#he was honest with her and she's honest right back
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Feels Like Gold
Jake Kiszka x reader
18+ only! Minors do not interact!
Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk, breeding kink, Jake drives a car (the most dangerous situation of all), extremely mild degradation, etc
Okay, in honor of our collective jakedown, I rooted around in my unreleased work and then did a little revamping. This one is for you, @piratejakesgf thank you for your request ❤️ *loosely edited, fair warning
And kisses to @jake-kiszkas-smirk and her brilliant mind for titling this when I was at a loss 💋 xoxo
“Fuck, these are so uncomfortable!” you hiss with exasperation, tugging at the itchy nylon hell encasing your legs.
“Told you not to wear them.” Jake reminds you, flipping on his turn signal before switching lanes, though the freeway is dark and nearly deserted.
“You know how my family is.” you remind him right back, annoyed with his flippant attitude. “If I’d shown up to that wedding in a dress with bare legs I’d have been labeled the whore of the family tree. My branch weighed down with bad choices; exposed skin and a degenerate rockstar on my arm.”
“I mean, to their credit, I actually am a degenerate so they’re just calling ‘em like they see ‘em.” His eyes are locked on the road, but a tiny smirk tells you he’s pleased with his cleverness. “Plus, your aunt tried to fuck me, so you aren’t the only whore in the family.”
An abrupt laugh trills out of you. “Right. Which aunt?”
“Does it matter?” he shrugs. “She told me she slept with Joe Perry and it left her with a taste for guitarists…I told her Perry could suck my dick because I could stomp his riffs any day, but that only turned her on even more.”
“And then what happened?” you giggle, falling into his little pretend world.
“Well,” he sighs wearily, “Promise you won’t be angry with me?”
You’re solemn and stoic, as if this is very serious business, “Scouts honor.”
“Then, I excused myself and wound up fucking your uncle in the bathroom, instead.” he squints at an upcoming exit sign to be sure you’re headed in the right direction, and then settles back into a more relaxed state, wrist guiding the steering wheel casually.
“Was he any good?” you ask, mock sincerity laced through your tone.
“I’ve had better.” He shrugs.
“You’re so stupid.” you shake your head with a doting roll of your eyes, and reach under your dress to roll the torturous hose down and off.
He watches out of the corner of his eye, stealing glances as safely as he can while driving.
“Jesus, they were thigh highs all this time?” he sounds a little like he’s considering jerking the car over onto the shoulder of the highway to drag you into the backseat.
“All this time.” the garment in question lands in his lap.
“Lemme see.” he orders quietly before you have a chance to remove the second.
Up the hem of your dress travels until he can get a good look at the black lace resting at the top of your thigh. “Fuck, pretty girl.”
“You like that?” you tease in a silken voice.
He nods, tightening his grip on the wheel.
You push a little further with, “Are you hard?”
“I’m gonna kick you out of this car and make you walk home.” he lies, reaching out to snap the elastic lace against your skin. “Take this one off, too…it’s doing unspeakable things to me. Especially since you’re only wearing the one. You look sloppy - like I just rocked your shit in the back of a tour bus.”
“Jacob Thomas..” you gasp lightly, as though scandalized “Someone seems a little worked up.”
“I might be, if only I didn’t have such a firm grasp on the power of will, my darling.”
He’s being untruthful, but he does it so elegantly - in that soft, slightly British lilt of his, you decide to grant him a very gracious pass and drop the second into his lap.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Kiszka.” You wiggle your polished toes, enjoying the freedom. “My baby cousin, the one you let dance on your feet? She asked me if you were a pirate.”
This tugs an honest laugh out of his chest…a gorgeous sound that colors your cheeks pink. “You told her yes, I expect?”
You hum in confirmation, “I did. And I told her that you have a special sword with strings on it and it makes beautiful, dark music that people come from far away lands to hear. Just like the sirens in Peter Pan.”
His face visibly softens in the flickers of light shed by the street lamps whipping by. “You always did know how to paint a lovely picture, pretty girl.”
The low purr of the engine lulls your head against the window, but just as your eyes begin to grow heavy, he pulls you back to him with a quiet, “Hey,”
Turning your head against the seat, you study his profile, charting the map of your favorite face, “Yeah?”
”Whose baby was that you were holding? The tiny, tiny one,”
It seems such an odd thing for him to ponder, and you have to mentally sift through the reception a bit, you held a great many babies tonight…it seemed like every cousin and second cousin in attendance was weighed down by a diaper bag stuffed full of diapers and pacifiers.
”The one with the little headband bow-thingy.” He clarifies. “She was so small.”
“My cousin’s. He and his wife’s third in almost as many years. She’s only like a month old and smelled like heaven.” You draw in a breath and wish her silken tufts of hair were still pressed to your cheek, “Why?”
”I don’t know,” you know him well enough to know that’s a damn lie. “I just- I don’t know…do you ever think about it?”
Caught off guard, you opt for a little joke, “Does Jakey have baby fever?”
He smiles, and there is a touch of shyness that lives there, “Shut up. Do you think about it?”
“Do I think about having babies? Well, I-“
He interrupts quickly to set you straight, “Do you think about having babies with me?”
Oh.
Where is he heading with this? Will a bit of honesty scare him? Will it scare you?
Deciding to take the plunge, this is simply a conversation after all, and a subject that he broached to boot, you choose truth. “Yes, I’ve thought about babies with you. Although that whole twin thing is fucking terrifying.”
Again, you joke. Again, he doesn’t take the bait. “Identical twins aren’t hereditary. We’re just an accidental fuck up. When you think about it, what do you think?”
”A lot of things.”
Smoothly, he guides the car onto the off-ramp that leads to home. “Very informative, darling. A veritable treasure trove of information.”
He hasn’t tipped his hand and you aren’t about to let him off so easily. “”Do you think about it?”
”Honestly, not before. I mean, I think about how you’ll look in your wedding dress and if you’ll wear your hair swept up the way I like, and I suppose that’s sort of the same thing. Or headed in the same direction, anyway. But watching you hold that baby tonight…”
Your chest suddenly feels a little tight. You’re touched by his admission.
And how endearing that he wonders how you’ll wear your hair. You reach out and stroke the back of your hand along the cut of his jaw, “When the day comes, I’ll wear it up for you.”
~
Later, he’s draped across the bed watching you glide about the room in your bra and panties. Earrings unfastened and placed gently on your jewelry tray, necklace hung carefully, hair let loose and shaken out at long last.
Hands folded behind his head, he speaks up, breaking the spell you have unknowingly cast over him, “You said ‘a lot of things’. Elaborate.”
You turn, eyes drifting over the king lounging about upon the bed you share, in nothing but the dress pants he hasn’t yet bothered to shed. “What?”
He cocks his chin, summoning your attention further ”Babies. You said you think about a lot of things.”
He looks so fucking sinfully delicious…a sickeningly sweet cake sent from the bewitching trenches of hell to rot your teeth. “The normal things. Baby things.”
The heavy wooden frame creeks quietly as he pulls himself into a sitting position to study your expression, “Liar.”
”Oh, I’m sorry,” you dance around the accusation, “I just happen to be looking at a disgustingly attractive little shit waiting for me to climb into bed beside him. Forgive me for looking flustered.”
”Don’t be coy, darling,” he tsks, clicking his tongue against his perfect teeth. “I can see it written all over your pretty face. You’ve got a secret.”
He’s moving towards the edge of the bed now, drawing you in closer with his devilish stare. “Tell me.”
”I don’t have a secret.” Whose voice is that? Surely it’s much too quiet and meek to be your own.
”Tell the truth.” He hums, a knowing twinkle flashing in his gaze. “What do you think about?”
Your eyes refuse to meet his own as your stomach knots, warm and vibrating. “I guess…sometimes I - sometimes I think about the trying part of it all.”
He’s watching you closely, you can feel it like warm fingers dancing across your blushing skin. “So you think about fucking?”
He almost sounds disappointed. He had expected more judging by your hesitancy to share.
”Well,” your fingers are plucking at the comforter now, rooting out a loose thread to spin around your finger, “Yes, but it’s kind of more than that. I think about you… inside me.”
At last, you peek up at him. He looks curious, as if he can’t quite figure you out. “Why are you being such a little mouse about this?” His palms are cupping your face now, calluses soothing you like a song. “I’m inside you all the time, and I think about it all the time, too.”
Shaking your head gently, you find your footing…at least a smidge, “Not like that. I think about you inside me. The way you would have to be if we were trying.”
Your birth control rendered condoms unnecessary ages ago, yet he has always pulled out - ever cautious and responsible. Confusion is still painted across his features…until it isn’t.
“Oh,” a lascivious grin appears and you long to curl your tongue over his lips, “you fucking filthy little thing.”
In a blink, you’re dragged onto the bed and into his arms, tossed down with your back against the sheets. his body heated and flush against yours.
Mouth suckling and nipping at your throat, he rasps into your skin, “Is that what does it for you? Pretty girl wants my cum?”
Your body’s reaction is visceral, primal, and almost embarrassing. You’re arching away from the mattress, desperate to be even closer than you already are.
“Answer me.” He huffs, sinking a bite into your jaw.
”Yes…” your hands are in his hair, thighs around his waist, “I want it.”
”Say it.” He’s rocking against you now, hard and straining against your panties. “Say what it is that you want. What you think about.”
”I think about you fucking me,” once again, whose shaking voice is that? “I think about the way you sound when you finish, and the way your cock throbs and twitches in your hand, and how it might feel inside me.”
”Keep going.” He orders, soft and wavering in your ear.
”I think about how warm your cum would feel inside of me, and maybe I wouldn’t be able to keep it all in. Maybe it might tickle a little when it leaked out.”
”Fuck, baby…” his hands are everywhere, yanking your breasts from the cups of your bra, winding your panties down your thighs, fingers sinking into your soaking, clenching cunt with a groan that sounds pained.
He seeks out your favorite spot and tucks up into it, wrenching a wanton moan from your lungs “You want me to fill this little pussy up? Keep you dripping wet with me all day long? Fuck baby after baby into you?”
”Jake…” you’re clawing at his bare shoulders, fucking yourself hopelessly against his hand. “More.”
He slips a third finger inside you, “Is that why you get a little whiny when I pull out? My girl wants me to do it inside?”
”More,” you urge through gritted teeth, eyes locked in on his face and the lust so evident in the set of his features.
”You want four?”
”Please, Jake…” tears are threatening at your lash line, “more, more, more,”
“You’re having some trouble listening tonight, aren’t you?” he sounds diabolical, and turned on beyond belief. “I asked you a question.”
His thighs prise your legs open wider as he squeezes his pinky into your warmth to join the rest of his drenched fingers, “Do you want my cum inside you? You want me to give it to you? Keep it all safe and warm for me?”
With a mournful wail you’re reduced to a million little pieces beneath him. Rocking frantically into his touch…the heel of his hand grinding quick circles into your clit as his fingers fuck you through it. He’s covered in you, it rolls down his wrist and beads against his stomach like early morning dew, anointing him as you thrash and writhe like a beautiful, fluttering leaf in an autumn wind.
When the hazy fog clears, allowing your sight, it’s his face - stunning and beaming - you find, “Hey, pretty girl.”
Now that you’re coming down, your diffidence returns and you close your eyes in a pathetic attempt to hide.
He’s having none of it, “No, no, darling…you stay with me. Right here, baby. You look so pretty with my cock inside you, imagine how fucking beautiful you’re gonna be when I fuck you full.”
“Please, jake…” it’s pathetic really, and maybe you should care about that, but you don’t. “I need it, I need it so bad.”
“Yeah?” The gravel in his tone makes you shiver with frantic desire. “Pretty girl just wants to bounce on my cock all day? Just using me to get what she wants?”
Rather than answer, you elect to begin wrangling the button on his pants.
“Someone’s eager.” He teases softly, lifting up on one elbow, easing your struggle. “You want it that bad? Are you gonna let me cum wherever I want? Gonna let me put a baby inside you?”
“Fucking do it!” Frustrated and sparking with electric desperation, you give up and tug on his waistband feverishly until he takes over, popping the button with ease and kicking them off.
His cock is fisted in his hand now, with your eyes fiercely focused on it. Hard and beautiful and yours. “You want that inside you?” He whispers, watching you stare. “You want me to fuck you? You want me to fucking breed that pretty pussy? Make you a mama?”
You should be ashamed of yourself, you well and truly should be…but fuck if you don’t want more, “Keep talking while you fuck me,” you breathe, somewhere between imploring and begging, “Dirtier, come on…”
His cock slips inside. Just the cashmere tip teasing at you, “Dirtier?” He nudges in a little deeper, just enough to make you whine, “well what should I say, pretty girl? Should I tell you that you’re my beautiful little cum slut and if I’d known it sooner I’d have been stuffing you full all this time?” Deeper still he glides, “Or that I want to cum inside you and then fall asleep with my fingers buried in your cunt to keep it where it belongs?” He’s fucking you harder, faster…the pillowy head of his cock kissing your cervix in a divine dance between pleasure and pain. “Or should I tell you about how I think about licking it up? Kissing you with my cum on my tongue because I know you’d suck it off like the greedy little baby you are.”
“I-“ a pitiful whimper escapes you, but his fingers are suddenly grasping your chin, grounding you enough to collect your scattered thoughts. “I’m gonna cum, tell me where you’re going to cum. Tell me where you’re going to put it. Please, I want it,”
Hips rolling into a succulent grind against your swollen clit now, he begins “I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve got every last drop, pretty girl. It’s all yours, are you gonna take it for me like a good girl? Are you going to be a good little mama and take it all?”
His name is all you can manage as you shatter. It’s primeval and animalistic, sounds that would make you want to crumple in on yourself if anyone heard them besides your Jacob.
“You’re so fucking tight and wet..” his perfect cock is pounding you through it as he inches closer and closer, “are you ready for me to make a mess of this little beauty right here? Hmm? Ready for me to fuck this cunt all full and dirty? You want it?”
“Jake…” you trail off, eyes fighting to stay open and locked in on his face while you shake against him, twisting and clenching around his perfect cock, “you’re so fucking hard.”
He nods furiously, burying his face in the crook of your neck to lick your pounding pulse “That’s all you, baby. You make me that hard.”
Your hips begin rocking up to meet him even faster, hungry to please. “Good girl, you keep fucking that cock. Are you gonna take what you want? Gonna make me cum? Gonna help me fill this pretty little cunt?”
In response, your nails dig into his skin, raking your mark, claiming him. You’re almost there again, though you can’t imagine how. “I’m so fucking close,” you’re sighing and shaking the words into the room, offering confession.
“Again?” He’s mocking you so sweetly, teasing dirty words into your ear like lullabies, “Already? Is my pretty girl gonna cum on this cock? Squeeze and suck the cum right out of me to steal it away? You want it that badly?”
You let go, with a trembling breath of his name, and feel his body tense against the feverish grip of your orgasm.
”That’s it, baby,” his words are but a sigh skittering across your cheek, “That’s it. Feels so good. Feels like gold. My pretty, pretty girl…”
He fucks you faster even as you melt into a puddle within his arms. “Gonna cum for you,” he promises, “I’m gonna cum so hard for you. Who’s going to take it? Who’s gonna take every fucking drop?”
”I am,” have you even made a sound? You can’t be sure, you’re so lost.
”Yes, you are…” his forehead, slick with exertion and need, nods against your own. “You’re going to take it just like you take this cock. My good fucking girl…pretty pink baby doll just begging for me to wreck her.”
Without warning, he collapses into your arms, moaning and crying out, shuddering as he releases inside you. Warm and perfect, everything you’ve ever imagined and so much more.
His fingers sink into your muscles, clutching and pulling you closer still, “Baby…” he sounds raspy and pained, “Baby, baby, baby, fuck..fuck…”
And when at last, he calms, it is with his cheek pressed to your chest, clocking the wild metronome that is your heart with your hands sweeping through his hair.
Soon, you’ll both crawl out of bed, maybe into the shower…perhaps into the warmth of a bath, but for now it is simply you, and Jake, and this tranquil bliss.
Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie
#greta van fleet#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet smut#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van smut#greta van fic#gvf fic#jake gvf#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fanfiction#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiskza#fanfic#jake kiszka smut#jake kiszka imagine#jake greta van fleet#jacob kiszka#jake x reader
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we'll be alright
[spencer reid x reader]
summary: the one where it's the team's night out after a few long weeks of work and you're finally relaxing... not really. because you have a secret that's brewing your insides out.
pairing: s.reid x f!reader
w.c: 2.4K
warnings/content: mentions of pregnancy symptoms; sleep deprivation; alcohol; jj being a good friend; discussion about choices; fearing one's reaction; yk spencer reid the best (only) man on earth.
A/N: I planned this to be a small drabble... anyways, enjoy this blurb while I finish up a few requests.
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“what are you doing?”
“chill, jj. I'm not drinking.”
you roll your eyes at the blonde casting you a suspicious look when she walks over. you don't know why she did it, to be honest. everyone seemed to be having fun over at the table, you just felt too uncomfortable and had to take a breath of fresh air outside. when you came back, you sat down by the counter, the bartender placed a red drink in front of you claiming it was from a guy across the bar. you didn't look, you didn't care. you push it aside with an eye roll and stick to the glass of soda you had previously ordered.
“are you okay?” her sympathetic voice is too much for you to bear right now, so you inhale sharply, actually thinking about downing that whole red drink in a go but you're one hundred percent sure certain jj would knock it off before it reaches your mouth. “sorry. I won't ask.”
“i'm just... confused.” you shrug, playing with the hem of the glass, tongue traveling over your lips. they are pretty dry, you can't remember the last time you drank water. “you don't have to keep an eye on me, jj. seriously, I'll be back in a second. I'm just... thinking.”
“have you told him?”
“no.”
her brows pull together. and before she can offer you her unwanted advice, you cut her off.
“don't tell me he has the right to know or anything like that. I know, okay? I know what I have to do, I know what I need to do. but I have a right to process everything on my own as well and I'm doing just fine doing that. for now.” you don't mean to snap, acknowledging the fact that jj means well, but you're tired of hearing obvious things about the situation and none of them did anything to help easing your nerves.
seems like people cared more about spencer's opinion on the matter rather than your own, when it is, in fact, a matter that you are carrying.
