#aka lax to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

padfootagain · 3 months

Text

When We Were Lying

Hi! Here is another Hozier fic! Had a lot of fun with this trope, as always, I hope you’ll like this little story! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: none… a bit of strong language and an awful lot of longing? Fake-dating AU

Summary: Your ex is attending your family gathering for Christmas and there is no way you're going to face that alone. Of course, you drag your best friend into this, and he's too smitten with you to say no when you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend. Although, the fact that you both have feelings for each other might end up being a problem...

Word Count: 10055

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

“Sorry… what?!”

Andrew was blinking at you. There was something unnerving in his frown and the intensity of his stare, but you had to bear it. After all, you had no other choice.

“You’re the only one I can ask to do this with me…”

“I’m absolutely not doing that!”

“Why not?”

“Why not?! Why not?! Do I really have to answer that question or have you found back your sanity?”

“Andrew…”

“I am not going to lie to your entire family at Christmas just to save your stupid arse!”

“But I said ‘please’…”

“Y/N!”

“Andrew!”

“This is a terrible idea! I’m not doing that!”

He stared at you as if you had lost your mind, and in all fairness, perhaps you had… for a part at least. Why else would you be sitting in your best friend’s comfortable sofa, in the middle of his large and yet welcoming living room, asking him to lie to your family and pretend that you were together? Only for a day though, just for the traditional meal on Christmas, the boring and tedious lunch on the 25th where you exchanged gifts and stabbing remarks with your least favourite members of your family.

Not that you were not used to face this tragedy on your own; if your arse of an uncle had been the only obstacle to overcome this year, you would have emerged with flying colours. But this year was different. It was different, because your cousin Samantha was coming with her boyfriend… aka your ex-boyfriend. The one she had slept with ten months ago. The one who had betrayed you and broken your silly heart. The one you wished you could put laxatives into his drinks, or pierce his tires, or put some very strong pepper into his tea… Something Machiavellian like that…

But as your chances of poisoning his food at the Christmas lunch were limited, you had to settle for plan B. Which was simple enough: convince your best friend to pretend to be madly in love with you, so you would not have to bear any comments from your family about your broken heart and the fact that you had been cheated on by your fucking cousin Samantha… and perhaps, with a bit of luck, you could also make your ex, Craig, jealous.

A brilliant plan, if there was ever any. Only, Andrew didn’t seem to share your optimism.

“You’ve lost it, this time,” he went on, eyes wide, aghast as he slowly shook his head.

You couldn’t blame him for thinking this. Especially given the fact that your feelings for him would probably end up being a problem. But despite your silly little crush on him… who else could you ask such a favour to? The two of you had known each other for years. He was your best friend, you were ready to do anything for him. No one else would accept…

“Andy… I know I’m asking a lot…”

“This will never work. Beyond the fact that this is pure madness, it will never work! Your parents know me! They know we’re not together!”

“Friends get together all the time!”

“No one will believe us. And you know me, I hate… PDA and stuff like that… I can’t… even when it’s real, I struggle with that stuff. I can’t fake it.”

“On the contrary, that’s great! Cause then, we don’t have to act too much like we’re together, and we can just blame it on your well-known aversion for PDA!”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N, but this time… it’s a no. I’m not doing that. I’m not playing fake-boyfriend for you.”

You heaved a defeated sigh.

“And I thought you would kill for me.”

“I’m a pacifist… a punch across the jaw is the best I can do.”

“Lousy friend.”

“Fuck off! You think you asking me to lie to your entire family is better? Just so you won’t have to hear them complaining about you being single? You think that’s not worse?”

You saw the way his expression saddened when yours did, when the tinge of playfulness left your features. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

“Why is it so unbearable anyway, huh? You’ve forgotten how my mother can be? I’ve got that refrain sang to me all the time too. It’s not so bad.”

You bit on your lip and lowered your gaze before answering, holding back tears that came blurring your vision of Andrew’s soft carpet.

“Craig and Sam will be there. Together.”

You didn’t need to look up at him to know he was clenching his jaw.

“I don’t… I don’t want to have to face that on my own. I’m not sure I can…”

You barely had time to brush a tear away that Andrew was holding you close, arms wrapped tightly around your frame. And you let him pull you even closer, until your ear was pressed against his heart, until he could drop a tender kiss to the top of your head. He heaved a sigh.

“Could you still come? As a friend?” you asked, voice trembling even if you didn’t want it to.

You hated being like this. Fragile. Crying. Not over the betrayal. You wanted to wave a perfect life at your ex so he would see all that he was missing, until he regretted everything. It was petty, but true. Instead, you would be the one sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a couple of weeks, trying not to throw up nor cry while you witnessed your ex and your cousin playing perfect couple…

Andrew heaved a painful sigh.

“I’ll come.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean… I’ll do it. The whole crazy plan. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend for the day.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him. There were traces of annoyance in his gaze, but a lot of tenderness too as his eyes met yours, hazel irises turning greener in the quiet light of a late afternoon.

“Really?” you asked, voice shy even though you craved for confidence.

“Really. But you’d better make sure that your mother still loves me when you break it to her that we’re not together anymore! I’m not giving up on her amazing lasagnas, not even for you.”

“I have the recipe, you know?”

“Your mother’s taste better.”

“Fucker!”

“Don’t insult me, or I’ll take everything back and let you deal with this bunch of assholes on your own!”

“Sorry!” you quipped, hiding your face into his chest again, and you heard him mumbling some complaints, playing grumpy, but you knew better.

You were smiling as you listened to his low voice lulling you back into a soothed state. You wondered how he did that. How a mere hug and some whispering were all it took to calm you down, to make you feel safe all over again, when you were so damn insecure all the time.

You lost track of your own thoughts when his large hand came to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close.

And you were glad that you could explain a lack of PDA in front of your family, because there was no way for you to survive a whole day with the man you secretly loved holding you like that…

“Do you hate me? For being selfish and dragging you into this?” you asked him, voice muffled by his woollen jumper.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Even if I called you to get rid of a body with me?”

“Erm… As long as I’m not the one cutting it into pieces.”

You both let out a chuckle.

“I’ll make sure to stain your carpet with the blood of my victims.”

“Now, that would make me hate you, for sure.”

“I knew you’d choose your carpet over me.”

“Yeah, but what a carpet it is!”

“It doesn’t make you lasagna though…”

“I only like your mam’s.”

You smiled, but remained quiet. You were serious again when your voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over your two entwined frames.

“Seriously, though… I’m sorry I’m asking you this. I just… I just don’t see what else I can do. I don’t think I can stomach seeing the two of them as a happy couple while I’m still… desperately single. A real loser…”

“Stop talking about yourself like that,” he admonished, voice genuinely annoyed. “I hate it when you do that. You’re… you’re amazing, Y/N. More than you realise. And Craig and Samantha are terrible people. So… stop blaming it all on yourself. They can rot in hell.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in heaven and hell.”

“You know what I mean.”

A pause while you smiled, wool tickling your cheek.

“Thank you.”

He rubbed your back, gesture soft, taking his time.

“Don’t mention it.”

“You owe me so much…”

“I thought you said ‘don’t mention it!’”

“Don’t mention it, my arse…”

You laughed at him, you couldn’t help it. As Andrew and you walked together down the lane leading to your parents’ house, you couldn’t refrain your laughter. Andrew looked nervous… like the day he had met your parents for the first time, years ago.

“Stop acting like they don’t know you. My family adores you.”

“That’s until they learn I’m lying through my teeth.”

“You’re an infamous liar, anyway.”

“Hey!”

He faked outrage, making you laugh even more, and this time, he couldn’t refrain his own smile.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this…”

“Me neither. You must have lost your mind, too.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and sealed his lips again. There was something almost sad on his features for a second, and you wanted to ask if he was alright, but you were already in front of the green door.

“You ready?” he asked instead, an encouraging smile adorning his handsome features now, the cold of December making his cheeks and nose redden.

And you had to struggle through missing heartbeats to nod your head. He looked lovely like this, hair in a half-bun, some curls still free, hair tied only to keep the strands away from his face. He was wearing the grey beanie you adored, chin buried in a huge matching scarf…

“We’ll be fine,” he reassured you, all traces of playfulness or annoyance gone from his warm voice.

“Let’s make Craig so jealous he’ll choke over some pudding.”

You both chuckled, and Andrew nodded, lovely crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes as he kept on smiling.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You took a deep breath before knocking.

There was no turning back.

You glimpsed at Andrew one more time as you waited for your mother to come and open the door, and you thought it truly was the worst idea you had ever had, to ask Andrew to do this… Andrew, of all people. If he was the only choice, he also was the worst one. You simply hoped you wouldn’t have to fake too much… because your heart sped up at the mere thought of holding his hand…

What an idiot you were, getting yourself into so much trouble… at what point had you imagined it was a good idea to ask the man you secretly loved to be your fake boyfriend?!

Your thoughts were interrupted though, as your mother finally appeared. You grinned at her as she hurried to give you a hug.

Andrew had barely closed the door behind him that he was receiving a warm hug as well.

“Ha! Andy!” your mother welcomed him, making him laugh. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been too long.”

“It has indeed…”

“And finally! You two came to your senses!”

You frowned, but didn’t have time to ask your mother what she meant. Instead, you were pulled into the whirlwind that was your family.

Andrew remained close to you, and you were not surprised. There were plenty of people gathered in the large living room, several generations together in the warmth of your childhood home, and Andrew wasn’t too good with dealing with so many people. When you turned to him to offer him a gentle smile, one he immediately offered as well, he seemed a little uncomfortable, hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to make of his long limbs, head slightly bent, as to appear less tall than he truly was, a desperate attempt at hiding. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, such a stark contrast with the confident musician he was each time he stepped on a stage.

You introduced him to the members of your family he didn’t know (including your terrible uncle, who didn’t fail to be rude, hence living up to his reputation). And everything was going fine, except perhaps for the uncontrollable burst that sparked through your heart and chest every time you called Andrew your boyfriend. You pushed to the side the longing that washed over you at the thought that you wished the word could be true…

But it wasn’t the right time for such consideration. After years spent as Andrew’s friend while harbouring feelings for him, you had grown amazingly talented at hiding the love that coursed through each of your cells every time you saw him, or heard him, or thought of him…

But that was not the right time for such thoughts. Indeed, a new couple was just entering the room…

… and suddenly everyone was quiet.

Samantha and Craig seemed to not notice the sudden silence, or else they were simply very good at hiding it. You couldn’t control your expression as you winced, turning towards the window.

But you were surprised by Andrew’s touch, as he reached for your hand. Fingers shy at first, barely the ghost of a caress across your knuckles. When you leaned closer, fingers searching for his too, he intertwined them together, and as you turned to him, he gave you the warmest smile. A silent gesture to tell you it would be okay.

You were even more surprised when he pulled you closer, a gentle tug at your joined hands. You had discussed, before coming to your parents’ house, the boundaries you needed to respect for today. Holding hands was okay. Touching arms, hair or a waist was okay. You had not discussed kissing, but you reckoned that it was a clear no. An arm around the other’s shoulders or back was good too.

But now, Andrew was pulling you gently closer until you were settled against his chest, and he bent to softly kiss your hair, lips lingering on the top of your head for several seconds. The gesture was so tender, you had to close your eyes…

And then his lips were gone, leaving behind the quiet sound of a kiss and their warmth. When you opened your eyes again and looked up at him, Andrew was blushing, but he was smiling too. And there was something in the way he was looking at you…

“Y/N! How good to see you!”

You turned towards Samantha, hence interrupting your train of thoughts, perhaps for the better.

You forced a polite smile, but didn’t go as far as to completely hide that you weren’t happy to see her.

“Sam! How are you?”

“Good! I’m good! What about you?”

She only then seemed to notice Andrew’s presence by your side, an impressive performance, given his height and the fact that you were still leaning into his chest…

“Oh, hi! Hmmm… Andrew, is it? I remember you! You’re Y/N’s friend!”

“Boyfriend now, actually,” you corrected her, and you were amused by the look of surprise on her face.

“Oh! Congratulations! Good for you!”

Around the room, conversations had started again, filling up space once more and giving you at least some privacy… although you knew it to be but a relative truth. Your relatives who stood closer to you were probably listening closely, unwilling to lose any crumb of the conversation and drama that might ensue.

Behind Samantha, Craig finally greeted you, more uncomfortable than his girlfriend was. He grew even more uncomfortable when he offered his open hand to Andrew.

“Good to see you again, Andy.”

You hated that Andrew had to let go of your hand to shake Craig’s, but his fingers found yours again as soon as the greeting was over. It was rare to see Andrew with a clearly forced smile on his face, he was generally better at hiding his discomfort, a habit of always being polite.

“Craig,” followed by a nod was the only greeting Andrew gave your ex, and you recognised protectiveness in the way he moved slightly closer to you, placing himself between you and Craig.

And you felt a little guilty for the sense of pride that you got from that gesture, knowing you shouldn’t be reading anything even remotely romantic into it… but then again, you were but human. And humans always liked dreaming…

“How are you two doing?” Craig asked, and you nodded.

“Good, we’re both doing good. You?”

“Oh, we’re great! We’re planning on going for a trip for our anniversary, don’t we, dear?” Samantha went on, turning to her boyfriend, who merely nodded… rightly uncomfortable.

“Amazing!” you managed to get out between gritted teeth.

“And for how long have you two been together, then?” Craig asked, changing the subject quickly.

“A couple of months,” you answered, a detail you and Andrew had agreed on.

“So, it’s still the honeymoon phase, then,” Sam nodded knowingly, although you weren’t sure what kind of knowledge that was…

“It’s pretty new,” you nodded.

“How lovely! But… I thought the two of you were friends,” she went on, acting confused.

“We were,” you confirmed, and when you struggled to continue, it was Andrew’s turn to step in.

“And now we’re more than that.”

The two of you exchanged a smile, and again, you noticed the way he was blushing.

Craig nodded his head, and you saw how he was frowning, the kind of expression he wore when he was upset over something.

“It’s funny that you were friends for so long and then all of a sudden… you decide to be more,” he spoke with a tinge of venom in a tone he tried to turn honeyed.

You looked for an excuse, but Andrew was the one to answer again. And you were taken aback by his words… and even more so by how earnest they sounded, although… although he could only be lying.

“We… we’ve spent a long time tiptoeing around that line. I think… we’ve had feelings for a while for each other. I guess we were simply afraid to lose everything we already had if we gave this a try.”

“And what decided you to give this a try, then?”

“I don’t know. Some courage, I guess.”

“Or an opportunity,” Craig proposed, making you frown. There was an insinuation behind his tone, and you didn’t quite know what to do of it.

Andrew seemed to understand better, judging by the way he clenched his jaw, slightly tightened his hold on your hand. He remained quiet though, refusing to rise to Craig’s challenge.

“These things can take time, you know?” you added, trying to pull the conversation away from the glares Andrew and Craig seemed keen to throw each other, a silent battle of thunder and storms. “Where are you planning that trip of yours?”

It was too easy to centre the conversation back onto Samantha, nothing surpriseing, though, considering her character…

Lucky for you, you were soon called by your mother to help in the kitchen.

Or actually, it was but a limited reprieve you were granted. It took your mother only a couple of minutes to bombard you with questions, while she made you cut some carrots, sunlight streaming on your hands from the window set above the sink as you worked. It enlightened the orange stains that slowly grew across your fingers while you dodged your mother’s queries, struggling to remain calm while lying. You thought you would be better at it, but as you peeled the vegetables, their forms made slippery in your hands, you were losing your footing, feeling increasingly guilty as the lies passed your lips again and again.

A first date in a quiet restaurant.

A piece of carrot thrown in the sink.

A first kiss in front of your door, as a tender goodbye, one that lingered in reluctance to part.

A blade slipping too fast.

No, you were not planning ahead for now, just taking things as they went, as they formed.

No, there was no words of love yet, don’t be ridiculous! It’s only the beginning…

“The beginning!” Your mother scoffed, throwing a potato in the sink, alongside your colourful pieces. “The man has been looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for years! You’ve been stealing glances for so long… I don’t even remember when it started! It’s not the beginning, dear. The two of you have been in love for years. It is only a logical continuation.”

She frowned as she looked at you, finally lifting her gaze from the brown pile of peels.

“You’re okay?”

You were startled by her question.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I don’t know… you seem… almost sad.”

You couldn’t hold her stare, and you fought every bit of instinct in you to avoid recoiling from her touch as your mother, in a sweet gesture, rested her hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry yourself over Craig and Samantha. And before you ask, I wasn’t the one who invited them.”

