bad thing about it all was all the questions people would ask and the odd looks thrown our way for this sudden change in our behaviour. Because of this I suggested to Bryce about looking for a new place to start our lives fresh elsewhere. Somewhere that we wouldn’t already be known by the community. Somewhere we can just be Bryce and Nolan, the hot horny couple of dad’s in the neighborhood. Bryce seemed to like that idea so now we’re looking online for places to move to.

The only hiccup in that plan was that we didn’t want to move too far from Gil’s magic shop. We went back after I became Nolan and Gil himself seemed very impressed with the new form I’d taken. After explaining our moving situation however, he told us not to worry about it. Apparently there were a bunch more Gil’s magic shops all around the world. According to him all of them are connected and every single one has a door portal that brings them to the same place. So regardless of where we move we’ll likely still be able to visit. As confusing as that was, I kinda understood.

With that though, Bryce and I were just excited to begin this new chapter together. And perhaps even spice things up from time to time by purchasing a few more items from Gil’s shop. Regardless I was sure that from this point on, our lives were going to be perfect…

If you love my stories then please consider supporting me on Patreon as well!! ❤️

#magic #permanent #male body theft #identity theft #age progression #absorption #hairy #dad #straight to gay #mental change #revenge #sweaty men #smelly

440 notes · View notes

kiss-me-cill-me · 3 months

Note

can you please do a fic with heavy praise kink and soft dom cill character?💕

Someone please tell me why I chose Robert Fischer for this after making him the biggest asshole in my last fic haha. Guess I like variety 🤷‍♀️ Thank you for requesting, anon! I think I went a little heavy on the soft and a little light on the dom, but I hope you enjoy ❤️

Layover

Pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: After a hectic day of travel, it's almost unbelievable that you can't fall asleep. Luckily, your boyfriend is around to help tire you out.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, soft dom dynamics, praise, use of pet names (mainly "princess"), nipple play, Robert (gently and lovingly) makes reader masturbate in front of him, established boyfriend/girlfriend relationship

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Flying, you had decided, was at least the second (if not the third) layer of hell.

You hadn’t spent much time doing it - at least not before today. But the grueling ten hour flight you had just been on certainly felt like enough for a lifetime. Not to mention the hours spent getting to and from the airport, going through security and customs, and just generally waiting around. Even if you did get to wait in a fancy lounge.

The worst part was that your boyfriend, through his various connections, had actually managed to make the process much shorter and less painful for both of you than it would have been otherwise. You had no clue how the average traveler managed to survive this whole ordeal.

“Here we are - home sweet home for the night,” Robert announced, holding open the door of your hotel room.

Your shoulders sank. It was impossible to believe that you would have to endure even more of this tomorrow. This wasn’t even your final destination. After an overnight layover, you and Robert had a whole other flight to catch in the morning. Maybe airports were more like the fifth layer of hell.

Robert didn’t seem to notice your sour mood as he dutifully held the door open, letting you into the room before turning to motion the bellhop through with your luggage. You wandered around the spacious accommodations, letting your fingers trail over the glass coffee table. Faint classical music could be heard, drifting almost casually into the extravagant suite. You wondered if you’d ever get used to this kind of life.

Robert was certainly used to it, though, and he wasted no time tipping the bellhop and ushering them out of the room. Now, with the two of you alone, he came to wrap his arms around you, pulling you against his chest as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Did you manage to sleep on the plane?” he asked.

“No,” you sighed, melting into his touch. “Not at all.”

“Oh, princess. I’m sorry.” You scrunched your nose. You always both loved and hated that nickname. It felt strange to have it applied to you, somehow, and yet right at home on Robert’s lips. He was a man who could probably legitimately date a princess, if he wanted to. And yet, he had settled for you. Just an average girl who, frustratingly, couldn’t manage to fall asleep on a ten hour flight.

“It’s fine.” You shrugged, and buried your face in his chest.

He smelled warm; like fresh soap and something powdery. Probably the starch on his shirt. Only Robert could somehow manage to smell like that even after a full day of travel. You breathed deep, and sighed as his arms pulled you in tight.

“Let’s go to bed, then,” he suggested.

It was already dark outside; the hum of the city far below your feet somehow felt close and far away all at once. You caught a glimpse of it through the large picture window, as neon lights crept up into the edge of the pane.

“That sounds good,” you agreed.

Robert’s hands framed your face for a moment as he gave you a quick kiss, keeping you pressed to him for a few seconds. Almost reluctantly, he broke away to walk over to the suitcases.

“I’ll get our things. Don’t worry about lifting a finger, princess.”

You smiled as Robert dug through your carry-on, hefting it up to the edge of the bed. He took out some clothes, and then sat down on the mattress.

“Come here,” he said, gently patting his thigh.

You followed, sinking into his lap so that you were half-faced toward him. His hands slowly snaked over your waist, and pulled you in for another deep kiss. You sighed, more with content than frustration this time, and felt him start to lift up your shirt.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he promised, carefully helping you to undress. He gave you a small squeeze. “You’ll get some sleep, and then you’ll be ready to go in the morning.”

You hoped that was true, though you couldn't imagine feeling ready to fly again as you leaned in to accept yet another kiss. Robert always spoiled you. Your body sank tiredly against his. He was right; you really needed some rest. You let him help you get ready for bed, and slipped gratefully under the covers.

Hours had passed, frustratingly slow. You tossed and turned, decidedly restless. Caught in a fitful state that was just slightly too far from sleep; the promise of it taunted you as you stared up at the ornate ceiling.

The far-off sounds of the city barely reached you up here, so you weren’t sure why you were unable to fall asleep. You should have been more than tired enough. You were exhausted, in fact, but your body just wouldn’t cooperate. Jetlag. You had been prepared for it, but you thought it would make you more sleepy, not less. You turned again to look at the clock, and then twisted to face Robert.

Laying in bed beside you, your boyfriend had no trouble getting to sleep. There was irony in that. Usually, he was the one plagued by insomnia, but apparently travel tired him out.

Well, it had tired you out, too - but the problem was, somehow that tiredness didn’t translate to sleep. You inched a little closer, hovering next to Robert’s still form as he laid haphazardly on the mattress.

There was something incredibly cute about him while he was sleeping. His pillow had ended up down by his arms, caught in a strange hug as Robert splayed out on his back, covers tossed aside and mouth hanging slightly open. You watched the gentle rise of his chest, letting your gaze sweep up and over his closed eyelids. So peaceful.

“Glad one of us can sleep well,” you murmured, smiling as you pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

Your heart swelled with love, but then mild alarm as Robert’s head shifted. He blinked; his eyes taking some time to adjust before focusing squarely on you.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” he hummed.

His voice was still burdened with dregs of sleep, but his hand came up to cradle your face, pressing you into a sleepy kiss.

“Nothing - I’m sorry,” you whispered. Although it was too late to bother. “I just haven’t been able to sleep.”

Robert made a noise of concern as he folded you up in his arms. His hand stroked your hair as he guided you over to rest your head on his chest. Your own fingers came up to grasp at his shirt, stretching out the collar slightly as you sought comfort.

“Anything I can do, princess?” he asked. “I could try to help make you sleep.”

“How?” you asked. You had already tried all your usual tricks. Nothing had worked.

“Well…” Robert answered, shifting beneath you. “I know one thing that usually makes you sleepy.”

Your back pressed into the plush mattress as Robert flipped over, taking you with him. His hands roamed; exploring your bare legs and pushing up past the hem of your sleep shirt. It was actually one of his. You always liked wearing Robert’s old t-shirts to bed, and he was more than happy to part with them. Especially the ones like this, that barely came down to your thighs. His fingers trailed over your stomach, brushing against you as his lips briefly captured yours.

“You don’t have to do that,” you laughed, pushing up slightly against his shoulders.

Robert stayed right where he was, only breaking away enough to look down at you.

“Well, I’m awake now too, so I think we could both benefit - don’t you?”

It was hard to argue with him, especially when he had already started to drift his fingers back down your body. Your legs squeezed, trying to give yourself pressure, and you felt something starting to twist in your stomach.

“Okay,” you agreed, your breath fanning his face as he came in for one more kiss, almost before you had finished the word.

Robert’s hand that had been in your shirt came down to press past the hem of your panties. You lifted your hips, eager to feel him against you. Your boyfriend’s fingers were pure bliss; you’d felt them a thousand times, and they never once failed to draw pleasure, almost as if it were effortless. You felt yourself melt as he started to press in, testing your soft resistance.

“Hm, are you sure that you weren’t asleep?” Robert teased. “Seems like you might have been dreaming about me.”

You hummed softly, smiling against the stretch as he sank into you easily. Your eyes fluttered shut and your head arched back, giving yourself in to the pressure.

“Eyes on me, princess,” Robert commanded, his voice firm but gentle. “I don’t want you to fall asleep yet.”

You pried your eyes open to look up at him. Robert was smiling; a soft look in his eyes as his fingers inside of you pressed deeper, curling to drag a small noise out of you. You struggled to stay focused as he made you moan against his touch.

“Robert,” you gasped.

“Yes, princess?”

“F-feels so good…”

The words seemed to melt out of you as you let yourself sink back into the mattress. He’d started to pump softly in and out, curling his fingers whenever he reached that rough spot that made you gasp.

“Think you can do something for me?” he asked. His fingers urged you to obey.

“Yes,” you breathed.

Too soon, his fingers were pulled out of you. You felt yourself clench at the loss, as his hand came to pull down your panties.

“I need you to touch yourself,” Robert said sweetly. “Use those pretty little fingers and make yourself feel good. Okay?”

His voice, deep and powerful, felt like a trance. You brought your hand down to press at your wetness, bringing a trail of it up to your clit as you started to trace soft circles.

“A little harder,” he urged. “Press down.”

Your back arched again as you pressed with your fingers, sending a jolt through your core. You cried out, and Robert brought a hand up to your face. You felt the faint wetness that coated his own fingers as he adjusted your head.

“Remember to look at me, honey.”

You hadn’t even realized your eyes had been shut again. They fluttered back open now; blinked up a few times as you focused on Robert’s face.

“Good job, princess,” he praised. “Always so good for me.”

You felt yourself settle back more, almost sinking into the pillow as Robert’s lips pressed to the base of your neck. He kissed you, sending a new wave of pleasure throughout your whole body, and then brought his hand to the hem of your shirt.

“Keep going. You need to tire yourself out if you’re going to sleep well.”

As he talked, he slowly pushed up your shirt to reveal your bare breasts. Using his hand to hold the fabric up close to your neck, he leaned down and latched his mouth on your nipple.

“Ah!” you cried.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart,” Robert instructed.

His eyes flashed up briefly to catch yours, now blown wide, and a brief glint of something passed through his soft gaze.

“O-okay,” you gasped.

“That’s right. Good girl, princess. Be good and I’ll give you my fingers again. That’s what you want, right?”

The only thing you could respond with was a moan, as Robert’s tongue flicked over your breast again, catching the hard, raised nub before pressing his lips down to soothe you. His mouth was warm; pulling you closer and closer to release as the sensation traveled straight down to your core. You stopped for a moment to squeeze your clit, making yourself buck at the feeling.

“You’re doing so well,” Robert hummed. “Gonna make yourself come for me?”

“N-need you to help,” you moaned. “To- come on your fingers.”

“You need my fingers inside you?”

“Yes. Please,” you added.

“Okay then. Since you asked nicely…”

Robert’s hand came down to press into you; two fingers filling you up just like you needed. You twisted your hips, impatient to make them move around inside you. You were so close, and pressed down again with your own fingers, bringing yourself to the edge of release.

Robert’s mouth found you again, his tongue flicking against the most sensitive place as you felt yourself finally let go.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Good girl.” His mouth was suddenly up by your ear, whispering praise as you went tumbling over the edge. “Slow down, slow down. Let me take care of you.”

Your hand stalled; your fingers pressed into the bundle of nerves that was still sending shockwaves throughout your body. A deeper flood of endorphins and pleasure moved steadily through your core, coaxed on by Robert’s gentle fingers as he gave you pressure and weight just where you needed it.

The bliss washed over your whole body as you collapsed back into the mattress, letting go of all the lingering tension you held. Robert’s lips were back at your neck again, leaving a trail of delicate kisses as he moved up to your face. He planted a kiss on your cheek, and let himself stay deep inside of you for a few moments as you clenched, weaker and weaker, around his two fingers.

“You did so good for me, princess.”

His next kiss was on your lips, giving you a small distraction as he slowly removed his hand. As he eased out, he tugged your shirt back down, helping you settle into the mattress. You were already wrapped in warmth, but Robert pulled the blankets up close to your shoulders and pressed his nose to your cheek.

“Feeling sleepy now?”

Your eyes were already closed, and you nodded your head, murmuring something akin to assent. Your whole body felt billowy and yet heavy, and sleep had already started to claim you. Robert tucked in the blanket a bit closer, and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

You smiled as you drifted off.

#robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #robert fischer #LemmyFics

269 notes · View notes

irkimatsu · 1 month

Note

So I've got a request that may be odd but interesting. Reader/Husk where things start off with Husk being an Overlord and Reader a lowly sinner down on their luck, but after a long period of separation (things going sour, Alastor's doing, or whatever sounds best to you) they reunite and rekindle their relationship when Husk has lost everything and is working at the hotel, and Reader has risen the ranks to become an Overlord themselves. GN Reader is fine, thanks for your time!

Oh god help me I made this one angsty. I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted!

3.2k words (help), angst with a happy ending, SFW besides the usual swearing you expect from Hazbin fics. Reader finds Husk again after a decade apart, a tearful reunion is had, oh god help me

---

You stand in the middle of a grand ballroom, with a live band playing acoustic music and food and drink as far as the eye can see. Dozens of demons fill the hall, the most influential Sinners in the Pride Ring joined by their associates and servants.

It’s not the first time you’ve been to one of these gatherings, but it’s your first time here while on the other end of the leash.

You have to admit, it’s somewhat lonely here at the top. You’re not completely alone; like everyone else here, you’ve brought along your favorite contracted soul, who has just brought you a glass of champagne and earned a pat on his head for his troubles. But as you sip your drink, you can’t help but remember something with a smile.

He’d spit this out and ask where the scotch was…

It’s so strange not having his strong arm pinning you to his side. You can still see the charming expression on his face as he speaks with another Overlord, even as his tail waves as a warning to everyone who speaks to him. You know what that tail is saying without him needing to open his mouth.

“I’ll respect you if you respect me, but if you even think about trying anything with my pet, you’re dead.”

A lot of servants here are openly fearful or disdainful of their owners, but Overlord Husk never made you feel anything less than cared for. Sure, he had needs from you, but you enjoyed fulfilling those needs, especially knowing that he’d back down if you asked. He was cocky, spoiled, and reckless, but he adored you and always made sure to show it, both to you and to anyone who dared suspect that you were only a trophy he’d happily gamble away.

Then one day, he was just… gone. You woke up in his bed in the mansion like so many other mornings, and immediately you noticed that you couldn’t feel the faint bindings of his leash around your neck. You searched the mansion for him, but instead, you found Alastor reclining in Husk’s favorite lounge chair, sipping rye from one of Husk’s own glasses.

“Husker is no longer in need of your services, my dear. You’d best be on your way.”

He wouldn’t explain things any further than that, and you never heard from Husk again. What happened to him? Why would he just leave you like that, after years of calling you his most precious treasure…?

You need to shake those thoughts from your head before you have a breakdown in the middle of the party, so you join a nearby group of Overlords you can’t identify by name, intending to nod along and pretend to participate in their conversation. They appear to be discussing that rehabilitation hotel that Lucifer’s daughter started up. You continue sipping your drink and listening, hoping they don’t notice your silence.

“I still think it’s a foolish idea…”

“They did a wonderful job fighting off those exorcists, though. Imagine, we may never have to worry about another extermination thanks to that hotel!”

“Did you see any of the battle?”

“Oh, heavens, no, I never dare leave my shelter during an extermination, and I certainly don’t want to watch such a thing on TV!”

“Well, I caught some of it on the news, and would you believe, I could have sworn I saw the Gambling Demon fighting with the rest of Charlie’s crew!”

You try your damnedest to hide your shock at that news. At the very least, you manage to avoid dropping your glass.

“The Gambling Demon! Staying at Charlie’s hotel?! Surely you’re mistaken! And here I thought Alastor had him killed!”

“Oh, he looks different to be sure. He’s gotten a lot thinner, a lot scruffier. But how many tuxedo cats with giant wings do we have flying around in Hell? It had to have been him!”

“What do you suppose he’s doing in that place? Surely that old drunk doesn’t think Heaven would ever take him?”

“What kind of people does Heaven take, anyway…?”

As the discussion drifts away from the Gambling Demon, your attention drifts away from the discussion.

You’ll need to drop by that hotel sometime soon.

—

It takes you a few days to get away for long enough to stop by the hotel. Who knew Overlord business could be so exhausting? No wonder Husk needed your help with stress relief so often. But finally, after days of wondering, you find yourself standing outside the doors of the recently rebuilt Hazbin Hotel.

Surely it was all rumors, a cruel game of telephone meant to get your hopes up before harshly striking them down. You wouldn’t find him here. Not here, of all places. As far as you know, he’s dead.

But still, you have to know…

With a deep breath, you steel your nerves and push the door open. You’ve barely stepped into the lobby when a cheerful voice starts calling out to you.

“Oh! Hey there!” A group of demons are sitting in a circle of chairs, and all of them are now staring at you. Most of them are strangers, but you do recognize the one who’s enthusiastically waving at you as Princess Charlie herself.

You also recognize the winged cat who is currently staring at you with wide eyes and mouthing something inaudible. He’s much thinner, unhealthily so, and he doesn’t appear to be taking nearly as much care of his fur as he used to… but it can’t be anyone else, can it?

“You’re just in time!” Charlie says as she launches out of her seat and runs up to you. “We were just starting today’s trust exercise! Would you like to join us? It’s a perfect way to see what the Hazbin Hotel is all about!”

She’s speaking so quickly you can barely follow her.

“Oh, right, introductions! My name’s Charlie! What’s your name?”

You tell her your name, and she squeals with glee as she takes your hand. “Come on, come sit with us! Let me introduce you to everyone! This is Angel Dust, and Niffty, and Husk…”

You don’t remember any of the names she says after Husk’s. It really is him. The instant you lock eyes with him, you can’t look away. He’s frozen stiff, only the slight twitches of his tail showing that he hasn’t turned to stone.