“i was gonna say take your time. you don't need to have it all figured out right this second.” you glance up at her, doubtful. jj gives your shoulder a squeeze and casts you a reassuring smile that almost sends you to jump in her arms to be coddled. “you're not on your own. I know it can be overwhelming, trust me, but you can talk to me anytime you want, okay? when you're ready.”
you smile for what felt like the first time in the night. relief swallowing down a bit of the nervousness rumbling through your chest.
“thanks, jayge,” you say.
jj gives you a wink. she leaves you alone after that and you enjoy a few minutes on your own when a familiar and welcoming touch trails down your back.
“you're quiet.” spencer eyes something above your head with hard eyes and his gaze immediately melts when it falls upon you.
“marking territory, doctor reid?” you tease, noticing the jealousy by his tells. his tries at being inconspicuous are foolish, but you like it.
he flushes red, clearing his throat and mumbling I don't know what you're talking about under his breath.
you hum, resting your chin against your palm as you look up at him. “i'm always quiet.”
“not like that.” spencer points out, tilting his head as his lips stretch into a soft smile. his gaze says I know you. you can't fool me. and he's 100% right, you can't. “is everything okay?” he questions, fingers grazing your upper arm in a way that it almost causes you close your eyes and give in to sleep right there. the truth is that you haven't been sleeping for three whole days. tossing and turning and feeding the nightmare in your head that all would go to shit. your relationship, you mean. the most solid thing you have going on for you, you'd screw that up. personally, you're a fan of facing the problem right away so you could get rid of it quickly. but this is neither a problem — not for you — nor you could fix it.
“i have something to tell you.” you swallow with difficulty. “but I- I don't know how.”
“okay.” he caresses your arm, brows knitting together in slight concern. “do you want to go home? is that okay for you?”
you sigh, hand traveling cross your face. “i don't want you to stop having fun because—”
“i wasn't having fun.” spencer is quick to cut you off albeit gently like he always is. “i was basically begging for you to call it a night so we could leave.”
a surprise laugh escapes out of you. you believe that.
“okay.” you nod, convinced. and a little less anxious to be honest. it's not like you'd say what you want to say in the middle of a crowded bar filled with drunk people. “yeah, we can, we can go home.”
“great.” he kisses your temple and waits for you to accompany him to your friend's table so you can bid your goodbyes. the first indication that something is off was your withdraw nature throughout the entire day. not that you weren't doing your job perfectly fine, you were. but your mind seemed to be elsewhere from the moment you stepped into the FBI headquarters to this very moment now. the second indication was when you said you'd get a drink and never came back. he found you by the bar with, in deed, a drink before you. then, he knew he had to say something.
“where are your keys?” spencer asks, adjusting the leather strap on his shoulder as you stride out of the pub. you lift the car keys between your fingers and he outreaches a hand towards it to which your eyebrows pull together in confusion. “you drank, didn't you?”
your face smoothes out in understanding, “no.” he regards you with uncertainty. “i didn't,” you repeat with an eyeroll. “i can't. I ordered that one but I didn't touch it. if you wanna drive though, be my guest.” he takes the keys in the first chance and you just chuckle softly, walking to the opposite side and entering the car. when you finally adjust yourself in the seat, you let out a long breath in relief. your feet are killing you as well as your head. not to mention the dizziness coming back and forth.
you don't open you eyes when something presses against your torso, you know it's spencer buckling up your seatbelt that you had forgotten.
“what did you mean by you can't drink?” the peaceful silence is broken by spencer's gentle tone. he'd look over at you every few minutes, trying to point out if the cause for your pale cheeks is the faint light of the car or something else. your eyes are shut but he knows you are not sleeping by the constant shifting in your seat.
“what?” you stumble on an answer and that's the best you are able to come up with.
“you said I can't.”
“you're correcting my misspellings now?”
spencer's eyes widen slightly. when the traffic light turns red, he quickly turns to you ready to apologise. but he sees your smirk and backs down, letting out a sigh.
“no,” he says, rolling his eyes. there is still something unsettling about your behavior, he can't point out what. sometimes it just happened, that feeling. he knew something was off without a single glance your way. the red light turned green before he can carry on speaking.
he does it anyway, though his eyes are stuck to the avenue and not on you as he plans to.
“are you okay?”
silence. and then,
“why do you ask?” your voice is soft, almost uncertain. you are hesitant and holding back. something is definitely wrong.
“you're withdrawal. you look tired and you didn't sleep well last night. I'm fairly sure you're a bit pale since this morning.” you're groaning beside him and spencer frowns. you finally arrive at your apartment and he takes a while to park before he turns the engine off. “are you sick? do you have the flu? migraines? cause we could have gone straight home tonight, you know that right? do you have a fev—”
“stop, spencer.” you mumble before his hands reach your forehead to check your temperature. you hate that he notices so much so fast. even though he's quiet about it, spencer is always paying attention. always. “it's not— I'm not sick. don't worry.”
“i'm still worrying.” he replies matter-of-fact, earning a scowl from you. he isn't phased. “should we go to the hospital?”
you huff like a five year old. “i just told you I'm not sick.”
“and I don't believe you.”
somehow, you wish he noticed more so you didn't had to say the truth out loud.
“i'm not sick.” your tone was sharp though you avoid it, it was just how it came out. you were sick of that subject.
spencer frowns. he stops himself before he could ask if you were sure of that statement.
“but I might get sick.” you utter under your breath, unsure about saying it out loud but you already did it. spencer turns to you after he takes off his shoes, a pet peeve of yours is that you hate dirty shoes around the apartment. there's always a few pairs of flipflops by the doorstep in case you have visitors. or they can just walk around in their socks, you had no problem with that, which is what spencer did. “... once in a while.”
“what is going on?” spencer approaches you slowly, his concern starting to create a thousand of theories inside his head. “really, I'm worried—”
“i'm pregnant.” you let out and release the breath you've been holding for what felt like hours. there. it's done. when you open your eyes, you don't look at him but walk straight in the direction of your room. spencer is hot on your heels. you just wanted to shower.
“what— you're— what do you mean?” his frantic voice almost makes you laugh if you weren't so tired with a headache brewing.
“i really need to take a long shower, spencer.”
“I—” he blinks, studying you for a moment before he swallows all of his questions and he sees. he sees what's going on and why your behaviour has been off these days. spencer's very observant, but sometimes he can let one or two hints wander off his radar. “okay.” he wants to hold you but he stays in his spot. if you want space, that's what he will give you. “do you need me to prepare you a bath?” he prays you say yes but you shake your head, entering the bathroom and shutting the door.
he lowers himself down on the edge of bed and stares at nothing as his thoughts swirls around the signs being thrown at his face the whole week. the morning sickness. not being able to stand the smell of any perfume. a sudden dizziness... fuck. how could he have been so clueless?
spencer admits he's always beeng good at physics and chemistry and statistics and he's constantly praised for picking up certain behaviours in his line of work, but he sucks at social cues and most of the times he misses the joke in a room or your sarcasm — though he's infinitely better at detecting that.
he takes pride in knowing you. your little quirks such as the way you press your lips together when you're uncomfortable or when you pick at your cuticles when something is on your mind during a case. he doesn't know how he didn't notice that. really, you spent most of your time together, both at work and outside of work. hell, spencer knows your period cycle. he makes sure to fill his pantry with your favourites sweet and sour snacks for that time of the month. it truly makes no sense how be could be so oblivious.
he knocks twice on the bedroom door, apprehensive and extremely careful. he's afraid by your latest reaction that you don't want him around.
it's actually the opposite.
“come in.” you're finishing getting dressed for the night. one of his old Caltech shirts slipping through your frame as he walks in slowly. you raise a brow in his direction, eyeing his figure standing by the doorway.
“i made you some peppermint tea. it's good for, hm, nausea.”
letting out a sigh at his hesitation, you lift a hand, silently asking him to come closer. “i'm not mad at you.” you clarify, breathing into his neck as he gently pulls you into his arms. “i was frustrated and tired and sore and sleepy. 'm sorry I was rude.” then, you chuckle awkwardly. “and sorry I dropped that bomb on you without a notice.”
he squeezes you, running a hand through your back. “don't be sorry. I understand.”
“are you mad?”
he pulls back a little, stunned that you even asked that. “what? why would I be mad?”
you shrug, meddling with the collar of his work attire he still hasn't taken off. “we didn't plan it. it's not ideal.”
spencer shakes his head, lifting your chin slightly to meet his gaze. “i don't care. I'm here for whatever you decide to do. there's no such thing as ideal.”
your mouth quirks up in the corners and you brush a honey brown curl behind his ear, fingertips trailing down his jaw.
“what?” he nudges your nose with his.
“i love you.” his grin is contagious and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you. you love him so much.
“and i love you.” you let out a shriek as he pulled you up in his arms, your feet being suspended from the ground. “hey,” he cups your cheeks lovingly. “we'll figure it out. together. alright?”
you nod, warmth flooding through your chest as you close your eyes and lean into his touch. “yeah, yeah, we will.” you mumble in the croak of your boyfriend's neck. “I love you.” you repeat just because you felt like it.
spencer mutters the same three words softly into the crown of your head. and you know everything will be alright.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━
taglist: @lilyviolets ;
@whore-for-spencer-reid ;
@yeonalie ; @ninkieminjaj
#reader insert#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction
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Weed and sex... in a car. With 3 time Formula 1 World Champion Max Verstappen. What could possibly go wrong?
It's a long one boys (can it even be called a blurb if it's over 1.5k ?)
Perhaps getting high before an event wasn't the best idea after all. Max had decided to celebrate your birthday with a joint (or two or three) before going to dinner with Christian, Gerri and a boatload of sponsors and higher ups. Anyone with half a brain could have told you this could only end in disaster but when you and Max were together you were a couple of menaces. That's why Max's press officer hated that you were always around at the races and usually his plus one at events. She had a hell of a time covering up the "incidents" and "behaviours unbecoming of a formula one world champion"... ha! Yeah right. Between public indecency and and drunken shenanigans usually leading to property damage, it was a miracle the two of you had never been arrested to be honest.
Well except that one time after his first Monaco win but that's a story for another time.
Whatever, what else are rich people in their twenties supposed to do with their best friends in their free time anyway?
So there you were, in the passenger seat of Max's loaned company car, both high on expensive weed (or so Max said, the bloody cheapskate). The drive was pretty long and you got a rather intense case of the munchies about 20 minutes in so Max decided to stop for gas while you went into the gas station and bought snacks for the road. When you turned your head away from the cashier and saw max, your mouth went dry (and this time not from the weed).
See, this was in the middle of a heatwave (thanks climate change!) and max was wearing a suit. He decided that the best way to cool down was to unbutton his shirt and let his chest get some air. Unfortunately this, plus his sweaty dishevelled hair and the joint he still had in his mouth while he pumped gas, conjured up quite a few lewd images in your mind. You had never seen him look quite this debauched (again, except in Monaco but again, that's for another time). The sight was positively sinful. Or at least it seemed hot as fuck to you but you were high so who knows, either way his appearancewas getting you hot and bothered, so you decided to take a picture to remember the moment.
The cashier had to clear her throat loudly to get your attention, and by the time you had payed and left max had already got back in the car. When you climbed in you checked your reflection in the mirrors. Dilated pupils, check. Redness around the eyes, check. There was no way Christian wouldn't notice, and he definitely would not be happy.
Max's hand suddenly on your thigh brought you out of your thoughts as you looked at him, he looked just as fucked up as you felt.
"There's no way we can go to dinner like this right?" He was panting slightly and looked like he was fighting to stay alive.
"I don't think so, you wanna call Christian and cancel?"
"Nooo he's gonna kill me" He pouted as he took his hand off you to roll down the window to let some air in.
Weirdly you found that you missed its comforting presence on your thigh. And the image of it going higher suddenly entered your mind. That thought made you panick a bit, seeing as you had never had those kind of thoughts about Max. (Well, does it bear repeating? Monaco. Yeah).
Still panting, with his head out of the window like a dog, he groaned. "I don't think I can drive like this. Are you having a weird reaction to the weed?"
"Um... a bit, I guess. I'm hot and uh..." you trailed off and max looked at you
"And what?"
"No it's embarrassing"
"No tell me! What is it"
You looked at him for a moment, the two of you breathing harder than normal, both fighting something.
"Well..." you gulped "I guess I'm like, horny? But, I always get horny when I smoke, this is like... more intense? Different sensations I guess."
Max exhaled and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the headrest.
"Me too" he whispered in an oddly strained way. Then his eyes suddenly snapped open "Wait a minute! Are you telling me you've been horny every time we've gotten high together?!"
Shit.
"Uhhh, yeah?"
You noticed Max was squirming in his seat a little bit.
"Fuck, that's- why didn't you tell me?"
You stared at him. Was this really how the conversation was going to go?
" I- don't know I guess... I thought you wouldn't be interested?"
"Are you serious? I wouldn't be interested?! Even after MONACO?!"
"We're best friends Max, I don't wanna lose that. And we've never actually talked about Monaco so I assumed you wanted to forget it!"
"Forg- Forget it?! It's been three years and I haven't stopped thinking about it!"
"Oh"
"Yeah, oh!"
"Fuck"
"Only if you want to"
"What?"
He looked at you, eyes scanning your face, gaze dropping to your lips.
"We're both high and horny in a car right now, do you want to fuck me?"
You were taken aback slighly, Max was nothing if not straightforward, it was one of the things you loved about him.
"Max, I've wanted to fuck you since we were-"
Thats all he needed to hear before grabbing your hair and yanking your upper body towards him. Given both of your states it was more licking at each others mouths than actual kissing but this had been a long time coming you supposed and you were both too high to care.
You broke away and climbed between the seats into the backseat, winking at him as he gawked at your ass, barely covered by your pathetic excuse for a dress. "You joining me then, or leaving me to take care of myself?"
"Fuck no" He growled and crawled in after you. In hindsight it would have been easier and quicker to use the car doors, but he finally made it and it took you a while to find a position that wasn't too uncomfortable in the small space.
You ended up on his lap, facing the front of the car while he pulled down the straps of your dress and kissed your neck sofly. He squeezed your tits gently while whispering in your ear. "You know, since Monaco I've been dreaming of the day I would see you like this again. I was starting to think It never even happend. Like it was some kind of religious experience or something"
You giggled. What a sap. "If I had known that's how you felt I would have let you do this years ago. But could you get a move on please? I feel like I'm going to go insane if y-"
He cut you off by shoving his fingers in your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. You moaned at the intrusion and sucked on his fingers to get them nice and wet.
"Good girl"
Your eyes rolled back as you leaned back against him and he chuckled.
"See, I did learn some things in Monaco"
He spread your legs which were hooked over his and trailed his now wet fingers down over your chest and stomach, as his other hand slid your panties to the side. The moment he made contact with your clit you jolted slightly in his grasp. Being horny for so long must have made you extra sensitive. And wet. It didn't take Max long to slide two fingers into you with ease as he crooked them immediately and you whimpered. Every movement, every press of his fingers felt like heaven and you could already feel that you weren't going to last long.
Before you could say anything though, Max's phone started ringing from the floor. He picked it up, fingers still making you writhe on his lap and answered the call, the absolute madman.
Then he pressed the phone to your ear and whispered in the other "Go on then schatje, talk to Christian, I'm a bit busy right now"
"What the FUCK Max where the hell are you?! You were supposed to be here an hour ago! I'm going to kill you when you get here!"
You had to swallow down your moans in order to answer "Um hi Christian it's- it's me!" You squeaked out "Um we won't be making it unfortunately- Max- Max has indegestion and he's very ill and- aaah- he's- um he's-"
You were so close to the edge and Max showed no signs of stopping, you were becoming unintelligible under his skilled fingers.
"This is unacceptable behaviour! What the fuck have you done to him now?! It's always you causing proble-"
The rest of his sentence was drowned out as you came hard around Max's fingers (when did he slip a 3rd one in?!) and you moaned loudly before Max could slap a hand over your mouth.
As you came down the silence on the line was deafening.
"Wh-"
Max interjected "We got high Christian I can't drive!" and hung up. "He won't be calling again I reckon"
You couldn't help but giggle. "Oh my GOD Max we're gonna be in so much trouble! Christian is gonna kill me because I made you miss an important dinner and- oh my god he just heard me have an orgasm that is your BOSS- fucking hell max what were-"
You hadn't noticed that during your rambling he had unbuckled his pants and taken his dick out, but as soon as he started rubbing the tip against your folds you stopped dead.
He chuckled "Fuck Christian, I wouldn't miss this for the world"
And with that he slid in to the hilt, punching a gasped moan out of you, and started pounding into you deep and fast, somehow reaching all the right spots immediately. The build up to this one felt different. It was faster and more intense, and you were speechless. You realised too late what was about about to happen as you started dripping onto his thighs. Then the flow got heavier and Max swore as his hips stuttered, his orgasm taking him by surprise. He stopped, still inside you and you felt drained, literally. You stayed like that for a minute, both of you catching your breaths as you came to the realisation... "Max, fuck! the car!"
"Fuck the car. I'll send the fee to Christian"
You huffed in disbelief. He was out of his mind. But for now it was just the two of you, in this now ruined car, drugs just starting to wear off, and that was enough for tonight, you needed to go home and sleep it off. You could worry about the consequences later.
"So... exactly how expensive was the weed?"
Inspired by this fake pic of 'max'
Yes, I will be writing the monaco thing, I had an amazing idea for it so... that will come at some point. Spoiler, it features another driver ooooh.
And also DISCLAIMER DO NOT SMOKE WHILE PUTTING GAS IN A CAR I AM SERIOUS THAT IS SUPER DANGEROUS
ALSO DO NOT SMOKE AND DRIVE
ALSO DO NOT ORGASM WHILE ON THE PHONE TO YOUR FRIENDS BOSS KIDS
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[ SUBJECT INTERVIEW: ÍVARR ]
NICKNAME:
NOT "Gramps". Not for you, anyway. Just my name.
GENDER:
Male.
STAR SIGN:
Why, checking if we’d match? Hah. Was told I’m a Scorpio. 'That check out?
HEIGHT:
With platforms or without?
ORIENTATION:
If we vibe, nothing else matters. An incubus with neat taste in personalities, I guess.