You nodded, as if you were reassured, as if she was right about the cause of your worry, had aimed straight at the knot of your problems.

She hadn’t. And you were perplexed as you realized this too. Because you had thought that seeing your ex and your cousin together would be unbearable, and it was, indeed, a painful sight. But it was hurting your pride more than your heart, a sting at your ego rather than a tear at your soul.

Instead, the images you summoned in a fake reality with Andrew were the ones destroying you. Because these details, these anecdotes, these stories you made up for your mother were ones you genuinely longed for.

A quiet date in a restaurant you loved. A kiss bathed in streetlights. Hands holding that didn’t want to let go…

This was a terrible idea. A terrible… terrible idea…

“Andrew! Come here, lad! Give us a hand with these, would you?”

You felt his presence by your side before his hand appeared in your vision, reaching for a vegetable, getting to work without any protest or arguing. He would lose anyway, against your mother, and he knew it.

You chatted together for a while, conversation smooth and easy, as always with him around. You almost forgot that all of this was fake when Andrew leaned closer, as if he longed for your nearness. You reached for him before you could think, leaning closer as well, until your arms touched as you worked, the ghost of a touch that was enough to set your heart ablaze…

God… this was such a terrible, terrible idea…

You barely noticed your mother as she moved around the kitchen, until she reached for Andrew.

“I’m so happy for you,” she spoke in a smile. “After all this time… I’m glad the two of you have finally worked out all the things that kept you apart.”

She disappeared before you could speak to her, ask her what she meant. When you turned to Andrew though, he was blinking tears away.

“Andy? You’re alright? What’s wrong?” You asked with sudden worry in your voice, but your friend shook his head.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just… Erm…”

But he grew quiet, shrugged. You tried to guess, but were pretty sure to miss the mark when he reassured you again.

“Is my mother bothering you?”

“No! Of course, not. It’s weird lying to her, that’s all.”

There was something more to it, but Andrew interrupted you before you could question him further.

“Besides… we have another problem. A more important one. That’s why I was looking for you.”

“What is it?”

“Craig doesn’t believe us.”

“What?”

“He pulled me aside and told me he knew we were faking it. That he was going to tell everyone.”

“The son of a bitch!”

“My thoughts, precisely.”

“What did you answer?”

Andrew shrugged.

“That he was being ridiculous.”

“And?”

“That he was merely being jealous over the fact that he had let a woman like you slip between his fingers like a moron.”

You tried to hide the grin that formed on your lips at his praise.

“Nice… going all in on the ‘make him jealous’ wagon, I see…”

He took a moment to answer, voice less confident than his usual tone when he spoke once more.

“Just the truth…”

You ignored his remark, and you didn’t get why the same tinge of sadness made his hazel eyes greener again, the same way they had earlier that day…

“What can we do to convince him?” you asked, eliciting little more than a shrug from your friend.

You heaved a sigh, your carrots now all cut in the sink. Game over…

“Let’s see how all this unfolds,” was your only solution for now.

“And if he tells your family?”

“We’ll see, Andy. We’ll see.”

The meal was over. The gifts had been given, the kisses and thankful glances had been exchanged. It was time to settle in with some board games, for those willing, while others nibbled on some pastries and chatted in sofas and armchairs. The last remnants of cakes lingered in porcelain plates while coffee, tea and hot chocolate were being served. You laughed when Andrew picked up your warm beverage before you had a chance.

“Are you drinking my cocoa?”

“I’m trying it out. Just to be sure. In case of poison or something like that.”

You both laughed as he took another sip, humming in delight.

“You could have asked for a hot chocolate instead of tea!” you admonished, but didn’t try to take the cup from him, too happy to see him smiling to even think about it.

God, he could steal the entire beverage, as long as he kept on smiling like that… happy, and soft, and welcoming, calling for a smile of your own to answer his…

“Tastes better when it’s yours,” he laughed, all mischief and cheekiness while he looked at you and drank a third sip, a tiny one, just to get on your nerves.

The charm was broken though when one of the children running around bumped into him and made Andrew spill a little bit of chocolate across his chin. You burst into laughter.

“Well, that was… hot,” you teased while Andrew tried to hide his mouth and chin with his hand, looking around for a napkin of some kind. “Literally, I mean. It must be hot. Graciously so.”

“I hate you,” he glowered without any animosity in his gaze, making you laugh harder as you finally handed him one of the paper towels set on the coffee table.

On the other side of the room, people were playing a board game, but you felt better like this. Just you and Andrew chatting around a cocoa, or what was left of it. No one was truly paying attention to you, or so you had thought… among the five people who were casually chatting in small groups around the coffee table, it was easy to notice that all around the room, if gazes were directed towards your small group, it was to stare at Andrew and you.

Was Andrew aware of that scrutiny? Of the gazes fixed upon you?

“You’re okay?” he asked, frowning slightly, and you wished you could ease the crease between his brow with a brush of your thumb.

“Sure. I’m fine. Just… I think people are kind of watching us,” you added in a whisper no one could eavesdrop, leaning closer to him in the process.

He hummed, slowly nodding.

“Yeah, I think we’re kind of… the new thing.”

You bit your lip before making your next request, and you were surprised to notice that his eyes lingered on your mouth until you spoke.

“Is that okay if we act like…?” you left your question suspended in mid-air.

He nodded again, in silence, and there it was again, the flash of pain turning the hazel into full green…

You noticed the sharp intake of breath he took before finally speaking, the way his eyes narrowed just a little, for a second, while he hesitated… but then the words were out all the same, making his pale cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

“Can I… tug that strand of hair behind your ear?”

You struggled to swallow and nodded, it was your time to be silent, you couldn’t trust your voice.

He was leaning closer when he lifted his arm towards you, shifting to be facing you, both of you sitting on a sofa that was too comfortable and too familiar for you to feel this tensed, almost frightened.

“You’re sure that’s alright?” Andrew asked again, and this time you let out a faint yes along with your nod.

Frightened wasn’t the right word though. You weren’t scared at all, in fact, you felt absolutely safe with Andrew sitting so close to you, your bodies almost touching, but not quite, just far enough to leave you longing to close these gaps. Slowly, his hand was lifted, all the way up to your face, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He was staring at you, something that went beyond softness, beyond the usual tenderness his gaze adorned when it fell on you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, guess what it meant. But then again, his thumb was brushing your cheek, and the ghostly touch made you too dizzy, anyway.

He leaned closer, unbearably closer, until his lips were next to your ear, his fingers moving to hold your face in place, palm cradling your jaw.

“Can I… Can I kiss your cheek?”

You were certain that your heart could not take more of this, of his intoxicating cologne, of the warmth of his skin across yours, of the delicate breath fanning across your ear…

You reached up for something, anything to hold onto, and your fingers met his woollen jumper, attached themselves to it as if holding a safe line.

“Yes, you can,” you answered despite your shaking voice and the fact that you had no air left in your lungs whatsoever.

Your rational brain wanted to remind you that this was not real, that it was all for show… but the world had vanished the second he had leaned closer. No… no, before that. When he had stared at you in this gentle way, when his hand had risen towards your face. You couldn’t even remember that you were at your parents’, in fact, you couldn’t remember your own name. Your entire world was being rewritten because this man was holding you close, a palm cradling your jaw while the other found its way to your waist; because he was moving slowly away, only to come back closer than ever, lips resting on your cheek. You closed your eyes the second his lips found your skin, their warmth coursing through your entire frame it seemed, his beard slightly tickling you, just enough to make it all the more endearing. He lingered there for what anyone would consider too long, but when you thought he was about to pull away, his lips merely hovered above your cheek, close enough for you to feel their warmth still, and the hurried breaths he exhaled. And then he was kissing your cheekbone again, and again, and with each resting of his lips upon you, you tightened your hold on his jumper, your free hand coming to rest right against his heart, in the end…

You both jumped at the sharp sound of something falling, glass breaking. As you turned, you noticed that someone had dropped a glass of water to the floor. Nothing too bad, your father was already heading towards the kitchen to clean up the mess that was made. Craig didn’t have a drink.

Before you could analyse the situation in depth, though, Andrew was turning his attention back onto you, and you had no choice but to look at him again too. You remained perfectly still for a moment, hazel eyes meeting your gaze in an unreadable expression, his hands still on you…

And then you both realised how close you were, how easy it would be to just lean a little further and to close the gap between your lips…

And you pulled away in a jolt, startled by your nearness, like two teenagers caught red-handed by an adult.

Andrew cleared his throat, rubbing his palms on his dark jeans, shifting like he didn’t know what to do with his own body all over again.

“I should… help clean the mess…” you mumbled, stuttering slightly, while Andrew was nodding and humming, averting his gaze.

You did just that, hurrying towards the table and picking up pieces of broken glass while your brain remained stuck on the feeling of Andrew’s beard on your skin, the softness of his lips, the way he held you closer…

Your heart was still pounding, your breath catching in your throat every now and then; in fact, every time you thought about his fingers slipping to your hair…

“Let’s throw all these away, darling,” your mother told you, nodding towards the shards in your palm.

You stood straighter without a word, headed for the kitchen…

… to fall face to face with Craig.

Wonderful…

“Sorry about the glass,” he said, breathless for some reason.

“Oh, you’re the one who broke it? Don’t worry about it, my parents have plenty of those. As long as you didn’t cut yourself…”

“I did, actually.”

You took a closer look, and indeed, he was pouring cold water onto a cut across his thumb. Nothing worth worrying about, but it would be quite painful and bothersome for a few days, still. The cut was long and clean, if not too deep.

You had walked closer to inspect the wound, and you didn’t notice the way he stared at you.

“It’s not too bad, but it must hurt.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just waiting for it to stop bleeding.”

“You should press something on it, then.”

You handed him a napkin, which he rolled around his finger as he thanked you. You finally noticed that you were alone in the kitchen, that everybody else was still in the living room either chatting or cleaning up the mess Craig had made.

“Actually, I… I wanted to talk to you, just us…”

You silently encouraged him to continue, but you were taken aback at the passion and hurt in his eyes when your two gazes locked together.

“I… Is it serious? With Andrew, I mean?”

“Yeah… yes! Of course, it’s serious. Why?”

He shrugged, but you saw the way he clenched his jaw.

“It’s just… you’ve been friends for years… why now?”

You shrugged, feeling uncomfortable now… and you blamed it on a lie, but you knew it was because of the longing that was stuck in your heart, and had been dormant there for too long for you to count.

“I don’t know… the timing was always wrong. He wasn’t single, I wasn’t single, he was touring, I was busy… we kind of… were never on the same page, you know? We… our lives never managed to align.”

Slowly, Craig nodded.

“But this time, your lives are aligning?”

“Yeah! I mean… we’re both single, both staying in Ireland for more than a couple of weeks… we… we both want the same things.”

“And what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That ‘thing’. Whatever it is that you want, what is it?”

You struggled to swallow, looking for a lie, an answer, anything to say. And a weight fell on your chest as the earnest answer flashed before you, taking the shape of two hazel eyes, unruly curls, soft-spoken words and an infectious laugh…

You thought you wanted some revenge. To make Craig jealous, for him to regret leaving you… but the truth was, you had wanted another man all along. And you still couldn’t have him. It was only a game of pretence.

What a terrible idea, this whole fake-relationship scheme…

Craig took a step closer to you, bringing your bodies so close, as you looked up at him, he was but a breath away.

“What do you want? Why are you with him? Of all people, why Andrew, and why now? Do you want to know what I think about all this?”

You frowned at his tone, crossing your arms before your chest, a glare starting to cover your features.

“Oh, enlighten me!” you replied with challenge in your voice.

But Craig didn’t back down. He only leant closer.

“I think you’re trying to make me jealous. I think you’re not over us. I think that deep down, you still want me. And you turned to your best friend as a rebound. But you’ll be tired of him in a couple of months.”

You shook your head, but your ex still went on.

“Look, I know that what I did was horrible, okay? I… Samantha was a mistake… but we could still have this. You and I, we… we were great together.”

You scoffed, taking a step back, shaking your head some more in amazement. The guy had balls, you had to give him that, at least.

“A mistake you’re about to celebrate your first anniversary with…” you replied, tone acidic and bearing no regrets for it.

“Y/N…”

“No! I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, but you’re wrong, that’s for sure. I… you cheated on me! With my cousin! How could you possibly imagine that I would want to give you another chance?!”

He heaved a sigh, and you thought he would give in, but he didn’t, on the contrary. This was only the first round.

“So what? You’re bringing Andrew here and playing perfect couple just to get under my skin? To make me pay? To show me what I’ve lost?”

You looked for something to say, but couldn’t deny the plain truth.

“Because I already know what I’ve lost, okay?” Craig went on, tears shining in his eyes. “I know that. I don’t need you to pretend to be in love with someone else to see that.”

You let out a shaky breath. You could have walked away, but it felt good to let the truth out. A day spent telling nothing but lies, it was a relief to reveal the truth, even if it was but a fragment.

“You’re wrong. I love Andrew. In fact… I’ve loved him for years.”

He frowned at that, but you went on, a tear escaping your eyes that you didn’t even notice flowing down your cheek. You had been lying to yourself for a long time, pretending that all this made sense, that it was alright, that you were happy and content as Andrew’s friend. In truth, you were anything but happy, anything but content. And today, pretending to be his, pretending that he was yours… it only showed you more clearly that this was what you wanted. What you had always wanted. What you couldn’t have, perhaps, but what you needed.

It was a confession spoken to Craig, but made for you.

“I’ve been in love with Andrew for years. I’ve had relationships because… I wanted to forget him. Thought I could. Thought it was nothing but an infatuation, then nothing but a crush, and then nothing but a meaningless unrequited love that I would get over quickly. But the truth is, you were the band-aid, Craig. And he’s the one I’ve always wanted. And you know what? You’re right. Coming here with Andy today I… I wanted to come with him because I didn’t want to have to face you and Samantha on my own. Didn’t want to have to bear everybody’s stares and pity thinking I was the poor victim of a tragedy… And I wanted you to see that I was fine without you. That I deserved better than the way you treated me. That I… That I was worth keeping, and loving. But I… at the end of the day, if this afternoon has shown me anything, it’s that I don’t need you. I don’t want you. And I don’t give two fucks about you and Samantha. So… let’s be cordial, as we must, as you’re still part of the family for as long as you’ll be dating my cousin, but… I’m over you, Craig. I’m over all of this. And if there is one thing I want in this world, it’s Andy.”

Before Craig could say anything, before you could even process his reaction, you were storming out of the room. Or at least, you tried to. Because you had taken but a couple of steps towards the door, when Craig held you back, holding onto your wrist.

“Really? Is that how you feel?” he asked, clearly hurt, but also unmistakably angry. “I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you. You and Andy? I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. You’re faking it. You’re lying now and for what? To hurt me?”

You didn’t say anything, instead, you merely broke free. Walked out of the kitchen, angry and annoyed and not thinking straight but with a decision taken anyway…

“Andy?”

When you looked around, he wasn’t on the sofa anymore.

“Yes?”

You turned around again. He was right there, by the table, wet napkins in hand, as he had clearly been helping cleaning up the mess your ex had made, standing not too far from the door to the kitchen, your mother by his side while everyone was turning towards you.

He frowned slightly as you hurried towards him, making a bee line to reach him, not caring that everyone was staring at the two of you. Instead, you didn’t think, forgot about the world, focused your attention on Andrew and his unruly curls and the confusion in his hazel eyes, and the way his lips slightly parted as you approached. And then, you took his face in your hands, pulled him down and rose to your tiptoes to meet him halfway, and you kissed him.

You crashed your lips against his, nothing graceful in the gesture, but desperation pouring from every inch of you. You were taken aback though, by the quiet huff he let out, your brain finally kicking in again, and thinking that this was crazy, a terrible idea, and more than anything else, highly inappropriate…

… but Andrew quickly recovered from the initial shock, and before you could pull away and profusely apologise, he had dropped the napkins that hit the floor in a thud, and his arms were wrapping around your frame, pulling you to him. You felt his eyelashes brushing your skin as he closed his eyes, leaning into your kiss, moving his lips over yours to compliment your own movements. And if he was more graceful about it, softer than your rushed gesture, he poured such passion into the kiss that your knees grew weak, and you rested your weight on him, leaning into his chest.

It was over too soon, though, interrupted by the sound of someone – probably one of your parents, or your pain of an uncle – clearing their throat. Andrew was the one pulling away, clearing his throat as well as he took a step back, although one of his hands remained at your waist.