“...and we have plenty of open rooms! What size bed do you like? Do you smoke? I know it’s hard to quit, and we’ll help you with that, but before then I can make sure you get a room with a balcony-”

“Charlie!” A girl with long white hair laughs and grabs Charlie’s hand to pull her back down into her seat. “Calm down! I think you’re freaking them out!”

“Sorry, Vaggie, sorry!” Charlie says. “It’s just always so exciting to see a new guest!”

“I don’t think it’s Charlie’s fault,” says the pink spider sitting on Charlie’s other side. “Seems like they just got distracted by our bartender. You like him, don’tcha? I know he’s cute, but don’t try pettin’ him, he bites.”

Husk must be stunned if he’s not reacting to a joke about his cat form. You’ve seen him punch other Overlords for that.

A bartender, though… that part doesn’t surprise you at all. But why here?

“Did you want to get a room set up first?” Charlie asks you. “I can help you pick one out, then we can come do the trust exercise! Oh, I can’t wait to get to know you!”

“I’ll take care of ‘em,” Husk says as he rises to his feet with a grunt.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Husk! I can-”

“I’m the concierge here, ain’t I? Takin’ people to their room is part of my job.”

“Normally you complain when we ask you to check people in,” Vaggie says.

Husk shrugs at Vaggie’s observation as he heads toward the hotel’s bar. He grabs a box from beneath the bar and shakes it. “So, what size bed? You want a balcony?”

“Um… king?” you say, not sure if it’s an option. “Balcony is fine.”

“Mmm…” he stirs the contents of the box around with his claws for a moment, then takes out a key card and reads it. “Right, here’s one. Fifth floor.” He puts the box back where he found it, then pulls out a book and a pencil. He flips through the book for a specific page, then scribbles something inside it.

He writes your full name perfectly, despite you not saying it directly to him.

Once that’s taken care of, the book also returns to where it came from. “C’mon.” He heads to the stairwell, and you follow.

What should you say to him? Should you say anything? Should you give him the first word? He doesn’t appear to be taking it as the two of you silently climb the stairs.

You reach the fifth floor, and your hotel room, without either of you saying a thing. “This is it.” He swipes the card and opens the door for you. “Look good?”

It’s a fully decorated room, with potted plants and wall art and a comfortable looking bed. It’s not entirely to your taste, but you can tell whoever designed it took great care with it.

“Don’t mind the art, you can replace that if you want. You might be staying for a while, so make it yours.”

“All right… thank you.”

Over a decade, and that’s all you can say to him?

You expect him to leave you to get settled in, but he keeps standing there, propping the door open. “Hey, uh… do I… know you, from somewhere?”

Your heart gives a single, heavy thud. “I think so… if you’re who I think you are.”

“Can I come in?” he asks. “Talk to you for a minute?”

“What about Charlie?” you ask.

“She’s patient,” is all he says before walking into the room. You follow him in and shut the door behind you. He’s standing in the middle of the room now, not looking at you. He seems to be at a loss of what to do with himself.

“...it’s really you,” he finally says, still facing away. “Before you said your name to Charlie, I thought… it couldn’t be…”

“Husk…” is all you can say. How long has it been since you’ve said that name? It feels so wonderful rolling off your tongue. At the sound of his name, he finally turns around to face you.

“...I missed hearing that…”

Your head is in conflict over what you should do now. Hug him and promise not to lose him again? Slap him and ask where the hell he’s been all this time? Break down crying, overwhelmed with thoughts of how you just spent the last ten years assuming he was dead?

“What happened…?” is all you can manage to say, without moving an inch.

His ears tilt down and he grumbles to himself as he grips his arms. “I didn’t want… didn’t mean… I’m sorry. He wouldn’t… I couldn’t…” he takes a deep breath. “...a lot’s happened since the last time I saw you.”

“Can you tell me about any of it?” you ask.

“Can we sit?” he asks in return. You nod in agreement, and the two of you sit on the edge of the hotel bed.

“How much do you know already?” Husk asks.

“Not much,” you say. “I went to sleep by your side one night, and then I never saw you again. That’s all.”

“Do you remember what I told you that night?” he continues.

“That you had a big meeting the next morning, but that I shouldn’t worry about it and you’d be home soon…” The gears start turning in your head. “What happened at that meeting…?”

“I lost,” Husk says. “I lost everything to Alastor. The money, the casinos, the mansion, the staff… even my own soul. A few bad hands, and that was it.”

You once again remember seeing Alastor that day, and your hand goes up to your throat. “Did you lose me to…?”

“I didn’t lose you to anyone!” Husk insists. “I promised I’d never bet your soul, didn’t I? I didn’t bet it then, either. He didn’t want me keeping you, said a pet didn’t need a pet of his own… but there was no fucking way I was letting him have you. Letting you go before he took everything from me was the best thing I could do for you.”

“And you couldn’t tell me?” Tears are welling in your eyes. Are you relieved? Angry? Where has he been?

“He wouldn’t let me!” Husk says, defensive. “Wouldn’t even let me near any of the property I used to own! I couldn’t tell anyone from those days what happened! He wanted everyone to think he’d killed me!” He needs a few breaths to calm himself down. You barely recognize your old Overlord in his current face; he looks so lost and tired. “Believe me, I didn’t just give up. I looked for you when I could, but I didn’t know where to begin, especially when I couldn’t even get into my own casinos anymore. If I had any idea where you were, I swear I would have found you…”

If he still doesn’t know where you’ve been, then clearly he forgot to check somewhere vital. “Have you been keeping an eye on the Overlords recently?”

“Like I want anything to do with that fucking group ever again,” he spits out. “I still hate how I lost everything, but I know it’s for the best that I got out of there with some dignity intact… wait.” He sits up and stares at you. “Is that where you’ve been?”

You smile and nod. He chuckles in response and leans back on his hands.

“Heh… should’ve known you’d find another Overlord to take care of you. I just hope they’re good to you… I may not be as powerful as I once was, but I’ll still kill anyone who tries messing with you. I ain’t breaking my promises to you, not even now.”

“Husk…” you say with a shake of your head. “I’m not on anyone’s leash anymore. Not since I lost you.”

“Eh?” He raises a large, red eyebrow. “Then what are you doing, hanging around with Overlords?”

“Well… I am one now,” you said. “After you left, I had to fend for myself. I started a business, made connections with the people you used to know, and now… here I am.”

“No shit… you as an Overlord,” he says. “Not surprised you managed to climb that high, if that’s what you wanted. I just hope you’re playing fair. Not like some of the other scumbags with that title.”

You can’t help but wonder if he’s including himself in “scumbags”.

“Of course I play fair,” you say. “I learned a lot from you. It’s ruthless work, but it doesn’t mean I have to mistreat people for it.”

“Good to hear,” he says. “Good to know some people down here don’t let power completely fuck ‘em up. What kinda souls you own?”

“I try to make fair deals,” you say. “Hiring people to work in factories, using contracts to protect company secrets, that sort of thing. I think my people are happy where they are. I try to make it less awful than it could be, at least.”

“Got any pets?” Husk continues.

“Pets…? Oh.” It takes a moment for you to catch his meaning. “No, no! I’m not interested in that sort of thing. Everyone just works for the company. No personal relationships.”

“Huh… shame. Having a pet is a lot of fun. Getting to spoil ‘em, seeing ‘em smile when you’re around… pissing off other Overlords who don’t understand why their souls hate them so damn much, but your pet can’t keep their paws off of you…” He sighs and closes his eyes. “It was nice, having you by my side. I regret a lot of shit from back then… but I don’t regret having you. …at least, as long as you don’t regret it. Was I good to you back then…?”

“You were amazing,” you assure him as you lean against him. “Amazing enough that… that I can’t see myself with a pet of my own. I don’t belong on that side of the leash… and I don’t belong on anyone else’s leash, either.”

“...you know I’m washed up,” he says. “I ain’t got shit left. No money, no influence, just a damn chain around my neck forcing’ me to do the bidding of a sadistic freak who thinks I’m an animal.”

“Husk…” You can’t help but hug him tight as you hear just what he’s been going through in your time apart.

“I can’t spoil you anymore. I can’t take you to parties, I can’t buy you expensive gifts… that shit’s over now. You’re staring at… well, you’re staring at a withered old husk.”

“Can you still sing to me?” you ask. “And dance with me? Perform tricks for me?”

“I… maybe?” he says. “I’m out of practice. Haven’t had a reason to do any of that for years.”

“But could you?” you repeat.

“I mean… I’d like to… I’ve missed it.” He smiles again, his eyes staring off into the distance. “I still remember how you’d smile when I sang your favorite love songs…”

“I always loved your voice,” you say. “I still remember what you sound like when you sing. I think about it sometimes…”

“Yeah?” he says. “...I think about it too. You smiling as I’d sing to you, and… and hold you…” You’ve been waiting ever since you leaned in, but finally, his arms are wrapped around you. “And tell you that… no matter how much I lost… I’d never lose you…”

You never saw Overlord Husk cry before. Such a prideful man surely couldn’t cry. But as he rests his chin atop your head, you can hear his breathing start to hitch.

“I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you assure him as you nuzzle his neck, just the way he loved all those years ago. A purr assures you that it hasn’t changed.

“If I knew that day… that when I left, I wouldn’t be coming back… I would have stayed in just a little longer.” He rests his claw on your chin and tilts it up to look in your eyes. Now you can clearly see the tears pricking the corners of his own. “Would have at least kissed you goodbye…”

“You did kiss me goodbye,” you say. “That night, before we went to sleep, the last thing you did was kiss me…”

“...and I promised I’d be back,” he finishes. “I kissed you goodbye for a day. Not a decade.” His claws run down your face, just as gentle as ever. “Could I… do that now?”

“Don’t kiss me goodbye,” you say. “Just kiss me.”

He grants your wish, lightly placing his lips against yours. He finally lets his tears fall, but the way they stain your cheeks doesn’t make you pull away. If anything, they’re just another reminder for you that he’s here, along with his warmth in your arms and the sound of his soft moans vibrating against your lips as he keeps kissing you.

“Charlie…” you murmur. “Charlie’s waiting for us-”

“She’s patient,” he repeats as he pushes you down to the bed. “I’m sure she’ll understand me wanting some quiet time with an old friend.” He offers no further argument before resuming his kisses, and you have no further reason to protest.

“I love you, Husk,” you manage to whisper between kisses.

“I love you too, doll. Always have.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers #irk huskposts

120 notes · View notes

sunderlust · 2 years

Text

won't you keep lettin' me love you for a long time (rooster)

masterlist

pairing: rooster x f!reader

synopsis: you drive rooster home after one too many margaritas

warnings: fluff, smidge of angst (mentions of grief, death, bradley losing his parents)

wc: ~2k

note: a wise person - aka may - once told me to never scrap your writing, even if you’ll never use it again. I was gonna backspace the first draft of this - actually wrote it for another angsty Jake what’s new - but then rooster inspiration struck (roospiration, if you will) (actually don’t that just looks like perspiration) (I mean I’d love to have rooster’s sweat- nvm)

sorry long ramble aside here’s something short and sweet after my last angsty fic 💕

“You’re way too good of a friend to me,” Rooster grins sloppily as he slumps over the bartop in front of you. Honestly, he’s pretty lucky they had just wiped down the counter. At any other moment, it’d be sticky with beer and sweet and sour and he’d run the risk of getting a pistachio shell stuck to his mustache.

“Yeah, perhaps I am,” you half-seriously agree with a smile and slide a full glass of ice water towards him, then lean back in your own chair to observe a drunk Rooster trying to manage a few gulps while smiling like a goober at the colorful liquor bottles lined up on the shelf.

The bar’s been long empty, most aviators having taken their leave thirty minutes after the last call. Bradley usually heads out earlier than this - doesn’t like staying out late and messing up his perfectly curated bedtime routine. But tonight was a reunion of sorts with his old classmates, and they went through quite a few margaritas.

You joined about an hour ago, and Bradley immediately elected to sit with you and engage in wonderfully mindless chit-chat. You’re not complaining at all - every moment you can spend with the gorgeous aviator is a moment to cherish. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to get all the gossip on his current students at TOPGUN - like the three that are involved in a devastating love triangle that’s most definitely exacerbated by Bradley always grouping them - a move he most certainly took out of Pete Mitchell’s book (“They need to focus on the job, not distract themselves with high school theatrics,” he ranted to you earlier).

“Hold on, wait,” Bradley suddenly says, then springs himself upright and focuses hard on you. “If I squint just right...” he screws up his face, almost going cross-eyed. “I can see two of you!” Bradley’s mustache quirks with his smile, and his entire face lights up like the sun. “Goddamn. What a sight.”

“You’re hammered,” you scoff in an attempt to conceal how much the term of endearment affects you, how it makes your entire body feel warm and tingly because you secretly love it when he’s this open and brazen with you, tossing out flirtatious remarks with no hidden agenda besides trying to put a smile on your face.

“I’m not hammered - they call me Rooster,” he replies breezily and you swat at his shoulder, turning away to hide your smile and raising your other hand to flag someone down to close out Bradley’s tab.

After handing over your card (despite Bradley’s drunken attempts to sway the bartender against letting you pay) - you finally stand up. “Need a lift back home?” you ask him with a teasing lilt to your voice. It’s a rhetorical question - he’s got no other way home besides an overpriced Uber - but he still hums thoughtfully. Slowly, he lifts his head and surveys you while drumming his fingers on the wood.

“I.... think that would be best,” he declares, determinedly slapping the counter and attempting to slide off the barstool in a suave manner - it looks more like Bambi on ice, but you can’t deny that it’s still incredibly endearing. He looks up to flash a brilliant, a bit lopsided smile at you. “I’ll see if ‘Nix can pick me up early to grab my car in the morning.”

You laugh, slide your purse off from the back of the chair, and think to yourself about how he’ll have to find out for himself tomorrow that he didn’t even drive here.

Your car rolls to a stop right outside a quaint, one-story bungalow, and you shift into park before unlocking the door and sitting patiently. Bradley’s quiet - as he’d been the entire ride home - and you chance a brief look at him. He’s sitting up, now looking straight back at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Evidently, there are one too many thoughts running around in his tequila-addled brain.

“You okay?” you ask him, eyes seeking out his in the darkness of one AM.

A few seconds of silence roll by, each ticking louder with your beating heart. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Think I may have had a bit too much.”

“I’ll say,” you snort. “You didn’t even say anything when someone queued up Foghat earlier.”

“Fuck Foghat,” Bradley groans out and leans back against the headrest. “And fuck Jake for ruining a perfectly decent song.”

You hum reassuringly and eye his dark figure carefully, watch the shadow of his chest rise and fall steadily, and find yourself matching his breathing. “You sure you’re alright?”

His head lolls to the side as he appraises you. Finally, he lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, I just...” he trails off, fingers tapping mindlessly on the console. “You’re my best friend,” he says at last. “And you’re so... good”

Bradley shifts into the tiniest sliver of light, eyes glinting with the reflection of the street lamp glowing outside. You hold your breath, not sure if he can even see you or what he means by it, or what will come out of his mouth. “You’re so kind and good to everyone. Even me. And I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve you,” he says with so much sincerity your heart breaks at him thinking that he’s not deserving of benevolence, friendship, or even love.

You open your mouth to object, to reassure him that it’s very much the opposite, but he beats you to it with words that make your heart bounce around wildly in your chest, yearning to jump right out and press up against his. “I wish my mom and dad got to meet you.”

It punches all the air out of you, and you just sit and look at him solemnly, somehow at a loss for words.

Bradley has carried grief with him since he was four years old. One day, he’s learning about all the different species of dinosaurs from a book his uncle had gifted him, and the next day, he finds out that his dad won’t be coming home, and he’s discovered something new - a little thing called loss. And years later, loss greets him once again with a bittersweet kiss on both cheeks as it tears away his loving mother and his traitorous Uncle Pete. And for some time, it’s just Bradley and his grief, the dynamic duo, a force to be reckoned with as he swears to uphold his father’s legacy, to make Carole and Goose proud (even Maverick, on a subatomic level).

You know some time back, he figured out why Mav pulled his papers - to appease Carole, sweet Carole, who didn’t want her son to see the same fate as Goose. You know Bradley wonders if his parents would be disappointed in him for still following his dreams. The worst part about losing his parents is that he’ll never know how they’d feel about the man he’s become. It’s especially easy for him to believe he hasn’t done enough.

“Bradley,“ you start, throat closing up as your mind races, as you search for the right sequence of reassuring words. “I think you deserve the world.”

You think back to the early days of getting to know him - shortly after you’d moved to San Diego and found him in some dive bar near the ocean. You remember coming back to the bar with your coworkers on Thursday nights, wistfully sending glances his way across the room and trying to muster up the courage to talk to him, ask him to hang back for a drink, ask him if he likes pancakes or waffles in the mornings because you want to know what to make for him after rocking his world (that last sentiment may have been heavily gin-fueled). It was a simple crush at first.

You recall the day he slid up next to you, bought your next drink, and asked you to join him for a round of darts (which you failed miserably at - somehow it’s much harder in real life than GamePigeon). You remember the laughter, the neverending conversation, the comforting feeling of having a new friend. A great friend - one who always lends a listening ear, makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, who brought you his mom’s famous tomato soup when you got the flu.

Phoenix says he’s usually stuck in his head and thinks too much - but in the time you’ve known him, he’s never spared a second thought when it comes to you.

In a rush, you return to the present, where he’s sitting in front of you with glistening eyes and a drunk mouth speaking words you know cross his sober mind every day. His face is crumbling with emotions that he usually keeps under lock and key because he can’t let it get in the way of his job, can’t let it mess him up when he’s flying or teaching. For whatever reason, this is the side of him that he only feels comfortable enough to show you.

Slowly, you reach over the console to interlace your fingers together and pull his hand up to your mouth to press a sweet kiss to the back of it. He squeezes once. “You know that they’re always here,” you tell him. “Every part of them that they’ve given up has made you the wonderful man you are now. In that way, you always have them with you. And they’d be so damn proud of you. I wish I had the chance to meet them, but I know they’d agree.”

He’s nodding his head with your words as if he’s shaking them around his mind in an attempt to instill their meaning. “And...” You press another kiss to the back of his hand. “I’d say you’re my best friend, too,” you say, whispering mock-conspiratorially.

The grin that slides over his face makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, flying around wildly, completely shredding your intestines but that’s a problem for later because right now Bradley, who has to be the love of your life, is smiling like he just won the lottery, like he’s the luckiest man in the world. Suddenly he’s leaning in, reaching a hand out to brush a piece of loose hair behind your ear and then cup your cheek lovingly, and he’s kissing you like you’re the air he breathes.