NATIONALITY / ETHNICITY:
So, some Scandinavian blood in me - half, actually. Can speak the language, too - 'least something neat daddy gave me, not that the fucker's outdone himself in parenting. Mom’s an American, born in Badlands. Ever heard of her clan? Messed with witchcraft a lot, and summoning even more. Know what I’m getting at? A perfect fuckin' match, weren't they?
FAVE FRUIT:
- Yeah no. Don't even start with anything citrus. Especially don't peel this shit in front of me, alright? Nasty shit.
[Interviewer]:
- Just wondering, how do you feel about cardboard boxes?
[Ívarr] :
- Ain't purring for you, man. But nice one.
FAVE SEASON:
Fuck summer. You ever felt what's that like - the real winter nights? Pitch fuckin' dark - quiet so thick you hear the snow falling. First time I saw those snowflakes as a kid - can swear I thought they were bees.
FAVE FLOWER:
Cherry blossoms? The fuck I know, man. Ask my mainline, I grab whatever he likes.
FAVE SCENT:
Expecting me to be like - "Muahaha, the smell of fear"? Seriously, it's apparently a pheromone released in your sweat or some shit. C'mon I'm joking, it isn't my fav - keeps stinking up this damn city. Alright, a freshly baked cake is something I'd kill for.
COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:
Yeah coffee I guess? Rich, strong, black, with a splash of something fun, make it whiskey.
AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:
Woke up just yesterday 'cause my mainline was pulling back my eyelid, imagine? Scared the fuck out of him, no seriously, can sleep through a fuckin' bomb and I'm not joking. Average hours - a shitton honestly? That's how I got my very first cat - Dad got enough of me breaking down every single morning, cause fuck mornings. And he'd be like - this is Snowy, she's gonna live with us and she already had her breakfast, so get the fuck up.
How'd I argue with Snowy? You don't mess with Snowy.
DOG OR CAT PERSON:
See? Check it out - cat fur. Here too. I'm claimed, man - gave up cleaning it up a long time ago. Not to be dramatic, but if there's anything human in me left - it's for them. Fur kids, all mine, what can I say. Two of them adopted - and you bet each of them has a bigger personality than an average gonk.
DREAM TRIP:
Dream trip, jeez... Somewhere not fucking hot?
FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTER:
Balrog has style, y'know? Gotta be honest, I feel for the dude. Imagine yourself sleeping deep within the mountains for thousands of years to get awoken by a bunch of motherfuckers? I'd go nuclear too.
And this one too, ehh you know GoT? The Targaryen, her, yeah. Burn them all, girl. Boss move.
NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH:
Man, your questions. I dunno, a half? With my ass covered, or not at all. Bed king sized, lights out, make it pitch black with the window open and you got me passed out.
RANDOM FACT:
One doesn't have to actually summon a demon to get them to come play, d'you know? There's one watching you through my eyes right fuckin' now. Should I introduce him?
Late to the party, but I remember many of y'all have more than one OC or just created new pixel babies that haven't participated yet, so I'm tagging (with no pressure):
@therealnightcity @wraithsoutlaws @sammysilverdyne @theviridianbunny @th3irin
@a-pirate @chessalein @halkuonn @luvwich @shimmer-like-agirl
@kdval @cybersteal @cyberholic77 @chevvy-yates @morganlefaye79
@anxious--ace @mhbcaps @wormskul @silver-samurai @androgymess
@winkyblinkyandstew @astarionhistears @valsilverhand @drunkchasind @themermaidriot
@pinkyjulien @skelior @medtech-mara @lokiina @timaeusterrored
@tokyofuturnoir @aggravateddurian @sifofasgard @elfjpeg @aurorartz
@lucky38-2077 @dustymagpie @gloryride @stannussy and anyone else who wants to! Also pls DM me if you don't wanna get tagged🖤
#dreamskug: gifs#oc: ivarr#cyberpunk#cyberpunk 2077#cyborg#men#scifi#futuristic#cybercore#gifs#cyberpunk aesthetic#gaming edit#scifiart#cyberpunk art#original character#male v monday#male v#cyberpunk2077#ivarr: lore#cyberwave#dreamskug: virtual art#cyberpunkedit#demon#demon oc#scifiedit#scifi art
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Dad!drew and readers kid wants a sibling, so drew and reader have THE conversation
Can We Really Do It?
Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader
Warnings: Suggestion of Sex at The End
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.6K
Masterlist
Anything Megan wants, she gets. There are boundaries, of course; however, if it is within his power and she is being good, Drew makes it his mission to buy it for her. Today, the little girl comes home from daycare wanting something that her parents can’t just pick up on a run to the store. “Mommy, I want a baby brother,” Megan announces nonchalantly, focusing her attention on eating her snack. The hand drying off a glass freezes, “Why do you ask, Baby?” Megan shrugs and stares at the carrot in her hand. “Stephanie has one and she gets to play with him at home all the time, so I want one too. Can we go to the store tomorrow to get one? I have been a good girl,” she suggests. Y/N sighs and sets the glass on the drying rack, “Unfortunately, Baby, Mommy and Daddy can’t just go to the store and get one. I will have to talk about it with Daddy and if we decide to get one, then it could be a while until we get one.” When her daughter doesn’t reply right away, she knows that Megan has already moved on from the conversation. “Okay, can we play outside after snack?” Megan innocently asks, kicking her legs while she eats the vegetable.
———
As Y/N returns to her bedroom from the adjoining bathroom, Drew starts taking off the decorative pillows his wife insists on keeping. She joins him at the head of the bed and fluffs their pillows. “So…” she begins, eyes remaining on her task. “Meg asked me about getting a baby brother.” He pauses his actions, getting into bed beside her. “And do we know why she is asking for one?” he pries. She snuggles into his side, “Because Stephanie has one and Meg wants someone to play with.” Drew nods along with her explanation. “I see. I mean… We always talked about wanting more kids. The question was always when,” he reminds her. She leans her head back to rest against the headboard, “We did, but is two years too early? I mean, we always said we would wait until she starts school to start trying.” “That is true. You and your sister have a two-year age gap and you guys turned out fine,” he says.
“We aren’t my parents though, so it is more so what we are ready for. I love Megan. But sometimes she can be a lot and if we have another kid, we would need to deal with both.”
“Yeah, we would. I’ll be honest. I think that we can do it. We are great parents and we have so much love to give. Maybe another kid would be good for us. However, having a baby affects you physically, so if you aren’t ready to go through that again, then I am perfectly happy to wait.”
Her heart squeezes at his consideration of her needs. Being pregnant was hard, yet the reward of getting to be a parent made it worth it so the pregnancy wasn’t her issue. “I’m fine with the pregnancy. It’s just… Can we really do it?” she thinks out loud, tracing the skin on his forearm. His lips find her temple, “I mean… Can we physically have sex to have a baby? I’m going to say yes considering we did it last night without the baby-making part.” She gives him a shove at his joke. “Be serious. Do you think we can do it?” she chuckles. His smile turns to a straight line, “I do. And in the instant that we think that we can’t, we will have each other to rely on.” She takes a second to process what he is saying and makes her decision. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura
#dad!drew#dad!drew starkey#drew#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you
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CHALLENGERS (2024) PROMPTS
* assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary.
who says i want somebody to be in love with me?
i don't want to fuck you to prove a point.
fuck me because you want to.
are you gonna do it or not?
tastes even better than it looks.
i just told you i missed you.
i really want to kiss you right now, but i'm worried that if i try, you'll think i'm the worst friend in the world.
you know, it hurts me sometimes how little you believe in yourself.
decimate that little bitch.
let's be honest, you gotta feel bad for the kid.
you're not a spring chicken anymore.
dude. he's a pancake. you're gonna flatten him.
how's this feeling?
we're ready for you.
so obviously this isn't the result you wanted today.
you choked.
i don't want you to embarrass yourself.
i'm just a little rusty. it's a confidence thing.
get your fucking confidence back. i can't do it for you.
i'm so sick of you using this as an excuse to have a fucking meltdown.
you said we could watch a movie.
you're evil.
i'm gonna quiz you on it tomorrow.
sir, i don't know who you are.
i don't think we have much more to talk about.
i haven't spoken to you in five years.
i was just taking a little nap.
move, or i'm calling the cops.
you were really something back then, huh?
we always talked about how amazing it would be to win this together.
i'm a crazy person.
any predictions about how that's going to go?
can you do me a favor? can you not, like... demolish me tomorrow?
shut the fuck up.
if it matters to you so much, i can just give it to you.
i need it to look like i really beat you.
don't guilt me with your dying grandmother.
she's the hottest woman i've ever seen.
you were... fucking incredible.
baby, we've got to get going.
i'm not going to that party.
are you that threatened by me?
we can't both just go in there, dicks swinging.
i'd let her fuck me with a racket.
hey, do you smoke?
of course they will remember you.
see, that's your problem. you think you're like an artist or something.
you just want to win because you love it when people tell you how talented you are.
are you on facebook?
i told you tennis was boring.
you just got this crazy look on your face.
are you on a date?
i don't kiss and tell.
why did you want to have dinner with me?
i think you might be the worst friend in the world.
i didn't know you were so concerned about my feelings.
of course you still have a thing for her.
we just had what i'm assuming is the best sex of our lives.
i fucked your brains out?
what do you think you need? a cheerleader? a fuck buddy? a girlfriend?
you're talented, you're charming, and you've got a big dick.
excuse me for inconveniencing you.
don't expect to sleep here tonight.
stop going easy on me.
i'll be whatever you need me to be. i'll fuck off if you want me to.
i need you here, actually.
you're referring to when i declared my love for you.
you're not in love with me anymore?
i've been dreaming about this for five years.
i'm gonna propose something to you, and it's gonna make you angry. it's gonna make you very angry. but you have to hear me out, okay?
i'm finally ready to listen to you.
how dare you fucking ask me that.
do you think it's cute what you're doing? do you think it's funny?
that's the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard.
i've always wanted you.
you didn't do anything to me. i did it all to myself.
i think i've reached the limit of my willingness to have this conversation with you.
do you understand how embarrassing it is that you're here?
you've never beaten me.
tell me it doesn't matter.
will you just hold me?
i'm not here to fuck you.
i miss watching you play. you were so beautiful.
#challengers#mcflymemes#rp prompt#rp meme#rp memes#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#rp starters#ask meme#ask memes#roleplay meme#sentence starter#sentence starters#sentence starter prompt#roleplay inbox prompts#rp inbox meme#inbox prompt#inbox meme#look at me making memes left and right today
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Inspired by this pic made by @infernally_fond
-
When the devil asks if you want to play, you’re supposed to say no. It’s a lesson most people learn as children. Some don’t take it to heart. They say yes instead because the devil promises he will give them something they desperately want in return.
Tav says yes because she fancies him.
That’s alright. They aren’t playing a game of life or death, and her soul isn’t on the line; just her dignity, and she never had much of that to begin with. Only an idiot would agree to a game they don’t understand. Tav isn’t stupid (honest!) but Raphael’s easy smile and request for her company – mostly the smile, it’s a dangerous weapon put it away damn you – chased off all her answers that weren’t ‘yes, of course, I’d love to play Lanceboard with you!’ So now she sits in his room at Sharess’ Caress watching him watch her across the table as she bumbles and bullshits her moves, losing pieces and losing her mind, because she knows he knows she has no idea what she’s doing but he hasn’t said a damn word about it.
He chooses a piece. She watches his long, deft fingers carefully position it on the board. Lucky thing. “Your move,” he says, languid. Everything about him is relaxed, even his posture. He’s resting his cheek on his fist, elbow on the table. Awful manners; must’ve been raised in a barn. His dark eyes glint in a way that makes it obvious he’s enjoying her squirming, her buffoonery. His expression is cooking her from the inside: not-quite-placid, could be conceived as bored if not for the subtle smoulder, a quirk of mildly sadistic amusement. If he keeps staring at her like that, she fears she might do something foolish.
She blindly grabs her piece. She doesn’t know which it is; knows it’s hers from the colour and that’s about it. Smacks it onto a square that’s (probably) alright. Nods, leans back in her chair, pretends to be confident with her approach, her strategy. “There. Your turn.”
Raphael blinks lazily at her. At the board. “Inspired. Truly,” he drawls, making his next move. “By madness, but nonetheless.”
Tav purses her lips. She doesn’t miss the way his gaze flickers to them. “What is madness but a denial of reality? That’s what you said before, right?”
His mouth twists with a lopsided, barely-there smirk. He surely doesn’t miss her glances, either. “Indeed I did. And what reality are you denying at this moment, little mouse?”
Knowing how to play this bloody game, she thinks, wishing he’d challenged her to checkers instead. “Letting you win,” she responds. Round peg, square hole – put her piece here, steal the piece she jealously witnessed him fondle, strangle it in her fist for its crime. He chuckles; rich, deep, raspy.
“A daring manoeuvrer, and highly illegal.” Yet he does nothing to rectify her blatant ignorance. (Actually, devil, what’s illegal is that chuckle). He simply makes his next move. “You know, it’s usually customary for one to be aware of the stakes of a game before they play it.”
And this, Tav thinks in resignation, is why he’s let me trample all over the match like a drunken elephant. She never learns. Somewhere, Wyll is shaking his head in disappointment.
“You didn't tell me there were stakes,” she accuses; considers pouting but doubts that would work on this crafty creature. “I thought we were just playing for fun.”
“And we are, my dear friend,” Raphael coos, terribly entertained (bastard). “What’s more fun than the thrill of a daring wager?”
“The security of knowing I’m not going to lose my soul?”
Raphael’s grin stretches; sharpens. “Oh, but I thought you were going to beat me. Where has your confidence gone, all of a sudden?”
He’s wretched. Vile. Despicable. Tav is so attracted to him it’s ludicrous. “I’ll win,” she snaps, “and then maybe I’ll take your soul instead. I’ll put it in a little jar and keep it with my other shiny baubles and all the things Scratch dug up. How’s that for a wager?”
“Riveting. Inexperienced, as far as eternal torment goes, but it’s a start,” the devil praises, pleased when Tav scowls at him. “Though, as delectable as your soul would be, it isn’t quite what I had in mind.”
“What, then?”
“Hmm…” He makes a show of drumming his fingers on the table in thought. Large, lithe, well-groomed; she likes his hands. Often wonders what other kinds of magic they can do. (Look away, Tav! This is serious!) “How about, if I win, you tell me exactly why you agreed to this game. Why you abandoned the safety of your companions and entered my den alone. Why you were so eager to say yes. And don’t think about lying, little mouse. I’ll know if you do.”
Well, shit. Letting him eat her soul didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. One does not simply inform a devil that they like him – especially not this devil. He will use that knowledge, that power, for naught but nefarious purposes, manipulating her much more than he already does. The worst part is, Tav knows she’ll enjoy it. You’re well and truly fucked, mate, as Karlach would say.
Stomach in her shoes, Tav plucks up all the courage and stupidity she has left. “And if I win? What do I get?”
“That’s up to you,” Raphael says. He clearly thinks he has the upper hand. He’s right, but damn him anyway.
Fine, then. In for a penny and all that. “If I win, I want a kiss.”
She’s surprised him, she can tell. She’s surprised herself, scarcely believing she actually said that, but it’s out there now, in the open, lingering like a bad stink. She’s basically already given him the answer he wanted, but Tav isn’t under the illusion he didn’t know beforehand. The power, you see, comes from getting her to admit it aloud.
“A…kiss,” he repeats slowly.
“Yes.” She sticks to her guns despite her racing heart, sweaty palms, impending sense of doom. “From you, obviously.”
He considers it for a long moment, statuesque, giving almost nothing away. Tav does her best not to squirm out of her seat, pretends to be as aloof and unaffected as he is, to questionable success. The satisfaction glittering in Raphael’s dark eyes makes her grind her teeth. He’s toying with his food, as he is wont to do. Stretching out this moment until she’s at her most uncomfortable. Pulling her nerves taut. The split second before they break, he responds.
“Acceptable. Shall we continue, then?”
“Let’s.”
Tav expects a massacre. Tries to mentally prepare for him to pull the rug from beneath her feet, decimate her pathetic attempts, and then string her up by her metaphorical toes and bleed her for every pathetic confession and admission she can give while he gorges on her emotional turmoil (and masochistic delight). That isn’t what happens. Instead, she wins – in about as loose as the term can be used, but still.
“My, my!” Raphael exclaims, faking every bit of awe as he beholds the board, the claiming of his king, the crumbling of his miniature marble empire. “It seems my devilish wits weren’t enough to stop the might of the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. I’ve been bested. A villain, defeated. Quite the fitting end for this little tale. Don’t you agree?”
Tav sits in stunned silence. Of course he let her do this. She’s not completely delusional (yet), but the implications for why are taking their sweet time sinking into her holey grey matter.
“Ah, but I suppose the Hero wants what she’s owed,” the devil continues, sweeping his arms in a grand gesture. “Let it never be said that I am not a man of my word. Come then, Tav. Claim your prize.”
For a moment, Tav doesn’t move. In some ways this is worse than if he won. Raphael waits, a smirk teasing its way onto his face. He’s challenging her. Daring her. Come into my lair, said the spider to the fly. She’s already here, and she might be stupid, but she’s not a coward. Her knees only tremble slightly as she stands, makes her way to him.
He gets up, too.
He’s not much taller than her, but Tav feels like she’s approaching a mountain. The coals that have been simmering in her belly all evening catch flame. This close, the smell of him is overwhelming: cherries, smoke, fire. The heat he gives off can’t be anything but Infernal, despite his human guise. Anticipation sets her jaw, her throat dry. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking as he slowly, slowly, leans forward, dark eyes fixed on her mouth. His breath is hot as it fans across her face. Tav’s lips part unconsciously, eyelids closing. He’s but a whisper away, the silk of his sinful mouth a phantom against her own…
He kisses her cheek. The left one, high on her cheek bone, and though he’s completely composed, she can hear the brief huff of amusement leave his nose as he pulls away.
“There you are,” he says, jovial, almost business-like as she gapes at him, humiliated, flabbergasted, furious. “One kiss, its nature wholly unspecified, delivered as promised. I always deal fairly.”
This fucker’s trying not to laugh. Tav can see the tell-tale twitch of his lips (lips whose imprint burns on her cheek, entirely not where she wanted thank you very much) and the gleam of delight in his eye. Oh yes, he’s had fun with her today.
“Is something wrong?” He asks her innocently when she does nothing but glare at him.