He was blushing when you opened your eyes. And you suddenly wanted to leave. To just go and disappear and pretend like you had not broken the best friendship you had ever had and that the man you loved would not hate you from now on for kissing him like that and that you had not humiliated yourself in front of your entire family…

But as you were about to speak, Craig was hissing from somewhere behind Andrew, making him turn around. Before his attention was pulled away from you, you noted the way Andrew was looking at you. Intensely, a little stunned too, like he wasn’t sure that it had happened, that you had truly kissed him, and yet, like he was searching for answers in your eyes…

But then he turned to face Craig. He had barely turned towards him, though, that your ex was grabbing Andrew by the collar, and pushing him against the nearest wall, Andrew’s hand leaving its resting spot on your hip in the process.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Craig shouted, the whole room too stunned to react while Andrew’s back collided with the wall, a hollow sound ensuing and making a couple of framed pictures shake with the strength of the impact.

“Get off me!” Andrew merely replied through his teeth, struggling to break free, but fighting had never been his strong suit…

“You fucking BASTARD!”

“Craig!”

The first people were finally reacting, hurrying to pull your ex away, but he kept them at bay, trying to keep on pushing Andrew against the wall.

“You were just waiting for your turn, you son of bitch! Dickhead! You were just waiting to get a chance to fuck that bitch!”

Andrew’s expression hardened, and this time, when he reached for Craig, it wasn’t to pull at his hands, but to grab the collar of your ex’s shirt and violently pull as well.

“Don’t you fucking dare insult her like that!” he growled, with such anger and threat, a tone you had never heard on his voice before.

“Both of you, stop!” your father ordered.

“Stop this! What are you doing?” you added, tugging at both their arms, but none of them seemed to care.

Instead, Craig went on, pushing on all of Andrew’s buttons…

“I can’t believe she did run straight into your bed like a whore…”

Before anyone could react, Andrew was pushing Craig away with so much force that he stumbled backwards and fell down.

For a second time, the whole room was too stunned to react, while Craig staggered back to his feet. Andrew moved away from the wall, and as your ex stood straighter again he was glaring at him, jaw tightly clenched. You had never seen so much wrath on his features before.

But it wasn’t over. Craig threw Andrew only one look before he was bending over and running to him, tackling him and making him fall back easily. You gasped at the loud sound of Andy’s head hitting the tiles.

Too stunned to move, Andrew didn’t even try to avoid Craig’s punch, and he got hit straight across the jaw. Thankfully, hands were then pulling Craig off of Andrew. You didn’t care though. You didn’t pay attention to your father and one of your aunts pushing Craig into the kitchen while shouting at him. You didn’t notice your cousin hurrying to join him, clearly worried. All you could do was to fall on your knees by Andrew’s side, holding onto his shoulders and gently shaking him while he blinked, clearly disoriented.

“Andy! Andy, you’re okay? Can you hear me?” you asked in a rush.

His unfocused gaze finally found you, and he blinked some more. You thought he was about to faint.

“Andy! Stay with me! Are you alright?”

Your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks. He took hold on your right wrist, touch firm and yet gentle still.

“Y/N…”

“You’re okay? Andy?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re sure? How’s your head? Do you feel dizzy?”

“A little bit. I’m okay though.”

“Really?”

Slowly, he nodded. Your mother appeared by your side, asked Andrew how he felt as well. His answer was to slowly sit up. He looked exhausted, all of a sudden, paler than usual, but there was no cut across the back of his head, merely the beginning of a bump.

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

You helped him to his feet, your mother checking that he was unharmed too.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologised, but your mother was quick to dismiss it all with a wave of her hand.

“It’s not your fault, dear. Let’s seat you down on the sofa for a moment.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine.”

Samantha walked out of the kitchen, crying, and you wondered why. Or actually, you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to stay for a minute longer in the same room as either her or Craig.

“Actually, I think we should go,” you interjected, and Andrew nodded.

“No, please… Craig is going to be kicked out, don’t worry about him,” your mother argued.

“No, really, I… I want to go home. Please, I want to go home.”

You were on the verge of tears, and so you turned towards the hallway, followed by your mother’s protests, along with some of your other relatives’ kind words. But you wanted to run now, disappear and leave all of them behind. You were tired of being looked at… you needed to be on your own for a while.

Meanwhile, Andrew was remaining silent. He only spoke to apologise once again to your family, clearly ashamed. You left before Craig could be let out of the kitchen, and were close to running to your car.

You climbed in, Andrew following suit in the passenger seat. You drove on, heading for home. You should have taken Andrew to his house, but you didn’t even think about it. The thought never came. You simply headed home, and Andrew didn’t protest, even though he obviously recognized the road you were taking.

Only when you arrived before your building did you realise that Andrew was still here, the ride had been filled with nothing but silence.

“You should come in, I’ll take a look at your jaw.”

Indeed, a bruise was forming under his beard, colouring the sharp angle of his face with yellowish hues.

“It’s nothing. Nothing broken.”

“Please, come in. Please…”

You stared at each other for a moment, but he yielded, nodding, at long last. You waited for him to climb out of your small car, and he held on the door before closing it, wincing as he unfolded his tall frame.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just… a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“You need to go to the hospital?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it was just a punch.”

“And a hit on the head.”

“Thick skull. Don’t you know that already?”

You both chuckled, while Andrew followed you inside your home.

You rid yourself of your shoes and coat, aiming straight for the freezer to get a bag of frozen vegetables there. Andrew was by your side, leaning against the kitchen counter. He didn’t protest when you gently rested the cold bag against his jaw, merely winced at the sharp sensation.

“Thanks,” he breathed, staring right into your eyes.

But you didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, your world got blurred by tears.

“You… are you angry?”

But Andrew shook his head.

“No. No, I’m not angry.”

“You should be.”

“Probably.”

“You… you had to lie all day long because of me, and then I kissed you without your permission and you probably hated that, and then you punched Craig, and you got punched in the face… all because of me. I’m a lousy friend.”

“The worst,” he corrected you, but there was a tender smile on his lips.

“You should be angry.”

“I’m not.”

“You should hate me.”

“I don’t. And I…”

A pause. He seemed out of breath for a second, wetted his lips, before he went on.

“I liked it, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your kiss. I… I didn’t hate it. I liked it. A lot.”

Your eyes merely grew round, and Andrew looked away, averting his eyes. He heaved a painful sigh.

“I told you this would be a terrible idea,” he pointed out.

“I know.”

“And you didn’t listen.”

“I know.”

“And now… what are we going to do now?”

You had no answer to give, you were plagued by this same question yourself.

A moment of silence, suspended in mid-air. Outside, the quiet of cars passing by and the wind flowing through branches and pushing clouds around. Inside, the cold of the bag making your fingers ache, a welcomed burn to distract your busy mind, while Andrew was taking a sharp inhale.

“I heard you, you know?”

His voice was quiet, low and deeper than usual. He blinked, focusing on you again, trapping you into these hazel orbs you adored.

“When you talked to Craig, in the kitchen. I heard you. I was right behind the door.”

“That’s creepy,” you tried to deflect the impact of that revelation with humour, speaking the silliest thing you could have uttered. It still made Andrew break, laughing despite his best effort not to.

“I was sent to put the napkins away. But then… I heard you. Didn’t interrupt. Wanted to know what you would say.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, the ghost of a frown forming a crease across his brow.

“Did you mean any of that? Or was that just… one more lie?”

The bag of vegetables slipped from the hold of your numb fingers and fell, but Andrew stopped you as you reached for it, holding your face in his hands to force you to look at him.

“Did you mean what you said? About me? About us?”

“What does it matter?”

He knitted his brows, tightening his hold on you. You noticed the way his breathing stuttered, grew shallower.

“What does it matter?” he repeated. “Are you serious?”

“You don’t feel that for me. So… what does it matter?”

He let out a shaky breath, almost a sigh.

“Why did you kiss me like that, though?” you asked, tears shining in your eyes but you were determined not to let them fall. Your tone was almost bitter as you questioned him. “On the couch. You kissed my cheek… God, that was so much more than what it should have been…”

He blinked, trying to read behind your words for their true meaning. He didn’t find it, reached in the dark and his hand closed on nothing.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I just… I didn’t mean to.”

“Why did you kiss me like that? That was so out of line…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“Why did you do that?”

Slowly, he shook his head. He looked almost stunned by your question.

“You really don’t know?”

He leaned back against the counter, and pulled you with him, until your faces were so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“You really don’t know?” he asked again.

“I don’t know…”

“Did you mean it? When you said… when you said that you wanted me. Did you mean it?”

“I said a bit more than that…”

“I’m not foolish enough to hope for the rest to be true as well, I’ll settle for a ‘I vaguely like you’.”

It was your turn to chuckle even if you didn’t want to.

“If I answer earnestly, you’re going to hate me for wanting more and breaking our friendship.”

He shook his head, leaning closer, until his forehead rested upon yours. At long last, you reached up, holding on his forearms for support, and to make sure he wouldn’t go away…

You heard him wincing as he spoke, heard it in the way his voice was shaking. You had closed your eyes, and so had he.

“Let’s be honest with each other. Please… I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of denying the way I feel for you, or what I want when it comes to you, I’m tired… I’m tired of letting you slip away. So, please. Please be honest with me. I can’t keep on holding onto some mad hope. I can’t keep on pretending that I don’t… That I…”

He struggled to breathe for a moment, you tightened your hold on his arms but remained there, eyes closed, leaning against him.

“I kissed you like that because… because I wanted to. Because I let myself slip into yielding. Because I couldn’t help it. Because… because it hurt so fucking much to hold you like this, to be close to you in this way, to act the way I have longed for for years under some pretence, under a mask, as a lie… when it wasn’t a lie. When I… I wish it wasn’t a lie. I wish it could be for real.”

He sighed, long and painful and full of hurt, and you reached up to kiss him before he could say anything else.

If your first kiss at your parents’ house had been passionate and quite messy because of it, this one was slow, taking its time to learn each other’s taste and lips and mouth. You had no idea for how long you kissed, all you knew was that, while it lasted, there was nothing else in the world but Andrew kissing you; and that when it ended, you longed for it to start again.

“I meant it,” you whispered, bearing your soul in a confession that was so raw you couldn’t summon anything but a murmur, eyes still closed and lips barely parted from his. “What I told Craig, I meant it. I mean it. I want you… And this whole day has been torture for me too.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t either…”

“I almost said it a thousand times. Never had the courage.”

“Please… have it now, and kiss me again.”

He obliged, without protest or hesitation. You were lost in his embrace all over again, and rested your head against his chest when you eventually pulled away.

“So… what now?” you asked, voice muffled by his cardigan.

“We could go on a date.”

“I want to be wined and dined, just so you know,” you joked, making him chuckle.

“Duly noted. Anything else, for her ladyship?”

“I don’t know… I’m… I’m so fucking scared, to be honest.”

“Because everything is going to change?”

“Because it might not work out. Because… you might leave me, and I might give up and a thousand things can go wrong, and…”

But he softly shushed you, running his hand through your hair.

"Look, I… I’m not going to pretend that I’m not scared to bits by this. I feel like we have so much to lose. But I… I want you so badly. I want you so much, I’m ready to take the risk. We can take things slow, we don’t have to rush through this. I just… I feel like I'm truly myself when I'm with you. I want to be myself when I'm with you. So now, if you're scared, don't call it love yet. But whatever you want to call it, it's incredible, and I'm not going to give up on this. I'm not going to give up on us. I can promise you that, at least. That I’m ready to fight for this, for you.”

He was surprised by your chuckle.

“You’ve fought already. If you can call it a fight…”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean… he was about to seriously kick my arse but I did have a few seconds of manly glory there.”

You both laughed at that, the tension receding as a result.

“Perhaps, at the end of the day, that plan of mine wasn’t so bad,” you joked, making Andrew laugh harder, shaking his head.

“It was definitely a terrible idea. The worst idea you’ve ever had. Look at all the trouble it has caused!”

“Are you calling me trouble?”

“Of the worst kind.”

You were happy about this kind of trouble though, as Andrew was leaning down to kiss you once more, holding you close, unwilling to ever let go.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x yn #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #hozier oneshot #oneshot

370 notes · View notes

kobb4ni2 · 3 months

Note

Honestly, would love to see One Piece characters simping for Serpent reader, bc I am too LMAOOO I love this character OR like, Serpent reader dropping some insane lore randomly and everyone's like "ayoo what the-"

[ FEM READER! ]

TW: Mild suggestiveness, kidnapping and blackmailing

IM SO HAPPY THAT PEOPLE ARE LIKING SEA SERPENT! READER YOUR ASKS ALWAYS MAKES ME SO HAPPY YUPPIE XD XD

Since Sea Serpent! Reader is practically hundreds of even thousand of years old, she has a lot of information, but not a lot a lot (I want Sea Serpent! Reader not to be that powerful/knowledgeable) I mean Sea Serpent! Reader only traveled the whole world ONCE before she went to hibernation.

BUT Sea Serpent! Reader lived during the viod century with Joyboy so that alone makes her an enemy or a top secret to the World Government, that’s why she’s under deep surveillance at the Marine base, Imu-sama and the Gorosei would visit her at her costumized room, remember Shirahoshi’s room? Yea that but much more bigger.

The Gorosei knows that Sea Serpent! Reader has a chokehold on them and so with that the Gorosei managed to keep Sea Serpent! Reader on a leash by blackmailing her, they know how strong Sea Serpent! Reader is so the best they can struck upon is her heart for those she saved they will use anything especially a buster call.

With those scenario in hand, the higher Marines would be the only ones she could see, which makes the Marine have more obsessive levels because of how much time they spend with her.

Akainu always reminding Sea Serpent! Reader that she’s on a leash and if she ever tries to do something funny the buster call is ready to be rung. Akainu doesn’t even need to kidnap her, she’s already kidnapped because of the higher ups.

Aokiji before, would also visit you, he’d try his best to warm up on him, but underneath that calming attitude he has, a deep desire to keep you and make you ONLY dependent on him, can really escape with your tail is covered in ice, you’d be much more easier to freeze for how much water you need because of you natural habitat. But after he left the Marines, the whole world already knows about he which pisses him, and the way that the whole Blackbeard crew wants you on their crew in every drunken conversation makes him break the glass that he was holding, his captain is even worst Teach would ask details about you, and when he has to answer it, he would see the dark intent in Teach’s eyes.

Kizaru in the other hand, is somehow like Aokiji, he is very lax indeed but he also needs you to be his, he would visit you almost daily, if he’s in a mission he’d call you, that’s why he’s always late to meetings because of how much time passes when he’s with you, Kizaru too is ruthless he would try to see if you can also get hurt by his light. Kizaru is a complicated one to read so you would never see what he would say or do whenever he calls or visit you at your room aka prison cell.

Fujitora knows how he’s the only Marine you trust, he doesn’t care if it’s because of pity or what but he loves it, he knows how bad being greedy is and he knew first hand, he saw many people full of greed, those people are one of the many reason why he blinded himself, but he can’t help it, he can’t help but be infatuated by you, your voice, smell, touch alone makes him want to be with you even longer, if he can turn back to time, he would met you first then blind himself so the last thing he would ever see is you on your glory.

Lucci is very much like Akainu, he would remind you how much people they could end if you ever slip one unwanted information out your lips, the lips that Lucci desperate wants to be bruised by his rough lips, he want your hand to soft touch his whole his tattered one tremble with pleasure while he’s underneath you…

Kaku is the same coin with Lucci, he’s was not born like an assassin like Lucci but grew up to be like one, he always make bullshit excuse to visit you and he knows that you always have your guard up when it comes to CP0 and that’s where his sweet talking goes into play, he’s always play like he had no other choice but be an assassin and those cruel oh days when he had nothing to eat because of Lucci being better when it comes to a competition. Kaku just needs comfort from you so why not hug him? Just ignore that he’s in a complete love struck when he gets a sniff of your fair [colored] skin.

Oh how much you make the top dogs of the Marine putty and yearning for you…

LOOK AT MY TIKTOK MUTUAL EDIT YALL🔥🔥

#I gotta show yall that I’m indeed a Yandere blog 😭😭#x reader #one piece #yandere #yandere x reader #one piece x reader #yandere one piece #yandere op #yandere one piece x reader #sea serpent! reader #Yandere Sakazuki akainu #Yandere Issho Fujitora #Yandere rob lucci #Yandere Kaku #Yandere Kizaru Borsalino #Yandere Aokiji Kuzan #cat is me when it comes to tall ask (grinding)

150 notes · View notes

enderpearlll · 1 year

Text

Yandere! Bob Velseb - My Favourite Employee. PT 1

An AU where you’re employed at Grills & Boys and Bob is your boss. That’s it. These are headcanons and I’m writing a second part with more yandere tendencies so… Yeah. Hope you enjoy.