You return with fervor; his mustache scrapes roughly against your nose and you can still taste the cheap sour marg mix on his tongue and you can definitely sense how drunk he is by the lack of coordination he exhibits every time your teeth clash together. But it’s real and raw and beautiful all at once, and he’s kissing you like he did the first time all those years ago, as he did on the beach when you said yes to forever, as he did months ago after you exchanged I do’s in a small but beautiful ceremony.

You’ll always prefer messy kisses over anything else, and you’ll always love Bradley with his grief wholly and unconditionally.

Bradley, now seeming to be the slightest bit soberer, breathes in deeply, pulls back slightly, slowly grazes your cheekbone with his thumb as he tries to look at you in the darkness of what must be one-fifteen now. “Thanks,” he says genuinely. Doubt is still festering its prickly self inside him, but he’s grounded now and is comfortably tethered to you.

“Always,” you promise to your best friend, to your partner, to your husband, then surge forward to press another kiss to his lips before moving to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies ardently and pulls you in to kiss your forehead, then turns to fumble for the car handle. He pauses and lowers his head to look out the window where his Bronco is parked right next to yours. “Hold up - I didn’t drive tonight?”

You stifle a laugh and grab your bag from the back seat. “Think your age is showing, honey.”

Bradley squawks out in indignation and stutters through a couple of rebuttals before sighing and burying his face in his hands. “I hate this. Why did you let me drink this much?”

“I showed up later, babe,” you tell him. “Think you can blame Jake for the margs.”

Another groan sounds out from him. “Of fucking course it’s Jake’s fault.”

With a little bit of coordinated effort, the two of you manage to walk (stumble, in Bradley’s case) up the stone pathway leading to the front porch, unlock the door, and step into your shared home together. And later that night, you lay down next to a softly snoring Bradley, think about all the moments that brought you to him, and drift away on the feeling of utter devotion.

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster one shot #rooster imagine #tgm fic #sol writes

2K notes · View notes

sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 2 months

Text

~ As Sweet As Sugar | JJK

Pairing: CEO!husband!Jungkook x writer!fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, the in-laws (again), talks of marriage, mentions of divorce, business talks, mentions of large inheritance, love confessions, sweet Kook, enamoured Kook, this is a pretty soft chapter tbh, Jimin and Namjoon feature in a scene (we love these two), implied smut at the end, OC is wiped by JK, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: Jungkook makes a decision that would change his life forever but he can't regret it when he know he'll have you in the end. Promises are made, love gets sealed, because a caramel isn't always as sour as it seems.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Hello, darlings! Welcome to the final chapter of "Sweet Marriage"! I hope you are excited to see how (y/n) and Jungkook will solve their marital issues O.O

Drabbles for this AU! are open, sweet ones! My inbox is open to all of you who'd like to request a continuation or would like to see in-betweens of this story. Now, without further adieu, happy reading, darlings!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

What kind of caramel has a sour exterior yet a sweet centre? Is it worth the experience?

You sat in the passenger's seat while Jungkook drove to his parent's house. You were tense, he could sense it as well. From the begining you had tried to get along with your in-laws, something he thought was going pretty smoothly to be honest until Jungkook's mother crossed the line.

A silent gasp left your lips when Jungkook's hand rested atop your own. You looked at him only to marvel in his side profile.

"You are tense."

Your gaze lowered at his acknowledgement, you didn't want to speak just how much it bothered you had to go to his parent's residence in fear of making him angry or worse, to see you in a bad light you certainly weren't in.

His hand squeezed yours and you looked up at him only to meet his dark eyes for a second before his gaze returned to the front.

"I promise this is the last time we are going to my parent's house. I just need to sign some documents."

You leaned back on your seat, your eyes focused on the road as you let your mind wander around what had happened five days ago. You felt stupid to some point for doing Mrs. Jeon's will without consulting your husband. Not that you needed some kind of permission from him to do anything you pleased but more so as to include him in a decision that was going to affect the both of you as a married couple.

"I know, Kook."

You replied back in a soft voice, mind already lost in memories from that day and the following day you had lived next to your husband. The next morning after you told him your secret, Jungkook wasn't by your side and you felt how the world fell over you.

Fear took hold of you that moment, you could still remember how scared your had been when he wasn't in the bed, his side was also cold to the touch. You remember standing up in a rush, nearly tripping down with the sheets tangled in your body before you bolted out of the bedroom.

Jungkook was in the living room, his eyes lost in the horizon as the sun was painting the sky in beautiful hues of orange, pink and blue. He turned to look at you, his heart trembling at the distress drowning your (e/c) pools before he stood up and was quick to approach you.

You were in his arms the next second. Your face buried in his chest as you blinked back tears you didn't know had gathered in your waterline. Jungkook didn't say anything, he simply held you tighter when he felt you relax in his hold.

"You weren't in bed."

You said, matter-of-factly and he sighed, resting his chin at the top of your head.

"I woke up early, I didn't get much sleep."

You took a deep breath, inhaling in his scent, taking in his presence.

"I thought you had left."

The sound of your voice so fragile pulled at his heartstrings that a lump began forming in his throat. He pulled back only for one of his hands to cradle your cheek in his large palm while his eyes gazed into your own with countless emotions.

"Never. I could never leave your side."

You blinked and the memory dissipated from your mind like fog when the sun came out. You sighed, silently playing with Jungkook's fingers that were still in your hold, completely unaware of his soft smile upon your gentle touch.

"We are here."

His deep voice snapped you out of your little paradise where only you and your husband existed. He turned to look at you with gentle eyes that nearly melted you in your place. He smiled as if to comfort you; which it did.

"This won't take long, I promise."

You nodded before his hand left your own as he exited the car, making a sudden coldness invaded your body. You couldn't fully describe it but it felt as if your heart was enveloped around ice when you weren't near Jungkook, however the slightest touch or simple glance from him were enough to set you aflame.

He opened the door for you and you stepped out of the vehicle. His hand found home in between your fingers as he led you silently toward the front door.

"Young master, welcome."

Spoke the maid at the entrance. She bowed at Jungkook and you with stiff movements that made you take a deep breath. This is it. You thought to yourself as Jungkook gave the maid a simple nod before asking in his professional voice. He was here to deal business, nothing more, nothing less.

"Is my father in his study?"

"Yes, young master. He's waiting for you. Mrs. Jeon, would you like me to take your coat?"

You turned to look at the elegant maid with kind eyes yet your voice came firm as you spoke your next words.

"It's alright. We won't be here long anyway, but thank you."

The maid bowed down to both of you as Jungkook led you through the house and up the large staircase toward his father's study. His steps were determined, strong and confident. You followed next to him, your hand still clasped in his.

Jungkook had you as his equal in this situation were his future was on the line while you had him as support to the thorns that wanted to hurt your marriage with your sweet husband whom you loved so very much you feared your heart would explode with the amount of love you held for the man walking next to you.

The double doors were opened by two maids and you and Jungkook entered your father-in-law's studio hand in hand. Tension immediately rose in the room. You practically could cut it with a knife. Mr. Jeon stood up from his chair, a shiver ran down your spine but if it was due to the chilly room or the coldness of his eyes, you couldn't exactly tell.

"Welcome. This will be short, I only need you, Jungkook, to sign some papers and then this scandalous situation will be over."

You felt Jungkook's hand tighten around yours, his father's words spurring emotions in his heart he rather kept hidden. You squeezed his hand back in silent reassurance which made him physically relax a bit yet not completely.

"Where do I sign?"

Asked your husband in a detached voice. He was here for an entirely business deal. No emotion was carried by his voice and the tension rose once more in the room, like icicles trying to break the peace that surrounded your marriage with Jungkook.

Mr. Jeon sighed before his eyes lowered, his hands opened a file only for then to turn it upside down so that Jungkook was able to read it properly, he put an expensive black pen next to it and the coldness once more invaded the place.

Your husband let go of your hand as he walked toward the mahogany desk. His steps were large and precise, without hesitation. You found yourself admiring the control he had over his emotions, of his actions. Of how people viewed him. Even when he was in the presence of his own parents.

How sad it must have been for him to wear that mask required by society in front of his parents as well. It must have been tiring. The thought crossed your head before you could stop however, you came to notice how relaxed he was in his home with you. How domestic he appeared in your eyes. Then again, who said you weren't also wearing such a disguise?

You made eye contact with your father-in-law as the shuffling of paper echoed around the walls. You could read in his dark eyes the challenge he carried within him, the arrogance. The slight disappointment he had in Jungkook when he didn't divorce you. The frustration cursing through his veins was obvious to your eyes that only held love and support toward the man who had married you.

"So, according to this, I will no longer be the heir of the company?"

His father nodded, his hands clasped in front of him before he spoke in a monotonous tone.

"Yes, Jeon Enterprises will pass to your Cousin Marlene, I believe she is now in the States. She's already been notified of this."

Silence stretched in the room once more as your eyes focused on your husband. Your heart thumped in your chest ever so quickly you were scared the two men in the study could hear its frantic beating.

"You'll keep your current position but you'll work for us. Are you sure you want to do this, Jungkook?"

But your husband paid him no mind. He wasn't going to be controlled like a puppet. Not anymore. Not when his future, you, were on the line. Never. Jungkook signed the documents, the scraping of the pen over the paper reached your ears and your heart fluttered at his actions.

Jungkook put the pen aside and straightened back to his full height. His eyes pierced those of his father with no emotion at all.

"If that is all then we'll be on our way. My wife and I already have plans."

The older man let out a deep sigh, looking at his son with melancholy or disappointment, you really couldn't tell. Butterflies flew in your stomach when Jungkook called you like that. "My wife." His. You were his just as he was yours. Tangled with the ribbon of fate and tied with a knot of love.

"I'll let you know if there's anything more but for now, that is all."

Jungkook nodded, turning around and when his back was towards his father, he offered you a soft smile. Kind in its nature. Happy in its existence. You smiled back as he walked to you and his hand found home around yours.

"Let's go."

And with that, he led you outside of the study and through the hallway. Mr. Jeon was left in his expensive and luxurious study, pondering if what he had done had been the right decision. It wasn't his fault Jungkook had fallen in love with you and it wasn't your fault that you were sterile. Was it really worth it to discard the company from his son's rightful heritage only for a drama his wife made?

But there was no turning back. There was nothing to be done if he were to feel guilty about his choice. Because as the owner of Jeon Enterprises, Jungkook's father had in him the power to leave the company to whoever he pleased. Was it really worth it?

"Jungkook."

Mrs. Jeon spoke as she stood next to the large staircase. Her piercing eyes went from Jungkook to you and back to him. You squeezed your husband's hand in reassurance. You were next to him, just like every future time he'll have to face anything, you'll stand next to him as his wife.

"Mother."

You felt how the tension rose once more between mother and son and you straightened your back before saying in a steady voice.

"If you'll excuse us, Mrs. Jeon, there's an appointment we need to attend to. I hope we'll meet again under better circumstances."

She eyes you up and down and you feel how she scrutinised you with her gaze alone. But you weren't going to back down. You had your husband next to you and he had you as well. You sent her a polite smile and she nodded in a stiff manner before you turned to the staircase and pulled on your joined hands with Jungkook before he followed you down the marble stairs with his mother's eyes piercing the top of your head as if she could burn you with her anger cursing through her veins.

"You will regret this, Jungkook! You'll regret it for the rest of your life!"

But her words fell on deaf ears. Jungkook didn't need their fame, he didn't need their support anymore and there was no point in keeping a relationship with the people who brought him to this world if it was going to be so toxic he felt like he couldn't breathe anymore.

He had you know. Your presence, your existence was like a new and fresh breeze on a spring day. You brought him hope, you gave him your heart and with it, your love. Your trust. Your life was in his hands. Just as he had given you his heart ever so willingly; without an ounce of hesitation in his actions, in his words, in his thoughts about you. His lover. His wife. His (y/n).

You stood in the lift as it went up to your shared apartment. Your hand was held in Jungkook's larger palm as his thumb ran delicate circles over your knuckles.

You still were surprised at how easily he had given up on his inheritance because of you. Because he loved you. Because he wanted you. He cherished you and gave you your place as his wife. You didn't doubt you would have done the same had you been in his shoes.

The feeling of your heart thumping against your chest for the man you had married made you smile softly. At him. At his love. At what had been built between you both where nothing existed, not a castle stood. A castle of love.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Jungkook's hand squeezed yours in an involuntary way but it made your cheeks heat as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. The both of you walked out of the lift hand in hand and down the large corridor that led to your shared apartment.

When you two rounded a corner, you had to suppress a gasp as you nearly collided with two other men who were walking at a fast pace from the other end of the corridor. You recognised them vaguely, as if you had seen them before but couldn't quite place where. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook tensed ever so slightly at the sight of his friends and coworkers.

"Jimin, Namjoon. What are you both doing here?"

Now you knew where you had seen them. Both Jimin and Namjoon had attended the small wedding ceremony between you and Jungkook nearly a year ago.

"I... well, you see-"

"We visited a friend, Kook. I'm glad to see you, you haven't been at the company for some time now."

The shorter one spoke. Jimin, you remembered his name was Jimin. The man had a pleasing smile over his plump lips and you also noticed he had recently dyed his hair a sandy shade of blond that suited him perfectly.

Jungkook nodded, eyes going from Namjoon to Jimin and then back again.

"How are you, Mrs. Jeon? We haven't seen you since forever."

Spoke Namjoon and you smiled. Reminiscing how you both had shared talks about different books and art, you being a writer yourself he valued your opinion greatly.

"I've been fine, Namjoon. Thanks for asking, I hope everything's going well at the company?"

Your question made them nod and Jungkook bit his lip, this interaction was lasting more than it should have. To begin with, it shouldn't have occurred in the first place. This could totally ruin Jungkook's plans to spend the evening with you.

"Oh, yes. Please don't worry about that but do tell Jungkook here to stop pestering us about the monthly reports already! We have a big loan already!"

You couldn't help but laugh at Jimin's comment, the sound resonating across the walls. Jungkook sighed loudly, visibly irritated by his friends who teased him in front of you.

"Yeah well, keep going like this and there'll be no salary increase for you both."

Jungkook began walking once more, tugging on your joined hands as you laughed out loud at the scared face Namjoon made and the eye roll from Jimin.

"See you guys around!"

You were able to say that before Jungkook dragged you into the apartment and closed the door behind him leaving Jimin and Namjoon standing in the middle of the corridor.

"Do you think he'll do it?"

Asked the taller man as they both began walking down the hall and towards the lifts. His hands shoved into his trouser pockets and a relaxed expression over his face.

"He better do it."

Jimin pressed the button to go to the ground floor, a hand running over his hair as he frowned slightly.

"He better do it, hyung, or I swear I'll kill him."

Namjoon laughed and the elevator's doors closed. Leaving behind nothing but silence in the empty hallway.

Jungkook had taken your coat from you before he had disappeared into the kitchen saying he was thirsty. You sighed in content as you took off your shoes and placed your purse on the entrance table before you walked away from the door wearing your comfortable slippers.

"Kook?"

You asked, but he wasn't in the kitchen and you frowned at his absence. Silence engulfed the flat and you walked to the living room and the dining room but he wasn't there.

"He couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, now can he?!

You muttered to yourself as your feet carried you to your shared bedroom. The door was slightly ajar so you pushed it with your palm and gasped at what you saw inside.

"I thought it would take you longer to come here."

Jungkook said and you stepped forward, eyes roaming around the bedroom. The curtains were pulled to the sides, the mesmerising sunset painting the sky tinted the room in a soft orange hue it warmed your heart instantly.

There were red rose petals on the ground, and the bed was dressed in black sheets with white petals on it. Transparent balloons filled the ceiling as they floated up and you couldn't help the smile that graced your lips.

"Kook, what's this?"

He walked over to you, standing at arm's length as his eyes lost themselves in your own. His heart was beating wildly in his chest; he feared you could hear it. His hands were behind his back as he looked down at you.

"Jimin and Namjoon took longer than anticipated."

You laughed, so that was why Namjoon seemed so nervous at the beginning. The sound of your laughter made butterflies swirl in his stomach, the sight of you, bathed in the golden light of the sun, smiling up at him was enough to send him to heaven.

"(y/n),"

How delicious it was to hear your name coming out of his lips. You looked at him with a soft gaze he thought he'd melt right then and there.

"my beautiful wife."

You blushed at the compliment, breaking eye contact as you looked down in a futile attempt at hiding your flustered state. He chuckled, finding the situation so beautiful in its own existence. Wishing he could frame this precise moment and look at it forever.

His hands untangled themselves from behind his back, one was shoved into his trouser pocket while the other lifted your chin with the tips of his fingers. The moment your eyes met his once more, you felt like melting against him. It was perfect.

"I love you so much, sweet one. So, so much."

You swallowed, feeling his words through your heart as it skipped a beat.

"I love you as well, Jungkook. With all my heart."

He smiled. the bunny smile you loved so much. That smile that was the source of your happiness. That smile that was only his.

"We have faced so many things together."

His hand moved and cradled your cheek, the touch burning you while freezing you in your spot at the same time. You wanted him. In every sense of the word. He did things to you that you had never felt before. He made you feel loved like no-one else had done, he made you feel cherished, wanted, needed. And you could only hope he felt the same way. Because you loved him, you cherished him, you wanted him and needed him just as much.

"I wish we had met under different circumstances but that doesn't mean I am not grateful for what he has grown to be as a couple."

Your hand came up and covered the once that cradled your cheek, your hand over his sending tingles all over his arm and to his body he felt fuzzy, happy to just be with you. To just have you in this moment, exactly like this.

"I have grown to care for you like I have never cared for another woman in my life, (y/n). You are everything to me. Everything, sweetheart. I cannot imagine my life without you."

Your eyes began to water at the sweet words dripping from his lips. Coated in sugar, meant to wash away the sour taste left behind by life itself.

He sighed and took a step back, his hand left your cheek and you instantly felt cold at the loss of his touch. Jungkook looked at you with soft brown and big eyes before he knelt down on one knee. His right hand picked up a small box from his trouser's pocket and you nearly gasped when he opened it.

"We are already married and the promises I made to you on our wedding day are still fresh on my mind. I will fulfil them as my duty to you as a husband but this ring, love, this ring is a promise to you as your lover."

You bit your bottom lip, trying to stop it from trembling as a little tear rolled down your cheek at his words.