“No,” she grits out.
“Good,” he purrs, unable to stop the shit-eating grin from spreading across his face. “I’d hate to hear that you’re dissatisfied with your victory. I did my very best to acquiesce. As a little advice for the future, from one thrill-seeker to another: you might try being more specific with the terms of your wagers. After all, what’s that saying you mortals are so fond of? Ah, yes. The devil’s in the details. Keep that in mind for next time, hm? Ta-ta.”
A click of his fingers, a spark of hellish magic, and she’s standing in the middle of their rooms at the Elfsong tavern.
“Arsehole!”
From where he’s lounging on a sofa, Astarion lowers the book he’s reading enough to raise an eyebrow at Tav. “Who’s the arsehole, darling, and what have they done?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tav mutters. “Where’s Gale? I need to learn how to play lanceboard.”
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sweet stranger
A/N: request made here by @annekelovesreading
Summary: the war veteran Alfie seeks comfort in a stranger in hopes of returning to his old self
Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+, smut, reader is a sex worker.
SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG
"Thanks for the ride, James. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
You climb out of the Bentley and adjust your coat, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress before strutting towards the hotel, your heels clacking against the pavement and then marble floors of the lobby.
You sense the judgemental eyes already on you, but you've learned how to ignore them. If their judgement paid your rent and bills, then you'd finally be able to retire. But until then, you did what needed to be done.
The service you provide is simple and clear. You meet the client, humor them a bit and fuck them before leaving at first light.
You are lucky enough to work for a powerful and strict madame that actually recognizes the importance of her employees' well-being and ran a high-end business.
Her rules were clear. No marking, no hitting and contraceptive must be used.
Just because her empire dominates the professional area of sexual pleasure does not mean she runs a funhouse. Many would mistake Madame's care for benevolence when it is really just a matter of logistics.
Black eyes don't allow her employees to escort her wealthy clients to prestigious social events. And the only reason her business dominates is because she assures clean employees to her clients. An employee with the clap gets the boot and replacing them is expensive.
After giving your name at the front desk, you take the keys you're headed with a smile and head to room 403.
The name is not unfamiliar. You've heard plenty of Alfie Solomons and part of you is afraid of what he'll be like, judging by what you've heard.
The ring of the lift snaps you our of your thoughts. You flash a smile at the liftman and thank him before stepping into the hallway.
Alfie Solomons is not your first client - nor will he be your last - but knowing he is the first gangster you're about to meet and sleep with has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
You mentally repeat Madame's rules to yourself to try and ease your nerves. But then again, do rules hold any standing to criminals?
Taking a couple of deep breaths, you manage to relax as best as you possibly can in the situation and simply remind yourself that he is no different than any other client.
You lift your hand to knock on the door. There's movement behind it and the metal of the lock on the side rattles as it slides to open.
Your lips pull into a welcoming smile at the broad, tall man that opens the door. Taking in his features, you quickly notice his wet hair.
The smell of soap emanates from his large frame along with a faint scent of rum and an irresistible natural musk that almost lured you to touch him.
It's obvious that he took the time to wash himself and, to be honest, you're quite thankful for that.
"You must be Mr. Solomons."
"Punctual little thing, ain't you? Come on in, love. Don't mind me."
His tone is rather calm even with his heavy Cockney drawl. His fingers, however, seem to confess his nerves with the way they flick back and forth.
"Punctuality is a necessary characteristic in my line of work, Mr. Solomons."
"Right, right" he nods as you walk past him. He still can't seem to look you in the eye, but you've yet to discover why.
Most of the nervous clients that you've had were first-timers, young men eager to lose their virginity especially before being sent to war.
Alfie is very attractive and pleasing to the eye with his large strong build, but he is no young boy. You find it hard to believe that this would be his first time being as wealthy, cunning and wealthy as you heard he is.
"May I take your coat, love?"
"Yes, please."
You turn to back to him to allow his assistance, taking in the sight of the hotel room. You've been in this hotel before, but despite that, the lavious decoration of the suite never fails to impress.
Alfie can't help but feel intimidated by the simple scent of your perfume as he stands behind you, taking your coat to hang it for you. He doesn't want you to pick up on the fact that he feels so out of his element.
Before the war, Alfie had his fair share of women. He used to be so different. So young and naive and confident - which is the only characteristic he can successfully feign more than well in the wicked world he treads in.
But now, he's in foreign territory. So much has changed for him.
Getting his affairs back in strict order took so much work, sweat and blood from him that he hadn't prioritized his romantic desires.
If age hadn't been enough, the night tremors made it impossible to sleep beside anyone. Red blotches were beginning to spread throughout his body due to the psoriasis. His sciatica only worsened with age and the harsh conditioning the war had forced onto it. And now the fucking cancer, which only added to his list of secret insecurities.
The confident young man he used to be was gone. Alfie was still human, however. And like many other humans, he yearned for companionship. The problem is that a man like Alfie can't confide in just anyone. He can't expose it without the risk of his enemies seeing it as an opportunity to use it against him.
Good thing about Madame's business is that her turf is neutral and independent ground. For now, at least.
Alfie knows he has to overcome this hurdle if he plans to get married one day and start a family and he just thought this would be the best way.
He's got a beautiful woman in his hotel room; he knows what you came here to do. He's just not sure what to do at this point other than to confess it to you. He doesn't want to say it, but deep down inside, he feels a bit humilited.
It shows in the way he avoids your eyes, the way his head hangs low.
"There's no shame in that, Mr. Solomons. I'm happy to help however I can. We don't have to rush into anything just yet... Do you drink?"
"Not often. Clouds the mind."
"Precisely. What do you drink?" You smile warmly at him.
"Wine is my favorite."
"Let's get you a glass then, Mr. Solomons."
Just as you expect, the wine is successful in loosening him up a bit.
You're careful enough to avoid asking any questions that concerns his business, so you focus on asking him to share things he enjoys like music and books.
After a couple hours and a couple glasses, he's warming up to you as you listen attentively to his childhood stories. Despite the wine, he is cautious enough to leave out certain details that are too personal for you to know that could bring him or his family harm if they ended up in the wrong hands.
You can't take it personal, and can only imagine that trust does not come easy in his line of work which only confirms that pressing him on such information wouldn't be very smart.
No matter how easy the conversation is flowing or how comfortable he may seem to be, you can't forget who he is beyond these four walls.
As he finishes his glass of wine, he sets it down on the table in front of you while raising a hand to his shoulder to rub at the aching knot in his muscle.
"Would you like me to take care of that for you, Mr. Solomons?"
"With what, love? Oh, this?" He asks glancing at his shoulder. "Oh, no. You don't have to do that."
It almost like he's forgotten the reason you're both there.
"Really, I don't mind at all. It's the least I can do for you, sir."
With a sweet smile, you stand as you finish off your glass and set it beside his on the table before walking over to his chair to offer him your hand.
"I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to."
His blue eyes narrow their gaze at you for a moment as if he's trying to read you. You can see him physically tense before accepting your hand.
The talkative Alfie is suddenly replaced by a quiet and insecure version as he watches you, from where he's sat in the bed, take your heels off - your almost bare feet still covered in your black stockings - before climbing onto the bed.
You stand on your knees , which are spread to accommodate him between them, and sit back on your feet after taking the small bottle of rose scented intimate oil from your purse.
"It's like riding a bike. Your body knows that to do, but it needs time, patience and practice, so you have to go slow."
Your breathe on his neck has chills racing up his arms as you reach to his front to unbutton his vest and slide it off his wide shoulders. You do the same with his shirt, but pause before sliding it off as his hand instinctively hold your wrist.
"May I? I'd love to see you, but if you don't want to, I can just slide it down a bit."
He ponders for a moment but replies with a silent nod as he releases your wrist.
You slide it off and much to your impression, he seems even wider and stronger than you'd imagined.
A couple scars and red blotches already here and there on his skin, but they don't stop you from marveling at the rippling muscles.
"My goodness... Mr. Solomons, with all the utmost respect, but you are quite the work of art."
He can't help but smile at your compliment, although he thinks that you're just saying what you think he wants to hear, so it's hard for him to believe.
You let your palms gently wander over his large back and arms, with a gentle squeeze to his biceps.
"Carved from stone, are you?" You joke, bringing a chuckle out of him.
"No, love. Just flesh."
"Fortunately."
Using the pipette, you pinch a couple drops of the oil onto his shoulders before closing the vial to set it aside and letting your fingers get to work.
Alfie groans softly and his eyes instantly close as you start massaging to undo the knot that's been bothering him for weeks now.
"How is that, sir? More pressure?"
"No, love. That's just fine...just perfect," he sighs relieved. "Fucking 'ell, love. That feels fucking great. You've no idea how long that's been bothering me."
"I can imagine. You've got knots like this all round. It can't be easy to live with them.
Slowly but surely, Alfie starts to relax. It's impossible not to. It's been a while since he's been touched by anyone, much less massaged by them.
The tension is his body begins to ease as your fingers work away not only the knots caused by the stress of his days, but the anxiety of being intimate again. It doesn't seem so foreign suddenly.
Building up the courage to place a gentle kiss onto the back of his shoulder, you lower your head and press your lips to his skin.
"Is this alright?" You whisper.
"More than alright."
"I can go lower if you'd like me to."
He nods, so you glides your fingers down the middle of his back, pressing against ether side of his spine.
"Fuck, love... That is heavenly."
You smile at the praises and take it a sign to continue the gentle teasing, moving your kisses up to the crook of his neck.
You take your time to ease him into his arousal. The lower you go down his back, the more convinced he becomes.
"Would you like me to touch you?"
You ask nuzzling your nose against his ear and he nods.
You reach a hand to his front and rub your palm against his clothed crotch. Although you can't see his cock, you can tell the man's been blessed with girth as it twitches against your touch.
Alfie gives in to the instant pleasure and moans, letting all his worries melt away. He can't remember the last time he's been able to feel so at ease.
As you whisper encouraging praises into his ear from behind, Alfie allows you to unbutton his trousers and slither your hand under the fabric to stroke his cock with a firm grip.
The room seems to spin around him. His head feels heavy from the pleasure as it leans back against your shoulder.
"That's it, sir. Just let me take care of you" you smirk kissing a sensitive spot on his neck that he didn't even know could make him tremble.
He isn't sure how much longer he can last. It's been a while after all.
"L-love, you feel so good."
You chuckle, letting his thick cock spring free from its confines.
"You're fucking beautiful, sir."
"Oh, you think so, yeah?"
You nod as your hand strokes his dick, coating it with his own pre-cum and the essential oil you'd brought.
"Lemme get more comfortable, love. Wanna see more of ya," alfie says holding your wrist to stop your movement for a moment.
He stands to kick off his trousers, standing in all his naked glory before sitting further up the bed with his back against the upholstered headboard.
"C'mere, love. Lemme see you hm?"
His invitation is made with calloused hands guiding you to straddle his lap. You make quick work of unbuttoning the dress and sliding the straps off your shoulders to reveal your chest with a sultry smile.
"May I?"
You can't help but smile at how he's a gentleman in such a moment. Most clients wouldn't even bother to remember asking, but Alfie makes you forget that he is just another client.
His large hands reach to knead your breasts, giving them such attentive appreciation as he licks his pink lips, eager to get them on you.
"It's alright, love" you whisper, seeming to read his mind.
The way his beard scratches your sensitive skin has your back arching into his warmth. His gentle and considerate admiration lures you into a trance; into a heated dream where you are able to finally feel like a woman loved.
You welcome him with fingers lacing into his messy brown locks still damp from his bath earlier. Your hips move mindless as you grind your clothed sex against his exposed cock, reminding him how good he feels and how you want him to feel the same.
Shifting onto your knees between his legs on the bed, you pepper tender kisses down his chest and stomach as your breasts dangle down and rub against his cock.
The anticipation has Alfie balling his fists into the white sheets.
"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, love. Fucking 'ell," he mumbles as your hands run up and down his thigh, giving gentle squeezes to tease him on.
"It's gonna be a long night."
#alfie solomons#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons x you#alfie solomons x y/n#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fic#alfie solomons fic#alfie solomons imagine#alfie solomons fanfic#tom hardy
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The Fallen pt. 4
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Cooper Howard x F!Angel!Reader
A/N: This contains smut.
Cooper was angry.
No, he’d been angry when the shit-for-brains had the audacity to look at you like he was stripping your body bare with his eyes.
Now, he was furious.
Rage was an easy emotion, a comfortable one. For years it’d been his only companion, and slipping back into its familiar embrace felt almost natural to him.
Lucy had been too preoccupied with saying goodbye to her lover boy to see the carefully lidded fury, a snake in the grass ready to strike.
You’d noticed though.
Of course you noticed, just like you did every other damn thought that crossed his mind. Maybe you’d noticed the hundred different ways he’d imagined popping that weasel’s head off, of making you pay for the tiniest bit of himself he couldn’t let die.
When you’d proclaimed a shelter for the night- a sad little shack with three walls- Lucy had wandered off with some lame excuse of looking for supplies, the dog trotting happily along with her. Or maybe it was checking the perimeter. He didn’t care, hoped she died, really.
You set a lantern on the ground between the two of you, laying out your pack to get comfortable on the floor. Cooper didn’t bother, couldn’t sit down while the fire burned through his veins. It roared through every inch of his body, consuming him with a vexation he hadn’t felt in a long time.
That fucking roach should’ve lost his hands for touching you, for thinking himself deserving of your silky skin.
“You should rest.”
He barked a laugh- a harsh, aggravated noise wrangled from his chest.
“Ain’t as delicate as you.”
It was meant to be an insult, and fuck didn’t that just piss him off that you let it slide right off you. Unbothered, the same way you’d been the day he first met you.
The same way you’d been when that rat had scurried to you, vying for your attention.
“Coop-“
“So now you want to speak to me?” He straightened his back, standing to his full height as he glared down at your sitting figure.
It was an intimidation tactic, and he knew you well enough to know that it wouldn’t have the effect he was hoping, but it would make you privy to his frustrations.
“Seems like I’m a great choice when I’m the only one.”
Confusion furrowed your brows, quickly replaced by understanding. You let out a low sigh, eyes tracing Cooper’s figure in the dim light.
He didn’t like that you could be so calm, that you didn’t feel his wrath.
“You’re jealous.”
He snarled, angry at the insinuation- even more so that it was correct. It wasn’t just jealousy though.
You were his.
He hadn’t had something worth holding onto in a long damn time, and nobody would take what was his.
“If I was jealous everytime you opened those pretty legs for someone else, I’d never get any rest.”
Your eyes flashed- hurt, followed quickly by anger.
Good.
He wanted you angry.
Wanted you to feel the inferno in your chest, the way he did- to let it consume you in a blaze of abandon, come undone at the seams and show the person beneath.
“We’re not doing this,” you stated bluntly, still holding onto the last bit of restraint.
That wouldn’t do.
He wanted you unraveled, raw.
“Runnin’ won’t change a damn thing.”
Your hands pressed into your knees, a quick outlet of irritation before you stood up. Your eyes were still burning, but it wasn’t enough. You still had too much control.
“You’re such an ass.”
The smirk he flashed was cruel.
“‘M honest,” he argued, “and doesn’t that just piss you off?”
Your chest expanded with a deep breath, eyes unfocused as you talked yourself down. He was so close, you just needed a little push.
“Poor little dove, just wants to run away from her problems like she did her family.”
Bingo.
Faster than a blink, you were in his face, your teeth bared as you raised a fist. He took the opportunity, watching your rage swelter as he grabbed hold of your wrist and twisted it behind you.
Fuck if your rage wasn’t the most intoxicating thing- the rise and fall of your chest hypnotic, the bare of your teeth captivating. You growled, an angry, ominous noise that went straight to his cock.
Your back was pressed against his front, moving with the rhythm of your erratic breathing, teasing friction exactly where he wanted you. His fingers pressed into your wrist harder, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. You weren’t fighting his hold- waiting, listening.
“Maybe that’s why your daddy left you too.”
Your eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire as you tried to pull your hand from him. He held fast though, put every ounce of his strength into restraining you. You lashed out like a wild animal, movements irrational and erratic. Finally, when it was clear you wouldn’t get free, you spit at him.
“Fuck you.”
It was the most vulgar he’d ever heard you, his wrath mixing with desire. Warmth seeped into his cheek where your spit had landed, and in a quick kick of his legs, he dropped you to your knees hard.
And wasn’t that a damn sight.
“If that sweet mouth wants to be filthy so bad, why don’t we put it to good use.”
He talked slow, controlled, as he grabbed your hair, pulling your head back. Wild eyes traced the arch of your back, the smooth column of your exposed neck.
He wanted to take a bite.
Your eyes were burning into his, an anger he’d never seen before from you shining through. You looked like you hated him, like you’d burn him on the spot.
“Now, sweetheart, try not to use your teeth.”
He clicked open his belt buckle, positioning himself just enough to free his hardened length. He’d dreamt of this moment, had pleasured himself to the thought of you more than he could count. The realization that it was coming to fruition had him so hard it fucking hurt. He took pride at the hunger in your gaze, your mouth still twisted in a scowl.
“Don’t act all innocent now.”
Almost as if it were a challenge, spurred on by your temper, your hot mouth took his entire length in one quick movement and-
Holy fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You were impossibly warm, your tongue sliding the length of his cock while your eyes, the ones he’d spent so long admiring, stared into his own. You held his gaze, refused to look away as you hollowed your cheeks, daring him to keep going.
He didn’t disappoint, wrapping his hand around your hair just like he’d done with his lasso. Sturdy hands forced you to take him to the base of his cock, before pulling back out. He thrusted back in hard, unconcerned with the tears that gathered in your eyes as he slammed into your throat.
You were defiant in the way you took him, forcing a harsher pace than the one he’d set.
This had to have been heaven. Nothing on Earth could possibly feel this fucking good. His thrusts were feral, unrelenting, and you were meeting them with ferocity, your pretty lips wrapped so perfectly around his cock.
“Takin’ me so good,” he groaned, his abdomen spasming. The sound of your gags filled the air, tearing through any restraint he might’ve had.
It’d been a while since he’d felt any sort of pleasure, even longer since it’d been anything more than a quick fuck.
This, though…
This was a whole different beast.
Fuck.
He wiped at the saliva coating his cheek, staring into your eyes as he slid his fingers into his mouth, tasting your sweetness.