Gender-Neutral reader, but pet names such as “darling” and “sweet pea” are used.

TW/CW: Yandere content, boss/employee dynamic, etc…

• Having recently been let go from a previous job, it was up to you to quickly find another so you could pay the bills. Luckily, you found a local restaurant that was willing to hire as quickly as you applied. It had a fair pay, and decent hours so you decided that working at Grills & Boys would be beneficial.

• When you went in for the interview, you had to talk to the manager; who was pretty well known around town. You were anxious about the whole thing, seeing as you never had much experience in food service. But your new manager Bob Velseb was awfully understanding of your situation, and was kind enough to hear you out.

• Bob was a joy to be around, and he didn’t make you feel pressured at all! He had a southern accent and a hearty laugh which only added to his charming personality, which immediately knocked down any worries you had. Bob was also oddly attentive to your every move, a weird look in his eyes when you would fidget or talk. It’s like he was staring into your soul…

“Thanks, Mr. Velseb—“ “Of course, don’t worry ‘bout anything! And you can call me Bob, no need for formalities.” “O—Oh, okay… Bob.”

• But you ignored it, and thus began training at Grills & Boys. Your new boss Bob was really involved in the process, (even though he would usually rely on another employee to train the new hires) and would be eager to answer any of your questions with a smile. Any mistakes you made were quickly taken care of or swept under the rug by Bob, who constantly reassured you that it was no big deal.

• You were a server, so you spent most of your time helping customers and taking orders. Most of the time you had decent customers, but of course there was certain people that were straight up assholes. Of course Bob wouldn’t let any mistreatment of you slide, and would immediately come to your aide. He would not let you deal with an angry customer if he had anything to say about it.

• He may be a friendly guy but man, when he’s angry it’s a sight to see. You’ve never been on the receiving end of it but you have witnessed unlucky coworkers or angry customers that tried to insult you deal with it. Of course, when everything is done and said Bob is immediately worrying about your well-being. He reassures that he’s not angry at you at all, and is constantly asking if you’re alright.

“I think he was just having a bad day boss, I don’t think that a permanent ban was necessary—“ “Nuh uh, he deserved it either way darlin’. Never really liked him anyways, hah!” “But he was a regular!” “Don’t worry about it pumpkin, how are you doin’? He didn’t hurt ya did he?”

• You quickly realize that you have a lot of privileges that none of your coworkers have. Aka, favouritism at its finest. Bob is constantly joking around with you, making you your favourite food from the menu for lunch everyday, letting you take longer breaks, acts more lax if you make mistakes, letting you take leftovers home, etc… Did you mention the pet names? He calls everyone else by name but you don’t think he’s said your name once.

• Bob feeds you a lot. Like a lot. “Ah, I think I’m good Boss.” “No worries sweet pea, just take ‘em! Don’t want you going hungry on me, okay?”

• It’s surprising to both you and your coworkers. Because to them, Bob had never really gotten close to anyone besides you. To you, a feeling of guilt is constant when you’re pampered while your coworkers suffer with extra work to do (because Bob gives you a really light workload while your coworkers are left behind doing the work YOU were supposed to do).

• You begin to grow close to Bob, despite the writhing feeling of guilt in your guts. He even asks you to help out in the kitchen, to which your coworkers are floored at. “Woah, he NEVER has anyone help him cook! Are you dating or something—?” “NO! Also, What? I thought that was normal, he asks me to do that almost every week!”

• He loved telling you little facts (that were rather morbid, actually and creeped you out more than they interested you) and would pick up on little habits and quirks you had. Bob was really attentive when it came to you, and from this he’s able to tell what you’re thinking or feeling. You’re amazed at first, it’s like he can read your mind. Bob also liked to tease you a lot, just to fluster you.

• It gets to a point where Bob begins to worry about your safety and well-being outside of work. He begins to call you outside of work, often to check up on you. “Hello, Bob? What’s up? Do I have to come in or—?” “Oh, no! I just wanted to check up on you dear! Did you eat yet?”

• Bob begins to crave your presence more than he should, and as a result you receive more hours. More hours than you could handle. You barely do your actual job and end up hanging out in the kitchen with Bob or run errands for him. It’s like he’s distracting you from doing your own job. You work from opening till closing for most of the week, and it takes a toll on your schedule and your personal life.

• Bob is far too nice to decline, and even if you did call in sick or give away your shifts he’d just keep calling you nonstop. You’re stressed with how much hours you have to work, and you always work opening and closing alone with Bob. He’s nice and really easy to work with, but you rarely see your other coworkers anymore.

“Hello? You okay darlin’?! You ain’t hurt or sick ain’t ya!?” “Bob. It’s eight in the morning.” I know, but you were supposed to be here with me, sweet pea...” “Oh, um… I gave my shift to someone else.” “Oh. Okay. Anyways, you sure that you’re okay—?” “Boss.”

• One night when you and Bob were closing he had offered to walk you home, seeing as it was late and all. You were rather reluctant to do so, seeing as he was your boss and you were perfectly capable of making it home safely. But Bob was persistent, and you couldn’t really decline him when the concern on his face was so convincing. You had a friendly conversation, which was mostly Bob prying into your personal life.

• Now, your boss had been oddly sparing with physical affection. He would often place a hand on your back, wrap an arm around your shoulders, etc… It was odd. Now that it was a chilly autumn night and you were visibly freezing, Bob took initiative to help you by offering his coat.

• It was oversized and was practically a cape, but you took it anyways. But the look on his face when you shrugged it on was almost creepy. You watched his eyes light up, and his whole body began to tremble and shake (you’re pretty sure it’s not because of the cold,) with excitement— Was he drooling?!

• Eventually you arrived at home, waving at Bob with an awkward smile on your face. He seemed to glow with glee as you smiled at him, waving back vigorously. As you took off your jacket and shoes, you felt a pit of dread in your stomach. You feel like you’ve made a grave mistake… Ah shit, you forgot to give Bob’s coat back too. Oh well, you’ll deal with everything tomorrow, you’re probably just worried because of stress… Right?

#yandere blog #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere writing #yandere x you #yandere bob velseb #yandere spooky month #bob velseb x reader #bob velseb #spooky month x reader #spooky month #yandere #my favourite employee

2K notes · View notes

jhuzen · 10 months

Note

Will there be a part 2 of the "Attention" fic?

infidelity [gn/m.reader]

the answer to that is a solid yes AND a big apology for taking a hundred years to post this. this ask has been in my inbox for freaking months. and it’s mostly because i have been remaking this fic until i got the most satisfying fic LMAO. i’m sorry for taking so long 😭 i hope this is compensation enough. btw this part 2 to this! but honestly, you don’t have to read it lmao.

𖦹 crack taken seriously, hsr mention but this is mostly genshin, this is just a fic of me making fun of cheaters aka you, highly based on that one tweet of the “welcome home, cheater” one, pushing my grand overseer reader agenda like in my early fics teehee <3, sagau, sahsr au

“I should probably go back…”

Jing Yuan begged to differ. The general himself had his reservations about your sudden eagerness to depart. After all, you were a good company — one that amused him to the core and even kept him awake for the better part of the day. You are an interesting being to him after all — much after learning from the exuberant girl from the famed Astral Express suddenly emphasizing your importance when they left you under his supervision.

You, in much simpler words, are adorable in the Luofo general’s eyes. With eagerness and curiosity melding in those gaze of yours that could leave anyone transfixed — wanting and desperate.

You truly live up to the title as the grand overseer across worlds. You were the sole beholder of their sentience, despite the fact that right now, you’re barely aware of your status and your circumstance, it was more than enough for anyone go cherish your presence. How could they not? It was a blessing to see you descend from where you were, behind the great barrier that they all could only stare at when they looked to you for guidance.

Alas, that mattered little, not when you were beside the amused general and his coy smile, fingers raking through your hair; reminiscent of the pattern when he would do the same thing to Mimi when you visited his abode to meet the furry beauty that was his pet.

Quite frankly, you weren’t all too sure if this was something you were used to, being treated like an animal companion, with even the way Jing Yuan’s hand would suddenly roam behind your very human ears, scratching behind out of habit.

The only thing missing was him giving your food to you in a bowl, actually, and you’d be no different than Mimi at that point. Wait. No. You were sure Jing Yuan’s lion also ate out of a golden encrusted plate when you saw his hired caretakers come and feed Mimi.

“Bark for me, won’t you?” The general teased with a purr and it was more than enough for you to pull the plug at your willing compliance.

You removed his hand from your head and only shot him a subtle glare, “That’s a request I can’t honor even if my life depended on it.” You sighed, “I should get going now though, General… I made a promise to help our conductor in sweeping the floors. Apparently Caelus tracked some dirt inside when he decided to lug some trash.”

“Must you really? You’re the grand overseer, no? I believe such a title deserves a limitless freedom in doing whatever it is that they wish,” he coaxed in a suave tone, quick to win anyone over. And honestly, that sounds nice. But you’ve never seen Pom-Pom look so stressed when you saw an unwilling March and Dan Heng drag some trash either wrapped in gold bags or regular black ones inside the express when they came back from Belobog.

You somehow regretted leaving first — but even you had urgent matters to attend to at that moment.

“Ah—!” The lax Jing Yuan jolted at your sudden outburst.

“…Anything troubling you, Grand Overseer?”

“T-Teyvat! I completely forgot…!” Your eyes were blown wide as the panic settled within you. You had promised Nahida you would make it to the Interdarshan championship. She was so excited when she communed with you just days ago, completely elated that even your beloved Wanderer would participate as a representative in a Darshan.

Albeit confused by your sudden squawking, Jing Yuan understood and only watched you pace around while you lamented what sounds to be a rehearsed apology that you will no doubt tell to someone you hold precious.

“How envious, to receive an apology from you even sounds like a great honor.” Jing Yuan teased with a chuckle. “Well then, off you go now. Don’t be away for too long. I rather enjoy our time together.”

“O-Oh, yes, of course… I truly apologize for cutting our time together short. Do give my regards to Fu Xuan and Yanqing if they drop by. I have to go and talk to the crew and also bid my goodbye for now.” You bowed before turning away, briskly walking your way towards the door outside of the general’s office, only to bump into Welt and March.

“Oh! There you are! Ya ready to go shopping?” March held an exuberant energy as she asked, clasping your hand in hers tightly with an excited gleam flashing through her eyes.

Welt, however, was far more observant than March, “Judging from that look in your eyes… you have some affairs you’ve forgotten to tend to, Your Benevolence. Would I be correct in my judgment?”

“It’d be a miracle for you to be wrong at this point,” you laughed amidst your panic. “But yes, unfortunately. March, I hope you don’t mind a little bit of postponement… I have somewhere to be urgently.”

March’s bottom lip stuck out into pleading pout, “But you promised!”

“March, let’s not force them. It is as they say — an urgent affair.” Welt only looked at you with a small nod and an encouraging smile, “Don’t be too worried. I’ll let Himeko and Dan Heng know of your absence. Just be safe.”

“I will definitely come back and visit.” Your smile and reassurance was enough to quell March’s disappointment and Welt’s initial concern. “Please tell Caelus not to track more dirt inside. It’ll only serve to frustrate Pom-Pom further.”

“It’s a useless attempt, but for you, I’ll try,” March winked as she waved to you with Welt.

With a nod to the two of them, you were off to Teyvat — lucky that you have little need for the Star Rail in the first place to travel. Otherwise, it would most certainly take you the entire conceivable time just before you could even come back to one of the many worlds that you oversaw and to a fault, even took care of from afar.

You stepped into the familiar grassy fields of Sumeru’s rainforest, looking up to see that the city isn’t too far off. There was a gentle breeze that blew by, almost like a kiss from a certain archon, but you paid little heed to it. You normally always took your time to appreciate the sights in Teyvat, finding its vast lands and many biomes incredibly fantastical in sight. But even that couldn’t keep you from the fact that you’ve broken several promises that you willingly made to some residents here.

You can only imagine the disappointment in everyone’s faces once you’ve admitted to the fact that… other people may have swept your attention away in the first place — hence your sudden absence.

You owed your first apology to Nahida. She is after all, one of your far more favored archons around, treating her like your own, definitely something that would make Rukkhadevata proud among every other archon out there. And then there’s also a matter of apologizing to your dear Aether, you made another promise to him that you would spend your time with him in Sumeru’s far end by the Realm of Farakhkert to meet the infamous Sorush and the majestic race of the Pari (you once made a claim that Aranara’s are superior, and your endeared traveler was reluctant in protesting to your words it seems).

Now that you thought about it — you were sure you made quite a lot of promises to the residents of Teyvat. A lot of commitments were hammered into your special sanctuary that Aether had built for and with you inside his teapot.

Commitments that you’ve forgotten in favor of space travels with a couple of trailblazers.

Onlookers turned to your direction, completely flabbergasted at your casual appearance. What were you doing in Sumeru city (not that they were ungrateful for your gracious presence) — but it was as if you were solely taking a stroll on your own. Where are your entourage? Was the Acting Grand Sage even informed of your arrival? What about the archons that always accompanied you? Where is Buer?

Best of all, why does your face contort into an expression of what seems to be utter guilt?

You hiked your way to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, refusing any help offered to you by the guards that were courteous enough. You were prepared to face Nahida’s crestfallen look — prepared to start indulging her wishes to make up for the tomfoolery you engaged in. The corners of your mouth trembled as it itched to finally spill out the plethora of apologies that you’ve prepared.

“Oh. So you exist after all.”

Only for your well-rehearsed (by the last minute) apologies to fall apart when the Wanderer’s voice rang from above. You looked up to see him perched on one of the ledges just above the door of Nahida’s residence. He was stationed like a watchful hawk — and he was, constantly on the prowl for anyone suspicious daring to come up to the sanctuary.

Suddenly, a memory of you promising him to go fishing by the coasts of Sumeru had you wincing. And with the way the puppet’s mouth turned up in a smug smirk showed that he was aware of an engagement you swore you’d do with him.

“Ah… I hear you go by Hat guy now?” You tilted your head, giving him a reluctant smile.

“Spare me the meaningless prying. Where have you been?” His eyes narrowed, suspicious and a tad bitter at your absence and incompetence in attending a tiny little leisure that you yourself insisted he join you on. Who the hell even creates plans first and suddenly flakes out? The Wanderer has never felt more betrayed, quite frankly.

You suddenly looked like a guilty spouse that came from a messy affair, with the way you shifted your footing and how you averted your gaze quick. The Wanderer was intolerant of such a behavior however when he finally came down from his little high up spot to face you with no escape. He will summon a void and trap you in it halfway if you so much as make an attempt to escape.

“I’ve been… away…”

“Were you now?” His scrutinizing gaze only served to intimidate you further when he came up close, his nimble fingers tracing against your clothing. “Whose is this?”

And before you, he held a familiar long strand of white hair — possibly acquired when the general of Luofo decided to frolic around with you, coaxing (or coercing, more like) you to give him a much deserved head massage for his hard work (though in truth, he barely did anything that day).

“…A cat.” Technically not a lie. Jing Yuan does exhibit certain behaviors that you can classify as a behavior that a feline has.

“Is it now?” His voice went an octave higher — clearly mocking you if his churlish grin wasn’t enough of a sign about his suspicions of you and your… agendas prior to your unprompted visit in Teyvat.

A terse silence engulfed you and your Wanderer before he flicked away the hair and dragged you inside Nahida’s sanctuary.

“She was disappointed that you were absent the entire Interdarshan event thing. Where in the abyss were you?” The puppet hissed, his grip on your wrist tightening. Somehow you found it far more comforting compared to the times where people would treat you like some fragile object that could break at any second.

What’s not comforting however, were his words. You couldn’t bear the thought of letting Nahida down, and now you’re faced with that very thought becoming a reality that you now have to get through just for the sake of your sanity.

You smiled a little despite seeing the Dendro Archon’s back turned while she minded her own business. There was always something comforting when wasting your hours away inside the sanctuary. Just having to teach Nahida from your old world knowledge about people, and to an extent even teaching the Wanderer with your wisdom that rarely pops out (according to him, with full intent to insult you). It’s not as daring as the time Venti decided to fling you up and catch you or Ei’s insistence on you eating your tenth dango during your walks.

For now however, you had one goal in mind — and that is to make amends with your favored archon and puppet.