"I promise to love you until my last breath. I promise to cherish you as my wife. You will never need anything, your desires are my commands, (y/n). You rule my heart like a Queen rules her kingdom. Now, I ask you with all the sincerity in this world: will you love me as well?"

A sob escaped your lips before your hands went up to cover your mouth. You nodded fiercely as you tried to wipe your tears away. He smiled, standing up and taking the ring out of the small velvety box. His larger hand took your left one and he slid the ring on top of your wedding band. A seal to his love. The two rings even matched.

"Yes. A million times yes. I love you, Jungkook. I love you with all I have in me, with everything. Forever."

The next moment, his lips were on yours. Your hands rested on his shoulders as he cradled your face, his lips dancing with yours in the steps of love.

The kiss was sweet. As sweet as sugar. You poured all the love, all the longing, all the desire into that kiss while Jungkook let his emotions flow into that single act of love. He allowed you to feel how his heart beat for you, how his mind wouldn't stop thinking about you and how his hand itched to touch you.

Your hands ran to the back of his neck before they were running through his dark locks. A soft groan escaped his throat when you tugged on his hair slightly. You moaned as his hands slid down your cheek and towards your waist, pressing you against him.

Passion bloomed in that moment. Starting with a sweet kiss and ending with the promise of eternal love.

Jungkook guided you to the bed, the back of your knees hit the bed and he pushed you down on the mattress gently, hovering over you without breaking the kiss.

Perhaps sour caramels do have sweet centres after all.

As sweet as sugar. As sweet as love. As sweet as life.

Combined into a sweet marriage of eternal devotion and beautiful love.

~Masterpost

March/03/2024

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

Drabbles are open for this AU!

132 notes · View notes

softlyspector · 4 months

Text

choices

Summary: Joel is dying. He reflects on the choices he made.

Word count: ~2.2k

Relationship(s): Joel & Sarah, Joel & Ellie, Joel & Tommy

Warnings: spoilers for tlou part 2, a whole lot of grief and love, descriptions of violence and injuries and death, confusion, trauma, written in like two hours and edited only lightly, not my usual writing style

A/N: Hello, remember when just this morning I said no golf on this page? I lied a little bit. We're going golfing in this one, but I think the fact that I can write about this without having a breakdown means the big ball of grief in my chest is easing just a little. Maybe that's silly, considering he is Not Real. But it is what it is. I don't expect many of you to read this lil fic but if you do, know I love you and appreciate you. I would love to hear anything you have to say. Thank you for reading <3

“What if she’s still alive, Tommy?”

Tommy’s head snaps in his brother’s direction, Joel still waiting to receive medical attention.

It's warm. The weather is nice. He can hear crickets chirping in the grass. Feels like a fucking crime.

Pandamonium, everywhere, still, in the triage center; but between the two of them it’s quiet, the whole world far away. It has to be, with Sarah’s blood still on his hands, the feeling of her little hands clawing at his bicep still wasping over his skin.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about, Joel?”

“S—” Her name gets caught up in his throat, wads up against the back of his tongue and sticks it to the roof of his mouth. That first letter is sour and anxious, a bitter candy in the maw of his grief.

Daughter, child, baby.

His baby, warm in his arms, her blood threading through his fingers, life draining away.

All he could do was watch and watch and try to stop that horrible red.

He had looked away for one second, and she’d left. Gone.

Two days ago, her body cooled in his arms. Two days ago, he had to close her eyes forever with trembling fingers. He hadn’t been able to look into them again, and would forever be missing that color, trying to remember it, match it to some shade that would never be right, never be her.

“Sarah,” he manages and clears his throat.

Tommy is the one that wants him to get looked at. Because Joel can’t tell if something is wrong or not, from running and falling and being shot at. He doesn’t feel fucking anything, just numbness, just the pull of his skin too tight against his organs and bones. Just a pulsing dark hole, raw and torn at the edges.

Part of him got ripped out when she—

Where had he put it all before, he wonders, all that love? His body isn’t big enough for it. And it certainly ain’t big enough for this much grief.

“What if she was still alive? When we buried her. I want to check.”

Grief.

It will bend over backwards just to look you in the eyes. Denial of its gaze will break even the best of them.

Joel looks away, sees a daughter that might claw free of the fate she suffered.

The memories are sunbursts behind his eyes, blinding and impossible to look at, but not something he could ever forget. Cradling her to his chest, can’t leave her behind, bury her at least, put her bones to rest, but what if she’s alive? Are they sure she was dead? Maybe she’d just passed out?

Tommy shifts, looks away, across the emergency tents and the families still hoping to find a loved one, everyone wondering what the fuck was going on as night falls again, another day in this new world. Forever changed.

He doesn’t need his brother to say it, that she isn’t alive, that Joel had held her and felt for a pulse for hours afterwards, intermittently pressing fingers to neck just to be sure. He doesn’t need Tommy to tell him that even if she had been, they’d buried her two days ago, and she certainly was now.

A wave of grief pulses through his chest again. That’s the only time the numbness abates, just those little moments where love washed away too soon, overpowers.

“Joel—”

Joel isn’t listening. He’s thinking of blue eyes opening six feet under the ground, inhaling dirt, panicking, confused about how she ended up there, suffocating, and Joel had been the one to put her there.

A new wave of emotion passes over Tommy’s face.

“She was gone.” His hand lands on his shoulder.

Little brother who he’d always looked out for and played third parent to, or maybe he was just the second.

“You’re right,” Joel nods, his throat constricts again, glassy pearl of grief swelling against his skin until it feels like it might burst. “I know.” His voice cracks right up the middle.

Joel still hasn’t washed her blood from his fingers, it feels like the last moment of loss, the very last thing he can hold onto.

He still believes in the world, then. That he can hold onto for a second.

And then, him and Tommy are at the border to a quarantine zone a few days after that. Joel still has his kid’s blood staining his t-shirt. Someone checked him out at the triage center, and wiped away the blood before he could stop them, told him he sprained his shoulder.

How did that happen? And did it matter, if he couldn’t feel it at all? He doesn’t feel pain or hunger or anything else, just wave after wave of grief. He doesn’t even feel angry.

But then they’re there, truck confiscated, in the processing center to the Austin QZ, with backpacks and the clothes on their back and a promise that they’d be able to get a letter to his mother when he is waved in and Tommy is not.

Then, the anger sets in and the world changes in his mind and he sees it for what it has become. The thing that took Sarah and wrought hell and wanted to take more.

It would not happen again.

He argues with the officers and gets angry, the kind of angry that used to follow him before Sarah arrived and mellowed him out. They won’t hear sense, even though taking Tommy would be the same as taking Joel. They have most of the same skills. His brother is better than him, anyhow.

But maybe that’s the problem. Similar skills and one with ideals.

“It’s all right, Joel, I’ll figure somethin’ else out. I’ll head to Arlington.” He never would have let that happen, not then, not at that moment, but if he had, he knows he never would have seen Tommy again.

He’s on the knife’s edge of being restrained when he walks back through the gate to his brother’s side.

It’s a relief.

Not again.

They never find their mother; they never get to send a letter.

He makes the choice for them, even though Tommy tells him to go on. “They wouldn’t have me now, anyhow. We’re better off this way.”

Joel doesn’t hear any arguments and eventually Tommy stops trying.

It’s the same kind of change that would bloom dangerous and righteous in St. Mary’s twenty odd years later. The same kind of relief when he finally finished his terrible task, choice made, crisis averted, for the time being.

Tommy came to resent Joel for the choices he tried to make for both of them, so it’s no wonder Ellie would one day, too.

When Joel dies, when he’s dying, when he’s being beaten to death, and his mind finally parts from his body and the pain fades—he thinks of that moment, Tommy staring at him through that fence.

He thinks of Sarah, her tiny frame in his arms, the way she was so small when she died and when she was born. So fragile against his chest, baby hair like yellow fluff, both times.

He thinks of Ellie, smiling at him, fearlessly leaping from great heights and scaring him half to death, thinks of dinners together before everything went to hell, thinks of hats on dinosaurs, books about space read aloud, the desperate clawing, asking to stay close when he could feel her slipping away.

He thinks of Tess, how she wanted to lie low and take a break, after. He thinks of that bite on her neck and the sprawl of her broken body on a chilled marble floor.

Joel never got enough time with anyone.

Reviled, always, for what he would do for them.

And still he would do it again and again and again.

The nine iron comes down on his shoulder, the reverberation of it echoing through his body, the vast cavernous, cancerous space of it. Pinging off ribs and around the blackened, singed accordion of his lungs, sluggishly billowing open and closed, like the end of a song he never knew how to sing.

What kind of hell did he end up in? Inflicted with a beating he can no longer feel; slow; the end long overdue.

A merciful one, maybe.

A deserved one, maybe.

But it is the end.

Violent, like it should be. Like it had been for so many others. The way he had made it for so many others.

Sarah, bleeding in his arms. Her eyes blank and unseeing and the fear that he had buried his blood before her time, that somewhere in the earth she still writhed. Undeniable, then, that it was his fault.

Ellie, machete raised above her head, bringing it down, over and over, blood on her face and then crying in his arms. He would never be able to say what he said to her then to soothe her, his skin frozen cold against hers, sweaty and tacky with fear and adrenaline.

The fire had felt much hotter than it was against the cold, her body fitted into the cradle of his. She was so little against him. Just a kid. He would be, and was, sorry about that for the rest of his life. What she had endured alone, that she had had to save him.

Again.

The point of no return, a fate sealed in blood.

Tried to deny it, even after he decided to take her to the university. Muttered promises he had to fulfill, or else.

Or else, he’d lose what little of his soul he might have left.

Well, I’m not leaving here without you.

With Sarah’s picture in his pocket, he had kept that promise.

He cracks an eye open, and there she is.

Maybe he should wonder why she’s there, be afraid that she is. But all he is, is glad.

See you around.

A promise to try her hand at forgiving him, and here she is, trying.

Ellie's voice.

He wishes he could hear her. She’s looking at him, and that’s fine. He misses her and wishes he would have said that.

Joel blinks, once, slowly, the image of her flickers. The little girl that hadn’t wanted to go anywhere with him, had wanted to stay with her friend Marlene, the leader of the Fireflies. He sees the child Tess had looked him in the eye over and said look, I get it and nothing else, because what else was there to say? Tess knew about Sarah, and Tess knew him.

Terribly transparent, a horrific liar.

He feels the weight of her in his arms through the thin cotton of that hospital gown and then the warm press of her palms shoving him away. All the heaviness of his sins, the break of teeth against untruth, the hard skin of lies. He hears the wracking sobs, the betrayal. A flare of real pain accompanies it, washes cold like a wave across a shore.

And still, he’d do it again.

If he had to, and even if he didn’t. Because it matters. Ellie matters.

The pit of love inside him, that saving, healing, mellowing thing that shouted in colors of grief and made him smile again, play the guitar again and sing again, that made him miss in a way that stung a little less.

Her grave, without a marker.

Dirt on a little body that they couldn’t even put in a pine box. Tommy crying, Joel silent. He’d done his howling.

When Ellie pushed him away, held him at arms length and decided she hated him for the choice he made for her, even if no one was going to have one either way, there hadn’t been howling, either.

There was nothing to mourn after all.

She lives, she breathes. She is safe and has other people to support her.

He wondered, after, when they got back to Jackson and she stopped talking to him, if all that love had only ever gone one way, choked in an artery that spilled out onto the wrong avenue, like everything inside him had been built backward.

Maybe she stopped caring about him, but there had been love there once, and that’s all someone like him could ever hope for.

Just a split second, of being enough, of being the right thing at the right time and making the right decision in the right way.

He sees the decisions lined up, like glass bottles on a wall, like he was a kid with a BB gun. Sarah and Tommy and Tess and Ellie. Maybe if he’d done one thing different or everything different, things would have ended up different and better.

Maybe they would have all gotten to make the choices they really deserve.

He blinks again and the little girl is gone, replaced with the woman she grew into. The one he’s proud of and keeps tabs on, because that’s his kid and that’s what a parent does.

There are tears, and he can hear her a little. Her voice is breaking. He wants to tell her it’s okay.

That’s what he does, tries to do anyway, make sure everyone and everything is okay. He did that, too, even when she didn’t know it. Made sure she came home and got enough and listened with pride when people said she was doing well.

But this is the end and the executioner’s blade is raised high.

Joel twitches, reaching, fingers curling, wants to say it, but he can’t. His own blood pools cold and sticky beneath his head.

He's tired.

He’s sorry that she has to see.

Sorry that it takes him so long to die.

He doesn't regret anything.

He would do it all over again.

Thanks for reading if you got this far 💕 Would love to know what you think!

#tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel and sarah #joel and ellie #joel and tommy #joel miller

156 notes · View notes

yelena-bellova · 11 months

Text

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Part of the Team

Plot: On her first day working for KJPR, Y/n tours AFC Richmond’s facility and meets some of the staff.

Warnings: language, use of f!reader, (16+)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Well, first off, thank you for the lovely response! I certainly didn’t endeavor to write anything for Ted Lasso (I was actually going to take a writing break) but this idea seemed good enough to indulge.

This has been added to the taglist in my bio, so don’t be afraid to click it and add yourself. It will be kept 16+ just for language and the show’s subject matter so I won’t be adding anyone unless your age/range is specified in your bio.

All that being said, I hope this nurses a little bit of your finale hangover. No Greyhounds to be found in this chapter, but a wild Ted does appear. Writing for him is going to be a hilarious exercise for me lol. Enjoy!!

—————————

Wanting to be prepared, Y/n had started doing research on AFC Richmond the morning after accepting Keeley’s job offer.

The slight buzz she’d managed at the bar had blocked from her memory that she knew more about Rebecca Welton than she thought. Years before, she’d seen her face splashed across all the tabloids at news stands and markets talking about her divorce from…for the life of her, Y/n couldn’t remember the man’s name. All she remembered is there’d been perfect pictures of him and his various models of the months, while the cameras always managed to catch Rebecca with a sour look on her face. Y/n remembered feeling like she could read the whole situation without without ever perusing a filthy word.

As she studied, Y/n put together that Richmond consisted of three coaches. The manager, Ted Lasso, was a name the whole country knew, regardless of whether you watched football or not. It wasn’t Y/n’s place to judge, but she assumed if he was still around, there was a reason. He’d brought along an assistant coach from the states with him, along with Roy Kent joining their staff the previous season. Another name she didn’t need to bother to learn as it was already burned in every Brit’s brain. There also seemed to be a scandal with a previous coach, Nathan Shelley, having abandoned Richmond for West Ham United as Richmond reentered the Premier League.

Having gone to school in London and staying after, Y/n had gone to plenty of football matches with friends. Much like American sports, she’d never been as interested as those surrounding her, but she enjoyed the atmosphere. However, she pulled up highlights of old Richmond matches on Youtube and studied them to try and get a feel for the players. Two in particular stood out to her.

Sam Obisanya caught her attention for his raw talent, the graceful way he managed to move in such a brutal sport. She’d also seen the way he handled himself in press conferences, always soft and well spoken. He’d been fearless in his defense of Nigeria, his home country, and against Dubai Air and Cerithium Oil. She had mad respect for him and his bravery.

Then there was Jamie Tartt. Going through videos of his stints at Richmond left Y/n puzzled. He seemed to have started out the cocky striker, too busy kissing his own foot to realize there were twenty more on the pitch waiting to shine. He never passed. He never assisted. It was all him. But then, after his swift departure and return to the team, his playing style shifted. Suddenly, he did pass. He did assist. A few months difference and it was practically night and day.

Y/n sighed as she shut her laptop, having just finished the video of him letting Dani Rojas take the penalty goal that secured Richmond’s return to the Premier League. She hoped Jamie Tartt, and all other Greyhounds, wouldn’t be a PR headache.

The night before she officially started at KJPR, Y/n found herself nervous. It seemed like too ideal of a situation to meet someone at a bar and be offered a job right after losing yours. She felt hesitant to trust that when she walked into Keeley’s office, she wouldn’t find a complete nightmare. She went to sleep with a clenched jaw and stiff shoulders, praying that this wouldn’t be another loss to face.

—————————

Y/n pulled up to the KJPR office building at 8:55. She adjusted her carefully ironed pants, smoothed down her blouse and blazer and took a deep breath. Her capabilities were the one place her insecurities had no place living. She was good at what she did, she just needed a place to do it.

When the elevator doors opened, she was surprised to find a small office with multiple occupied desks set up. Keeley had made it sound much smaller than it actually was.

“Y/n!”

A familiar voice exclaimed and Y/n peered across the room to see Keeley rushing out from behind her desk and bursting out her office door.

“I’m so glad you showed,” she grinned as she scurried to Y/n and took hold of her hands.

“You offered me a job and you thought I wasn’t going to show up?” Y/n asked with a confused chuckle.

“I mean, to be fair, I offered it to you in a restaurant after, like, a glass and a half of wine,” Keeley replied, “I’m not sure I’d have believed me either.”

Y/n laughed a little, very aware that all her fellow employees were not only watching the unprofessional display, but hearing the story of her even more unprofessional hiring.

“Should we…” Y/n gestured towards Keeley’s office.

“Oh, right,” Keeley practically shouted, leading Y/n back and through the door.

True to the little Y/n knew about the woman, Keeley’s office was head to toe…Keeley. Pink everything, floral patterns, a ceramic jungle cat in the corner…it was, most definitely, the most unique of any boss’s office Y/n had ever entered.

“Right,” Keeley said as she took a seat on the couch in the corner, leaving a spot for Y/n, “Let’s get to it.”

Y/n settled onto the couch, leaving a fair amount of space that Keeley immediately cut in half.

“So I know you said that you’ve been more of a manager lately, but that you’re good with PR,” Keeley recounted, “What did you do for you last companies?”

“Oh, I floated around a lot,” Y/n began to mentally run through her old positions, “I managed small teams under a much larger umbrella of board members. Minor stuff. But in the public relations department, I’ve been in charge of social media campaigns, run a few accounts, and handled plenty of press conferences, interviews, that sort of thing.”

Keeley’s smile grew with each task that Y/n listed off. “I think you might be the most perfect fucking fit!”

Language, another unprofessionalism Y/n felt she was going to have to get used to.

“Before all of this happened,” Keeley gestured to the frilly space around them, “I did full time PR for AFC Richmond and did all that kind of stuff. That’s actually where I wanted to potentially start you off.”

Y/n shrugged, silently grateful she’d gone the extra mile with her research, “I’ll go anywhere you need me.”

“Perfect,” Keeley grinned, already getting off the couch, “I was actually heading over there for a meeting with Rebecca. It’d be a great opportunity to show you around and introduce you to some of the staff.”