You moaned, and he was sure this had to be a dream.
Reality had never been this nice.
“My filthy girl.”
Another moan, and this one almost dropped him to his knees. Pleasure tingled up his spine, down to the tips of his fingers and the bottom of his toes. His body was practically vibrating, begging him for release.
He didn’t want it yet, wanted this moment to last an eternity. His cock was pounding into your mouth, your fingernails digging into his thighs- sweet pain mixed with hot pleasure.
Please, his body sung, begging for a release he desperately fought against.
His pace was brutal, chasing the high he both wanted more than anything, and wished would never come.
It wasn’t enough.
This wasn’t enough.
He needed more.
Needed all of you.
“You are mine.”
He emphasized on a growl, savoring the taste of you that still lingered on his tongue.
He was desperate for more, for every damn piece of yourself you’d give him. It’d never be enough, not enough time in the universe to get the fill of you he wanted- needed.
He was close now, only holding on by sheer will, and all it took was a tilt of your head and a long, low moan of what he only prayed was his name around his length.
Like a band, his restraint snapped, his hips surging forward as he grunted your name.
Fuck.
Fuck, his body was singing.
Fuck. Curses, unbidden, were falling from his lips. Pleas, praises, worships- fuck it all he couldn’t even tell anymore, blinded by the feel of your mouth.
It was hot, so hot, and you swallowed every drop he gave you, his sensitive cock was twitching, his knees trembling with the effort to stay on his feet.
You kept going though, pulling your lips back just far enough to lick his length clean, your eyes still so full of fire, the same fire racing through his body.
It was so much, too much almost, and yet he gave into the torturous pleasure, desperate for you, for whatever you’d give him.
His hat had fallen off his head when he threw it back, his legs shaking as you finally pulled away- and despite the overstimulation, his body still chased your mouth, not ready to feel the empty, consuming void left in your wake.
A breath.
A moment to consider what he’d done, what he’d said to you. It wasn’t anger in your eyes- not regret, either. He couldn't read it, couldn't grasp what you were feeling.
His heart pounded against his chest, exhausted arms releasing your hair as he slowly, cautiously, raised his fingers to your cheeks. Tears had fallen from how far he’d thrust himself into you. He wiped them away, let them press into the fabric of his gloves, as the air grew thick.
It was a soft moment, a gentle one, and he didn’t want to be the first to pull away.
So you did.
You got your feet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, your jaw flexing as you looked like you hadn’t just sucked him fucking dry.
He tucked himself back in his pants and secured his belt, waiting for you to speak. It was a tense moment, drawn longer by the way you wet your lips, like you wanted to talk but couldn’t quite form the words.
“Oh, fudge, are you two okay?”
His finger itched with the desire to end the vaultie for interrupting this, for causing you to cast a worried glance in her direction before your damn walls were thrown back up. Whatever you’d been about to say, you definitely wouldn’t now.
“Just peachy,” you smiled, one that screamed inauthenticity as you took a step to face away from Lucy.
“Think I need some air though, I’ll be back in a bit.”
It was a dismissal if he ever heard one, and the vault dweller had the good sense not to try and follow.
“Your hat’s on the ground, there.”
She went to pick it up for him, but he swooped down before she had the chance and deposited it on his head. On a good day he didn’t have the patience for her, but right now he was feeling downright venomous.
“So-“
“Leave it.”
His words were final, tone brokering no argument. That was the only bit of grace he’d give her- one more word and his reply would be a bullet. She understood, could see the tension in his stance and gave him the space he desired.
But it wasn’t space he wanted.
It was you.
It was your voice, so gentle and melodic.
It was your touch, sweet and resolute- full of heat, of passion, of something that resembled life.
Instead, he got the cold, hard ground and a head full of vicious thoughts. Why did you plague his thoughts the way you did? Why did you make him feel so fucking human?
He didn’t want to.
Didn’t want that, any of it.
Not the fucking feelings, not the guilt, not the stupid fucking spark of hope in his cold, dead heart.
Let Cooper Howard die.
But it wasn’t that simple.
All of the anger in the world couldn’t turn his affection for you to hatred. It was a stubborn thing, and a solid one. No amount of pressure could bend it. He’d just learned to live with it- a deficiency he’d carry for the rest of his miserable time on Earth.
He fell to the ground there, not bothering with getting comfortable, almost like it was a punishment. Truth be told, he didn’t have the fight in his veins anymore, didn’t wish to have to struggle to get comfortable.
He was ready to lie down and accept what he earned.
His eyes slipped shut, and though the vault dweller fell into a light sleep easily, he could not. His mind simply wouldn’t stop, kept replaying that look in your eyes.
What did it mean?
Did you hate him?
He wouldn’t blame you, could never fault you for hating the monstrous thing he’d become. He’d bet you’d have fallen in love with him before- Cooper Howard, the gentleman.
That was the kind of thing you deserved, the kind of life he’d dreamt about with you.
He’d love you in those dreams, so unconditionally and flawlessly, with no restraint or regret. He’d praised the ground you walked on, and would cherish every moment he had with you.
Not now.
He couldn’t love that way, not anymore- didn’t want to, didn’t remember how, if he were honest.
There was a quiet, tempered crunch of sand, a boot moving slowly towards him.
He knew those steps though, knew that it was you who approached him. He kept his eyes shut, curious as to what your intent was.
If you killed him, so be it.
“Cooper,” you breathed.
It was a prayer, an admission, and a promise. He didn’t reply, didn’t even crack open an eye, just listened with all the ravenous hunger of a starving man, hoping you would say more.
You didn’t.
A shadow casted from behind his lids as you knelt down, reminiscent of earlier, but of your own volition. This wasn’t with rage, with an animalistic hunger.
This was with compassion, with something that resembled fondness.
A soft exhale left your parted lips, and if he imagined hard enough, he could see the expression you wore. It was kind, open- something he rarely saw anymore.
A weight settled on his chest then, your head pressed snug against the tattered shirt he wore. An arm wrapped around his middle, holding him close to your warmth. The words you spoke in then sounded lyrical, more natural than anything you’d ever said before.
He didn’t know the meaning, wasn’t even sure what language it was- but a heat emanated from the feather he’d tucked into his chest pocket, and he understood that it was you sharing a piece of yourself.
He listened to the beating of his own heart, the slowing of your breaths, as he felt a peace wash over himself that he thought was long gone.
There, in the dim glow of a worn lantern, with the most beautiful soul he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting tucked into his side, Cooper Howard emerged- the man he was- if only for a moment.
Tags: @lacontroller1991 @giggle-shade
#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#cooper howard insert#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x you#fallout x reader#fallout reader insert#cooper howard imagine#the ghoul imagine#fallout imagine
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https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLHaF3Eb/
PETER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
oooooooooo
nerdy!peter::
a: hey, can you guys watch my boyfriend real quick? i'll be right back!
p: *brief pause while he looks around his room*
p: um, so i got this new keyboard. it has a titanium shell so it's super heavy but it makes really nice clacky sounds, so, it's pretty cool.
p: my girlfriend thinks it's cool too and she wouldn't lie for my benefit.
p: okay, she might lie for my benefit, but i don't think she's lying about my keyboard. it came with a custom spacebar, that one makes the best sound.
p: plus i can make it light up.
p: so, yeah, it's pretty cool.
a: i'm back, thanks for watching him!
p: be honest, do you think my keyboard is cool?
a: super cool.
p: knew it.
---
frat!peter:
t: hold on, do me a favor and watch my boyfriend real quick.
p: watch him do what?
p: trouble! watch him do wh- okay, nevermind.
p: *flexing his arms in the frame and fixing his hair before blowing a kiss*
p: wow, i love my girlfriend! she is so hot and amazing. everything about her is wonderful. she has the best boobs and a big beautiful brain, she is so smart and i just love talking about how much i love her all the time and it kills me just thinking about her finding out and - what?! a camera! oh no! she's going to hear this!
t: okay, i'm back. thanks!
p: you should totally delete that and never watch it.
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a strange dream | barou
incl. barou 🎀 ( he would kill me )
warnings. completely sfw, fluff, school!au, fem reader, very much ooc, slow burn
an's. i missed him so much i had to revisit
BAROU probably hasnt got any interest in you before your relationship, not in a bad way but lets be honest—he's a soccer addict, he definitely wouldn't notice you until well, he did.
you're both sitting in math class (which did i mention had one hell of alot of students) and someone from the other side of the room asks to pass a note to you, rumor has it they've got a crush.
eventually the note ends up in the large hands of Barou Shouei and he's of course expected to pass it along to you but doesn't see anyone ahead of him expecting to receive it from him. he's confused—who the hell was yn ?
its his bad—he really wasnt to familiar with anything not soccer related.
he looked around, then finally decided to give the piece of paper back to the person he got it from—whoever that was.
you look at barou confused, so the paper was for you? you had originally gave it too him because you weren't sure if the people mumbling in the back of the classroom were really talking about you or not.
you opened your mouth to whisper-yell at him, but he wasn't paying attention to you anymore, his eyes trained on the teacher once again.
you uncrumpled the paper, trying to be as quiet as possible in the dead silence, but with no luck.
"yn?!"
shit
"yes miss?", you hid the paper under the desk, trying not to make eye contact with the 28 other students that had eyes on you.
"care to share with the class whats so important that you need to be passing notes in my class?"
fuck
reason #1 why you really hated this class, your math teacher was a fucking bitch.
'mean girl giggles' echoed throughout the room, barous eyes paying special attention to what you were about to do.
you dreaded the feeling of being forced to stand up in front of the entire class and read aloud whatever was written on the small note.
"get to it missy"
oh fuck off
you looked around the classroom trying to assess anyone who may have been distressed or embarrassed but with no luck, everyone seemed to be waiting on you.
weird...
"im serious yn. if you dont start reading in the next 10 seconds im going to—"
"no, no thats okay—i-im reading"
for whoever wrote me this, i am so sorry.
you cleared you throat in preparation for the humiliation you were about to face, curses be upon you miss peterson.
"hi, i think your really cute, we should go out sometime together, from..."
your heart stopped.
oh no this cant be right
"thats it."
"thats it?" the teacher probed, slowly making her way towards you.
"that it. i-it just says from your secret admirer after that nothing else".
your math teacher narrowed her eyes, looking closely at your expression—she didn't buy it.
dont breakeyecontactdont break eye contactdont breakeyecontactdontbreakeyecontactdontbreakeyecontact—
"really..."
"really!" you broke eye contact.
she pointed her nose upwards, probably as high as possible and began walking towards your desk.
"alright then i wanna see it, i need to have it confiscated"
"what?!, why?" oops you said that kinda loud. the class whom had previously lost interest when you finished reading turned back towards you and miss peterson now intrigued.
"well why not?! it was a distraction in class and now it needs to be taken away to make sure it wont be a distraction again...!"
but that doesn't make sense, if you care so much about us passing notes you should take our notebooks not the gosh dang note !
"but that doesn't make sense—" but you didn't get a chance to finish as the teacher viciously snatched the paper from you and spun around back towards her desk.
you sat down and burried your hands in your face, you couldn't watch this.
"oh this looks fun...says it's from barou shouei, not what i was expecting...not what i was expecting at all..."
fucking kill yourself, PLEASE
the class, which had previously been dormant erupted in a series of raging giggles and screams—shocked at the reveal of who the note was from.
a soccer player.
it was no secret in BLLK High that nobody—under any circumstance—was to mess with a soccer player. they had a bit of a reputation going on. even the nice ones.
" 'cuse me?" a commanding and masculine voice emerged from your left side and you turned as quickly as possible to the over 6 foot ( 182 cm ) tall man trying to explain yourself.
fuck, one day you were seriously gonna kill your math teacher.
"no, no no i promise it's not like that—i seriously don't know who made this i promise it wasn't from me and i know it wasn't from you—"
"you're yn ?" he cut you off smoothly, leaning back in his seat ever so slightly.
"huh?"
his knees were facing yours now. "you're yn right? been wondering who that was for the longest, guess i know now, cool."
"huh?"
okay now you were confused—about multiple things actually. #1, barou shouei, the man you'd been sitting next to for almost a full year now had yet to learn your name untill just now which is—gosh, just outrageous even for a soccer player
and #2 he wasn't toltally angry and going to kill you like everyone said he would have, should you make a fool of him?
no seriously someone explain what was happening.
you didnt get a chance to ponder on your thoughts much longer however, the bell rang loudly in your ear and soon everyone including yourself was making way for the door out the classroom.
what the fuck just happened, what the actual fuck just happened.
"heyy ! yn over here !" you didnt realize it but you apparently had auto-piloted your way all the way through lunch and was now being called over by people you've never talked to a day in your life—and you knew exactly what it would be about.
could this get any worse
you were about to find out. "yes...?" you asked, tray still in hand while you stood awakwardly by the trash can near the lunch table who called you over.
"soo—wait first sit down, we're friends we're friends, sit down first" one of the girls said, patting a seat next to herself eagerly.
you looked at the eyes on you and quickly made a decision to move.
there definitely here to ask me about him. it can't be that bad right? i think her name is ashley? i don't know maybe this'll be fun, maybe they'll be nice.
"so have you guys had sex?"
"what?! no—"
"have you guys even ever kissed yet?"
"no—"
"we used to talk you know", this one was from ashley, a pretty blonde haired girl who's blue eyes sparkled like marbles.
"really?"
she was attractive that for sure but and you could definitely see why some people would wanna date her but barou? not so much.
"really"
like in what world would some super macho super mysterious soccer guy get the hots for some popular pretty blonde girl? not to mention an obnoxious pretty blonde girl.
gosh i sound like a pick me right now, who knows maybe they really did talk
"didn't even know her name" barou said, cracking his neck from side to side.
"seriously man?" asked isagi, popping a fry in his mouth.
"dead serious"
this was the soccer table, a table where only the best of best players would sit for lunch, not that it was official or anything—but new students were warned not to go near The Table anyway.
"so you did ask yn to prom?"
"no bachira, i didn't ask her how many times to i have to say that, i barely know her anyways"
"untill today" kunigami confirmed.
"until today" barou repeated.
"would you though?" chigiri asked, he glanced over at your table—you were pretty that much was obvious but it was barou we're talking about, who knows what he thought of you.
"nah, couldn't."
"why not? shes not ugly" nagi questioned albeit a bit insensitively.
"shes not but..." he trailed off, stringing his eyes from nagi to you, she looks kinda...
"but what"
"i don't want her thinking we're dating after prom or somethin', gotta focus on the game."
"what if i did then, think she'd say yes?" it was reo speaking now who was now also looking at your table.
"nah, your uncanny resemblance to a donkey might turn her off"
The Table laughed as reo scowled at the other players, he didnt find it very funny.
"shut the fuck up shouei, i didn't hear her accepting your undying love now did i?"
"thats because i never really asked her dipshit"
"your point! still better than knowing your rejected as a default"
"is it though?" barou was almost smiling at the purple headed boy.
"oh really? watch me"
the table made boyish "ooo"-ing sounds and reo stood up confidently.
shouts erupted from the table, causing the whole cafeteria to turn towards the players, they payed them no mind however, only staring intently at where reo was walking.
"look, look, look! one if them is coming over here right now!"
"really?!"
you whipped your head around towards where the whole cafeteria's attention had been directed.
nononon, this cannot be happening. you seriously did not need another soccer players thinking you were some freak weirdo because someone else wanted to be messy!
"thats reo, he's super fucking rich, i heard he has a whole two backyards !"
"and an a theater room!"
great, and it was a rich snob kid too.
"does yn sit here?"
your table said nothing, even the loud ashley kept quiet while he was talking. everyones heads turned to you, waiting expectantly for you to say something.
"yeah thats me..." you said meekley.
reo smiled and curled his finger towards himself a few times, asking you to come to him.
this is so awakward
you stood up silently and walked over to where reo was. he didn't stop directing him towards you until you were standing right up against him, close enough to where he could grab your jaw and yank your ear towards his mouth.
"you're hot, go out with me"
your eyes bludged, and your heart accelerated way more than it should have. that was NOT what you were expecting.
reo let go of your face, his hands were in his pockets as he waited for your answer, he looked confident tou would say yes. and most people would, but this was a soccer player we were talking about—and this one specifically was known for being super rich, super smart and a super hoe. three things you couldn't be bothered to even try giving a chance with.
you glanced behind him trying to peer at the damage that had been done.
holy shit the whole fuking cafeteria is looking
"so?"
you were snapped back into reality as reo looked at you, still waiting for an answer. it was pretty obvious what you were going to say.
"no. im sorry but no, i hardly know you and you're really not my type, sorry."
your table made all types of noises as they watched the now humiliated boy bite a scowl and walk back too his table.
you quickly sat back down and watched as The Table made fun of reo's rejection. all the players were laughing but you were only looking at one.
"said i wasn't her type". The Table erupted in laughter, all the players except reo cackling like animals.
"fucking told you so, at least get to know the girl before you start trying to hit on her" isagi joked, slapping reo on the back repeatedly.
"no for real, dont know what made you think she would fall for you in a day, not all girls are so easy you know" kunigami shook his head.
"what did you say too her anyways?" nagi asked now curious as to what got him such a harsh rejection anyways.
"didn't say nothing, js asked her if she wanted to go out, said no, that's it." reo reiterated bitterly.
"knowing him it was probably something like 'youre hot, lets go out'" barou said offhandedly, distracted by the feeling of eyes on him.
"you could hear?" reo asked, now confused.
The Table went silent for a moment and isagi burst out laughing when he realized what reo had just said.
"so you did really say that?!"
the emmbarassment for reo only cotinued further but barou wasn't paying attention to that. the eyes from before were still on him.
it was you.
cute...
BAROU isnt really much of a romantic either, he hasn't got the headspace for it like he does for soccer, so of course—he's not seeking the love. the love is seeking him.
1 week later
you sat quietly in the school library studying like a madman for finals, it was just near the end of the school year and you were determined to get good marks on all of the subjects.
the library was the most perfect and quiet place to relax and work at the same time—without any distractions or problems to bother you from your job.
"excuse me?"
you glanced up to where the voice was coming from and your heart felt like it was going to explode.
it was none other than barou shouei in the flesh.
a whole week, a whole week you had managed to somewhat avoid his presence and pretty much ignore him during math ( your teacher denied you request to switch spots ) it was going fine untill—well, now.