Teyvat altogether created an unspoken rule to never ever doubt you — the Grand Overseer. You have a position that transcends even farther than the Primordial One, your eyes that gaze on many universes and worlds. You are the one that took care of the blooming life in each planet that teemed with it, thriving under your guidance.

There was a collective decision among all gods and mortals alike to never doubt your endeavors, much less your love for them. You care a lot about them, and based solely on your constant descent towards their world, it seems as though above all other worlds, you favored them. They were the proof of your benevolence, granting the residents your presence while you walked among them.

Right. That was the case that everyone agreed upon.

However, there was an underlying layer of unease. Heaven forbid may it be doubt; they could never! But perhaps… a tiny bit of uncertainty in the layer of cautiousness as the residents watched you with adoration.

It first started with the wrong names.

When Albedo, Sucrose, and Timaeus wholeheartedly welcomed your help when you visited Dragonspine with Klee. Jean was far too busy with her work and while she wished to, could not have time to bask in your presence after the announcement of your sudden arrival. In turn, you only assured her and relieved her of her added duty in watching over Klee.

Klee was the one to visit big brother Albedo, to surprise him that you were finally back. And you complied. Dragonspine is an extension of Mondstadt, and you had plans to check up on every single resident of the nation.

Suffice to say, you were quickly hooked up in a chair, pulse detectors attached to your temples while you watched Klee doodle away on the floor. For a respected overseer, you certainly were a people pleaser, letting Albedo scan you out of his own volition (Sucrose was fussing the entire time, she didn’t want you to be hurt in the process, after all!).

“Look Grand Overseer! This is you and me and Dodoco!” Your vision was quickly filled with a flurry of bright colors on paper, one that was filled with an abundant amount of red and the other with the colors of your clothing.

“Ah! So it is! Good job, Hook!”

Everyone in silence soon tore themselves away from their work, looking at you with evident confusion.

Klee blinked, tilting her head as she looked just as lost and surprised as the other three researchers in the mountain, “Hook? That’s not how you say Klee…”

Your heart hammered against your ribcage and tried to save it with a cough, “D-Did I now? Ah, my bad… I meant to say was that you… did a great job! It immediately hooked me in!” It was a half-baked excuse — hell, call it a raw excuse even and everyone aside from Klee caught on as the explosive child beamed with pride, just happy that you loved her heartfelt creation.

Albedo eyed you in suspicion before returning to his work.

Then there was your misplaced reminiscence.

In your defense however, Snezhnaya does feel like Belobog. Sometimes… most definitely not because of the fact that both places are constantly subjected in a thick layer of snow.

The Tsaritsa was all but cruel to you. She loved you like any other archon out there and always basked in your presence — even keeping you for herself a week or two longer, leaving the next nation in your rotation of visitation completely restless at your tardiness. However in her gentle kindness was a terrifying beast that laid dormant.

Only then did you catch a glimpse of it on the morning that you and her spent on your appointed room in the palace, both you and the Cryo Archon siting on the balcony while you sipped on a hot beverage, enjoying the mountainous coated in freshly fallen snow.

You sat your cup down and blew on your hands. The Tsaritsa laughed at your actions, pleased that you can truly feel the love she embodied through the cold winds of her icy nation.

“Cold enough for you, Grand Overseer?” She jested with a light tone.

“…Yep…” your teeth lightly chattered. “…T-This place is a lot c-colder than Belobog, I’ll tell you that… B-But not more than Jarilo-VI as a whole…”

All of a sudden, you could feel the creeping coldness from beside you and looked to where the archon sat, her striking eyes looking at you with curiosity… with a smidge of coldness behind them.

“Pardon? Not colder than where?”

Her tone was pressed despite her sweet adoring smile. She took pride in her sovereign kingdom of cryo. It was all for you, to feel the comforting cold after you spent your last stay with Murata in Natlan. This was her giving you love, and suddenly, it wasn’t enough?

The better part of your mind decided to feign ignorance. And you lived to see another day.

And then the sudden secrecy.

By all means, of all people, Zhongli indulged in your stories the most. Whenever you visited Liyue, you were almost always found beside him if Ningguang wasn’t asking for your presence or if you weren’t getting coerced into another drinking competition with Beidou and her crew. And in this case, you were preoccupied with a little something while you accompanied Zhongli in his usual spot.

He listened earnestly to the storyteller while you busied yourself writing a little something on a parchment you had acquired from the Wangsheng parlor when you fetched Zhongli for his break.

And ever so slightly, he’d find himself glancing at your hunched over form, while you stewed in your little activity. He didn’t particularly mind the lack of conversation from you. Having you beside him was more than enough, actually. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to have him be just as engaged in your little agenda, would it?

The former archon peered at your work, only to be faced with scripts that were oddly reminiscent of Liyue’s characters. Albeit there were significant changes that made the language still all too different from his nation.

“…Might you be translating ancient texts, Grand Overseer?” He inquired and was met by a suspicious jolt from you.

It was a text Dan Heng gave you before to practice the language used in the Xianzhou fleet. Only now did you have time to do his little practices upon your descent. You had plans to check up on everyone as soon as you were done in Teyvat, and perhaps impressing Yanqing with your language prowess was a good party trick (and eventually not get bullied into eating something spicy because of your ignorance).

“Ah! N-No—! I— yes. No.”

Zhongli tilted his head and you were quick to recall your flubbed answer, shoving away the parchment into your little pocket. There was a frantic look in your eyes and Zhongli was concerned, naturally.

You used to be so willing in divulging everything to him in exchange for his stories, with the both of you managing to talk from dusk to dawn without fail with him needing little to no sleep and the time dilation that your body couldn’t seem to adjust to. You weren’t afraid to share what you were preoccupied with, and even often let him experience new things from your own world.

So why are you keeping secrets now?

But perhaps, the breaking point was your standoffish nature.

Aether has always cherished his raw connection with you and was proud to wear his closeness to your divinity, not because of infamy, but because of how incredibly special you treat him. While, certainly, you have made the people of Teyvat special on your visits, but what sets him apart from the rest is your adamant expression of affection towards him. For some reason, he was favored alone, not as a part of a collective unlike Venti and his people, or Zhongli and his. He alone was yours to indulge, even more behind closed doors in his teapot realm.

However… something was off after your abrupt visit.

Something had changed when you came home.

You were far more distracted, occupied with that tiny device you always held in your hand. Suddenly, Paimon wasn’t the loudest one in the teapot mansion with the incessant beeping that your phone made. It never did that before, it was always tucked away somewhere, sometimes even letting him place it in his inventory if there was little time to go back into the teapot.

He had always deemed your mode of communication useless. Especially on your travels. It was always so silent, like a useless artifact that you keep on you.

But suddenly it was teeming with life, buzzing endlessly that could drive any man with weak resistance into the threshold of insanity. You’d often pick it up and grant the little device a heavenly smile and proceed to be on it for hours upon hours.

It was a heartbreaking time for him.

It was heartbreaking whenever he would peer at your device, only for you to keep him in the dark as you made some lame excuse.

It was heartbreaking whenever he could no longer recognize your words when you talked about your own anecdotes, throwing name after name at him while he listened intently.

And oh was it heartbreaking when you called him by the name of someone else.

“[Name], have you seen my earring?” He took pride in his informality with you showing your comfortability and familiarity with the renowned traveler.

“Over on the table, Cae— ther… Caether… Aether.”

Not so much with that tiny slip.

Yes. Perhaps that was it. And all the preceding reasons.

Perhaps it was why you sat like a condemned criminal in the court of Focalors, as every archon looked at you with scrutiny and skepticism in their eyes. Only sweet Nahida looked at you in concern. Ah, your poor child. You’d rather her look away than experience the possible punishment you were about to receive.

“Grand Overseer, make no mistake, this is a trial born from the accumulated concerns of us all. This is a trial born… from our love.” The hydro archon’s voice bellowed through the courts. She normally wasn’t one to personally try the defendants, however you were a special circumstance.

You always were.

…Sure doesn’t feel like it…

“M-May I at least know what my charges are…?”

“Infidelity, Grand Overseer.” Ei answered for the collective. “I can only hope you are not found guilty.”

You grimaced. You’re quite glad that this was a private trial, with only the archons, retired or otherwise, gazing at you. Make no mistake however — this was an intimidating position to be in. You may be the Grand Overseer, but you’re quite sure the only thing keeping you alive is their thinly veiled fanaticism and adoration for you. Otherwise, you would have been incinerated long ago.

It might have been your luck. But it was something you would wholeheartedly thank as the moment Focalors slammed her gavel down, the horrifying screech of something you can only classify as a hideous ally pulled you out of your impending doom.

The alarm on your phone rang incessantly, a glaring reminder of your subpar and mundane reality, waking you up from a dream that you could barely remember.

You shot up, only realizing you fell asleep in front of your own computer. You looked up to see your game open, with your beloved traveler gazing down at you with a disappointed frown on his face.

You chalked it up to your awful sleep and rubbed your eyes, closing the game and migrating to the other, where your in-game phone was filled to the brim with messages.

Smothering a yawn in your hand, you can only shake your head.

“My games have been really weird lately. I should probably leave them alone for now. Maybe have fun with Elysia and the girls.” You muttered to yourself but not before powering your computer down.

Truly, your utter cluelessness is bound to drive everyone insane.

Fret not however, they will make it work. They will let you know of their sentience. They will make sure that you are aware of how much they admire you.

It’s only a matter of time until then.

#this is a feel good fic tbh LMAO #before i face my final exams #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x gn reader #honkai star rail x male reader #honkai star rail x gn reader #hsr x gn reader #hsr x male reader #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #sagau #sahsrau #sahsr

869 notes · View notes

sommerregenjuniluft · 4 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic december 14 - stare - 2127 words (i apologise)

aka the Hogwarts School charmed mistletoe predicament

The first time it happens it’s truly purely by accident.

Regulus is walking back from the library, exhausted and sleep sluggish. It’s certainly close to curfew again or else Ms. Pince wouldn’t have woken him where he’d fallen asleep over his 3 feet parchment of Potions essay.

He’s barely keeping his eyes open, cozily buried in an extra cloak, imbedded with a heating charm and books hugged closely to his chest when he rounds a corner and runs directly into something.

Someone, Regulus realizes, as deft arms wrap around him to keep them upright.

The collision had shook most of Regulus’ slumber out of him and they only stagger for another moment, bodies pressed together before Regulus is about to pull his wand and tell this unattentive, idiot berk of a human being what he thinks of people that can’t keep their fucking hands to themsel—

“Shit, sorry- I’m sorry, did I—” and oh, Regulus knows that voice. Would recognise that scent of broom polish, citrus, spice and boy anywhere. James’ atrocious mess of a hair is tickling Regulus’ temples and the older boy is speaking again before he’s even entirely reared back to blink him into focus. Just the three soft syllables of his name whispered against the shell of Regulus’ ear.

And only then does James Potter take a half step back and pull to his full height, beaming down at Regulus with his stupid dimpled grin and his stupid round glasses that rest always just a smidge crookedly on his big nose.

“Hi Regulus,” and fuck James, honestly. Fuck him and then fuck him some more for the way the words drip like molten honey from his tongue and send a shiver racing down Regulus’ spine.

That’s when Regulus notices James’ hands still being wound around his waist. “Potter,” he says pointedly with a look between them.

All it does though is make James’ eyes droop and his grin tug into a lopsided smirk.

Regulus rolls his eyes and sets onto just striding past James when he feels his feet eerily unable to move.

He looks down in confusion, tries again to shuffle his feet and take a step in any direction, unsuccessful.

When Regulus’ head snaps back up to scowl at James this one is regarding Regulus’ predicament with a lax jaw, lips parted.

“Unstick the bloody charm, James, before I hex your kneecaps away,” Regulus threatens, wand pointed at James’ broad chest. He’s only wearing a T-shirt, the nutter. It’s freezing!

James, in a very unimpressed manner, simply bats the wand away gently and then does something weird with his knees and hips, twisting and turning.

Regulus watches this foolery for about 15 seconds before he’s done with it. “What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re achieving here?”

“Shh.”

“Wha– Did you just shush me?” a humorless laugh tumbles out of Regulus. He might be a little sleep deprived. “Oh, you must be fucking joki—”

Regulus breaks off into an incredulous noise when James clamps a palm over Regulus mouth to shut him up as he tips his head back to stare at the ceiling.

The wood of his wand is searing in Regulus’ palm, itching him to use it but he can’t quite help himself when his gaze follows James’.

Above their heads are the usual wall torches, adorned by greenery and Christmas decorations in all kinds of forms and house colors. There’s a little bow of green silver and red and golden tull adorned in these particular fir twigs.

Though when Regulus blinks the adornment a little sharper into focus he realizes that they’re actually two.

The second one floating just shy of the sprigs wreath and oh, no.

Regulus recognises the white little berries. The dull, tear-shaped leaves where it floats right above their heads.

Oh, Merlin, please don’t let it be-

“A charmed mistletoe,” James confirms, voice husky.

Regulus’ eyes widen and when his chin drops down James’ chocolate brown eyes are already there, right in front of him. Bright and glinting a little in the flickering light before the skin around the corners crinkle in a sickeningly adorable way when he erupts into an enormous smile.

“No,” Regulus says, shaking his head. “No.”

James, the bastard, huffs a laugh, frame shaking with it. Completely at ease apparently.

“Regs,” James tries, tone placating.

“Nope, nah-uh– Non.”

“Resorting to French, are we?”

“Not in a million lifetimes, Potter.”

“Reg, love—”

“No, I- how would we even- fuck, merde. Je n’arrive pas à y croire—”

“Regulus.” Broad hands circling his waist again.

Regulus is momentarily startled into silence by the contact.

“It won’t let us move until we kiss in any form, I’ve seen it happen just this morning,” James says, voice low and honest. Before he adds in a grumble, “Made us late to Transfiguration third period when Sirius refused to let Remus give a Ravenclaw sixth year a little peck.”

Regulus is going to scream.

Instead, he punches James in his stomach with his free hand.

The older boy grunts, hand wrapping around Regulus’ wrist as if to confiscate it. “Easy there, now,” he presses out between gritted teeth, tone low and warning.

A frustrated noise rips from Regulus’ throat as he feels himself flush, boring a hole into the air above James’ shoulder with his eyes. Oh, this can’t be happening. Why must these things always happen to Regulus?

“What were you even doing down here?” Regulus asks, incredulously.

“Snack duty,” James shrugs—the way his pecs and shoulders are stretching the thin cotton is bordering on indecent, “Know a shortcut or two into the kitchens.”

He’s still holding onto Regulus’ wrist, now carefully caressing the pad of his thumb there in small circles that do little to slowen Regulus’ rabbiting heartbeat.

Regulus sighs explosively and then promptly raises their joined hands up to James’ face, his knuckles up.

“Here.”

“‘Here’ what?”

Regulus jabs his slack hand more pointedly in front of James’ nose.

James gives him a look that’s equally fond as it is patronizing, “That won’t do.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I saw,” James snarks back. “Remember, I told you? This morning. Pads throwing a tantrum. Jingle any bells?”

Regulus growls in the back of his throat, “Try anyways.”

And yeah, that was probably the wrong thing to say. A mistake.

Regulus swallows hard, wishes he would chew the words back. But it’s already too late.

“Oh?” James makes, a satisfied little smile on his lips. Momentarily digging his teeth into his lower one before he adjusts his hold around Regulus’ hand.

Fingers sliding down until their encircling his and his thumb brushing over the bony length of Regulus thin fingers there too.

His gaze unrelenting, unblinking as he lifts Regulus and gives him a small kiss on his knuckles. Chaste, unlingering but warm. Warm and so, so soft. Very pleasant.

With that thought Regulus immediately rips his hand back, flight kicking in. Although he doesn’t come very far when he realizes he’s still unable to move his feet.

Still stuck.

Regulus feels a vein throbbing in his forehead.

James sighs across from him. “It has to be somewhere on the face.”

Regulus balks.

James rolls his eyes. “C’mon Regs, the cheek? Isn’t that how French people greet each other anyways?” His brown eyes regard him a little pleadingly. Always so honest and eager and true.

“Fine,” Regulus presses out, absently biting on the inside of his lower lip. “Just the cheek.”

James nods, raising his hands to presumably pull Regulus’ closer.

Regulus bats them away with his books but before James can do more than raise his eyebrows impatiently he grumbles, “I’ll do it.”

James lips part around a silent oh and then he blinks a little stupidly at Regulus. Like a slow owl that’s flown into one too many windows or something. Regulus wants to squeeze him to death.