“Uh, sure,” Y/n quickly picked her purse back off the floor.

“I really think you’re gonna love it there,” Keeley continued, collecting her bag and a pink binder, “I feel bad I’m not there full-time anymore. It really is one of the best places to work.”

As Keeley spoke, Y/n followed her out of the office. She struggled to keep up with how fast Keeley managed to move in her high heels. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, a brunette woman passed them by.

“Oh, Barbara,” Keeley called out, “I want you to meet the newest member of KJPR. This is Y/n.”

Barbara looked Y/n over from top to bottom as if inspecting the latest crop. Y/n’s confidence in her extended hand began to drop under the pair of judging eyes.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/n,” Barbara seemed to shake her hand with caution before turning to Keeley, “You didn’t mention anything about bringing on a new hire, Miss Jones.”

Keeley visibly shrank at Barbara’s words, “It was a spur of the moment thing.”

“Ah,” Barbara replied, turning back to Y/n, “May I ask what, if any, experience you have?”

Looking between Barbara and Keeley, Y/n listed off the positions she’d previously held and the companies names. With each title, Barbara’s frown turned into…something between a smile and a frown.

“Ah, well,” Barbara took a breath, “Lovely. Welcome to KJPR.”

With one more firm shake of her hand, Barbara departed, off to whatever task needed her attention. Keeley and Y/n were left in an awkward silence not of their creation.

“We’re still getting to know one another,” Keeley explained with a nervous smile.

“I got that,” Y/n nodded.

“Right,” Keeley shifted gears and gestured towards the elevator, “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

—————————

Richmond wasn’t far from the heart of London, where Y/n had spent most of her time. Functioning nearly exclusively within the corporate world had kept her within a bubble that rarely gave her opportunities to venture outside its walls.

As Keeley drove them through Richmond, making pleasant small talk, Y/n’s eyes were transfixed on the sights. Nothing was particularly extraordinary looking, but compared to the grays and blacks of London office buildings, the place was like a daydream someone like her might create during their 9-5.

“Do you live near here?”

“Hmm?” Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, “Oh, I’m about 30 minutes away. But I’ve never really spent any time here.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Keeley replied, turning them down another road, “You should take some time this weekend to roam around.”

Y/n filed the idea away, first she needed to confirm that AFC Richmond was the right fit.

Soon enough, Keeley pulled them into the parking lot of Nelson Road Stadium. Y/n recalled that she’d been there once to see a match with friends in college, but that had been on the spectator side. Parking mere feet away from the pitch felt surreal, even for a non-football fan.

“I’m gonna take you up to Rebecca first,” Keeley said as she shut her car door, “None of the players or coaches’ll be here since they’re still on break.”

Y/n followed alongside her, entering the stadium through the side doors. The inside of the building was painted in team colors of blue and red. Along the walls, there were trophies and framed pictures showcasing the Greyhound’s accomplishments over the decades. The history of the club was something Y/n had yet to do research on, but even ten minutes spent in the halls would tell her more than Wikipedia probably could.

Keeley led them up two flights of stairs till the colors of the walls changed to neutrals. The door at the top of the steps hung open, but Keeley still gave a courteous knock.

Rebecca looked up from her desk, smiling when she recognized the two guests. “Good morning,” she said, cheerily.

“Hi, babe,” Keeley smiled, “I brought Y/n with today. Thought it might be good for her to tour the place.”

“Of course,” Rebecca rose from her chair and met Keeley and Y/n in the middle of the room. She brought Y/n in for a half hug, half handshake, “I’m absolutely thrilled you’re here.”

“Oh,” Y/n smiled, awkwardly accepting the greeting, “I’m…pleased to be here.”

“Right,” Rebecca released her and gestured for the women towards the couch, “I’m not sure what Keeley has planned for you, but we’re never without work here.”

Before Y/n could voice her neutrality, Keeley spoke up.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she began, “I’d really like to have another pair of hands on the club, just in case there’s anything I might miss,” Keeley turned to Y/n, “I’d love to put you exclusively on Richmond duty.”

“Like I said, I’ll go where I’m needed,” Y/n raised both her hands in surrender to their plans.

Rebecca exhaled and grinned, “Perfect. Like I said, there’s never a shortage of work. With this being our first season back in the Premier League, there’s plenty of press to be handled.”

“I’m happy to go wherever I’m needed,” Y/n restated, deciding it was best to just go with the flow of things.

A knock at the door turned their attention.

“Good morning, ladies,” a shorter man sporting a suit and glasses entered the room.

“Higgins,” Keeley greeted.

“Good morning, Leslie,” Rebecca smiled, “I’d like you to meet KJPR, and Richmond’s, newest addition, Ms. Y/n Y/l/n. Leslie is our director of football operations.”

“Ah,” Higgins nodded, coming to the couch to extend his hand, “Welcome to the team, Ms. Y/l/n.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Y/n said politely, shaking his hand before sitting back down.

“Y/n will be helping Keeley handle the PR department,” Rebecca further explained, before her train of thought visibly halted, “Hang on…” she looked to Keeley, “Your old office is still vacant.”

Keeley gasped, “It is.”

Y/n’s eyes bounced back and forth between the woman.

“If Keeley can spare your presence at the KJPR office,” Rebecca placed a hand on her best friend’s arm, “How would you feel about working here?”

Searching for her words as quick as she could, Y/n shrugged one shoulder. “I’m completely fine with that,” she looked to her boss, “If Keeley’s alright with it.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Keeley smiled, “I’d actually love it if we had feet on the ground here.”

Y/n blinked. Just like that, everything was settled.

“Excellent,” Rebecca clapped her hands together once, “Shall we go for a tour?”

“Ah, that was going to be my suggestion,” Higgins spoke back up.

Never before had Y/n been swept up so quickly in a job. Nothing moved that fast in the corporate world.

Keeley, Rebecca and Higgins led her back down to the main floor of the facility. Higgins and Rebecca spouted off a few historical facts about Richmond that Y/n logged away. Rebecca reiterated Keeley’s earlier statement that since they were still on break, Y/n wouldn’t be meeting the players and the coaching staff until training began the following week. Nonetheless, Y/n felt like she was somehow encroaching on the Greyhound’s territory as the tour led to the locker room.

“This will be the only time you enter and the smell is pleasant,” Rebecca quipped.

Y/n chuckled, her heels clicking against the floor as she scanned the numbers above each locker.

“Any favorites amongst our Greyhounds?” Higgins asked playfully.

“Oh, no,” Y/n paused to answer, just below Jamie Tartt’s ‘9.’

“Y/n has openly admitted to not having partaken in much of the sport,” Rebecca added.

“But I’m very excited to make Richmond my club,” Y/n was quick to do damage control over what her tipsier self had admitted, “I think what you all have accomplished here is brilliant.”

The sound of a door opening on the other side of the locker room turned their heads. A man jogged into the coach’s office, bending over one of the desks in search of something.

“That’s odd,” Rebecca muttered, stepping forward and opening up the connecting door, “Ted, what are you doing here?”

Y/n followed Keeley and Higgins’ lead and entered the room. She could finally get a clear view at the man who was, indeed, Ted Lasso.

“Oh, last time he was visiting, Henry left somethin’ in my desk and we needed to come grab it,” Ted answered, searching through one of his drawers until he retrieved whatever he was seeking.

“Ah, well, lovely timing,” Rebecca gestured for Y/n to come forward, “You can meet the newest addition to AFC Richmond. This is Ms. Y/n Y/l/n. She’ll be helping Keeley head up the PR department.”

Ted gave a friendly smile and stuck out his hand, “Well, how ‘bout that? Welcome to the family! I’m Ted.”

Y/n gave a firm handshake and returned the smile, “Y/n.”

The simple utterence of her name caught Ted’s ear. “Hang on now,” he stopped and held up both his hands, “Am I dreamin’ or do I actually hear a lack of accent?”

The five of them laughed to varying degrees. “It’s nice to hear a little bit of home for me as well,” Y/n said warmly. It had been at least four months since she’d met someone who hailed from the states that wasn’t a tourist.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Ted continued, still shaking Y/n’s hand, “It’s gonna be real nice to have someone around here who’ll understand what I’m sayin’. Like if I text the word ‘color,’ nobody’s gonna tell me it ain’t the right spelling. Or if I mention Chick-Fil-A, they won’t think I’m just shortenin’ the name of a delicious entree. Matter a fact,” Ted came up for a lightning quick breath, “Where we at with that? Is it still okay to eat there? Waters were a little murky ‘round the time I left.

Y/n was trying to process the speed in which the man spoke. “Uh, I don’t know,” she answered politely, “I haven’t been home in a while.”

Ted hummed in reply and moved on, “Well, we’re real happy that you’re here. Hey, you need anything, don’t be afraid to gimme a holler.”

“That’s very kind,” Y/n nodded as Ted finally released her hand, “Thank you.”

“Well, I gotta run,” Ted announced to his co-workers, “I got Liam out there watchin’ Henry. See y’all next week!”

With a chorus of farewells following him, Ted Lasso walked back out the way he’d come.

“Well,” Y/n began, trying to sum up her first impression as tidily as she could, “That was-“

“I felt the same way at first,” Rebecca interjected, “But truly, one of the nicest human beings you will ever meet.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keeley agreed, sweeping her hand through the air, “Seriously, spend one day with him and he’ll be your emergency contact by lunch.”

“The players love him,” Higgins added to their defense.

But it wasn’t Ted’s personality Y/n was startled by. Ted was the midwest personified, that was all familiar. It was the speed in which Ted had offered up his kindness, how at ease he was voicing every thought on his mind. That, to Y/n, was more disarming than anything else he could have done.

“Well, I look forward to getting to know him more,” Y/n said, and there was truth to it. She appreciated co-workers who were actually pleasant to be around, even if Ted was a lot to take, “And the other coaches.”

“Why don’t I show you where your office is?” Rebecca suggested.

Their welcome wagon moved up to the second floor where, at the end of the hall, lay the space in question. It was half the size of Rebecca’s office, which was more than enough for Y/n. She’d last been in a shared cubicle far too small for two people to comfortably fit.

“My office is just at the end of the hall,” Higgins said as Y/n took in the space, “If you ever need anything.”

“It’s lovely,” Y/n smiled, her eyes running over her desk. She turned back towards the door and faced Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins, “Thank you all so much for all the hospitality you’ve shown.”

“Nonsense,” Higgins spoke for the trio, “You’re part of the family now.”

The same unease that had come from interacting with Ted Lasso filled Y/n once again.

The rest of the day was spent bouncing between Keeley and Higgins, discussing PR strategies for the new season and learning about the club’s operations. By the time 5:00 came around, Y/n felt like she had information spilling out of her ears. Her mind was filled to its brim.

After Keeley dropped her back off at the KJPR office, telling her she dazzled on her first day and wishing her a good evening, Y/n hopped in her car and drove right back to Richmond. She had no dinner plans and thought Keeley’s idea to explore the city worthwhile.

She decided on the pub they’d driven past on their way to Nelson Road, the Crown and Anchor. With it being a weeknight, it wasn’t too crowded, and she found a spot at the bar, ordering a sandwich for herself.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” the woman tending bar said after Y/n had placed her order, “You new to town, love?”

“Oh, no,” Y/n shook her head before scrunching her eyebrows, “Well, sort of. I live closer to the city but I just started a job here.”

“Ah,” the white haired woman replied as she filled a pint, handing it to a customer, “Where at?”

Y/n wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were about working for a football club. Were you supposed to go around sharing that information? Or did it mean you’d have thirty drunken fans hounding you for tickets suddenly?

“AFC Richmond,” she answered truthfully, “Public relations.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised an inch, seemingly impressed. “Well, that’s the right answer to get your meal on the house.”

Y/n laughed a little, relaxing slightly.

“Good first day then?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Y/n bobbed her head from side to side, “I mean, I really just met co-workers and learned the basics. No complaints so far.”

“Did you meet Ted yet?”

“I did,” Y/n answered, slightly confused, “You know Coach Lasso?”

The woman pointed towards the pub doors, “Lives on just the other side of the building. Comes in a couple nights a week. He’s a good man.”

“That he is,” Y/n nodded, not wanting to tarnish anyone’s reputation with her own discomforts, “Definitely tries to make you feel welcome.”

“Oh,” the woman was now coming to lean against Y/n’s side of the bar, “He won’t stop until you know you’re welcomed. Best to just let it happen. Whatever he’s done to Richmond, it works.”

It hadn’t escaped Y/n’s notice that in the two seasons Ted Lasso had been coaching the Greyhounds, there was a shift in…everything. Between videos of the players on the pitch, to little stories interspersed in her conversations with Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins throughout the day, Y/n was given the impression that Ted Lasso was a miracle worker. It didn’t take much thought to deduce that Ted was going to try and integrate her into their team as well.

“Well,” Y/n shrugged slightly, seeing that her sandwich was coming around from the kitchen, “I mean, it’s just a job. It’s not supposed to change your life or anything.”

Just as she was about to be handed her meal, the white haired woman took it from the waiter’s hands. Y/n could tell she wasn’t getting her food until the bartender had spoken her piece.

“You just watch out, love,” the woman warned with a smile, “Whole city hated Ted when he arrived, and now take a look.”

She gestured to the space around the bar as if Y/n was supposed to be seeing the peace.

“The best things that happen to us are usually the most unexpected,” she continued, giving her a wink.

Y/n drew a breath, locking onto the woman’s every syllable.

“You’re part of Richmond now,” the woman continued on, “Whether it changes your life or not isn’t up to you.”

Without another word, the woman set Y/n’s sandwich in front of her and went off to tend to another patron.

Y/n was fearful to move, lest the bartender’s words appear in thin air and smack her thoughts into line. What was this strange hold the word ‘Richmond’ seemed to have on people? Y/n had lived long enough in England to know how passionate people got about their football clubs, but this was different. This was dedication separate from the sport itself, rather devotion to the inner workings. To the coaches. To the heart of AFC Richmond itself.

Higgin’s words came back to her, part of the family. It all filled Y/n with an anxiety she’d never quite been able to put a name to.

Regardless of what the culture was, on and off the pitch, she was determined to keep to herself. Interact pleasantly with her co-workers and the team, but no more than necessary. Be proficient at the tasks given to her. Stay in her lane.

Family or not, Y/n decided as she bit into her dinner, she was there to do a job and nothing more.

——————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic #keeley jones x reader #ted lasso x reader #rebecca welton x reader #jamie tartt x reader #heartfirst

663 notes · View notes

sailboatdreamer · 1 month

Text

Back to the Night We Met - Chapter 2

After an awkward first encounter, you try and get back in Angus' good graces.

I had made myself scarce for the next day, only really encountering the others when necessary at mealtimes or right before falling asleep in the cold, dark infirmary.

I hated it. I felt like my initial failings had only managed to continue into the next day, when i could barely make eye contact with the others. I’d learned their names at least. The sour-faced blonde was Teddy Koutnze, and while he didn’t really seem- to me at least- very physically intimidating, he had a way of irritating the rest of us, and when Mary snapped at him over dinner, nobody said a word. Then there was Jason Smith, a mild mannered wealthy son of some business guy, practising civil disobedience by not cutting his hair, and therefore missing out on winter vacation. The two youngest were Alex, a mormon kid who’s parents were away on missionary, and Ye-Joon, a korean kid who couldn’t fly to see his family. Then there was Angus, who i’d regretfully embarrassed myself in front of only the day before. It didn’t bother me so much to run into Teddy as much as it did running into Angus, who’s snarky and annoyed attitude made me feel incredibly nervous. My avoidance of them all (except really for the younger boys) did not go unnoticed.

I was passing time in the expansive library certainly better than the one i’d been used to, when I encountered Mr Hunham doing his rounds.

“Oh! There you are.” He’d said. I gave a shy sort of wave. I was halfway through my copy of Catcher in the Rye when he’d arrived.

“You know, if the young philistines back there (pointing towards the hall) are giving you any trouble, you don’t have to stand for it, i know how utterly undignified some of them may be.” This had made me laugh slightly, only because it couldn’t be further from the reality, and it was the second time i’d been approached with this concern.

“No, no honestly they’ve been…. accomodating” i recall the help i’d gotten from Angus yesterday with a slight wince.

“Sincerely? Well-colour me surprised. I didn’t think they had it in them.” He expressed with a surprised look. I’d of thought Mr Hunham would’ve been a much nastier person, considering the disparaging ways the boys talked about him late at night. He was actually quite kind, and respectful, i’d noticed how much care he paid to Mary especially.

“Yeah, Angus even helped me with my bag yesterday.” I could see his expression turn to a slight shock, followed by a grin.

“Really? i- wow.” He gave me a nod of acknowledgement before turning and leaving, undoubtedly to go back to monitoring the boys, now with the newfound idea that they may not be entirely without saving.

Unsurprisingly, it took a lot to move me from my place in the library’s old leather couch. I’d even found a soft blanket that i’d used to cover myself, somehow avoiding Hunham’s exercise sessions, though his voice echoed through the walls. ”Without exercise the body devours itself!” I’d heard him cheer. It wasn’t until later in the evening, still in the library, trying to finish my copy of Emma, when i’d encounter another student.

He’d waddled in, perhaps not seeing me at first, after all i was pretty quiet. I watched him over the nose of my book, huffing angrily, and slumping down at one of the couches across the library hall. Angus. I didn’t dare approach him, he looked pretty upset already, but just as i was thinking so, he saw me. A silent exchange, i can only imagine i’d looked as startled as he did.

I noticed the small wound on his cheek had been patched up with a small band-aid, and an associated rip in his sweater had been stitched over.

“Have you been in here all day?” His tone is more accusatory than i would’ve hoped. His anger from whatever he’d been putting up with was seeping through.

“I may have… i mean, i went to go see Mary in the morning.”

He just nods with a huff. “And Wall-eye isn’t on your ass?”

I shake my head “I saw him. I let him know you helped me with my bags yesterday, he.. looked surprised.”

He just rolls his eyes, i don’t push it further. I know they all hate Hunham, he’s tough on them, a fan of discipline and ancient philosophy makes for a particularly tough chaperone.

“What’re you reading?” I hear him mumble after a minute.

“Emma. Jane Austen?” I watch as he studies the cover of the book, still seeming a little shaken up. “Right yes… matchmaker.” I nod with a slight smile, he’d read it.

“So… i see you got patched up.” i say, pointing to his bandaid. “yeah… fuckin’ koutnze…”

“What happened?” I press the topic gently, in a way I wanted to know if it was something more serious or just general scuffling between boys.