"can i borrow your computer charger? mine just died and a left mine at home"
that was it?
you didn't really know what to expect from the man though. he was known to be pretty brutal on tbe field maybe you were assuming he'd be the same in real life.
although i guess i shouldn't think that considering how chill he was over the fake confession and all of that...
"oh yeah sure, I uh can let your borrow it no problem"
"thanks"
barou took your charger without another word and walked back over too his seat.
the racing in your heart was begining to subside, that wasn't so bad...
you shifted to get comfortable in your seat and began studying once again, right now where was i...
"excuse me?"
and just as you were getting comfortable. barou shoei again.
"yes?"
"sorry im back so soon but, could i sit here for a little bit. the outlet by my table isnt working for some reason" he said it in a polite tone but seemed eager for an answer, he was probably in a rush to get as much study time in before practice like most athletes were.
he really isnt as scary as i thought he'd be...
"yeah of course that's fine, it's better this way anyway, wont forget you had it in the first place ya know" you smiled moving your belongings over to make room for his.
"thanks"
barou set his things down and soon enough a static silence ensued over the both of you, not that you minded though. you still needed to get work done and it was better he wasn't attempting to make conversation with you. it is a bit awkward though...
"you color coded your pens"
the voice that emmited from the other side of the table almost made you forget who was there.
"i did, why?"
"nice, i did too"
barou didnt wait for an answer, but instead pulled out a all black pencil pouch to reveal all seven colors of the rainbow line up in order.
jeez, i just think it looks cool, his has all the pen hooks facing up too, ocd much?
that wasn't the main point though, what was more important was his sticker—on thst rested sturdy on his bag. "you watch graves anatomy too?"
he looked surprised when you mentioned the show, and nodded his head appropriately. "yeah, and im all caught up too, all 22 seasons and counting."
"holy hell, im only on season 12 how to even time for that—aren't you always having games and stuff, scince your on varsity and all..."
barou quirked an eyebrow, "mm you know your stuff—i make it work"
now it was your turn to make a face "you make it work...really, its that easy?"
no. the absurbant amount of school work i have is fucking killing me right now plus i've got sisters too take care of so no, it's definitely not easy
thats not what he said though.
"yup, real easy." he nodded his head and although you didn't buy it, it was hardly your place to nag. he didn't seem like someone you should nag.
"uh huh.." you shook your head up and down slow and repeatedly, "for sure, for sure"
"what you don't believe me?" barou moved his chair closer to yours, so close in fact you think your knees were touching, his arms bulged as he rested his hands on his head ; it was hot nice seeing him in a position that wasn't so straight .
"no i do, you seem really responsible im sure you're great at 'making it work' " you put a thumbs up.
gosh, could you be anymore awakward...
"oh im responsible ? you would know that im responsible?" barou questioned, leaning even closer on his arms towards you.
is he...flirting with me?
you laughed and covered your mouth with your hand leaning slightly away as he got closer.
"i mean yeah" you paused to swipe away the nonexistent dust from your eyes, you just couldn't hold the eye contact.
come on, dont get shy now yn.
"people talk, i guess."
"do they?"
"they do" you nodded your head firmly up and down, since it was the only thing you were sure you could do at the moment.
"mh"
mmh?!? the fuck does that mean ??
"so yn i wanna ask you a question" barou leaned back as he said this, finally returning to his normal position.
holy shit my heart was beating so fast, somebody get me on a stretcher and to the hospital NEOW, i am about to blow!
"yeah?"
barou stayed silent for a few moments, thinking deeply about what he was going to say.
"hypothetically..." he paused, staring directly at you.
"hypothetically..." you confirmed.
"hypothetically if someone, other than reo from the soccer team—just as an example lets say...yoichi ! remember hypothetically speaking—asked you out on a date what would your answer be?"
huh?
"what kind of question is that?"
"a hypothetical one" he said matter of factly.
"a hypothetical one, right, well if—hypothetically of course—i was asked out by isagi, om a date that is...i don't know...yeah? I guess i'd day yes?"
"really, you would?" he looked surprised and you suddenly felt alarmed, was that a bad thing or something??
"yeah? i mean no, not really—maybe not if he asked the way your friend did..."
"mhm"
??? again, what does that mean?
A moment of silence passed between the two of you and you tried and failed at going back to the work you were supposed to be doing in the first place.
"what about chigiri?" he said suddenly.
"chigiri? what do you me—"
"chigiri. pretty, has red hair, plays on varsity and is super fast? chigiri. would you say yes too him?"
"i mean, maybe, yeah he's definitely not ugly and i guess if i knew him well enough I would probably say yes—why are you asking me this?"
barou said nothing and suddenly, the strangest thing began to happen—he looked at you smiling—a large, uncanny smile resembling a creepypasta monster formed from on his face, your heart began to beat but for the wrong reasons.
"wake up yn" it was definitely barou's voice but it sounded far.
"huh?" you couldn't move, and you now realize you probably couldn't move for a while.
what...is happening...
"wake. up."
your head shot up from your arms, ans you looked around disorientedly.
oh...
up untill about the last 30 seconds you were a bit disappointed it had to end. your dream that is.
"yn", a voice—much deeper than you recall im your fantasies spoke out to you as you felt a tap on your shoulder.
it was barou. the real barou.
"i baroued your charged?" he said holding it out towards you. (an's. IM HALARIOUS LAMOSJKWIS)
"oh. right sorry, thanks." you took the cord from him. but he didn't leave, still looming over you in his tall stature he spoke again.
"uh, you got a little.." he pointed to the corner of his lip, scratching at it in expectation for you to do the same.
you did, softly at first, not really sure what is it he was implying but quickly realized what he meant after you felt a crusty dry substance still left from your unconscious.
oh..
oh !
"ive got drool on my face haven't i" he nodded his head, and you swore you saw grin appear on his face—a real one but he turned and walked away before you could make confirm.
"thanks for the charger yn, see ya later"
his back was facing you now, slowly getting smaller and smaller at he walked away from you.
seriously ! could i be anyless embarrassing for even a second!
im afraid not yn.
because according to barou, he thinks your little moments of embarrassment and humiliation were pretty damn cute.
BAROU is never scared. he hardly ever get worried, he's king and one of the best players in his school, he's top of his class always and struggles—never. so why? why was it now, over some so trivial that he was all thoes things he never gets all at once?
1 week later, in the classroom.
barou felt weird.
the truth is, he didnt need a partner for the social studies project. his teacher was allowing groups of two or singles all the same. his reasoning behind why he wanted a partner is what was scaring him.
after almost an entire year, barou realized that you not only were in his math class, but his social studies as well. and his history, and biology—even his orchestra ( he plays cello in case you were wondering ).
he realized that you were everywhere.
barou, for the first time was recognizing someome else, not on the team, not an adult, but a girl, he was acknowledging a girl, as more than nothing.
it was weird.
"yn."
you peered up at him, wide-eyed and adorable. "work with me on the project"
your eyes, (e/c) and beautiful, got impossibly larger.
"yeah—uh—sure we can"
he gave a thumbs up, and went back to his seat.
what am i doing?
"i dont know, maybe we can exchange numbers instead?"
"yeah thats better, since im hardly on social media anyways"
even though you've got so many followers..
"alright cool"
you and barou were in the library, again. instead of dreaming about his muscles however, you were watching them in real time move for your phone and yours the same.
there wasnt mych said after that, only short words to communicate what part of the project you both were supposed to work on, untill...
"yn?"
"yes" and once again, you were looking at him, wife eyed and adorable.
"i've got a question to ask you"
no way, did i fall asleep again?
you sucked in a breath, and pinched your cheeks, not paying any attention to the words that might come out of his mouth.
"ow!" nope, you were definitely awake.
barou raised an eyebrow and couldn't hold himself in. he burst out laughing and you we're glad the library waw empty, because in all his seriousness—barou's laugh was loud. like the sort of thing you'd been holding in for a while.
"what yn, afraid you're gonna fall asleep again?"
your cheeks heated up an intense amount.
"no..."
"you're funny you know, really funny"
"huh?!" you squeaked, shifting all over in your chair. "what does that mean"
barou leaned in close to your face, so close that your noses were touching.
"it means..." he tilted hid head sidewards, waiting for your permission.
"i think you're the stupidest most adorable person to exist..." you didn't move away.
and like a shock, barous lips were on yours so softly it made it feel very much like a dream, but it wasn't.
an's. i know this is not himmm, he wouldn't even look at you after a supposed fake letter i knooow, i couldn't think of a better way to force it ( i was lazy ) and he's cute let me live.
an's. i rushed the end i knoww, leave me alone. i like writing for personal enjoyment shhhhhh.
#fanfiction#anime#blue lock#skullgirl#bllk headcanons#bllk#bllk fluff#bllk imagines#bllk x reader#bllk x you#baroushoueiheadcannons#barou shoei x reader#barou fluff#barou x you#bllk barou#blue lock barou#barou shouei#barou x reader#barou bluelock#yn x canon#fluff#ooc post#blue lock x female reader#fem reader#female reader#fic#oneshot#suggestive#reo mikage
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Dark Forced Family/Overlord Found Family
Having Vox on the team might seem like an odd choice given his bad relationship with Alastor, but what sold it for the overlords that the risk was worth it was the power Vox shares with Alastor over radio waves. Vox has a way of communicating with Alastor that none of the others have, because Lucifer may have suppressed Alastor's magic into nonexistence, but he can't outright destroy it, that would cause unimaginable damage, and Lucifer may be crazy but even he knows taking that step is too far. But that means Alastor's power still exists, just suppressed, so if Vox can get close to him, he might be able to get a sense of what they're dealing with.
This wasn't relevant until the final fight with Lucifer. Zestial and Carmilla as the oldest overlord and the one with a shit ton of angel-killing weapons are at the front, with Rosie and Vox taking care of Alastor's body. Vox can feel how weak Alastor has become, he won't last the night if this continues, but that power is still there under the surface, he can feel it and if he really looked, he could see all of Alastor's pain.
He can't speak for Alastor, he can't wake Alastor on his own even if he tried. All he can do is use that to switch off safe mode and beat it into the king's head just how much pain Alastor is in. He is the overlord of technology, and one of his skills is communication, he can rub that in Lucifer's face as much as he has to if it means Alastor survives.
The fight isn't easy, between coming up with songs on the dime, Carmilla and Zestial dancing around, Charlie trying to defuse, and Rosie taking care of Alastor (she would fight but Alastor needs some blood to drink and to be as far from this fight as possible), but they see Vox's methods slowly making Lucifer break down. Vox doesn't need to say anything, just the aggression he is fighting with and a power Lucifer would know he shares with Alastor is enough to get the point across.
Until eventually, Lucifer stops fighting, and he seems to be on the brink of crying, though none of them can tell because his hat is shadowing most of his face. Before any of them can decide what to do, Lucifer quietly asks, "You'll take care of him?" None of them know how to answer to that, but figured the worst that would happen being honest was a continuation of the fight, so they confirm.
Lucifer snaps his fingers, and a gold chain around Alastor's neck appears, only to shatter in Lucifer's grip. Alastor's soul was free, and that included his magic that without warning caused the entire tower and hotel to be caught in a violent explosion.
The overlords get their bearings only a few moments later, looking around the hotel in ruin, all of its residents and the royal family whisked away to safety, and Alastor protected by a shield but left behind. Nobody knows what to think of what just happened. Was that it? Lucifer wised up and after everything... just stopped? What was going on?
Zestial convinces them the logistics don't matter right now. Alastor has his soul and his magic back, but he has yet to awaken. It would be best to provide him with emergency treatment either in the safety of Vee Tower or Cannibal Town.
The other overlords agree and Carmilla carries Alastor to get him to a hospital, but Zestial lingers behind for a moment, looking behind him and seeing Roo standing there. He thanks her for her assistance, and that is when Roo holds up a contract in her hand. "I was just fulfilling my end of the deal."
What Zestial hadn't told the others was that he had made a deal with Roo, selling his soul so she would say and do anything to convince Lucifer to let Alastor go, all he would need was a final push. He had a good run, and even if the deal was going to damn him in secret, at least his friends and his grandson had been able to survive.
👀
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Drawn to you | Pt. 6
(A/N) There we go. I'm so sorry about not posting last week. A lot came up and I didn't find the time to write anything. Also, I really enjoy writing human!Alastor, more so than I thought, so there's gonna be more of that.
Pairing: Alastor x bunny demon!Reader (no Y/N)
Warnings: murder...yep, sexism, nightmare, flashback
Synopsis: Will he finally remember you?
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
“Alastor?”
When did he fall asleep? As his eyes widened, he spun around and came face to face with Charlie. She looked concerned, one of her hands raised as if she was about to touch him, but hesitated.
“Ah, princess. What can I do for you?”
The demon got to his feet and swiped his clawed hands over his coat as if to smooth out any wrinkles. Now that he was standing, Charlie had to look up at him, a motion that had always given Alastor a feeling of power, but right now, all he could think about was you.
“I’m sorry for waking you. I just wanted to check in on the two of you and offer to give you a break. You’ve been in this room for days now.”
It’s true. He has been here for days. Watching you sleep and heal. Watching you slowly get better. And if he’s honest, it’s the only reason he hasn’t marched up to Valentino and beat him to pulp. So no, he didn’t want the princess to take over. He wouldn’t be able to take accountability for what happens if he leaves the room without you.
“Thank you, Charlie. I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather stay here.”
Her face fell, concern washing over it again. She opened her mouth, about to object, but a quiet whimper stopped her.
Alastor whipped around as soon as he heard the sound leave your lips and rushed to your bedside. You were thrashing around, your face distorted in fear. You were having a nightmare. Charlie joined Alastor at your side, but he quickly shooed her away, reasoning that the more people you saw once you woke up, the more you’d panic. She hesitated, but after a few seconds nodded and left the room.
The radio demon turned all his attention to you now, still battling with the blanket on top of you. He gently grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the mattress, trying to keep you from hurting him or yourself.
“It’s okay dear, I’m here.”
He continued to hold you down while whispering nonsense, trying to break past the panic of what you were experiencing at that moment and reach you. And it worked. You suddenly went limp, another whimper leaving your lips, but this time it was his name…but…not really his name.
“Ali…”
He blinked once…twice…three, no four times, his eyes glazing over as memories came rushing back to him. New Orleans…the radio station…and suddenly he felt the humid heat against his skin, the sweat causing his glasses to slide down his nose and he pushed them back up again.
Earth - late 1910s
He stood before his workplace, the radio company where he took over the late airings. With his usual smile, he entered the well-air-conditioned building and made his way up to the offices, on a mission to find his favorite coworker.
He quickly spotted her, shoulders slumped as she read over a page. His cheerful smile lost most of its cheer, no longer reaching his eyes as he gazed upon her back. She deserved so much more than working for thankless, egotistical men who couldn’t appreciate her genius.
With quick steps, he closed the distance between himself and her and placed his hands over her eyes, his grin returning to it’s usual brightness.
“Guess who?”
The chuckle that escaped her lips made his heart beat faster, a soft blush covering his cheeks. It was the loveliest sound he’d ever heard and at the same he wished to keep that sound to himself, he wanted to broadcast it to the entire world.
“Oh, Samantha, is that you?”
His shoulders shook as a bubbly laugh escaped his lips. He rarely laughs, but with her, it felt natural. He leaned down slightly until he could whisper into her ear.
“Would you prefer it being Samantha?”
She shook her head and Alastor lowered his hands, as the woman spun around in her chair, smiling at him. And…it was you. He finally recognized you.
“Now, how is my favorite lady doing?”
Gently, he took a hold of your right hand, guiding it to his lips to press a quick kiss against your knuckles, while you rolled your eyes. You always did but he still insisted on the gesture. After all, it was one of the only places he could kiss. At least for now.
“Ah, you know, same old, same old. Got my work done within two hours, wrote down my concept for the day and it’s not even lunchtime, got yelled at by boss-man once again,-”
As soon as you mentioned your boss, his eyes hardened and he glared at the office door that hid the fat man. If he could only kill him…maybe he would. In that moment he wondered how it felt to kill someone.
“Someone ought to take care of that bastard.”
Your eyes widened at his comment you raised your hands to cover his mouth. But he just chuckled and lowered them slowly.
“You can’t just say stuff like that. You’ll get fired.”
Alastor turned back to you with his signature smile. How adorble you were, always looking out for him.
“If I were to get fired for protecting you, it would be worth it.”
He watched a light blush cover your cheeks. You lowered your head to hide it, but he still noticed. Of course he did, he noticed everything about you. That coy smile you were wearing right now. Your favorite perfume that he could always smell on you. How you always seemed to sit up straighter when he was near. And the excitment in your eyes when you see him.
Alastor chuckled again, before carefully ruffling through your hair, making sure not to destroy your hairdo too much. You started to complain, but before the first word could even slip past your lips, he had stopped and instead started to fix the mess he had made. Then he turned back to you.
“So, what’s on your agenda today?”
You reached for the pieces of paper on your desk and went through them, Alastor listening intently and taking notes in his head. He loved your ideas and often used them during his broadcast. Especially topics he knew you were passionate about.
“Congress is supposed to vote on the 19th amendment in a few days. I really hope it gets signed.”
Alastor nodded. He’d definitely have to mention that, especially after you turned to look at him with that sparkle in your eyes. He smiled, he loved that side of you. Excited and passionate. Something he rarely found in the women around him, something that drew him even closer to you.
His thoughts were interrupted when his name was called across the office space. He looked up and saw his boss waving him over. His eyes flickered to you and he saw the disappointment in them. And he understood it all too well, himself being annoyed that he had to leave you.
“Gotta run, will you tune in tonight?”
Knowing his boss didn’t like to be kept waiting, Alastor started to walk away while still facing you.
“I always do.”
Once again his heart fluttered at your words, a giant grin spreading across his lips before he turned and ran towards his boss who was already looking annoyed. As soon as Alastor was close enough, the other man started walking, keeping silent until they were out of the office.
“Well, is she your girl?”
Alastor looked at his boss, confusion plain on his face, but shook his head once the other man confirmed he was talking about you.
“Hm…in that case…maybe I’ll call her into my office then. You know, get to it. She’s a real cutie.”
Alastor would never admit it. He usually was more careful with his killings, but at the moment he saw red.