And then the urge to hit him overcomes that again when he can see James’ lips twitching with a terribly badly suppressed grin.

So Regulus punches him in the shoulder for good measure before he sets his hand down there on the juncture of James’ neck muscles. He’s warm under Regulus’ touch, despite the thin clothing, and he allows himself one last glance into those doe eyes before he lifts slightly onto his toes and sways in.

James’ scent is even stronger there, and Regulus is a little confused for a second when a wave of mint and something sweet and tangy hits his nose. James’ soap, perhaps?

Regulus doesn’t know how much time has gone by yet with them standing so close, and that’s dangerous. He focuses back on the task at hand, mapping out the appropriate patch of skin to place his lips. Merlin, this is bonkers.

There’s a faint shadow of short stubble along the hinge of James’ jaw and up into his hairline. A pair of dark freckles just past that, right under the jut of his cheekbone. That’ll do.

Regulus takes a steadying breath and leans in.

The skin there is warm too as Regulus brushes his mouth against it. Warm and alive and making his lips tingle with it. Just the tiniest press, barely making a sound and Regulus has to work hard to extract himself from James’ orbit. The smell, the warmth of him almost like a magnetic pull to Regulus’ fingers, his lips, his chest.

James is gazing at him a little drunkenly when Regulus pulls back again.

“Again,” he rasps.

Regulus cocks his head, scowling at him as he strangles the books to his chest, clutching at them like a lifeline before he makes to leave.

Unsuccessful. What?

“I’m sorry, bad joke,” James amends quickly, taking a half step to the side, “But don’t already leave ag—”

“James,” Regulus cuts him off.

“Why don’t you join me on the way to the kitc—”

“James.”

The older boy shuts up.

“Why were you able to step aside when I still can’t?”

A crease forms between James’ thick eyebrows, “Er–”

“Why can you move?” Regulus asks again, baffled. To drive his point home he nudges James, prompting him to take another step.

James looks back at him with big eyes before his features erupt into a gleeful smile. He chuckles a little disbelievingly and then steps in again.

Regulus instantly fixes him with a narrow eyed glare.

James really leans in, moving slowly to cup Regulus’ face. Slow enough for Regulus to bat him away again. He doesn’t this time.

“Because I haven’t fulfilled my part of the equation yet.”

It’s spoken so softly in the small space between them that it doesn’t even cross Regulus’ mind to do anything besides give a tiny nod and then tilt his head to the side accommodatingly.

There’s shaky breath over his lower face, minty, and then James physically angles his face how he needs him. A smidge more to the side and his thumb guiding him beautifully by the chin. Body warmth radiating off him and reaching Regulus anywhere he isn’t shielded by his books. And then it’s the press of even warmer lips on the center of his cheek. Long and sweet, not firm but not shy either. A prickle of facial hair, just a hint of it. And the spice of him again as James keeps his lips pressed against his damn cheek and Regulus stares unseeingly over his shoulder, fingers nearly cramping in their grip.

The pressure lifts gradually at some point and when James pulls back his lips ghost over Regulus’ skin up until the corner of his mouth and for an insane moment Regulus thinks James is going to turn his head and kiss him on the mouth too.

There’s a second of damp breath spilling over Regulus’ parted lips that he’s not entirely sure he imagined and then the barely there touch is gone.

Regulus swallows heavily, nearly chokes on it, a strangled sound escaping him when he tries clearing his throat.

James’ lips twitch onto a sweet little smile, like he’s just so happy about all of this and if Regulus’ legs weren’t seconds from giving out he’d kick him in the shins.

His gaze is even droopier now and he’s not really meeting Regulus’ eyes. Fixated on a spot just a little lower and when Regulus licks his lips—simply a nervous habit, no intention behind the action—he sways dangerously in again.

Regulus takes an instinctive step back, a breath of relief spilling out of him at the fact that he’s able to again. “Don’t get any ideas now, Potter,” he adds, if a little shakily.

“Mm, that’s already too late, I’m afraid.”

“Goodnight.”

“Think I just found my Christmas sweetheart, actually,” James calls after him, grin evident in his voice.

#hopefully gonna turn this into a little 3+1 things series over the next few days prompts #jegulus #jegulus microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter x regulus black #regulus black x james potter #jegulus fic #christmas fic #james potter #regulus black #lune’s tiny fic #lune writes

149 notes · View notes

ellitx · 1 month

Text

Yandere Alastor Concepts 2

imma put more yan alastor concepts (aka a mini-series entitled between the devil and the deep blue sea) here while i finish writing the first part

concept 1 | concept 2

Alastor has this uniqueness in him that makes him convincing. Maybe his experience as a radio host is what makes him compelling, not to mention you’ve worked with him for years. But despite knowing and being aware of this, you hate that you still fall for it.

Foolish isn’t it that you’ve been manipulated multiple times, controlled like a puppet, and giving that demon his satisfaction in ruining your pretty little head.

He starts slow. Casually dancing his way through your room without permission, acting as if you’ve been best friends who question how was your stay in the hotel. Redemption is nothing but a false hope for sinners to reach heaven. He’d mused on your failure in getting better and he’s entertained by it much to your annoyance. Alastor pours you with doubts, questioning your decisions and actions.

He’s nothing but a mosquito who keeps buzzing in your ear. You wanted to challenge him, tell him that it’s not impossible to be redeemed. But who are you to talk like that to an overlord?

He says it in confidence, you almost believe him.

Alastor takes your hand in his and pulls you to him until you are caged in his arms. You push him away but he keeps you still, slithering his arms over your waist and grinning when your disgusted visage appears.

His touches are light yet intimidating, the way he leans forward and cups your face in his hand is sickening but pleasant and warm. You want to punch him so badly, kick him, scratch his eyes out, whatever you can do to make him stop before you get too close to your limits.

But even when you felt like dying from humiliation and hatred, you never once said anything back to him.

He would always make it clear to your head: redemption is impossible.

His finger runs over your neck and traces the mole, carefully and slowly tracking your heavy breath and gulps onto his tips, and deliberately all his fingers are on your neck. Tight but lax. Firm yet tolerant.

The soft breaths escaping your mouth tickle his skin making him chuckle softly into your ears.

“Well, enjoy your stay here. It was nice you returned to me."

taglist: @repostingmyfavs @tired-of-life-86

#alastor x reader #yandere alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #bddbs #lmao dont mind the tag i need to keep it short for archiving purposes

81 notes · View notes

battleangel · 7 months

Text

Walking While Carefree & Black

Fetishized & dehumanized.

Daily misogynoir.

Harrassed on my daily walks for hugging a tree, picking a flower, laying on grass and stretching out my arms, twirling, smiling, being an unrushed unbothered carefree fierce ferocious unapologetic black woman who isnt on the way to somewhere, Im not going to 7-11 five minutes from my apartment, Im not rushing to work, Im not hurrying, Im not hustling, Im not bustling, Im not harried, Im not distratcted, Im not anxious, Im not impatient, Im not speedwalking, Im not in a car, Im not on a bike, Im walking on sidewalks, under bridges, near highways, busy intersections, busy traffic lights, near school buses, near angry white stay at home moms pushing their strollers, moms with toddlers shielding their eyes from me, white police men slowing their patrol cars when I am doing nothing but take a selfie under a bridge.

Why cant I be free?

Why cant I twirl?

Why cant I hug trees?

Why cant I treat a light pole as a stripper pole?

Is it a crime to joke around during the day when people are at school and work, jokingly twirl myself around the pole, pretend I am a pole dancer, and take a video selfie?

Will I be Sandra Bland'd?

Why cant I take pictures of a rose garden?

Why cant I take a selfie under a bridge? On a park bench?

Why cant I pick flowers near the sidewalk, smell them, place them behind my ear and skip down the sidewalk pavement?

Capitalism demands that I, a black woman, be a slave to their system but I left their system.

I left Amazon in a week with no job lined up.

I left Dow Jones with no job lined up.

I left Bank of America in 3 months with no job lined up.

I left Yale.

I quit my career coaching business after 3 years and over a hundred executive clients.

I permanently left corporate in 2019 and quit my business this year.

I am a permanent freeelancer now.

I am a podcaster now. We dont have sponsors yet so I dont currently generate income.

$55/hr at Amazon and after six months they were going to convert me with the coveted unrestricted stock aka golden handcuffs.

It was a cult. I left in a week.

I made -$7,000 last year as my business failed. I hated sales and referrals dried up.

Capitalism says I am a failure and a loser.

Capitalism says I, a nubian queen, Isis, an egyptian goddess, am only worth the revenue I generate.

I was the highest rated recruiter with the most hires at every Fortune 500 company I worked at.

I had over a hundred executive clients with my career coaching business that landed offers at Disney, Deloitte, Goldman Sachs, Amazon & Comcast with five figure salary increases.

I was a career advisor at Yale who coached graduate and postdoc STEM students.

Capitalism rolls its eyes and asks me, What have you done for me lately?

It demands I turn myself back into a machine to be deemed worthy.

But those days are over.

I will never work another 9 to 5 in any industry -- corporate, academic or non-profit.

I will never work a job that requires that I report into a supervisor.

I will never work another job with dictated shifts.

I will never sell anything to anyone ever again. I detest sales and I hate capitalism.

Capitalism is dehumanizing and it kills. It profits off of, relies on and thrives on energetic and psychic attacks that sends its adherents & acolytes to an early stress-induced death.

I was having GI issues and I healed myself.

No doctor, no gastroenterologist, no harmful laxatives, no chemical stimulants, no synthetic lab-made prescription medication that can all be addictive.

The smoothie takes 5 minutes and is just blending 1 cup pineapples, 1/2 cucumber, 1/4 grated ginger, 1 lemon, 1 orange, 2 tbs apple cider vinegar and 4 ice cubes & 1 cup of water in a mixer. Makes 2 servings, drink 1 cup in morning and 1 cup at night.

I just started walking outside in nature for an hour a day, not power walking, no step counting, no calorie counting, just being in nature, soaking up the sun, breathing the air, barefoot in grass, hugging trees, picking and smelling flowers, doing simple yoga exercises, abdominal massages, using a heating pad on my stomach, drinking 32 to 64 oz of water a day, eliminating coffe, not drinking soda during the week (used to drink 1 to 2 cans a day), fresh fruit & vegetable smoothie in the morning, oatmeal or grape nuts cereal with peppermint herbal tea no sugar or honey, homemade vegetarian salad & homemade vegetarian dressing (store bought dressing has a ton of fat, sugar amd calories) and mixed nuts as a snack Monday through Friday then I take a break and eat what I want on the weekend.

GI issues resolved themselves in a week, I am healthier, lighter, less sluggish, more fit, more in shape and more energetic. This is now my diet 75% of the time (5 days a week).

Decolonize your mind.

You have the ability to heal yourself. Stop running to doctors and quick fixes.

Change what you eat. Move more.

Get outside in nature! You are nature!

That is what heals. We come from nature and we are nature.

Trees, grass, sunlight, air, flowers, butterflies, streams, brooks, meadows, gardens, pumpkin patches, orchard farms, parks, nature trails.

Get outside.

Not to get in your car. Not to go somewhere.

Stop spending all your time penned inside like an animal and a prisoner.

Not to go to the mall, shopping, a restaurant, a salon, a spa, a movie theater, work, school, a grocery store, a laundromat, dry cleaners.

Not to run an errand.

Not to sit in traffic in a machine.

Not to burn calories.

Not to power walk.

Not to lose weight.

To reconnect with nature.

To reconnect your mind, soul, body, heart and spirit.

The west purposely severs this connection in service of capitalism.

Its up to you to restore it.

Walk. Breathe. Be. Skip. Twirl. Pose. Use the sidewalk as a catwalk. Take selfies. Take pictures.

Stop and smell the flowers.

Hug a literal tree.

Lay on the grass while cars roll past you with their windows down and stare at you like youre crazy.

Its 11 am on a Tuesday.

What the hell is she doing laying on the grass with her arms outstretched?

Why isnt she at work or at school?

Confuse people with your very presence.

I have a goth alt kawaii japanese street fashion aesthetic that includes boyshorts, leather garters, torn fishnets, leather chokers, hello kitty tiaras, six inch pink platform heels, black lipstick, mini cut out crop tops, extremely thick black eyeliner and hot pink eyeshadow.

For wearing this on Friday on my daily walk at 8:30 am which I then shared on TikTok, I was accused of being indecent, inappropriate for children to see going to school, people stared, rolled their windows down, honked at me, cars followed me, two men purposefully walked right into me bumping me (there was plenty of room on the sidewalk), an HVAC repairman leered at me outside of his van and literally just stared holes through me as I walked by.

Im 41. Im 5"1. Im 92 lbs. Im black and female.

I have a quirky style and aesthetic. I look young.

I also shaved my head bald a few weeks ago and have a bald fade.

People have since then called me a dyke, asked if I am trans, am I a boy or a girl, whats the deal.

Thats when I dont have a wig on.

I love different looks so I also wear long wigs.

The reaction is completely different when I wear a wig and people tell me how good I look, that people are slowing their cars down because I am attractive.

Bald fade, bony dyke who looks like a boy and might be trans.

Long wig, attractive girl, let me slow down and get a look.

Still black no matter the hair. Still followed.

Still harrassed.

A MAGA Proud Boy harrassed me with my bald fade while I was wearing an Eagles shirt and jeans. He stared at me as I took a selfie on a bench under a tree, when I got up to walk home, he started walking towards me and blocked my path in the small walkway we were both on and wouldnt let me pass.

Doesnt matter if its boy shorts and leather garters or an Eagles shirt and jeans.

I am harrassed for being a carefree black girl in capitalist Amerikkka.

80 notes · View notes

crowned-aeris · 2 months

Text

The preqel to my Reverse Robins Wingfic; aka "To Brace Upon Benign Feathers"

Its from tim’s POV, because he’s my pookie and I love him very much. it also briefly switches to bruce’s POV toward the end, so i hope it’s not too jarring

Also: Warning for self harm, ig. Y’know how some species of birds pluck their feathers when they’re stressed? that’s what Tim does

===

Tim watched; his eyes glimmered with an awe-struck light as Batman and his Shadow soared through the sky. The pair weaved through the air, their dark-clothed forms momentarily blotting out the streetlight as they descended upon the cluster of criminals.

The edge of Shadow's blade flashed as a criminal's scarlet blood spilled across the ground. The wounds were shallow and non-lethal, but Tim still captured Batman's disapproving look.

"Tt," Shadow scoffed before flaring out his dyed wings, the criminals shrieking before scrambling away from the teen, only to end up in the grasp of the looming Batman.

Tim raised his camera and snapped a photo, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to silence his excited hums.

Click.

Batman tied the criminals together before leaving them on the side of the road and contacting the GCPD. Shadow glared at the criminals, "Tt. In the League, dissenters would have their wings sawed off as a warning to other potential traitors."

The criminals stared at the Bat with wide, fearful, and pleading eyes. Tim winced, ruffling his still-fresh flight feathers.

"But we aren't in the League," Batman sighed. It sounded like the pair had had this conversation multiple times, and Tim wouldn't doubt it.

Shadow narrowed his eyes behind the domino mask, pivoting before launching himself onto the roof Tim was on. The falcon stifled an undignified squeak before ducking behind the HVAC unit. The sound of heavy wingbeats filled the air as Batman chased after his son.

"Everything would be easier if you adopted the League's teachings as Mother suggested," Shadow growled, unconsciously ruffling his wings in a manner glaringly similar to Batman's.

"We've been over this," Batman sighed, sounding more frustrated than ever, "Talia left you with me. You're not in the League anymore, D- Shadow. You need to follow my rules, which means no killing. No Maiming. And no lethal use whatsoever."

Shadow hissed in irritation, but he didn't bother to argue.

Tim hummed. What was Batman about to say?

As the fledgling watched the pair leap off the roof to continue their patrol, he prepared to procure a list of names that began with "D."

-----

How likely were Batman and Shadow to be Bruce and Damian Wayne?

It would make sense...

Oh god, his neighbors were the Batman and the Shadow! Wow, that... actually made sense.

Huh… that’s so cool.

-----

This... was decidedly less cool...

Tim stared at the social worker, his expression lax with shock. In his chest, Tim's heart jack-rabbited against his ribcage, beating out an incredulous tone that filled him with disbelief as dread pooled in his gut.

His parents had died in a plane accident while on a plane back from Taiwan. Tim had talked to them last night, and his mom had even said he'd bring back a souvenir and some snacks for Tim to try out and- and-

"Sorry, son," the man said, but he didn't look too sorry. In fact, he looked guilty.