“I.. had this picture- in my luggage” He sees my expression change to confusion as he mentions luggage, if he was staying over, why had he packed up luggage?

“I wasn’t, actually supposed to be here. My mom decided the only time of the year she gets to see me would be the perfect time for a honeymoon with my new stepdad.”

God, what a shit situation, i think to myself, though i only manage to get out ‘im so sorry…’

He brushes it off with a wave of the hand, “Its me and my parents when i was a kid. Koutnze took it, i know he did, but he refuses to give it back.” He grumbles.

I wonder to myself if i can get it back…. i should. It would mean the exchange between Angus & i would be fair, and hopefully it could help us move on from our awkward first impression.

“What a dick….” I say with a scowl, met by Angus’ own.

“I know right.” I see him pick up my copy of Catcher In the Rye and we read together for another hour until we were called to dinner, and back to the infirmary.

A fair few of the boys were using the showers, and the ones that weren’t were outside, looking for Alex’s lost red mitten. I take this fruitful opportunity to find that picture, hoping it would bring me into Angus’ good graces, and restore a little of his faith back into this holiday.

After a quick and careful scavenge through Teddy Koutnze’s luggage, i find a small compartment, something that had been cut out in the side of his suitcase. A secret pocket of sorts, and low and behold, i reach in, and out comes the picture. It was unmistakeably Angus, though ten years younger, his stark and angular features, and soft brown eyes confirmed it in my mind. I slip the picture into my pocket and leave his things as i’d found them.

I left to find Angus, and just as i’d expected, he was in the midst of comforting poor Alex in the courtyard outside, who’s mitten was found, but had a small tear near the thumb. I approach them both. “look, it’s okay, Mary’s probably got some thread, i’m sure she’d be happy to fix it.” He says in a soft tone, patting the young kid on the back.

“Hey, do you mind if we talk for a minute?” I say quietly, meeting his gaze. To this he reassures Alex, and gets up, following me a few paces over.

I take the small, polaroid-like picture out of my pocket and hand it to him, watching his expression light up.

“You actually- you found it! How… where?” I was glad to finally see Angus happy for the first time since i’d arrived. “Some secret pocket in his suitcase… fucker is sneaky”.

“Thank you… really thank you.” He says sincerely, tucking the pocket inside his winter jacket. I shrug it off but internally i’m beaming “Of course.”

#angus tully fic #angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers fic #the holdovers #paul giamatti #mr hunham #mary lamb #da'vine joy randolph #dominic sessa

77 notes · View notes

danibee33 · 15 days

Text

The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 3: Closer

knight!simon riley x queen!reader - featuring our favorite Scot in this chapter👀

word count: 3.2k

[<<< chapter 2]

Smile. Nod. Greet. Don’t forget to give your husband a loving look from time to time- look at him like he were the sun, the great star you revolve around. Repeat.

The King’s departure feast is tasteful, though ostentatious to be sure- just how he likes. Especially when they are held in his grace’s honor. Oh, if you could roll your eyes right now without being seen, you would.

All this for such an arrogant bastard.. truly a waste.

But you can’t deny the beauty that surrounds you, no matter the reason. The Great Hall had been thoroughly lavished in emerald silks, dripping with jewels and flowers of your choosing-

It was one of the few duties you didn’t mind giving your input and opinions on, working with the different tradesmen of the kingdom; you found you rather enjoyed partaking in the planning portion, enjoyed the creative freedom given to you behind the scenes-

But.. attending them, well, that’s a different matter entirely. They were nothing but an exhaustive performance, a true test of your goodwill and patience-

“You look positively captivating tonight, wife.” The King drawls in your ear, his hand creeping up your thigh under the table. And it’s so difficult to fight the urge to jerk away from his touch when all you can think about is the last time that hand was on you, your lip had been bruised and swollen for days afterward-

Smiling down at your plate of untouched food, you give him a sweet and temperate laugh,

“You flatter me, Your Grace.”

The hand squeezes too tightly, not painfully, but certainly not gentle or loving- it’s a possessive touch, one that worries you, makes your shoulders tense and your movements turn robotic as you place your fingers over his,

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you battle-ready, My King.. it suits you.”

You exchange pleasant smiles, his eyes on you far longer than you’re used to. It does not soothe you though, or make your cheeks flush warm. No, they’re too invasive, and the feel of them on your exposed skin makes your stomach sour-

A quiet sound trickles into your ears from behind your seat, it’s one that you had learned is deliberate, purposeful- a simple series of taps, always the same, random to everyone but you. Simon’s way of communicating- I’m here. I see you.

You tilt your head toward the insignificant little noise, only just able to see the inky outline of his shoulder in your peripherals, but it’s enough. Enough to ease your nerves and calm your relentless mind.

Knowing that he’s right there, always keeping you within arms reach- but something is different now. You can feel it. And you can’t quite grasp how, or even the exact moment the already anomalous lines in your relationship had somehow become even more blurred, but they had.

And this fading of the proverbial line in the sand, the crumbling of all your boundaries, should most certainly not make you feel the way it does- should not make your core turn molten, or your head swim in a dizzying way by just the sound of his voice, his presence-

He hasn’t even touched you again since that night, after the King left your chambers, which must have been more than a month ago, you think-

Because it was a fluke, it was the man sworn to protect you simply aiding you- he saw you bleeding and was the only one around to help.

But, he also didn’t retreat.

No, you noticed the very next morning how Simon stood just a step or two closer than he did before, following behind you like your omnipresent shadow, the sinister black armor becoming well known in the castle.

Unsurprisingly, he had garnered quite a reputation within court by merely existing at your side, speculation about his history running rampant- and you only recently heard from your lady-in-waiting that many commoners, and noble folk alike, had taken to referring to your new guard as “The Ghost”-

And oh, how fitting of a name- because you feel truly haunted by the enigmatic man; haunted by those eyes, haunted by the softness of his touch, haunted by the yearning and desire to feel it again- No. No..

Wherever you go, your dark omen follows- and for more reasons you can’t explain or justify, you find equal parts pleasure and power in his presence. Because where Lords and Noblemen once might have dismissed you entirely; or the opposite, let their eyes linger or their tongues turn crude- they now avert their gaze, they regard you intently and with due respect; and their Queen’s guard, with fear-

Tap-tap .. Tap-tap-tap

A smirk tugs at your lips, and you hope he sees it- of course, he does, and if you were able to look back at him, you would see his own smile settle at the corners of his eyes as he watches you relax slightly.

After a moment longer, you force your attention back to the festivities, eyes widening as you hear a booming voice,

“Your Grace!”

The distantly familiar accent dredges through your memories until you’re finally able to recognize his face in the crowd- seeing none other than Lord John MacTavish, your Johnny, looking back at you.

It had been years since you last saw your closest cousin-

Well, cousin is a loose term, isn’t it? We aren’t technically related by blood- but, we had grown up together as family, and neither of us had ever seen or known each other as anything else..

Yet, despite time and distance, he looks exactly the same. Blue eyes bright and full of life, and his smile infectious as it stretches ear to ear. His dark hair is longer than you remember- but now cut extremely close to his scalp on the sides, turning the messy chocolate waves on top into an overgrown sort of mohawk-

Oh, Sweet Johnny.. never one to conform to any sort of standard-

“Lord MacTavish, it’s been too long.” You say, watching him sweep into a dramatic bow, his antics forcing you to bite back a wide grin,

“Your Majesty,” Johnny turns to the man sitting by your side, “With your permission, may I have Her Grace’s hand in a dance?”

The King watches him for a moment with utter disinterest, much like he regards most of his subjects, but eventually concedes with a nod- and you don’t hesitate to push away from your chair, your ladies rushing to straighten the flowing gown but you brush them away politely, gathering the skirts in your hands instead.

Rounding the long table, you take Johnny’s arm, letting him escort you through the crowd- and you wish more than anything in this moment you could just be another woman floating across the marble floor, you wish you could toss the crown on your head away, remove the green and gold colors of your husband’s house, the crest from around your neck-

“Still always so stuck in your head, eh, Hen?”

The dance you fall into is simple in its movements, with your palm flat against his above your heads, gliding in a slow circle as the music softly builds,

“Hard not to be- but this is helping, I must admit.” You tease, giving him a wry smile.

His head tips back with a warm laugh, and you’re instantly flooded by memories of your childhood with him- of growing up together, his ceaseless pranks and joking, of the hours you would spend scouting through the woods together, soiling all your dresses, and ruining the pretty braids the maids would put in your hair.

The trouble you got in for him was “unbecoming of the future Queen” as your mother would say, but Johnny had been your best friend- much to her and your father’s chagrin, and no amount of their preaching ever kept you away from his never ending mischief.

It was like that up until he left for the army, and while you both had tried your best to keep up through letters like you promised, after your coronation, time for anything other than your duties always seemed to escape you-

“So, how’s married life treatin’ ya, Your Majesty?”

You roll your eyes at his quip, giggling when he picks you up, your hands holding his wrists at your waist until you’re on the ground again and stepping in time with the next bit of music,

“Oh, I’m sorry, shouldn’t you be married by now, m’Lord?”

Again, he laughs, ducking under your arm before spinning you both gracefully- your back against his, though your heads turned toward each other to keep up the hushed conversation,

“Glad to see your tongue is still made o’ thorns, Grianach.”

His old nickname for you stirs up a sadness that feels overwhelming, almost tangible, and the sting of tears prick at your eyes as you turn back to face him- knowing the dance would too quickly be coming to an end.

It’s during the last, slow spin that you catch Simon’s gaze- watching you from just beyond the edge of the crowd, eyes raking over your body until he sees the turmoil in your expression. And it’s like your pinned beneath him with the weight it carries, holding the fleeting contact even from a distance,

“Sunny?”

You blink once, realizing the music has easily flowed into the next tune, something slower, more somber- and when you blink again, Simon’s moved, and you struggle to not immediately look around for his familiar form, seeking the comfort he unwittingly provides you.

“Ah.. Tha’ the new Queen’s Guard I’ve heard so much about?”

Johnny offers his arm again, looking down at you with a lop-sided smirk,

“It is. And, what of it?” You ask innocently enough, finally spotting him standing a head above the rest, stoically taking his spot behind your chair- eyes roaming over Johnny’s face, still sizing this unfamiliar man up, watching how comfortable you seem with him. He misses nothing-

“Not really your style, is all.. The big, gloomy bastard doesn’t seem like he fits for my li’ bit o’ sunshine.”

How could you tell him that his sweet nickname, Grianach, Sunny, was what actually didn’t fit you anymore?

But you suppose if he stays around long enough, he’ll surely realize you relate more to the dark side of the moon than you did the sun these days..

“He’s been a good guard.. better than any I’ve had.”

Johnny nods, watching the man in question as you approach the giant table,

“Good, tha’s good, Sunny.. you deserve the best, always have.”

You don’t know why his words take you by surprise, why they make your feet feel like lead in your shoes-

“Will you be staying, Johnny?” You speak lowly, not wanting to let go of him, not when he’s the closest thing you’ve had to home in so, so long,

“Aye.. a week is all I can spare, but I’ll be here with ya, all right?”

All you can give is a weak nod before he bows for the King, kissing your cheek and bowing in front of you, as well. And those usually vibrant eyes dull a bit when he sees your apprehension- but he smiles anyway, backing down the steps and disappearing into the crowd once more.

And you do your best to plaster a warm grin on your face as you move to take your seat again, brushing past Simon, you lean down, speaking only in the King’s ear,

“I’ve grown tired-“

He waves his hand at you before you’ve even finished speaking, focused on one of his advisors- the conversation of his imminent travel far more important than anything you might have to say.

Well, haven’t the gods granted me luck tonight..

Your exit is a quiet affair, and as soon as you’re out of the Great Hall, you feel some of the tension melt away- the further you get from the raucous, the easier it is to breathe, the weight easing itself off your shoulders with every step.

“Go ahead and ready my chambers, please, Elia. I’d like to take the air.”

She goes without question, your other handmaids flitting right behind her as you take the next hallway to your right- the one that leads towards the courtyard and the gardens.

You can hear him behind you, those long, steady steps contrasting your shorter ones. Neither of you speak, but you feel his proximity intensely- always so frighteningly aware of him when you’re alone.

And it’s enough to drive you mad, how much he affects you. Because you’re so certain he feels nothing, being in your presence is his duty. He’s a man who has seen too much, experienced too much, to let the likes of you get under his skin-

The guards bow their heads graciously as they push the solid wood out of the way for you to pass through; and it’s as if the night air were a salve for your restless soul- fresh and perfectly chilled, the whispers of fall in the breeze. Just enough to get you out of your head, if only for a moment.

“Ser Simon..”

You walking slowly, your steps languid as your fingers brush over the leaves and petals, absently studying the textures as they feel under the moonlight-

“People keep asking if I like my new guard..” You ramble, moving beyond the entrance of the tall, maze-like hedges, leading you both deeper as you speak,

“But, I don’t think I’ve asked the same of you..”

Don’t.. don’t do this. Just turn around- go back to your rooms. This is petty and useless, nothing but disappointment can come of it..

“Not sure I follow, Your Grace.”

A chill creeps down your spine at the rasp in his voice, from the cold or disuse, you’re not sure. You turn with a saccharine smile, though it quickly falls away as you take him in-

He’s so entirely otherworldly like this, cast in the milky light from above, the shimmering onyx of his armor almost glowing under the pale moon- and when he shifts his weight, the light dances around him, like it simply chooses to bend and move at his will.

Beautiful.. Can monsters be beautiful?

You turn away again, unable to stand it for a moment longer. This was indeed a mistake, you should not be here.

Alone. With him-

“Do you like it?” You ask the hedge, your voice soft now, your confidence having waned, “Your new post..”

Is it seconds that pass? It can’t be minutes.. surely- but gods, it feels like an eternity. The silence stretches on around you- infinitesimal in its reach.

See? That’s enough of an answer to a silly, foolish question. Like he really has a choice in the matter of liking or disliking-

You just barely feel him before you hear him- but how? How had you not heard him move before? Maybe you were right from the very beginning- he is no man; maybe the rumors are true, and he really is a ghost.

He isn’t touching you, but you think if you took even half a step back you would be able to feel the cold steel of his breastplate.

You keep your eyes focused ahead, the dark not really a hindrance because you aren’t truly seeing anymore, so consumed by him that hardly anything else seems important- that is, until something heavy is placed in your hand.

The weight of it is awkward, and you bring your other hand to hold the object before looking down.

His helmet.

It stares back at you, devoid of the warmth you usually find there, without his amber eyes, the black metal is just that- cold, and harsh.

You have every opportunity to turn, to finally gaze upon the face that you had pondered on far too often- to confirm the features you imagined late in the night.

But, you don’t. You wouldn’t, not with the trust he had very literally placed in your hands- you don’t want to betray that, you don’t want to betray him.

“I do.” He whispers against the shell of your ear, his nose grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck as his head dips lower- it’s a slow, tentative movement, and once again your mind goes to war with itself-

Danger. This is dangerous- he is dangerous. If anyone were to see you like this, they would have your head and his, too- Hells, the King himself would probably volunteer to take it from your shoulders-

Yet, when you feel him nuzzle just behind your ear again, your mind quiets, body moving on its own. Just like the moonlight, you bend to him without thought- letting your head tilt to expose more of your skin, your lips parting in a shuddering breath when he inhales deeply through his nose.

A growl resonates from his throat, it’s fleeting, but it ignites an ache so deep between your legs it nearly takes your breath away-

“And, have I served you well, My Queen?”

You shake your head, your grip on his helmet turning almost painful as you struggle to stand straight.

“Why must you insist on saying it like that..”

The low chuckle that rumbles through his chest sounds so perfect in your ears, and the weight of his forehead gently dropping to rest on your shoulder makes you bite your lip-

“Like what?” He coos, and you can hear a barely concealed smile in his voice now, one that has the most delightful shiver snaking its way through your entire body.

He was giving you so much, but you so desperately wanted more. You’ve never wanted a man’s hands on you in the way you need his at this moment.

What would they feel like roaming over your body? Would his touch remain as tender as he’s handled you thus far?

The thought alone hazes your mind even further.

A small hum escapes as you allow yourself to spare a glance at the deep ebony locks you can see now-

Hm.. do ghosts have hair? And are they suppose to feel so warm..

The thought brings a sad smile to your lips, your cheek settling against the side of his head, and your eyes slipping shut; you relish in the feel of his hair on your skin- but, it’s that very same feeling that causes you to tense, pulling away.

Because too suddenly, all you can imagine is the feeling of his soft hair in your hands, matted with blood as you hold his head in your lap- his body cold and lifeless..

No- I will be the death of him.. I can’t- I couldn’t..

He moves just as abruptly as you do, though his motions are still so gentle as he rises to his full height again,

“I apologize-“

“No..” You cut him off, turning only enough to let him take the helmet from your hands, “Please, don’t- I-“

Words fail you. And your heart sputters in your chest as embarrassment, and shame, and grief burn through you-

“I shouldn’t- I just.. We can’t.” You whisper hoarsely, your voice pathetic even in your own ears.

Strong hands turn you, and you don’t know why your eyes clamp shut, but they do- you keep them closed, breathing in through your nose, which is just another mistake because his scent is so strong now you want to wrap yourself in it. Keep it with you-

A single finger tilts your chin up, a silent command to open your eyes, to look at him.

He’s covered again, but his gaze is so open as he looks down at you- studying you in that way that only he can, though it’s impossible to miss the unrest behind his expression,

“I know..”

[chapter 4 >>>>]

#knight!ghost #and his queen #I can just hear the way he says my queen and it ruins me every time #cod fandom #call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #john soap mactavish #ao3 fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon x reader #medieval au #lord mactavish #your honor I love them #fic: the queens guard #also on ao3

65 notes · View notes

bigdumbbambieyes · 11 months

Text

It’s confusing, for half a second, when Billy watches the Beamer pull into the parking lot at school on Monday morning and he doesn’t see Steve driving it.

Upon closer look though, it is Steve, but his self-acclaimed signature ‘look’ is gone.

Where once a crown of thick, messy-yet-perfectly-styled brown hair sat is now…a buzzcut.

And honestly, it is startling. Billy had seen Steve only 12 hours ago and had ruffled that head of hair just to annoy the pretty boy. Steve had pushed him away and flipped him off with a smile, his dark eyes simmering with affection.

But now that smile is gone, along with that hair, as Steve gets out of his car and makes his way towards Billy, his face pensive.