With a strained smile, he asked his boss if he’d like to go out for a smoke, his treat of course. Once the man agreed, Alastor led him out the back door, where no one ever was, and distracted him long enough for the radio host to grab a loose brick and whack him over the back of his head. It was enough to knock him out, but that wasn’t enough. If he could have, Alastor would have beaten the man to a pulp, but he couldn’t get any blood on his person, so he instead decided to use his belt to strangle him to death.
Once he was sure the man was dead, he got to his feet, breathing heavily while his lips slowly pulled into a wicked grin. Oh, how good that felt. He only wished he could’ve watched the panic in his eyes while he died.
Still, Alastor’s mind quickly returned to the task at hand. He had just killed someone in the alley behind where he worked. He’s not sure, but there was a possibility, that others saw them leaving together and then he’d be done for. His mind was racing as he thought of what to do. He had to stage the scene, that much was obvious, but how?
Burglary.
He quickly reached into his boss’s pants and pulled out his wallet, removing all the cash before dropping the empty wallet next to the body. Next, he removed the large, gold ring from the man’s little finger, as well as his pocket watch. The last touch was taking off the man’s belt and wrapping it around his neck in place of his own, just so that the police would think that it was used to murder him and not search for another one.
Once done, he stepped back, a proud smile on his lips as he pocketed the objects he had just taken. He could use those to remember this. His first kill. But surely not his last.
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Hazbin Hotel - Masterlist
Master-Masterlist
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel fanfic#alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor fanfiction#alastor fanfic#alastor love
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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 7: conversation
ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | m.list
chapter synopsis:
' “I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy," she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn't even blink.
“I’m not.” You are. '
---
Megumi calls you back. You leave for Tokyo again, like a soul yearning for its body.
word count: ~6k; tws: none for now :)!!
19-6-2018
“So you’re really going to let go of them now?” your father asks.
“...yeah.”
“That’s good. I’ll miss that Itadori boy, though.”
You will, too.
In a way you suppose Megumi and Yuuji are very similar. They’d go well together, be good, fast friends and all that.
They’re both undoubtedly good people, no matter how they’ve beat people up before and how different their beliefs may be.
In Megumi’s case, everyone knew how good a person Tsumiki was, her younger brother included. Her kindness and virtue extended itself, inspiring other people around her. But Megumi was a good person, too— polite, patient (most of the time, unless it were Gojo— but who wouldn’t be annoyed by that man, right?), kind in his own way. He cared for you in all sorts of ways in the past, even then you could tell, gentle with animals and objects and your hand. Gentle in his own way. Giving you reminders despite the tiny calumniations sprinkled in (they barely do as much damage as comb bristles can), being sharp because he must have had to, kind because it was in his very nature. Easy on the eyes, tall, deep soothing voice— he ticked all the boxes for that, too. You bet that if things were different, and the two of you had stayed in touch with each other, you’d have fallen deeply in love with it by now. Yet that thought only makes you feel sour now that things hadn’t gone that way at all.
And Yuuji, too— there was no explanation needed for Yuuji. Even Megumi could tell he was a good person. And at some times he was almost like Tsumiki. You weren’t ever surprised that you’d caught feelings for him, because— who wouldn’t? He was always popular, even if he was ignorant of his own charm around others. But he wasn’t just a good guy with a ripped torso, he was honest, perceptive and smart in conversations. Smarter than he ever credited himself for. Smart in a way you could never be— people with cute faces, nice bodies and good social skills were in a league of their own, practically. You’d thought that for a long time.
Did either of them ever know how you felt?
Probably not. Your heart was guarded, intensely so, and you’d never lay your feelings bare and out so easily. You weren’t the type of person to say you loved people as easily as others did, even within your own family.
This, you presume, is probably an acquired trait, now that you think about it. You were much more different as a child, free with praise and love and unabashed affection as well as appreciation for the people around you. What changed?
(Everything.)
You miss 2010. You miss Tsumiki the way you miss your mother’s cooking, miss her the way you miss when you wrote emails and letters and text messages to her with multi-coloured pens or your old phone that eventually broke a year after. You miss the conversations the two of you had, miss how you used to be your parents’ little angel.
And in the end it all comes back to that, doesn’t it? 2010. Nostalgia. Reminiscing on old memories in a way akin to how the elderly do in their youth. That just made you seem more pathetic, because, weren’t you supposed to be making those memories right now, at this time of your life?
You’re a teenager. You should be going out with friends, and having fun, not rotting at home ruminating on the past, with the only friends you’ve ever had hundreds of kilometres away from you (you weren’t sure if you could even call one of them a ‘friend’ anymore), and your acquaintances not close enough to replace them (how could they ever? How could there ever be a replacement for Yuuji?)
In a way you feel your life is miserable: awkward, socially-impaired teenage girl with her only friend practically out of her life at this point; nothing special to your name besides a cursed technique that most times does you more harm than good; stuck not being able to completely get over friends she met at eight who left her as quickly as someone can blink their eyes; with the thinking process of a nagging, stubborn mother sometimes, or if not that then a blurry, mingled train of thought that gets delayed or lost when moving from station to station; someone not of use at all. Not miserable, you think to yourself like a slap to the face, pathetic.
You’re not sure how Tsumiki is now— maybe she has a partner, or better friends than you were, or she’s busy being president of the student council or something (she’d be a sterling leader, of that you’re certain, that girl who you’d always known was bound to go places in the span of her lifetime).
Hopefully, she’s alright, and doing the best she can in life. That’s all you wish for when it comes to Tsumiki.
At this point, there’s no point in wishing to join them, or to linger on them and memories of the past. It’s a mosquito in summer heat, which is why, if it stays, you decide, you’ll just suppress and ignore it until it goes away. Even if you didn’t know how long it would take you to get over them— weeks, months, but goodness forbid a whole lifetime or forever— you needed to accept that you’d be like this for nearly the rest of your life: pathetic, lonely— ah, that’s the word that so very perfectly delineates the situation you’re in— and then some.
So that’s why, when you hear your phone buzzing on your bed like a cicada during a balmy night, you assume it’s someone else. Yuuji must be busy settling in (he’s been texting you, and you took that as a sign that he wouldn’t call), and Megumi must be… —Well. Megumi has made a promise, and it’s not that you don’t believe in him, but it would be better to expect less than what you’d like to in order to evade disappointment.
Must be someone else. A prank call, or a scammer, or something. Or a telemarketer, but you’d be surprised if telemarketers were calling you and not your father. And you were never one to pick calls up mindlessly anyway, so if it were some stranger out to get you or swindle you, you’d just hang up or check the number.
If not either a scam or a telemarketer (well you suppose both of those could be scams in certain contexts), though, then you’d suspect it would be either Yuuji (Yuuji’s the one who has been texting you, after all, conversations strewn over checking in with the other over the past few hours or snippets of advice from you telling him not to bother Megumi very much, and to be cautious and keep himself safe) or Gojo— definitely not Megumi, and probably not Gojo either, but still it was more likely that Gojo was calling you instead of Megumi, so you’re considering it— and you can’t really remember Gojo’s number anyway, so what if an unknown number wasn’t a prank call or something—
You wonder if you should just pick it up instead of burying your head in your study notes and overthinking everything.
But you know it’s definitely not Megumi.
You check the phone.
Well, you’ll be damned.
It’s Fushiguro Megumi.
You know his number by heart, after all. Keyed it in too many times to forget, and it’s not like he’d have any reason to change it. Not with the way he cares for things, inanimate objects, not with the tenderly quiet, secretly caring, emotionally jaded way he maintains them.
“Ah… hello?”
Your heart thumps in your chest and heat flares up in your cheeks with a frenetic speed.
“Hi,” you blurt out, shakily. You’re sure your voice is quivering, yet your mind feels like it’s barely functioning, almost about to drown in a seven-feet-deep pool, so you can’t really tell. You can’t really hear yourself.
You don’t know why you feel like this— no, you know exactly why, actually. It’s because you haven’t gotten over him. Your thoughts are scrambled but you know, for sure, that you’re like this because you want to get rid of feelings like these but you can’t. Or because you’ve been saying that to yourself like a mantra, for so long, even though a part of you wants it to stay— out of what, that’s what you don’t know; maybe desperation or nostalgia or an inability to stop dwelling on days long gone. But you know what this is— you’ve seen the movies, read the manga, watched the dramas. It’s romance. Crushes. Something you’re not quite able to call love yet, something you’re too scared to properly name, still, but something you can understand is one-sided nonetheless.
“…hi. [Name].”
“Hello…”
What happens when two estranged childhood friends with a book’s worth of history behind their relationship that happen to be socially awkward teenagers actually have a conversation semi-beyond what keeps them estranged in the first place?
“Hi— no, wait… how are you?”
Pot, meet kettle, because you’re going off nothing but the fact that you’re at the very least surprised (the other emotions are too complicated to explain) that he’s speaking to you again, and not just on text, but he’s calling, and he sounds like he’s reading off a script, but the script is in a whole other language, somehow, and the uncertain nervousness in his voice is tangible, even for a deep, low voice like his.
Script or not, you appreciate the effort, though.
“I’m good, um… I’m happy you were able to call. It’s been a long time.”
“That’s good.”
There’s silence on the other line; time feels like it’s moving achingly slowly. But you’re mildly happy.
Not happy, maybe, but you definitely feel light, as if you’ve been severed from the heaviness of everything else that has happened lately. This is the first time in years something like this has ever happened.
“Ah, wait, I forgot to ask! Sorry, um.. how are you?”
“I’m doing alright, too. Oh, wait, I should apologise. I didn’t tell you— thanks for helping with my injuries the other day. Gojo told me about it after you left. You… you didn’t have to, though. You shouldn’t have risked your health like that.”
You shake your head. “Don’t mention it. You know why I do this, anyway.” Out of necessity or a need to be useful, you’re not even sure yourself, but he must know, to some degree, right? It seems as if he’d be the one to know the most of this, of you— at least, when matters came to this. “And I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Dr Ieiri probably ended up helping more with the bigger ones once the three of you got back. I mean, she did, right?”
“…no. She said that she didn’t want to waste her time, so if injuries were more minor like mine, she wouldn’t heal them fully.”
“...ah.” More minor? Seriously, doctor? You’d normally not question her judgement over matters that she had more expertise in dealing with, but seriously?
“I’ll be fine, though. Most of the bandages have come off, and all.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
You wonder where he is now, on the bed, maybe, or sitting on the floor. You’ve seen the classrooms, but not the dormitories— you hope wherever he is, that it’s comfortable. That he’s okay.
“We’re going to see a new student soon.”
“Really? Have you met them before?”
“No, but Gojo said she’s from the countryside. But we’re meeting her in Harajuku, for some reason.”
“Oh, Harajuku! I miss it,” you let out a plaintive sigh, “I can’t wait to be back in Tokyo. You know, whatever happens, I still love that city like nothing else. I know how many people hate it, but I love it so much.” And you love it so much in the first place, mostly because of Megumi and Tsumiki. “Maybe she just wants to chase a bit of the sweet city life— I mean, you know how it is when country bumpkins go to the city for the first time… kind of. Or when they love the city— yeah, that’s a better way of saying it. I was like that, kind of.”
“...if you’re worried about the train ride here and want to travel alone, I could always pay for you. Uh… wait—”
“Oh, no, no! There’s no need, uhm— thank you anyway, it’s just—”
“It’s Gojo’s money anyway.”
“Pft,” you snort. Anything to seep out some of Gojo’s money like gluttonous leeches, right? “Nah, I’ll be fine. I mean, I don’t even think I’ll be able to come back in a few years’ time, and by then I won’t even be relying on my parents’ money for this stuff anymore— I mean, I will still be relying on their money, but I’ll be managing it as my own.”
He chuckles lightly over the line, the silent way he shows his emotions, the way that goes unnoticed if one is not attentive to it. It feels like he’s whispering directly into your ear, and the heat on your face (which you weren’t even sure was still there until that point). Your heart skips a beat and it completely, absolutely shocks you. “...the offer still stands.”
Yeah, you can get behind it if he’s like this now. What happened to him, anyway? Puberty hit him like a brick and gave him, like, one more ounce of emotional maturity?
You shake your head like a character in a piece of crappy romance fanfiction. No way. Not now, at least. Calm down.
(...you’re just a girl.)
“Well, no take backs from now on, okay? Even if it’s, like, five years into the future, you’ll still be using Gojo’s credit card to cover for all my travel expenses.”
He does it again, that low, soft, attractive sound. Makes you want to hit him and hit yourself at the same time, and then kick your feet up in the air giddily, and then throttle yourself, if it were possible, out of sheer embarrassment. “Yeah.”
You’re having the time of your life.
“Anyway, how is everything else? Like, are your studies and grades okay? Is the training you do alright to handle?”
“My grades are pretty okay,” he answers, “Not like Gojo cares, honestly. And the training’s fine, it’s nothing I’m not used to.”
“Gojo seems like he’d be a good teacher. When he wants to, he can command respect pretty easily, too. I guess he just… chooses not to. But I saw it yesterday, when you and Yuuji were passed out in the hospital.”
It still strikes a pang of guilt in your chest, your inability to have done anything else besides calling Gojo over for help.
“...I suppose he does.”
“Yeah.”
“How about you? Itadori, he… he can be an idiot sometimes, but he speaks of you really admirably. He talks about how smart you are a lot.”
The thought of Megumi calling Yuuji an idiot of all things doesn’t feel like it falls short from him, but it still makes you frown— though, you realise that that’s just his way of expressing things, because in a way he’d treated you somewhat the same in the past, even if he hadn’t shown it outright or expressed it very vividly. Classic Megumi.
“Hey, he’s smarter than people give him credit for, okay? Wait until you see how talented he is at things other than sports and martial arts. You’d be surprised after trying the meatballs he makes. Would be good if you asked him to give you the recipe sometime; I make them, like, once a week, at least.”
He sighs, “...I will. But the point is, he cares for you a lot.”
“Yeah, beautiful soul, that guy. Loves people the way curious children love nature.”
“That would be a fitting way to put it.”
“How are the dogs?”
“My shikigami?”
“Yeah. Do they have names?”
“The black one is Kuro and the white one is Shiro.”
“You named them black and white?”
“Look, I named them when I was barely six years old, and six year olds aren’t exactly the best when it comes to these things…”
You giggle, “So the name stuck?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
Real cute.
“What about your father? How is he?”
“He’s okay, but, well. I guess we’re not that close anymore.”
“...I see.” He probably can’t imagine a version of you who wasn’t immensely close to her parents. You couldn’t then, either.
“We’ve been talking even less now that my mother’s in the hospital, but at least I get to talk to him before he eats, maybe. I’ve been doing most of the cooking now that my mother isn’t here and my father doesn’t really know how to handle himself in our kitchen without her guidance.”
“Oh… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your mother?”
“Cancer.”
You can practically hear the gulp he’s taking, the bobbing of his throat— sensitive topic. “I’m… so sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay, don’t be,” you reassure him, “I should have told you that day anyway. I was just… exploding at everybody on that night. I should apologise— I’m sorry for how badly I treated you.”
“No,” he goes, “No, you shouldn’t. I understand why you were like that that night. And it was mostly my fault, too, so…”
“No, no, I’m serious! Feel free to ask almost anything as long as I have actual answers to your questions and all.”
“Still… I just wanted to know. Sorry if I caused you any trouble.”
“No— you didn’t do any of that at all, don’t worry! I’m alright with people asking about this. Ah, anyway… besides Yuuji, do you have any friends?”
“Itadori and I aren’t friends.”
“Trust me, if I asked him, I bet he’d beg to differ. Yuuji’s like that with people— soon he’ll be more important to you than you could have ever thought at first.”
“Whatever you say,” he sort of grunts, “But I don’t have any friends, I think… except you, maybe. What about you?”
You were honestly expecting him not to consider you a friend at all, and at this point so much has happened that wouldn’t even be that bothered if he no longer thought of you as one but called you anyway out of his commitment to his promises, or as an apology.
“I’m surprised you can still call me a friend,” you say. Calling people instead of talking to them physically does something to your inhibitions.
“...should I not?”
“No, no, I’m happy,” you say over the phone. You’ll forget this conversation tomorrow, at least, when the sun has risen and the night returns back the hold you have over yourself, your composure, to you. You’ll act like this never happened. So you’ll say whatever you want to now, disgorging yourself of years of withheld secrets. “I’m happy that we’re still friends. I think I like that.
“Yeah?”
“Um— yeah, it seems like a good place to start,” you grin slightly. “And I, well. I don’t really have any friends beyond Yuuji,” —You’re not even sure if Tsumiki still sees you as a friend— “Even if I may have acquaintances like Sasaki or Iguchi it still feels like Yuuji’s one of the only people I can give that kind of title to, so, um… the more the merrier?”
“That’s… nice.”
“...it is, isn’t it?”
“Thank you.”
Why? “Okay.”
The two of you go through the next few seconds in silence, time feeling like it’s blending and bleeding into a mix of years and events. You can hear the light, steady sound of his breathing from the other line. If you could, you’d sleep to it— fuck the phone bill, you’ll be the one paying it in your father’s stead this time if it was for this.
It’s comforting, and you don’t want to break it— the quiet. If he can hear you now, can hear how you’re breathing through a smile with your chest only slightly moving, you hope it feels the same as the sound of his breathing did for you. You hope it feels just like home. Like a warm pillow in the one place you love the most that you bury your head into when the weather gets especially cold.
“Fushiguro!”
Oh dear.
Wincing at the sound of the creaking door’s shrill shriek as it's opened and then hits the wall, you know exactly who it is— you’d recognise that voice anywhere.
“Is that Yuuji?”
“Oi! I told you not to barge into my room like that!” Megumi shouts.
“Huh? You’re calling someone? Sorry. Wait, is it [Name]?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Hi, Yuuji.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Is it alright if we do, Megumi? Just for a few seconds.”
“Fine,” he sighs. You can practically hear that eye roll.
“Yo!” he cheers.
“Has everything been okay lately?” you ask.
“Yeah. We’re meeting a new student soon.”
“Ah, yeah. Megumi told me.”
“—Oh, and my uniform came in! It looks pretty neat.”
“That’s good. Maybe you can send me a picture once you start wearing it, then.”
“I will!”
Things are going better than you thought they would.