It took everything in him to force his disposition to remain calm and collected. He was a Drake, and Tim would be hard-pressed before he demolished the castle his mother and father had built brick-by-brick that was their reputation. He will not allow the Drake Name to fall into ruin just because he was careless.

"Will I be going into the system?" Tim asked, feeling his claws pick against the skin of his palms. His parents hadn't even seen his first flight... and now they never will.

The man pressed his wings tighter against his body; he was uncomfortable, unsure, and way out of his depth. That was... suspicious... shouldn't social workers try to calm children rather than agitate them further? This one didn't seem trained, either.

"What will happen to me, Mister?" Tim asked, hitching his wings up and drawing in his shoulders to appear smaller. The falcon tilted his head down and forced his eyes to water before gazing up at the man through lashes that glimmered with tears. Tim was smaller than most other kids his age; he would use that to his advantage.

The man's feathers bristled, and he took a half-step back. Tim pushed out a pathetic-sounding chirp. He remembers his mother's lessons on the intricacies of body language, and Tim will not allow himself to forget.

Tim chirped again. From how he reacted, the man seemed familiar with the chicklet calls, so he could've been a father, teacher, or just someone around kids enough to be swayed by a random kid's chirps.

To really sell the "hapless, pathetic, hopeless chick act," Tim sniffed and allowed the beginnings of pitiful sobs to fall from his lips.

"You know what, fuck this!" the man shouted before turning tail and striding down the stairs. Once he was out of sight, Tim sobered and wiped the tears from his cheeks, uncertainty brewing in his chest.

The falcon relaxed his wings and draped them over his shoulder like a cape. He struggled to open the door, but Tim eventually struggled his way in. With a deep breath, Tim steeled himself, grabbed his mother's conditioner, and shuffled into his parents' bathroom.

As the days blinked past, Tim noticed his appetite waning. Mrs. Mac, the heron house-keeper, had stopped coming over after Tim had told her about his parents' death. She'd said something about not working if she wasn't paid, and then she'd hung up.

He was sitting at the base of his parent's Alaskan king bed, the one they've barely used, his hands gently running through his plumage before plucking out some feathers. Tim sees the blood rush from where the sensitive, newly-grown feather was yanked. The blood joined the other trails and pooled onto the floor. He released the feather in his hand and watched it gently drift to join the other gray-black fluff on the hardwood floor.

Tim reached for another clump of feathers, only to have the action interrupted by a hand that eclipsed his own. The hand gently pushed Tim's bloodied hands away from his wings, and he couldn't find the energy to resist. A soothing croon and low churring rumbled through Tim's chest and settled a roiling feeling he didn't know he had. The fledgling answered with a weak chirp, and Tim was swept into someone's arms. The low vibration continued to rumble through his chest, and Tim allowed his eyes to slip shut and his body to fall boneless.

("-long has been there? He's practically skin and bones!"

"They've been dead for at least a week now... He's seven."

"Can't we just hand him to the social services?"

"Damian..."

"Fine!")

When Tim wakes up, he is somewhere different. His wings felt stiff like they were covered or wrapped with something. He opened his eyes, and his theory was confirmed. White bandages made specifically for wings were applied to the patches of missing feathers, and a glance around the room confirmed that he was somewhere completely foreign.

With a twist of his lip, Tim forced his wings shut, ignoring the protesting pain of the bandages tugging against his feathers before shoving himself against the corner. The wall was cool against his skin, and Tim twisted onto his stomach and wedged himself farther into the corner.

A few minutes later, the door to the room creaked open, washing the box with warm light.

"Master Timothy, are you awake?" a British voice asked.

Tim didn't respond.

The door closed, and the light vanished.

Not even fifteen seconds later, the door opened again, and someone entered. Their footsteps were solid against the wooden floor. Tim didn't bother with looking up.

"Hey," Bruce Wayne said in a low yet gentle voice. The bed shifted under the man's weight, "I know you're awake."

No response.

"Damian used to do the same thing, you know," Bruce said, his tone light and careful, "he'd pretend that he was asleep so he wouldn't have to get up for school. He was close to his mother, and when he moved in with me, Damian had a rough time being away from her."

The silence was filled only by their soft breaths.

"When was the last time you've eaten?" Bruce Wayne asked.

Tim did not respond.

"...Is it alright if I touch you?"

The fledgling did not respond. Timothy was small, especially for a fledgling, and Bruce found it difficult not to sweep him under his wing.

The harpy eagle carefully kept his claws tucked against his palms before gently lifting Tim from the corner he'd wedged into. After a few seconds of deliberate maneuvering, Bruce has Tim slumped against his chest, the fledgling limp and his wings drooping. If it wasn't for his lethargic blinks and barely-there breaths, Bruce would've thought that he'd died.

When he entered the dining room, Damian was sitting at the dinner table with a furious expression as he addressed a blank-faced Alfred.

"Why hasn't Father arrived yet?" Damian demanded, his voice just shy of a growl.

"Master Bruce had something he needed to see to," Alfred responded, "he will join you shortly, Master Damian; patience is a virtue."

Damian seethed, but he'd learned better than to disobey the barn owl. Bruce grunted a greeting as he sat beside Alfred's spot and directly in front of Damian. But as he sat Tim on the chair to his left, Damian caught Bruce's eye with a furious expression.

"Why is he here? Damian hissed, eyes narrowed as Alfred returned with plates of food.

Bruce gave a weary exhale. The noise wasn't quite a sigh, but it was just about. "Damian..."

"I do not wish to be replaced by a catatonic- rat!" his son spat, pushing back the chair with the harsh sound of wood scraping against wood as he leaped to his feet. The fledgling flared open his wings and slammed his palms on the table, causing the dishes to rattle and shake dangerously.

"Son-"

"You obviously don't view me as your son," Damian sneered, eyeing Tim with a positively venomous expression.

Bruce held back a frustrated hiss. Damian's mule-headedness was undoubtedly Talia's fault. No way in hell was Bruce this stubborn when he was a teenager. "Damian, you are not being replaced."

"Then what in the world do you call this?" Damian jabbed a finger in Tim's direction.

Alfred, unbothered, made a crooning noise at Tim, and the fledgling began to mechanically start gently sipping at the soup the butler had made.

""This,"" Bruce returned, "is a fledgling who'd lost his parents and was almost kidnapped. Damian, you are being unreasonable-"

His son snapped his wings shut, his feathers bristling in an offended fashion, "Then why haven't you snatched up the other children who have lost their parents? Answer that, Father. There are other younger chicks on the streets of Gotham, yet I don't see them bounding around right now!"

"Timothy doesn't have a next-of-kin, and he was plucking," Bruce was fighting desperately not to raise his voice at Damian. From experience, it was only going to make him fight harder. Talia was the exact same...

"And that hardly narrows down the other children on the streets of Gotham! What makes him so different that you resorted to bringing an outsider into OUR HOME!" Damian borderline screamed before his voice dropped to a whispered hiss, "Mother would disapprove."

Bruce bit back the retort that clung to the tip of his tongue. He decidedly didn't say, "Then good thing she's not here"; "She's never not disapproving something or another"; "What's one more tick against my record"; "This manor is owned by Bruce Wayne, not Talia Al Ghul"; and the countless other responses that would be inappropriate for this situation.

But what he does say, in retrospect, probably should've stayed unsaid as well.

"Don't bring Talia into this."

The two harpy eagles stared off in a silent battle of wills that ended in a draw when Tim slowly blinked himself into reality. His breathing shifted slightly, and his gauze-covered wings tucked closer to his back.

"Of course, you'd say that," Damian's voice dropped to a low growl, "you never did care for Mother, did you?"

"Damian!" Bruce snapped, his hands clenching on the table.

"You never wanted me- don't you dare deny it! You are seeking to replace me!" Damian spat, his claws digging into the wood of the vintage table. Alfred made a disapproving trill, and the fledgling instantly released his grip.

"If you'd just listen to me," Bruce grounded out, but Damian steamrolled over him.

"There is nothing to listen to, Father. You've made your stance clear as-"

"You're acting like a child," Tim huffed, staring into Damian's eyes with no shortage of defiance. The fledgling's wings were eerily still and unexpressive. Although it was relieving to see Timothy out of his depressive state, Bruce only wished it had happened while Damian wasn’t in one of his, to put it lightly, moods.

"Excuse me?" Damian growled, his tone dangerously still. Unlike many other people, Damian had zero reservations about harming a younger person.

Tim's hands clenched slightly before relaxing, but his expression remained bored and lax. Where did their son know how to mask so well? It was... concerning.

"You complain about Bruce not caring for you, but he still took you in even though Talia left you at his doorstep. If he didn't want you or didn't care for you, he would've placed you somewhere else, or he could've also handed you back to Talia."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Damian hissed. Bruce stood up to try and defuse the situation.

"You don't either!" Tim hissed, but it lacked the threatening rattle that someone truly enraged would possess, "You're entitled, conceited, and you can't see beyond your over-inflated ego!"

Damian flared his wings and pounced across the table. Bruce cursed under his breath as he lunged forward, crashing into his son in a whirlwind of wings and thrashing feathers. Damian bit into Bruce's forearm, and he frowned as his son's needle-like fangs ripped into his skin and his atavistic claw slashed inches away from Bruce's neck.

Alfred had grabbed Tim and swept the fledgling away to someplace more secure, and Bruce wrestled Damian off the table and onto the floor.

"DAMIAN!" Bruce shouted, frustration dripping off every word, "We do not. Hurt. Chicks."

"THEN WHY ARE YOU HURTING ME?!" Damian screamed, and Bruce instinctively lightened his grasp on Damian's limbs.

His son took that chance and twisted in Bruce's grasp, thrashing his wings to loosen Bruce's grip before lunging for his throat. Bruce ducked before pinning Damian against the ground, a firm grip on the back of the fledgling's neck and his wings forced against the ground.

Bruce narrowed his eyes, waiting for Damian to stop thrashing before speaking, "Tonight, Batman will be going out alone."

Damian froze.

"You can't do that!" he protested. Anger blazed brightly in his eyes as his thrashing continued. "You- You can't bench me! You need me- Father! Father, please! Batman needs- he needs Shadow! You need-"

"You need to go to your room," Bruce interrupted. "Batman did fine in his years before Shadow arrived, so I don't see why Batman can't go back out on his own."

Damian opened his mouth, probably to argue some more, but Bruce cut him off with a growl, "I will allow you back out when you learn how to behave yourself. I am disappointed, Damian. You should know better."

#tim drake #batman #fanfic #batfamily #bruce wayne #damian wayne #reverse robins #wing fic #world building #batfam #feral damian #angry damian wayne #canon?#who’s canon? Idk a canon #they’ll get along….#eventually #Fic: to brace upon benign feathers

42 notes · View notes

sepublic · 3 months

Text

Really enjoying Humans-B-Gone! so far… It’s an indie web series on Youtube, with a blog on Tumblr, and its episodes come in very short, bite-sized chunks! It’s about a world in which the power dynamics are reversed, with bugs being the people, while humans are the tiny pests they look down upon. It’s got amazing worldbuilding based on so much scientific research; Humans-B-Gone! is a glimpse into a truly alien world that nevertheless makes perfect sense from the perspective of those within it, and the way bugs view us is like a mirror of how we view bugs.

The series really highlights how us humans take for granted what we assume is normal, by framing our differences from insects as the weird and strange thing, and even being reductive in how human bodies are described; All of which highlights the absurdity of how we discuss bugs and their anatomies, and really just things and lifestyles that are ‘different’ to us.

I’m having a lot of fun with Sophodra and Rose, and… Maybe I’m just projecting, but I kinda see a lot of parallels between Humans-B-Gone! and The Owl House?

There’s a central dynamic around our main protagonists. You’ve got this older, more experienced mentor who’s running her own business single-handedly, and basically the only one of its kind; Dealing with human-related things, which everyone else views as strange and foreign. This mentor is plenty flirty and definitely has her wiles while advertising, and a business-like attitude regarding her profession; But it’s quickly apparent that she is genuinely interested this human-related stuff, and is a total and utter nerd about it, being low key feral af.

The mentor is different from the rest of society, having an appreciation for life and a particular part of the world around her that most are indifferent to, or even demonize. This thing, she goes out of her way to preserve and learn about, and is deeply passionate and defensive over. The mentor has that lanky build and those kinds of hips (and Sophodra’s voice even reminds me of Wendie Malick, AKA Eda’s VA). There’s the chaotic, F around and find out vibe that’s kinda lax about dangerous things she’s messing with, only to get into the consequences of her actions.

By contrast, you have this younger and inexperienced apprentice, who unlike the more ‘ladylike’ mentor, has a more ‘girly’ vibe and aesthetic to her. She’s still learning and it’s essentially a coming of age story for her; She’s got interests and is actually quite knowledgable, but society discourages what she wants to do and thus she’s forced to settle for something more ‘practical’. The apprentice is introduced engaging with idealistic media about a hero defending the world against a great evil, amidst a familial environment.

The apprentice meets the mentor by chance, due to the mentor’s human-related business, and after showing her knowledge, is invited to be a partner in crime. The apprentice moves in with her mentor, visiting a new place, and is frequently perturbed by some of the things her mentor deals in, to comedic effect. Nevertheless, like her mentor, she has an engagement with the world around her, and is learning.

Said world is VERY biological, a living thing, with many devices and tools also being alive as well; Humans find this place alien, especially for how red it is. Society is divided into different groups, and they are dictated by a uniform, authoritarian police force, ruled by a monarch considered divine. There’s a mysterious masked human who opposes the alien world the viewer is introduced to, on the basis of defending humanity. Hidden lore and backstory is alluded to, amidst the grounds for a greater conflict.

There’s body horror, and the story emphasizes finding beauty in what is considered ‘grotesque’ and ‘unconventional’, how strangeness is all relative. Expectations are subverted, especially with how things that seem intimidating can be quite welcoming, while those once familiar are distorted to a dangerous extent; We even have a benign ungulate reframed as something alien and dangerous to both humans and the non-humans. It’s a celebration of nerds and weirdoes in a sense, people whose interests may seem unusual, as is their way of going about these interests.

…Seriously. At this point, all we need is an equivalent to King for Humans-B-Gone! Maybe… that random Housefly neighbor? Professor Gregorsa? King did have an interest in researching demons. Plus, I’m reminded of how the original drafts for Emperor Belos portrayed him as Emperor Pupa, an insectoid tyrant who claims to speak for the true ruler of the land, whose screams only he can understand, as they have yet to emerge from their cocoon… No thanks to Pupa’s hidden sabotage. You can see the visual remnants of this in how Belos’ mask and outfit resemble a stag beetle, too!

#humans b gone #the owl house #sophodra #eda clawthorne #edalyn clawthorne #luz noceda #parallels

31 notes · View notes

alphaboyd · 5 months

Text

gabeliam: war games edition

aka what if you were raised to be a weapon, and violence is all you know, but you're also a teenager and you have a crush on the guy who beat you out for captain on the lax team? you're telling me you Wouldn't punch him in the face until he bleeds? sounds fake.

(text sources under the cut)

nocturne - i.s. jones hansel and gretel - anne sexton townie - mitski unknown colourless musings - tathève simonyan arrhythmia - shastra deo ptolemaea - ethel cain

the caps are from season 6, episode 14

#gabeliam #teen wolf #twedit #teen wolf edit #liam x gabe #twrarepair #mine #web weaving #war games #< my 6b rewrite for those unaware #psd creds to queen coloring though i edited it a little

37 notes · View notes

laurenkmyers · 11 months

Text

Summary: Vegas has wanted to capture Pete on film for some time now, immortalising his willingness, his devotion, and his love as he splays himself out like a bare canvas waiting to be painted with Vegas’ marks. Pretty and bruised and his.

aka Vegas records them fucking. (Not a hint of plot in sight)

Endless love and thanks to you @bestillmyslashyheart and @drowsyiris both for your kind encouragements and help bringing this to life.

Secondly, this was actually inspired by this biblebuild photoshoot Find it on ao3

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

“Do you know how sexy you are?”

Vegas sounds like a broken record, drawling the same English phrase he used after he first had Pete like this.

Every time they fuck, Vegas finds himself in awe of Pete. The way he sinks to his knees, hands behind his back, and waits for Vegas’ next command. The perfect sub. It’s the sexiest thing Vegas has ever seen. He wants Pete to acknowledge it, to secure a confession on camera for Vegas to rewind and enjoy whenever he wants, as many times as he wants, just because he can.