Always careful to keep his face neutral, Billy gives Steve a little nod once he’s close enough, muttering his usual morning greeting, “Hey, pretty boy—”

“—you don’t have to lie, Billy,” Steve interrupts with a huff once he’s in front of him, “I know it’s terrible.”

Billy lifts a brow, used to Steve’s flares of bitchiness, and hums, “I barely said anything.”

The way Steve stares at him with wide, unwavering eyes says a lot. It says ‘it’s a big change and I’m scared and unsure please be gentle with me’.

At least, that’s how Billy interprets it.

And he wants to pull Steve in, wants to run his palm over that short hair and press a long kiss to those worry-bitten lips.

But, he can’t, not now.

His rips his gaze from Steve’s and focuses on his hair - or lack thereof - and considers it for a moment. Or, longer than a moment, because the expression on Steve’s face turns sour pretty quickly as his defences rise.

“If you hate it, just fucking say it—”

“Jesus, Stevie, I don’t fucking hate it,” Billy laughs quietly in disbelief with a grin, “I’m just looking, alright?”

Steve shuts his mouth but still looks rather miserable, frowning and running his hand over his head, avoiding Billy’s gaze now.

Steve’s not shy. He’s never shy. Not when they’re going at it in the backseat of his car or when they’re showering together in the Harrington’s fancy bathroom. Steve always meets him head-on. He never falters.

But, this change has him unsteady on his feet, and Billy hates it.

“It’s different,” he finally admits, watches Steve flick his eyes back to him, “But, it’s a good different. If you…wanted a change, you certainly got it. You still got a pretty face and I…well, y’know.”

“No,” Steve furrowed his brows, “I don’t know.”

Billy glances around the parking lot, making sure no one is around before stepping even closer and whispering, “I still like you.”

That makes Steve’s cheeks colour pink. Billy wants to take a bite out of him, he’s so fucking adorable.

Steve reaches out, pretends to push him away but his hand lingers on Billy’s chest as he gives the blond a shy smile, muttering, “Shut up, I can’t stand you.”

“Mhm, sure, that must be why you hang around me so much,” Billy smirks, unable to help the way he flirts with the other boy even now, because it’s Steve. Hair or no hair, Billy fucking adores him.

The bell rings, signalling that they’re officially late for class, but Billy doesn’t care and neither does Steve, not when they have matching dumb smiles and soft eyes for each other.

“What even happened anyway?” Billy murmurs, reaches up to brush his hands over Steve’s head but gives him a look of ‘can I?’ because this is new and Steve’s sensitive about it.

But, desperate for touch, Steve nods and so Billy touches him, smoothes his palm along Steve’s short hair, all the way from his hairline to the nape of his neck. Like he’s petting him and Steve’s all but purring, the tension melting from his shoulders as he explains with quiet embarrassment, “I, um…had an accident.”

“What, you got gum in your hair and cut off too much?” Billy hums playfully, smoothing his thumb along the side of Steve’s neck.

“No,” Steve huffs, leaning into the touch, looking down at the ground again as he mutters, “I…I got my hair stuck in the hairdryer last night after my shower and my mom had to cut it. A lot was missing so I, uh…just shaved it. Because fuck it.”

God, Billy wants to drive over that stupid fucking hairdryer for putting such a sad look on his boy’s face.

“That fucking sucks,” Billy frowns, giving the nape of Steve’s neck a gentle squeeze, “Bet that wasn’t easy for you.” Because Steve took pride in his hair, loved it, and Billy had adored it, too - but not as much as he adored Steve. He could live with watching Steve’s hair grow over the next few months, easily. But Steve might not feel the same.

The pretty boy shrugs, because it’s whatever at this point, over and done with. “Good thing you’re not with me for my good looks,” he jokes, but his voice is still sad, still…fearful.

Like he expects Billy to drop him over this. Like this is some big fucking deal that’ll break them apart.

And, listen. Billy understands that looking good is important. They both primp and preen themselves in front of their mirrors, both take pride in their appearance, so there’s a lot of pressure to upkeep. Billy would have a fucking meltdown if he had to shave his head, so.

Billy levels the other with a look, something a little more serious as he says, “I’m not with you just for your hair or your pretty face, Steve. I hope you know that.”

Steve stares at him for a moment, saying nothing. But, eventually he nods, because yeah he knows that now, but there’s still hesitancy in those dark eyes. Something that words in a parking lot won’t fix. Billy will have to get Steve alone and kiss him stupid until the pretty boy believes him.

During lunch, Billy decides.

“Let’s go for a drive at lunch,” he murmurs, code for ‘let’s go make out in your car somewhere’, “Okay? Then I’ll tell you everything else I like about you other than just your face and hair.”

Steve brightens at the mention of ‘going for a drive’ because a soft smile appears on his face as he asks a hopeful, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Billy nods, finally pulling his hand away, his hot palm cooling in the spring breeze, “But I’m only telling you once, so you better listen.”

A soft chuckle leaves Steve and he nods in understanding, mumbling, “Yeah, yeah…” but he looks relieved. And that’s enough for Billy, for now.

“C’mon,” he says, motioning towards the school with a tilt of his head before giving Steve a playful look, “Unless you wanna go now?”

Steve rolls his eyes with a smile and shoves him towards the building, following close enough that their shoulders bump and hands brush.

Billy can last until lunch. Surely.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #idk what this is but i wrote it!!! jdbfkf #this was inspired by joe keery’s buzzcut from a few months ago #steve has been freed from his shackles of perfect hair but the freedom is scary #so here comes billy trying his best to console #bc steve has emotions too!! even if he usually stuffs them way down inside himself!!#anyways enjoy and goodnight kfnfk #bambiwrites

348 notes · View notes

theywhowriteandknowthings · 8 months

Text

A Feeling that Never Came Part One: Forgetting Colombia

General Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog that writes porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific Warnings: Grief, heartbreak, angst, drinking (too much), vomit, crying, lots of crying, abusive behaviour, emotional abuse, canon-typical violence, coersion, phsyical abuse, racial slurs.

Masterlist Next Part -> [Read on AO3]

It’s been eight years since you left Colombia with a gaping hole in your chest, where Javier Peña had ripped out your heart, laughing at how “fucking naïve” you really were.

You’d been told that the DEA had already been questioning if you were worth the money to keep on retainer, and for the record you certainly were, but Javier forced the issue. He got you sent home, calling in one of his many favours, he ruined your career before it even had the chance to begin.

You roll over in bed, stretching your limbs like a cat basking in the ray of sunshine that streams through the blinds. You ache pleasantly from a night of unwavering attention from your boyfriend Dan, who you remind yourself is no longer your boyfriend, but your fiancée. You hold your left hand up, marvelling at the small, but beautiful diamond ring that adorns your finger and a feeling of novel excitement bubbles up in your chest.

But it’s short lived, your stomach twists with something resembling guilt, maybe even regret. You try to push away the intrusive thoughts that have plagued you since his proposal in front of his parents and your uncle last night at dinner. Apparently, they had all been in on it, eager for you two to settle down and have babies. But you hesitated before you answered him. It was only a brief second, but it was enough to plant the seed of doubt, of remorse for a life long gone. An ache that never fully healed.

“Morning, baby.” Dan says sleepily as he rolls over, smiling at you as he notices the object of your gaze. His soft blonde curls fall into his face as he shifts on the bed, motioning for you to slot against his chest. You plaster the smile back across your face, hoping he hadn’t seen how your expression had soured.

“Morning.” You say softly as you bury your face in his chest, he smells like you, like sex. You should be ecstatic, but you feel empty.

“Still can’t believe you said yes,” He whispers into your hair as he pulls you tight against him, “Luckiest man in the world.”

“Of course I said yes Dan, I love you.” You mumble into his chest, burying your head in the smell of him to try and push the negativity from your mind.

“I love you too baby,” He pulls away to look down at you, “Happy Birthday.”

You kiss his lips softly, gently teasing his lower lip into yours as he melts under your touch. You want to keep going, to go another round and push the thoughts of him out of your mind, even if your pussy is sore and your legs ache, but the sound of Dan’s alarm breaks the spell.

“I’ve got to go,” You whine, looking up into his ice-blue eyes, your stomach lurches as you think of Steve Murphy, not for the first time, “I’ll see you at Moreno’s later, ok?” You place a quick peck against his cheek before quickly dressing in your clothes from last night.

“See you later, future Mrs. O’Connor!” He calls as you dash out of the apartment, your chest heaving as you try not to sob at his words. In the cold light of day, you realise it was a mistake, you should never have said yes.

But what else is there for you? No-one will ever measure up to your lofty, delusional expectations.

You hear the nagging, self-deprecating voice in your head reprimand you, reminding you that what you want, what you’ve never stopped wanting, is a fantasy. One that he could never have given you, even if he wanted to. But maybe Dan could. Even if it was a mere echo of the happiness you had once hoped for, it would have to do. Dan would have to do.

——

“Alright class, remember your portfolios are due at the end of the month, you will be graded on them and this is not, I repeat, not, a pass-fail class. Now go and enjoy your weekend,” you announce to the lecture hall, knowing it’s falling on deaf ears for at least three-quarters of the college juniors enrolled in your photography class. But the few who are passionate about the course made your efforts worth-while.

“Excuse me?” A soft-spoken student, Lewis, calls your name as the rest of the students leave in haste, eager to get ready for whatever frat party or bar crawl the weekend promised.

“Hey, Lew, what can I do for you?” You ask as you pack up your briefcase and camera bag. The same camera bag you had in Colombia; you can’t let it go. You’ve repaired it more times than you can count, patching holes whenever they formed, there’s barely a stitch left of the original material really.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” he says with a smile as he looks at your finger with his soft brown eyes.

“Oh, Lewis, thank you, I had completely forgotten. I only said yes last night.” You laugh, more from the nervous energy in your stomach than through humour. He bows his head with a smile and you force a smile from your lips.

“Well, I better get going, busy weekend of photography ahead!” He says with another bright smile before heading out of the room.

The moment he’s gone you shoulder your bags, fighting the tears that pool at the corners of your eyes as images of him flood your senses. Instead of heading straight home, you make a detour, one you haven’t made for over a year, not since you and Dan got together. But you still keep paying the storage fee.

——

You sit with your cassette player, foam padded headphones only just holding it together as you flick through the photographs and newspaper clippings spread across the floor in front of you. The one that you always find yourself going back to is front and centre. Alanis Morrisette playing through the dying Walkman, the tracks skip here and there but you don’t care. It’s purely ritual at this point.

December 3rd 1993.

Colombia Drug Lord Escobar Dies in Shootout

You had hoped that this would have been the end for him, that he would reach out once Escobar was finished, that somehow the curse of the Medellín cartel would wash the sins of the past clean. You waited, and waited, but he never came, he never called, even Connie stopped writing letters long before you did. It’s like you were never there.

Some wounds run too deep.

You think to yourself as you pick up one of the photographs, tears streaming from your eyes as you run your fingers over the contours of his face in profile. You brush your knuckles against his cheek, remembering the way his aquiline nose felt against your skin. You can still taste him, cigarettes, whisky, that unique smooth taste that you could only ever describe as him.

You let yourself weep for him, for the loss in your chest that you have kept locked down for eight years. The agony is as fresh as the day he ripped out your heart and laughed at you, how pathetic and naïve you were, falling for someone like him.

“I hate you.” You spit, holding your knees against your chest as you berate yourself. Your affair couldn’t have lasted more than a few months, yet you’ve never burned so brightly for anyone, not before, and definitely not since. It’s foolish, immature, wrong, but all the self-hatred is ineffective in quelling the sorrow and grief you never fully processed.

You sit in silence for a while, letting your sobs fade into morose silence as you repack the three cardboard storage boxes and put them back on their shelf next to an old Olympus OM-4T that gathers dust, untouched for almost a decade. The film inside full, too painful to develop, but you can never bring yourself to throw it away.

——

You sit in the parking lot of Moreno’s, dressed to kill in a little black dress, your stilettos on the passenger seat, ready to go once you take off the sneakers you drive in. You check your hair and make-up in the mirror once more before stepping out into the crisp night air. You lock your car and hold your head up as you stride into the bar, your heels clicking audibly with every step. You put on a smile and head in through the front door.

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices shouts as you cross the threshold. Your smile becomes genuine as you realise that half the school faculty, all of your friends, and an equal amount of Dan’s friends had rented the whole bar out to surprise you for your birthday.

“Everyone, this is just–,” You’re about to break into a tearful babble about how grateful you are when you see the banner hanging in front of you.

Congratulations on your Engagement!

It’s as if ice is running through your veins as you realise Dan must have told everyone, and instead of hosting your birthday party he had turned it into an engagement party. You almost laugh at how utterly blind-sided you are.

“Happy Engagement party, babe!” Dan calls out as he strides over to meet you, picking you up in a bear hug before spinning you around in a circle. It’s dizzying, sickening, as you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Yeah, you too!” You manage to stutter out as he puts you down, pulling you in for a deep kiss. The room roars with excitement as you part. Dan’s eyes are full of passion as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” He calls out, and the jukebox roars to life as the buffet is revealed at the far end of the bar.

“I need a drink, I’ll be over in a minute,” you say to Dan as you press a soft his to his cheek. But there’s no feeling in it. You turn on your heel and you lock eyes with your best friend, Melissa, who casually makes her way to the bar, picking up on your discomfort in an instant.

“Hey girl,” She says as she nudges her hip against yours, settling against the bar next to you, “So, engagement party, eh?”

“Yeah, seems that way.” You sigh, knowing you never have to bullshit with Mel.

“Not y’know, your birthday party? Like we planned?” She presses and you turn to look at her, your eyes are sore, your throat like sandpaper as you try to hold back the tears.

“I didn’t want to say yes, Mel, there was so much pressure from Uncle John, Dan’s parents, they were all looking at me like it was already a done deal,” you blurt out, and Mel’s amber eyes go wide, before they narrow as anger settles over her features.

“Two beers, we’ll take them outside, put them on the O’Connor’s tab.” Melissa says bluntly to the bartender. He returns promptly and you take the cool beverage in your hand before following her outside.

The cool night air is a relief as you step out back, your knees weak as you lean back against the aging brickwork of the bar. Mel waits patiently for you to talk, setting her bottle down as she pulls out a pack of cigarettes. You look at them with a hunger you haven’t felt for a long time.

“Thought you quit,” she says dismissively as she lights one with her Zippo before handing it to you.

“I did.” You grunt as you press the end between your lips and inhale the acrid smoke into your lungs. The buzz of nicotine hits like the addictive substance it is. It soothes your nerves a little, steadies you as you exhale a long stream of smoke up into the night sky. It was the most relaxed you had felt all day.

“So, what the fuck is that all about?” Mel asks before she takes a drag, the fiery tip of her cigarette illuminating her face, making her dyed red hair glow ethereally.

“I don’t fucking know. How the fuck did he tell half the town before I even told you?” You ask, the question rhetorical but Mel already has an answer.

“Because that man’s a narcissist and a control freak.” She scoffs and you choke on the smoke in your lungs as you balk at her comment.

“Dan’s not a narcissist, nor a control freak.” You argue, but there’s a hint of doubt in your mind at the words being said out loud.

“So this isn’t like that time you got the Professorship, and he made it about him? What was it? His sales figures for the company his parents own?” She snorts and you feel compelled to defend him.

“Hey, he worked hard to get those sales, and his parents didn’t give him the job,” you say, taking another drag of your quickly diminishing cigarette. You already want another, chasing a taste of something long dead, something buried deep inside you.

“Sure, what about when you got enrolled into that post-grad scheme he made you quit because he didn’t want you working with ‘deplorables’,” Mel says, making air quotes, smoke wafting around her head as she gesticulates.

“Fuck, I’d forgotten about that. Really wanted that forensic photography internship too,” you say, and something inside you clicks. You contemplate asking for another cigarette but stop yourself, Dan would be furious if he found out.

Control Freak. Narcissist.

“Fuck,” you repeat, and you see Mel nodding knowingly. You feel less ashamed by how you reacted to the party, to the engagement, to the whole fucked up day.

“You sure you want to spend the rest of your life with this asshole?” She asks knowingly and you genuinely don’t know what to say. You smoke the cigarette down to the butt before dropping it and stomping on it with your toe.

“I guess I’m just going to have to wait and see.” You shrug, downing the rest of your beer before nodding to the door, indicating you’re heading back in.

“I’ll be right in,” Mel says as she pulls out her phone, furiously smashing the buttons as she begins to text, the screen illuminating her face green in contrast to the red glow of a cigarette now long snuffed out under her boot.

——

The rest of the night goes off without so much as a hiccup as you make small talk, drink too much wine, and try not to think about the words rattling around your brain. It’s like a rot set in last night, when you were backed into a corner by Dan and his family, by your uncle wanting the best for you. But all you feel is regret, remorse, and like you’re losing yourself to a riptide you can’t escape. Mel’s blunt words earlier only serve to twist the knife in your gut further.

Control Freak. Narcissist.

You glance over to see Dan laughing loudly with some of the guys he works with, they hang on his every word and you shake your head in disbelief. How had you not seen this side of him before? How were you so blind to his behaviour?

“Hey ,you’re not welcome here,” you hear your uncle’s voice carry over the din of the crowded room, “She doesn’t want you here. You’ve got some nerve showing up, today of all days.” You frown at the anger in your uncle’s voice, he never gets angry, let alone raise his voice like this. You make your way through the crowd, a hush descending over the room as they pick up on the argument at the door.

“You must be John, should be proud of how well she shoots, and drinks.” The sound of the other person’s voice roots you to the spot. You can’t see his face, his back is to you, but the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his dark hair curls against the collar of pink button down, his sinfully tight jeans, and the deep baritone of his voice are unmistakable.

“Javi?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, but his head whips around to look for you. Your body trembles as those hard brown eyes soften the moment he sees you. His moustache twitches up as his cheek dimples. You can’t decide if you want to scream at him, kiss him, or if you want to run out the door and never stop running. For now, you’re rooted to the floor, glass of wine precariously dangling from your fingertips. Your mouth is dry as you try to form a coherent sentence, but nothing comes out.

“Hey John, this hombre causing you trouble?” Your mouth falls open in shock at the racist undertones of Dan’s words. You flinch away from his touch as he tries to pull you against him, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he wraps his arm around your waist possessively. You watch Javi’s eyes narrow at the sight of you being held by another man. He doesn’t seem to be phased by the border-line slur.

You try and twist away from Dan, repulsed by his touch as you fawn up at the only man you have ever truly loved. You don’t want Javi to see another man’s hands on you, you don’t want him to think you want this more than you want him. You’re desperate for his approval, his love, even after all he’s done. But Dan yanks you back against him now, your shoulder aching at the joint as you cry out in pain. You feel like he’s suffocating you, cutting you off from a life-line you’re mere millimetres away from taking. It all feels like a sick nightmare you can’t wake from.

“He’s nobody, just someone trying to start trouble, but he’s leaving, isn’t that right son?” Your uncle snaps and you watch as Javi’s face contorts into t, he sly, cocky grin you know all too well. Your insides twist at Javi being called nobody. He’s not nobody, he’s somebody, your somebody, your Javi. Here, in the flesh, for you.

“I just came along to say something to the birthday girl,” Javi says with a heavy sigh before looking at you once more, “Feliz cumpleaños, bonita.” And just like that he’s walking back through the door. Waltzing out of your life after turning it upside down yet again. Your chest heaves as eight years of unexpressed grief and repression rear their ugly heads. You physically ache, you almost think you’re having a heart attack as the stabbing pains in your chest build. Your breathing comes in broken wheezes as you try to pull away from Dan, but his grip is unrelenting.

Time slows as the party resumes as if nothing happened at all, your uncle gives you a sympathetic grimace before Dan yanks you around to face him. His grip on your arm so tight it hurts. Tears streak down your face as you try to pull away, unsuccessfully.

“Who the fuck was that?” He snarls under his breath, and you blink up at him, mortified with the tone he’s taking with you.

Control Freak. Narcissist.

“An old work colleague, from Colombia,” you explain, pain arcing through your arm as Dan grips you tighter.

“Seemed like more than a friend to me, fucking wetba–” He snaps, and you yank your arm out of his grip, looking down at the reddened skin in disgust. Never has he laid hands on you and yet this sheer display of racism and aggression puts you into a tailspin.

“Don’t you fucking finish that word,” you hiss as you take your heels off, disgust roiling in your stomach as you barely recognise the man in front of you. It’s like you saying yes to marrying him flicked a switch, baring the ugly growths and weeping sores of his personality to you. “I can’t deal with you right now. I’m leaving.”

You storm outside without looking back, vaguely aware of Mel trying to catch up with you. She calls your name but you’re not listening, you’re so preoccupied with getting to your car, and ignoring the various calls for you to come back inside, that you don’t see him until it’s too late.

You collide with the solid mass of a man with a grunt, stumbling as you realise how drunk you are, you probably shouldn’t be driving. You begin to apologise as you inhale the deadly cocktail of scents, vanilla accented cologne, peaty whisky, and the smell that is just Javier Peña. You raise your head slowly and look up through your lashes into dark pools of chocolate brown.

“Careful there, bonita, might fall into unsavoury hands if you’re not careful,” he says, his hands on your biceps to steady you, his calloused fingertips digging into your bare skin and memories of those fingers all over your body flood your mind.

“Javi, I need you to take me home.” You mumble and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Bonita, I don’t know where you live.” He argues, not trusting you to give directions in this state.

“No, not there, not back to him, want to go home with you.” You slur, tears soaking his shirt as you bury your face back into his chest. You hear Mel call your name once more and you’re about to say something, but Javi speaks first.

“I’ve got her Mel, thanks for calling, seems like a real shitshow.” He grunts and you furrow your brow, pulling out of his embrace to stumble and face Mel.

“You know Javi?” You snap, your tone accusatory. Mel shrugs at you and you stagger to the back of Javi’s truck, emptying the contents of your stomach as tears stream down your face. You feel like you’re going to die, your mind is a fucked-up jumble of incoherent noise as you lean against the tailgate.

“Let me take her home,” Mel suggests, but you shake your head violently.

“Not going home, not to him, not to fucking John’s house.” You spit bitterly, you feel so betrayed, duped into the engagement and this stupid fucking party.

“I want to go home with Javi.” You whimper and wrap your arms around his waist, clinging onto him for dear life. You’re vaguely aware that you’re likely smearing bile and vomit on his shirt.

“Fuck she’s wasted,” Javi says softly, remorse, or maybe even guilt evident in his tone.

“Yeah, that’s not on you though, blame the narcissist who turned her birthday party into their engagement party.” Mel scoffs and you freeze as you realise you’re still wearing the ring.

“Mel, give this to Dan, or John, I don’t care, I don’t want it,” you say, as you violently tug the ring off your finger, slapping it down aggressively in Mel’s hand.

“Hey, bonita, how about I look after it, and you can decide if you want it in the morning, ok?” Javi says softly as he pulls you off him with ease, your weak limbs ineffective against his gentle hands.

“Fine, but please. Take me home.” You beg, already feeling your mind slipping into unconsciousness.

“Ok, but just this once, bonita.”

——

Pain.

Pain is all you can think about as it feels like a nail has been punched through your skull, just above your right eyebrow. Your mouth is like sandpaper, and you don’t even know what a tongue is anymore, yours shrivelled and painful in your mouth. You crack your eyes open, waiting for the inevitable burn of your retinas. But it doesn’t come, the room is dark, unfamiliar blackout curtains drawn across a window to your right.

You groan as you sit up in unfamiliar white cotton sheets on a king-sized bed that definitely isn’t your own. The room is sparsely decorated, but on the nightstand you see a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol waiting for you. A note left in familiar, atrocious handwriting that makes your chest flutter.

Drink me, take me.

The words are barely legible but even time couldn’t erase the way you understand Javier Peña, be it the way his jaw ticks when he’s mad, the way he exhales through his nose when he’s pissed off. The way his moans twist into barely there whines when he comes. You know it all, and it hurts, more than the pain in your head, it hurts knowing he’s so close yet so completely out of reach.

“Javier?” You say aloud as you stumble out of bed, looking for your clothes as you realise you’re in a pair of DEA branded sweat pants and a white t-shirt that have to be his. You don’t remember getting undressed and your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you realise Javi must have put you in his clothes. You’re suddenly blindingly self-conscious.

Did he look? What does he think of you now that you’re older? Does he still think you’re attractive?

You dispel the thoughts as quickly as they arrive and pad out into the hall. You need to get away from him, you can’t let him get in your head. His apartment is nice, spacious, a far cry from the dingy two bedroom one he had in Bogotá. You smell bacon as you cross into what you assume is the living room.

Javi stands with his back to you, singing to himself in Spanish as he cooks. There’s a small part of you that wants to walk up behind him and wrap your arms around him, to melt into him like nothing changed. You want to distract him from cooking, take him in your mouth and let him fuck your throat, or bend you over the counter and eat your pussy like it’s all he needs in life.

But the illusion shatters as you remember how hard you had fallen for him, and how hard you fell into despair when he hurt you, not once, but twice. You notice your clothes in a plastic bag on the table, along with your purse and keys. You consider staying, seeing what he has to say for himself, but your heart aches too much, you can’t let yourself get hurt like that again.

“Goodbye, Javi,” you whisper to yourself as you slip out of the apartment, barefoot and raw as you try, not for the first time, to forget about Javier Peña. You’ve never felt so utterly defeated in your life as you recognize the part of Austin he’s living in, just a few blocks away from campus. So close. You don’t want to go home, if you even know where home is anymore. You decide to head to your office, the last safe haven you have left.

Big thank you to @wannabe-urs, @Patti7dc, and @johnwtsn for their work proofing/beta reading for me! Remember to follow and subscribe to notifications on @twwaktnotifs for updates on my work! All graphics are done by me.

138 notes · View notes

heyiwrotesomethings · 11 months

Note

DEMON SLAYER CUZ YESSSSSSSS.

shinobu x female reader

I wanna kick uzuis ass again soooooooo

Uzui is being a dick to everyone because he is in a mood and make fun of shinobu (u find the reason nth comes to mind rn) and the reader having an awful day herself kicks his ass and brings him to his wives "next time that disgrace you call a husband insults my soon to be wife again I'm gonna cut his tongue of and shove it so far up his ass it will come out of his mouth again 🙃

have a good day ladies oh and do keep him a check or I will 🙂 byeeeee"

gl finishing all of those rqst

Bad Morning

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: I don’t know what’s up with me, but this threat was a bit too descriptive for me and since this is like, at least the third time we’re beating Uzui up, this one is kind of lackluster, apologies! Hopefully I still got the message across lol. Hope you still like it! Word Count: ~1,220

Uzui Tengen woke up on the wrong side of the bed earlier that morning. Which was to say Suma had accidentally pushed Makio out of bed, which in turn lead to Makio dragging her out of said bed by the ankles in retaliation. Tengen tried his best to ignore them and focus on Hinatsuru’s cute mumblings as she turned to lay on her other side, but Makio’s growls and Suma’s cries made it downright impossible.

“Could you two keep it down, goddamnit! Why does this have to happen every morning?!”

“Maybe we should invest in a bigger bed.” Hinatsuru murmured, pressing a pillow over her head.

“Or we just make Suma sleep on the floor. She kicked me last night too and I have the bruise to prove it!” Makio pulled up the hem of her sleepware to show the bruise her thigh was sporting and Suma wailed.

“I’m sorry! Let me kiss it better! Don’t make me sleep on the floor Makio, please!”

“Nobody is sleeping on the floor!” Tengen groaned. “I’ll get a bigger bed, okay? Can I just get one more hour of sleep—“

“Caw!” Nijimaru came in through the window with flapping wings and rattling beads. A damn fine, flamboyant bird if Tengen did say so himself, but he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather see less at the moment. “You’ll be late for the meeting if you stay in bed any longer, Uzui!”

“Damn it all, that’s today?” Tengen shot out of bed, jamming his toe against the bedside table. He cursed and limped his way to the bathroom, now even more pissed because he would have to skip his morning skin care routine if he was going to make it to Oyakata-sama’s mansion in time.

He barely had enough time to bathe and put on his makeup before heading out the door. No time to even eat breakfast. At least Suma ran him some toast at the door and jumped up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. It certainly made up for the rude awakening at least, sweet girl.

Still, all the toast and kisses in the world couldn’t make him shake off the sour mood he was in. His morning routine was sacred. When his routine was disturbed, it honestly felt like his whole day was ruined.

People have bad days. It’s normal to maybe ask for a little space, to tell people you aren’t really feeling yourself, but the moment you use your bad morning as an excuse to be shitty to other people, then expect your day to get much, much worse.

“Iguro, come on man. Can you get your scrawny ass outta my way? Shouldn’t you be sitting like a broody tree’d raccoon by now?”

“We’re talking, walk around. It’s a fucking garden.” Sanemi was quick to shoot back as Obanai glared.

“Nobody can make anything easy today, can they?” Tengen sighed loudly, bumping into Sanemi as he walked past the two fuming men.

He rested in his usual spot, hoping to maybe get a little bit more sleep in before the Master arrived. However, Mitsuri was talking up a storm with Shinobu and (Y/n) and the excitement in her voice as she spoke made it hard for Tengen to relax.

“She made me dango for helping me get her cat out of the tree! Isn’t that great? It was really good too! And then—!”

“Gods, Kanroji,” Tengen groaned, “would it kill you to take a page out of Tomioka’s book and be quite for once?”

“Hey! What the hell is your problem?” (Y/n) scowled.

“Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, it doesn’t give you license to make everyone else around you feel miserable as well.” Shinobu chimed in, she put a reassuring hand on Mitsuri’s shoulder while she gave Tengen a disapproving look.

“I’m gonna kill that bastard.” Obanai growled, Kaburamaru hissed in agreement.

“Perhaps you should take a page out of Tomioka-san’s book and butt out of conversations that have nothing to do with you, hm? Contrary to what your ego may tell you, the world does not revolve around you.” Shinobu added for good measure.

“Big words for somebody so small. I could crush you like a grape between my fingers.”

“Uzui, my friend! You should stop talking before you say something you’ll really regret!” Rengoku advised.

“So disgruntled,” Shinobu tisked pityingly, “Given how out of sorts you are this morning, I doubt you could even brush me with those meaty, perpetually sweaty hands.

Tengen took a deep breath through clenched teeth, but (Y/n) spoke up before him, her voice low, warning,

“Uzui-san, I’d listen to Rengoku-san if I were you. Act like an adult and let it go. With any luck, the meeting will be over in an hour and you can sleep the rest of the day away.”

“Tch,“ Tengen sneered, “how about this, you tell your little, and I do mean shrimpy, puny, girlfriend to zip it, and then I will too.”

“I am not her keeper.” (Y/n) said through gritted teeth.

“Well if she can’t keep her mouth shut, why should I?!”

“Ah, my deepest apologies, Uzui-san,” Shinobu began, not looking very sorry at all, “(Y/n) and I had a rather late night in the lab ourselves. My mistake for trying to hold you to the same standards we hold ourselves to.”

Tengen was seeing red. He wanted to wipe that perfect little smile right off of Shinobu’s face and before he could think better of it, he had thought of something to say that would hit her where it would hurt.

“Wipe that fake-ass smile off your face, little Kanae wannabe. You want to imitate her so bad, start by acting like less of a bitch maybe.”

Well, that sure made the smile fall from Shinobu’s lips. Her expression became impassive, an eerie blankness, but no one took the time to really notice because (Y/n) was already leaping to her feet, kicking up pebbles that scattered over Tengen’s thighs as she got closer.

“The fuck did you just say?!” Sanemi growled, his head snapping towards Uzui.

“Uzui-san, I know you can be abrasive, but that kind of talk is unacceptable.” Gyomei spoke up for the first time that day and that was how Tengen knew he might have really fucked up.

“Okay, okay, you are a fucking dead man now! I don’t give a damn about you not getting your beauty sleep, you wanna play nasty, we’ll play nasty alright!”

(Y/n) knew Shinobu could take care of herself, but she also knew that Uzui had hit a nerve. Like Shinobu had said, they had a tough night, tougher than Uzui’s, she imagined. She had been helping Shinobu with her latest experiment on her journey to find a poison that could end an Upper Moon.

Despite all of the promising research, the experiment had fallen flat, or well, more accurately caused a small explosion that (Y/n) and Shinobu spent the next three hours cleaning up after. Thankfully they had been wearing the proper gear during the whole ordeal, but they still smelt overwhelmingly of wisteria.

(Y/n) got close enough to Uzui that he could smell it on her and the potency stung his nose. She grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and he engulfed her wrist with his hand—

“Oyakata-sama is coming!” Mitsuri squealed, noticing two of the Master’s children leading him around the building. It must have been one of his good days and he decided to take a stroll.

“I’m not done with you.” (Y/n) hissed, letting go of Uzui’s uniform with a shove before quickly dropping to the ground.

“You’re like a yappy little dog,” he sneered, “All I gotta say is, ‘boo!’ and you’ll be shaking in your sandals.”

“The first thing I’m gonna do is cut out your own tongue and feed it to you, asshole.”

Tengen grit his teeth together. The Master was much too close now to continue trading vulgarities.

Tengen started out the meeting boiling hot, but listening to the Master speak had its usual calming affects and before Tengen knew it, he was in a relaxed, meditative state. It was the closest thing to sleep one could have while awake. It was like magic. The Master bid them all farewell and Tengen inhaled deeply, then released a relaxed exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. He felt so much better—

(Y/n)’s fist came sailing at him with all the force of a mantis shrimp and she decked him, making direct contact with his temple.

“Alright Uzui, how about you and me go for a little stroll?” (Y/n) grunted, heaving the hulking man to his feet was no simple task, especially now that he was having a hard time standing up himself after that vision spotting hit. She turned to look back at Shinobu with adoration and concern, “Would you like to come along, dear?”

“I suppose.” Shinobu shrugged before rising to her feet as well. Truthfully, she didn’t want to have to look at Uzui for another minute, but if (Y/n) accidentally killed him, that would be one less Hashira and they were already spread thin enough as it was.

The remaining Hashira, that cared enough to, watched on as (Y/n) pulled Tengen away from the mansion by his ear, very thankful they weren’t in his shoes at that moment.

Tengen shuffled down the path, bending with (Y/n)’s sharp pushes and pulls while the two women discussed what they should eat for lunch. Sadistic beings…

Though it was hard for his eyes to focus because of that sharp punch to his temple, he soon recognized the scenery and realized (Y/n) was taking him home, to what end, he was afraid to find out.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” He heard (Y/n)’s muffled voice through the ringing in his ears.

“Oh gods, what did he do this time?” Makio groaned.

“(Y/n)-san, I don’t know what he did, but please, be a little more gentle with him.” Hinatsuru requested hesitantly.

She was hesitant because she knew her husband had a track record of saying or doing stupid things. Even Suma, the most sympathetic of the bunch, could agree that sometimes getting slapped around a little bit was warranted when it came to their husband’s unfiltered words and uncouth actions.

“Don’t worry, I caught him off guard with the first punch, so I didn’t go any further. I probably nearly fractured his skull since he didn’t think to defend himself at all, don’t you think so, Shinobu?”

“Oh yes, given how he’s been wobbling, and that he threw up in the bushes on the way here, it’s safe to say he would have been in real trouble if you had decided to keep going.”

Makio, Hina and Suma paled, quickly taking possession of their loopy husband when (Y/n) offered him to them. It was difficult to keep all that muscle up right, so they could only imagine just how furious (Y/n) was to have been able to basically drag him all the way home.

“The next time your disgraceful, woefully un-flamboyant husband says or does anything that hurts my fiancée, intentionally or not, he may not make it back to you in one piece. Understand?”

“Yes, we’ll talk to him. I’m sorry.” Hinatsuru hung her head low.

“You have nothing to apologize for, but when your husband snaps out of it, you might suggest he start looking for ways to atone because I’m not quite so sure I could hold myself back if I see him again too soon. That single punch was not satisfying at all.”

“We’ll work on it.” Makio swore.

“We promise! Please don’t kill him!” Suma sobbed.

“I won’t kill him, too much paperwork.” (Y/n) promised, then after a pause added, “Well, I wouldn’t kill him on purpose anyway.”

“Here,” Shinobu stepped up to the three horrified looking wives and handed Hinatsuru a small paper bag, “I suspect he has a concussion. I have provided all instructions and materials needed to give him proper treatment.”

“Thank you…” the three answered in unison.

Shinobu gave them a short nod of acknowledgment before linking back up with (Y/n). The two strolled off like nothing had happened, smiling and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes as they disappeared over the hill.

“We need that new bed stat!” Suma said with an exhausted sigh as the trio dragged Tengen into the house.

“I think our dumbass husband needs a personality check more.” Makio grunted.

#demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #requests #anonymous

388 notes · View notes