Vegas has wanted to capture Pete on film for some time now, immortalising his willingness, his devotion, and his love as he splays himself out like a bare canvas waiting to be painted with Vegas’ marks. Pretty and bruised and his.

Vegas angles the camera down, capturing Pete as he nods his head and muffles out a reply. He moves the hand not currently holding the camera to the back of Pete’s head and grips his hair even tighter, tugging harshly.

“Use your words, Pete.”

Vegas knows that Pete would do or say anything Vegas wanted right now, but Pete currently has a mouthful of cock. Tears are streaming down his pretty face as Pete hums low and long in another failed attempt at acknowledgement of the question being asked of him. Vegas zooms in on the latest tear that threatens to fall. He spies a look of insolence in Pete’s sparkling eyes, a defiance that makes Vegas want to push further down Pete’s throat, muffling the noises and cutting off airflow entirely.

So he does.

Instead of pulling Pete off his cock as he initially intended, Vegas thrusts himself deeper until he can feel the way Pete’s throat closes around him. It feels so fucking good that Vegas moans and closes his eyes, momentarily forgetting the reason for his line of questioning in the first place.

Vegas loses himself in the feeling, ready to fall into bliss, but when he feels Pete start to sag in front of him Vegas’ eyes snap open. He watches as Pete’s own eyes start to roll back into his head as he succumbs to his desire to float away away away. Vegas isn’t quite ready to let his boy fall just yet, so he pulls out just as harshly as he’d forced his way in and slaps Pete across the face to stop his descent.

“You’re not being a very good boy, Pete.”

Pete leans into the pain and preens, but otherwise doesn’t seem to acknowledge or even hear him. Vegas slaps him harder and a small amount of awareness shifts back into Pete’s glazed over eyes, “Did I give you permission to come?” Vegas tries again, “your body belongs to me.”

Pete merely whines and nods in agreement, seeking out Vegas’ cock with his lax tongue, like he wants nothing more than to have it back in his mouth to prove he knows who he belongs to. The thought alone makes Vegas’ still spit-slicked dick twitch painfully. He loves getting Pete in this hazy state; just a warm, wet hole to use and abuse. And Vegas knows how much Pete enjoys it too, but he hasn’t gotten nearly enough footage to satisfy his hunger yet, so he grabs Pete by the throat with his free hand and hauls him to unsteady feet.

Vegas steadies Pete against him as he throws the camera back onto the bed, still recording. He lingers as they are, trying to coax Pete back to him, holding him up as best as he can before spinning them around until he can manhandle Pete so that he’s lying on his back. Pete seems more aware of his surroundings now as he nuzzles his face into the soft covers beneath him. He turns his head and smiles, dimples proudly on show for Vegas’ viewing pleasure. It nearly melts the simmering embers within.

Vegas tries his best to ignore his smiley, disobedient boy as he reaches across him to grab the camera, checking to make sure it’s still recording, little red light indicating that it is, before turning the lens back to his needy boy. Vegas slowly pans the camera up Pete’s body, chuckling darkly as Pete squirms under its gaze.

“Don’t get all shy now, baby.” Vegas tuts in response, “You refuse to admit how sexy you are, so maybe you’d like to show me instead?”

Vegas circles the bed, camera held at eye level as he watches Pete blush prettily at the thought.

“Please…” Pete utters softly, his voice utterly fucked out and wispy from having Vegas’ cock earlier. Vegas shivers at the memory as he waits for Pete to say more. When nothing more comes, Vegas pulls away from watching through the lens and eyes Pete darkly.

“Show me, Pete.” Vegas demands.

Pete notices the shift in his tone immediately, if the way his mouth and legs open simultaneously is anything to go by. It makes Vegas smile.

“Arch your back.”

Another demand that Pete follows without hesitation as his back arches up off the bed, his eyes never leave Vegas’, a detail Vegas latches onto with nothing but delight.

He turns his own attention back to the screen of the camera, finds the perfect angle to capture the way Pete’s back creates a near-perfect arch, follows the movement with precision and sweeps over the hip bone and lower to capture the pool of pre-come that’s now gathered at his boy's navel. Vegas dips his unoccupied finger into the warmth and smears it across the dark marks littering Pete’s pretty skin, his marks, marks he’d left there over the course of their relationship, never letting them fade. Vegas suddenly wants them darker, more angry-looking, he leans over the camera and bites down hard on Pete’s hip, over the words now etched into his brain and sucks, bringing the blood further to the surface of his soft canvas.

Once he’s satisfied with the shade of the re-darkened marks Vegas moves back to the puddle of come still leaking from his boys cock and drags it up Pete’s body until he’s reached his lower lip, which is jutted out, pouty and plump, perfect for coating in the sticky substance. Vegas then follows the trail of come he left behind with his camera until it too lands on Pete’s open, messy mouth.

Pete eyes the camera as he slowly licks across his bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, groaning at the taste. It prompts Vegas to add more, catching Pete’s lip between his wet thumb and forefinger before pushing it further into his mouth so his boy can suck it clean.

“You like that?” Vegas asks wistfully as he watches Pete swirl his greedy tongue around the tip of his finger making sure to savour every remaining drop. Vegas chuckles as he pulls his now clean thumb out of Pete’s mouth and moves to stand at the foot of the bed, camera raised. When he looks back into Pete’s eyes he can tell that his boy has finally resurfaced. He now has his full, undivided attention.

“Tell the camera who you belong to.” Vegas prompts.

Pete stares back at him, defiance washing away as he slips further into the soft sheets, pliant and malleable, ready to bend to Vegas’ will.

“You…” Pete hums sweetly, soft dimples popping on each cheek as the next word forms on his lips.

“Say my name.”

Pete swallows, “… Vegas.”

Hearing his name fall from Pete’s filthy mouth causes something dark and sinful to rouse in the pit of Vegas’ belly. His soft, sweet, good boy knows exactly how to get what he wants and he’ll use every weapon in his arsenal to do it. Vegas can’t get enough of him.

“That’s right, baby. Only I get to have you like this. My pretty boy.” Vegas sings, and the effect of his praise is instantaneous. “You like it when I tell you how pretty you are? How hard my cock is because of you?” Vegas continues, voice growing thicker with arousal. “I think you do. But you’re not going to come. Not until I say so. Isn’t that right?”

“No,” Pete assures, the shake of his head so forceful that his hair whips and curtains his face. “I can be good!” he says, like a promise. “I can…” Pete releases a deep breath, straightens his shoulders and drags a shaky hand up and down his abs, avoiding his cock at all costs.

“I know, baby. You’re doing so well for me.” Vegas feels a rush of affection for him as he sees Pete preen at his words. “I want you to crawl up to the headboard and make yourself comfortable.”

Pete obeys, turning quickly, getting up on all fours and giving Vegas a glorious view of his arse. Visions of spreading him open, pressing his face in between those cheeks flashes across Vegas’ mind, imagining the texture and taste exploding on his tongue as he watches Pete sway side to side towards the top of the bed.

Vegas wipes a hand across his forehead, acutely aware of the sweat currently building up there.

Pete now sits on his knees at the top of the bed, propped up by a pile of pillows, with his legs spread and a dreamy look on his face as he turns to look over his shoulder.

“So fucking pretty,” Vegas coos as he adjusts the camera to capture the new position. Then, with a grin, he says, “I can’t wait to make a mess of you.”

He watches colour rise high on Pete’s cheeks and suddenly the heat in his belly erupts and Vegas is done playing around. He wants to take Pete apart, piece by piece. And then he wants to watch it back, make Pete watch it too.

He stalks over towards Pete, who’s watching his every move with a deep hunger in his eyes, hard cock dangling between his legs, still untouched and tempting as hell.

“Spread yourself for me. I want to taste what’s mine.”

Pete’s impatience gets the better of him and Vegas watches him lean forward and spread himself open with both hands, pink hole fluttering, waiting to be devoured. Vegas refuses to waste any more time. He chucks the camera down next to him and dives right in, lapping his eager tongue over Pete’s desperate hole. The shock of it sends Pete’s upper body into the pillows below, back recreating the perfect arch as he pushes his arse up for more.

Vegas abruptly pulls away at the sight, reaching over to place a hand on the back of Pete’s neck he slams his face down into the bed.

“Such a greedy little slut, aren’t you?”

Before Pete can respond, face still buried in the pillows, Vegas shuffles back and grips him by the hips, yanking him further down the bed and back onto his tongue with force, fucking the tip in and out without bothering to hide his enthusiasm.

The first moment he truly laid eyes on Pete’s arse Vegas knew he wanted nothing more than to bury his face between those cheeks and suffocate. Eating a man out has always been one of Vegas’ favourite things to do, but eating Pete out is the closest thing to heaven Vegas will ever experience.

“Always taste so good.” Vegas muffles against his skin, before cleverly twirling his tongue inside, just the way Pete likes it. He feels Pete start to writhe underneath his fingers and redoubles his efforts until Pete is twitching in pleasure. Vegas uses his teeth to bite down into supple flesh and leaves yet another mark to add to Pete’s already impressive collection.

Pete’s endurance never fares well with Vegas’ tongue in his arse. Being eaten out is the most proficient way to get him to come quickly. So it’s unsurprising when the whimpers coming from Pete alert Vegas that he’s close. Vegas refuses to allow another orgasm until he’s satisfied that Pete has been properly punished first. Reluctantly, he pulls away with a harsh smack across Pete’s already marked up arse cheek which earns him a yelp.

The camera once again forgotten until now blinks its reminder in the corner of his eye and Vegas picks it up for one more intimate viewing before he plans to set it up on its tripod for the climax of the show.

He rounds the lens on Pete’s glistening rim as he pushes the tip of his thumb inside, the slide made much easier with the slick of Vegas’ tongue. He watches rapturously through the lens as two more fingers join and each is swallowed up by Pete’s greedy hole.

“Look how well you take my fingers. Think you’re ready to take my cock?” Vegas asks rhetorically, knowing full well that Pete has been ready and eager for his cock since they started playing, especially after giving him three orgasms already tonight.

Even still, despite Vegas’ teasing, Pete nods enthusiastically, whining like a bitch in heat as Vegas retracts his fingers and zooms in again on where he’s wet and loose, aching and desperate to be filled again.

Vegas quickly sets the camera on its tripod, making sure to zoom back out so that the whole bed is now in frame before he gets to work. He grabs Pete by the legs and flips him onto his back, wasting no more time he grabs his ankles and secures them to the bedpost on either side with a slackened rope so that Pete is secure, but still has some mobility. He does the same to Pete’s wrists, tightening those together first and then to the headboard, and finally, the last piece he adds is the silk fabric he loosely ties around Pete’s head to cover his eyes, stealing the last of his senses, just the way Pete likes.

When he’s done he takes a step back and sucks in a deep, hissing breath as he admires his handiwork. Pete looks fucking devine. A vision washed in red, blue, and purple. The red ropes clash beautifully with the pale skin of his delicate wrists and ankles, and the marks littering Pete’s entire body burn bright, like beacons of possession that satiate Vegas’ lustful need for ownership.

He quickly steps over to look at the view from the screen, and has to squeeze the base of his cock to calm himself. Vegas rues the day Pete discovers the true power he holds over the head of the Minor Family, but silently prays he's there to reap the benefits when he does. The idea of having complete control but choosing to relinquish it and embrace total submission rather than exploit true dominance is a foreign concept to Vegas. Pete wields them effortlessly. He just doesn’t yet realise; a force to be reckoned with when the day comes that he does.

A ghost of a smile creeps into Vegas’ eyes as he lets himself take in the perfect picture his pet presents to him. It’s not long before his teeth start to ache as they softly grind together in impatience. His fingers flex, and in the same breath dig deep into his thigh. He refuses to deny himself the pleasure of Pete’s body any longer.

The first thing he notices as he crawls up onto the bed is the quivering in Pete’s thighs.

“You’re being so patient, aren’t you, pet?” Vegas croons, pushing Pete’s legs even further apart. “My perfect little puppy, waiting so patiently for his owner. I think you deserve a treat for being such a good boy.”

Pete has always responded so beautifully to praise, so hearing how good he’s being has an instant effect. His body trembles in excitement, more pre-come seeps from his cock and slips down the side of his hip bone wetting the sheets below. As much as Vegas wants to keep praising and invoking the same response, he’s getting rather impatient himself, and at this very moment in time he can’t think of anything he wants more than to bury himself inside Pete and keep him here for the rest of their life.

Before he lets himself get anymore distracted Vegas quickly lubes up his cock, plants himself snuggly between Pete’s spread thighs, and without warning sinks himself inside in one long thrust, bending down to capture Pete’s gasping moan of shock right from his lips.

“Take me so well, baby, like you were made just for me.”

Vegas pulls out to the tip, before thrusting back in to grind deeper, making sure to angle himself just right and when Pete lets out the tiniest mewl he smiles knowingly.

“Louder, pet, let me hear all those pretty noises.”

Vegas continues pounding deeply, face tucked under his chin as he relishes the feeling of complete devastation between Pete’s spread thighs. He picks up the pace when he feels Pete try and tighten his thighs against his hips. He isn’t able to do much more than that as his ankles tug and pull at the slackened rope still tied to the bed frame.

Vegas pulls himself away from Pete’s neck to look down and admire the half covered face of the man whose life is solely in his hands. He slows his pace to a long, slow grind- in, hold for five, and out. In, hold for five, and out. He does this a few more times before he lets his slick cock pop free, delighting in the way Pete’s hole chases after him. The whine that leaves Pete’s lips when he’s left loose like this has Vegas' stomach aching to get back inside. But he enjoys playing with Pete’s messy rim too much to bother with Pete’s desperation.

Domming is an art form Vegas prides himself on conquering. Past experience dictates the importance of listening to one's sub. Not that he ever truly cared about any of his previous subs wants the way he does Pete, which is probably where the lack of true satisfaction comes from. But luckily for him, Pete has always been quite vocal about what he wants, and Vegas has an intimate understanding of when Pete has truly had enough. Being well-versed in every shudder, every twinge, every shiver that wracks Pete’s body means Vegas also knows that Pete’s vocal ‘enough’ is very different from his body's ‘enough’. He knows when to push, when to pull, and when to slip past Pete’s boundaries and make him take just a little more than Pete himself thinks he can handle. And this is why, three orgasms in, Vegas knows that Pete is ready to take him one final time. Doesn’t mean he’s not going to make him beg for it anyway.

His little pet only gets what Vegas chooses to give. And right now Vegas is having too much fun slapping the head of his cock against Pete’s quivering hole as he waits for the begging to begin. Maybe then he’ll take pity on his greedy boy.

It doesn’t take long until Pete is breathless and out of control, thrashing against his bonds, beautifully marking up his wrists and ankles in the struggle. His blindfold slips off his face, and with it leaves a look of pure desperation as he pleads without words.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Vegas teases as he leans back to look at Pete’s face.

Pete tries and fails to articulate in full sentences, all he’s able to produce are two words, “Vegas… please.”

It sets Vegas on fire. On the precipice of complete surrender he blurts, “What do you want, Pete?”

“I want you back inside. Need you. Please?”

Pete’s glazed over eyes beg and plead as he angles his hips up, presenting himself for Vegas to fill. Something inside Vegas snaps. Who is he to deny such a request? He falls back into Pete’s warmth like a dying man looking for salvation.

Vegas pounds into Pete with renewed vigour, holding himself above Pete’s face to look into his eyes as he fucks the desperation away. The muscles in his back and legs drive him forward, over and over again until he’s forcing huffed groans straight from his lungs into Pete’s ‘o’ shaped lips. They’re barely kissing anymore, breathing heavily into one another as Vegas continues to thrust himself deeper, harder, faster- forever rolling towards the inevitable release.

Vegas bites down hard on Pete’s trembling bottom lip and says, “You’ve been so good for me baby, one more time. Come for me.”

And like the perfect boy he is, Pete lets go, insides quivering and tightening the moment he submits, falling peacefully into bliss.

Vegas watches everything unfold in awe, as the tears track quietly down Pete’s blushed cheeks it doesn't take long for the vice-like grip on his cock, and the view of Pete’s ruin sends him falling to. Together they topple into pleasure as their orgasms hit like dominoes, one by one.

The red blinking light of the camera still records. A documented reminder of Vegas’ greatest accomplishment. Beating Kinn never felt this good.

As they lay together, both satiated and in a cloud of shared euphoria, everything falls into place.

Vegas has long since come to the conclusion that Pete will be his undoing.

He’s more than okay with the fact.

#vegaspete #biblebuild #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #vegas x pete #petevegas #fanfic #smut #mine #my writing

86 notes · View notes