21-6-2018
It’s been a few days now.
You don’t know Sasaki and Iguchi well enough to call them friends, but the three of you do know each other. You had never decided to change any contacts with them, and considering that they and you were never closer than acquaintances, friends of a friend— you had never really regretted it. But now that Yuuji is gone— and you know he’s not dead, but still— you wonder whether you should have gotten closer to them, just to be less alone once Yuuji left, even if it could not be the way things were with Yuuji. (“I thought I was a pretty lonely guy, and sometimes I still do. Like— I mean, you’re a lonely girl too sometimes, I think,” he had told you as you patched him up.)
Still, Yuuji and you were two peas in a pod— so they’re bound to ask what happened to him soon enough, especially Iguchi.
You’ll have to start getting used to spending your Thursdays alone. And then you’d have to start getting used to every other day without him, too. If you went to the arcade or watched movies or sing-screamed the lyrics to English songs you don’t know the Japanese translations of without his presence there, you know how it wouldn’t feel the same. In life it’s not what you do that matters, you’ve come to realise— it’s who you’re doing these things with. That’s what puts meaning to it all and makes all things done in your life worthwhile.
The two of them pass you by during lunch.
“[Last Name]? —Oh, hey!” Sasaki says as she turns around.
You almost scream and run away like a mouse fleeing from the eyes of a vicious house cat, tremors in your voice. “Hello…”
“Where’s Yuuji, by the way? The occult club’s going to fall apart without him.”
You pause. “He transferred to another school…”
“Huh?” she goes, Iguchi almost reeling back in shock. “Transferred? But why? We’ve barely even made it to the middle of the year!”
“I… I don’t know, it was something really urgent,”
23-6-2018
Your room is a cluttered mess— lucky as you are that it’s the weekend, the past week has been a rollercoaster that knocked your room’s usual standard of cleanliness off track. Scattered all over your desk were worksheets, notebooks, graph paper pages and foolscap paper, chicken-scratch writing and meticulous notes scribbled all over them to compensate for your absence the day after the incident took place.
It isn’t the time or the discipline you lack— it’s just that it’s going to be awfully tedious. You’ll have to wipe your desk again, and clean the walls, and sort through all your clothes, too, since you haven’t been folding them in any way that isn’t merely fastidious and nearly careless. So as you get to work, you suppose that calling someone wouldn’t hurt.
Maybe you could call Megumi. That would be okay.
For the past few years, you’ve never noticed it. So when you do, it hits you like a bullet train at the fastest of speeds.
You miss him. Not just in the way you miss 2010, the way you miss the past, the way you miss and mourn the person you used to be. It had been so obvious for Tsumiki, but not for him, and now that you know this it’ll be another quiet revelation— another rediscovery of fragments of yourself concealed by memories.
You miss him— all of him; you yearned to be his friend again because he was unlike Tsumiki who you knew cherished you as you did her; you miss him regardless of who he is now, because somewhere inside him is the boy who read dog books and brought you to the school library and ran your finger through water when you burned it. Somewhere inside him is the person who offered to hold your bag as he walked with you through a snowy garden, and helped you when your nose bled.
So it would be okay to call Megumi right now.
“Fushiguro speaking.”
“Hi, Megumi. Are you busy?”
“Not right now.”
“Want to call?”
“Fushiguro!” It’s Yuuji. “Wanna go—”
“I said I’m not going!”
You chuckle, “Be nice. Were the two of you supposed to go somewhere?”
“Nothing important. Gojo said he wanted us to ‘bond’ with each other, so he concluded that we could watch a movie. Some kind of gory horror film or something.”
He’s… actually making an obvious effort not to scold Yuuji that much or call him some insulting, derogatory term this time… wow.
“Ah, yeah. Yuuji likes his horror movies.”
“Anyway, anything urgent you wanted to tell me?”
“No, I’m just… uh—” you laugh nervously, “I’m just a little bored.” Nowadays you’re not really sure what he’d do— scold you, maybe, or roll his eyes so hard that you can hear it over the line, or he may even flash into a quick bit of awkwardness and hesitation through his words.
Or maybe— and this was the worst of it all, he’d ask why you were calling him, and his bouts of awkwardness would have only been something temporary, soon to be replaced once again by anger and annoyance, the same he gives to everyone else— even if you knew he didn’t always mean it, per se. No more special treatment for you.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, uh… I have to clean, and usually it’s not as much as what I have to do today, so I just thought that since the only other person in the house is my father and we don’t really talk much anymore, we could, um… chat for a while. Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Uh-huh, so.” You stand up, leaving your phone on your desk and putting the call on speaker mode. The mountain of papers and books is a wasteland and your desk has been degraded to a landfill— the state of it would make your mother a wailing mess— no, she’d faint instantly as soon as she saw it, becoming worse of a mess than the table itself was. “Anything interesting happened lately?”
“Not really.”
“Oh—! Yuuji sent me a picture of his uniform the other day. Was that one special?”
“Yeah. But they let students make adjustments to the uniform, and he said he hadn’t changed anything, so I think that was Gojo’s doing.”
“Oh, well, that’s Gojo. It suits him, though, right? Not to sound mean or be presumptuous, but…” you chuckle, “When you wear the uniform, you look so formal. It’s not a bad thing— it’s just that Yuuji’s just always been more casual like that. And the red of the hoodie goes with his hair, too!”
“I guess so.”
“I can’t imagine you wearing anything other than the default uniform, though. Not to insult you, I mean, you still look good in the normal uniform, I just— can’t imagine it.” You remark, sorting the materials and books by size and subject. You’ve got to handle some of the drawers, too, now that you’ve started and can’t stop your momentum just yet. You can already feel the dust particles that have gathered on whatever is inside them still, jostling around once you’ve taken them out.
“If you’re going to say it like that, you can just say it outright.”
“No, no! I mean that I just can’t imagine you wearing, like, Yuuji’s uniform. Wait, what do the other students’ uniforms look like?”
“The second years?”
“Yeah. Did they choose the normal ones?”
“Inumaki did. They have three boys and one girl, but only two of the boys wear the normal uniform. Okkotsu has a special uniform in white.”
“Oh, I see,” you nod your head, “It’s a nice uniform, though. I wish I could wear a uniform that pretty.”
“You could always enrol yourself here,” he suggests, “They’d welcome you with open arms.”
“Maybe they will,” you chuckle, “But my mother would be adamant on me staying in the ‘normal’ world. She’s unyielding like that.”
“And your father?”
“Wouldn’t mind, at least I don’t think…” you say, “I’ll have to wonder when to tell him if I do end up in jujutsu high; you never know when he’s mad. He’s always unpredictable like that nowadays and it’s not… particularly pleasant.”
“I see. It would be good if you were here, though. You would be closer to Dr Ieiri that way. And it would do good, because, um… well, I’d like you here. You’d be… good for the people around you here.”
“Ah, you— you would?” you ask, slightly phased— not like he hasn’t been a bit nicer to you since you’ve seen him again (maybe it was the awkwardness, maybe it was the guilt). “Thank you,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging up sheepishly, heading to the dusty drawer (you haven’t touched it in what feels like years, usually excluding it from your list of things to clean).
After a scrupulous amount of wiping away at the dust outside of and surrounding it, you open the drawer with a slight bit of anticipation— you don’t expect much, but you’re a person who lingers on the past like a ghost that has forgotten how time has passed. There wouldn’t be much in this drawer to reminisce on, you presume, but you still approach it with an eager fascination— you’re the type to do so, after all.
Of everything there, the most noteworthy are two things you grabbed almost immediately— you could never forget how they felt, and the weight that they held in your life back then: a letter, addressed but never delivered to the person you were talking to right now, and a cigarette with a hastily scribbled slew of numbers on it and a lipstick mark on its end.
Oh, that letter. That letter.
From what you remember, you’ve never rebelled against your parents before. At least, not with anything major— for a long time, you were their good girl, and you never disobeyed them, as much as you wanted to at times. You still are, still stuck with that age-old drive to be useful. (But was there even a point in that anymore? At least, was there one with your parents?). You didn’t picture yourself as any kind of righteous goody-two-shoes, but you definitely weren’t a rebel or a delinquent. You followed their instructions and seldom ever questioned what they told you, and so it had always been subtly implanted in your brain that they would be alright with anything you did or said. Yet the first time you did actually start to question them, you realised that their belief in your ‘obedience’ as pure love— and maybe it was; you loved them so much you were blinded and trusted them with everything and did anything they wanted their baby to do— you realised they only treated you so lovingly if you were not an actual person with your own ideals and beliefs.
(But they still loved you, right?)
Even now, you still do obey them and listen to them. If your father needed anything, he could consider it done; if your mother wanted her clothes to be patched up you’d try your utmost best to withstand the pricking of needles and bring it back to her hospital room with bandaged fingers. It was like that with your mother: even if at times it seemed like the only pain she wanted for you was callouses from a pen or pricks from needles, at other times you feel she could have known you’d end up like her, maybe. Maybe she saw it as a curse: the worlds the two of you were born in were different, and she wanted you to stay in yours, lest you die or live in a world of endless pain.
You’ve been doing it for a long time: being dismissive of yourself, prone to self-prostration, subservient; the lovingness of a mother, the sweetness of a teenage girl (you hoped), the kindness of a caring friend. Maybe it was Tsumiki— maybe it was because you’d always seen this in Tsumiki. She was always smiling, always caring; taking on the weight of motherhood before she could carry the weight of her school bag. Hugging you with her saccharine smile; braiding her hair with gentle hands and holding your wrist with her hair tie on it even gentler. (You still have it with you. You had planned to start taking it off more once Yuuji left, but you suppose some habits take longer than a week to develop.) All while having that sickening, fantastical, mysterious sweetness of a teenage girl in what you now understand could have been a hidden misery— because caring for someone like a mother while suppressing the thoughts that spoke to you to act like a child was something you wanted to replicate until you realised you understood it. And then you no longer wanted to recreate it. (Maybe that was the way it was for every woman or girl you knew: watching someone you loved hurt themself or not being able to do anything to prevent it when they started. Life was a cycle that way. A very annoying, frustrating one full of unfortunate circumstances and wrongly-picked out decks of cards.)
“…you know what? I think I may be able to come,” you tell him.
“You don’t have to go against your father for our sake.”
“No, don’t worry about it. I think I know who to ask for help. Thank you, Megumi.”
“Hi, Dr Ieiri?”
“Kid? That you?” she goes, the slightest bit of excitement stark against her usual deadpan tone. “I thought you’d never call because of that old man.”
“Haha, yeah— sorry to disturb you, but, um, Dr Ieiri? I may want to take you up on that offer, by the way, but um, I’m still on the fence. I mean, I know I want to be like you and do what you do but… I don’t know, I’m not quite sure about leaving the two of them alone here and all. But anyway, I just called you because I wanted to ask if there was, you know, any way you could get me to Tokyo somehow. I need to pass something to someone, but, um… I guess I’m going with this with the hope that I’ll change my mind and join you. But I’m… perpetually on the fence for now, I guess.”
“Pft,” she snorts, “You little rebel, I’m in. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you so much.”
24-6-2018
The decision and the plan were made as swiftly as you could.
You decide to tell your father— you wouldn’t want to deceive him, after all. At least, you’d give him a quick notice. And then you’d leave. Like a snowflake before the first day of spring. He’ll probably tell your mother.
“I’m leaving for Tokyo for a while,” you say, “I’ll be back before you can even realise I’m gone. Invitation from Dr Ieiri.”
25-6-2018
“Why?” your father asks, the night before you leave. He suggested going out together at least once before you left. He always knew when you were making white lies.
“I guess that maybe I’m just too much like you, Daddy.”
For the first time in years he hugs you on the doorstep, patting you on the back on the day you’re set to leave. “Make sure you study and work hard,” he reminds you.
“I’m leaving for Tokyo,” you announce.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy,” she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t even blink.
“I’m not.” You are.
“You know, your father travelled all over the country to see me again after we’d first met.”
“Oh. Okay?”
“And he’s always been dedicated to his job and dedicated to helping people.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m saying that the two of you are very similar. I’ve lived through this story before,” she states, “And you look just like your father right now.” your mother says. She hasn’t smiled the way she used to— you remember it vividly, that vibrant gleam in her, the liveliest and loveliest of life— in ages and you don’t think she will, not now of all times.
“Really? Sometimes he says I take after you more.”
“You will.”
It doesn’t feel like a curse. Even if it usually would make your heart well up in guilt, it doesn’t feel like a curse.
Maybe she knows that her time is running out. Maybe this is resignation. Whatever it is, you hold her hand first, but you’re also the first one to let the other go, your fingers slipping away from hers. You leave the door for the last time in a while, making another round in your life of that carousel of abandonment and reuniting and departures.
25-6-2018
Dr Ieiri greets you with a calm smile on her pallid face.
“Good to see you again.”
“It’s good to be back here,” you sigh.
It is.
You keep your hand on your other hand’s wrist, holding them in front of you. The cherry hair tie on it feels warm against your skin as you exit the station, summer heat embracing it softly.
taglist:
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#WE'RE FINALLY ON TRACK WITH THE AO3 VER WOOO!!#jjk x reader#take me back (take me with you)#jjk megumi#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#megumi fushiguro#megumi#fushiguro megumi#megumi fluff#megumi angst#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#jjk x fem!reader#fem!reader#ruer writes#megumi x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#megumi imagine#fanfiction#jjk fanfiction
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I shoulder through the front doors into the fresh spring air, still a little breathless with adrenaline, to where Michelle is waiting for me. She looks unhappy.
“How did it go?” I say.
“Oh, awful, they were like robots, so intimidating. I didn’t know what they thought of my work, you know? I really thought I’d start crying at one point.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and that woman was so cold. She was pulling all of these faces at my self portraits and saying they were naive.”
“Oh, God,” In an attempt at reassurance I start rubbing her arm, “I’m sure they liked plenty things about your work.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I sensed they hated all of it.”
“They couldn’t have, it’s probably just your perception, they… I bet they’re harsh to everyone, you know? They probably don’t want to get anyone's hopes up with there being limited places and all…”
She looks at me, “Was yours bad too?”
“Awful,” I say without missing a beat, “Same as you, they gave me nothing. It was hard to tell what they really thought of my work, but they didn’t seem overjoyed by any of it to be honest.”
“Oh,” her shoulders relax, “well if they were like that with you then they must be just playing hard ball.”
“I think so.”
“What if we don’t get in?”
“Well fuck ‘em,” I grin, “We don’t need them. NCAD? Who cares, right? It’s not exactly at the top of our list.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“I usually am.”
“Something else will work out, right?”
“Of course it will! C’mon, let’s just grab a coffee and chill out,” I drape my arm over her shoulder and walk her around the corner to where I parked the car.
The car, the brand new, shiny, blue Volkswagen Polo that my parents got me for my eighteenth birthday, is gleaming under the afternoon sun, one tyre wedged awkwardly against the kerb because I haven’t yet mastered the art of parallel parking when there are two other impatient drivers beeping their horns at me and gesticulating wildly out their windows.
“He just got his fucking licence, you spas!” Michelle screamed at them from the passenger window as I manoeuvred myself into a gap big enough to house an articulated truck but somehow felt the width of a water closet as soon as I tried to fit my 1.0 litre hatchback into it. I could have told her that firing middle fingers at other drivers left and right wasn’t really doing much to diffuse the situation, but it seemed she was reaching some sort of catharsis from it. She likes that. Screaming, I mean.
This car has been a point of contention, not because I can’t park it well, but because it was an extravagance I neither needed nor desired. “We live in the city,” I protested when my parents handed me the keys, “I can just take the bus.” But they had this idea that I might like to drive it into school and be the envy of all the other students, poverty stricken losers without parents who can buy them vehicles worth half the average national salary. I told them I can just walk like always, and they didn’t like that.
“This is a good present,” said my dad, as though insisting could make it so, “You can drive all over, you won’t have to rely on public transport any more.”
“Did I say I didn’t like public transport?”
“Well, you could get mugged on the bus, someone could pull out a knife and take your phone and all of your money! That kind of thing is happening all over the city lately.”
I showed him my Nokia from 2004 and asked him what kind of person might like to risk prison for it, but he didn’t appreciate that, and it just escalated the argument further.
“I’m not going to even live in Ireland in a year, not if I can help it!” I cried with exasperation, after a further ten minutes of his dramatics, “What’s the point?”
“Sell it then!” he bellowed back, “I don’t care what you do! It’s yours!”
“I just don’t need it! It’s too much. You can use that money for something better.”
“Money? Money is not an issue.”
“Well that car will be wasted just sitting in the driveway.”
“You’ll figure out what to use it for.”
And I did. I still walk to school, I still take the bus into town most days (when I’m not hauling two A1 portfolio cases along with me), but sometimes, late at night Michelle and I drive up and down the coast. We get ice cream at the drive through, we talk, but mostly I park it in the darkest corner of some car park, sea facing for maximum romance, and we fuck in the passenger seat. Not that I’ve kept track of it by any means, but I’m almost certain I have spent more time having sex in my shiny, blue, Volkswagen Polo than actually driving it. I’m sure it wasn’t Christopher’s intention for it, and it might affect the resale value, but the car has become a haven of sorts, a place where we can go to be alone, at a safe distance from my nosy sister, from Michelle’s anxious father, and perhaps most vitally, from Jen, who has never quite stopped being weirded out by our relationship, even with nine full months to get used to it.
Beginning // Prev // Next
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tossing my hat into the ring on how I think Stella and then striker would find out about reader
now Stella seems very in the loop about hell gossip, based on her interactions in the show alone. But I also think she has a pretty decent relationship with Octavia, just from what we’ve seen. So Octavia probably mentions she made a friend to her mom, a one time thing that isn’t emphasized as much. But it doesn’t take Stella long to realize that a human has been around stolas and IMP and that human is her daughters new friend.
Stella clearly doesn’t care about imps and think of them as below her, so I can very quickly see her just outright asking striker to stalk you. And even though strikers an assassin and hates royals, he does seem quickly swayed by money because he’s a hypocrite. So he finds out information on reader and reports back to Stella. Stella I imagine uses this for personal gain, she uses it to get a leg up on stolas with their daughters friend to seem like a better parent, while also being able to use it if she needs to threaten stolas.
Hopefully this makes a little sense so you can at least get the idea I was going for 😅
Dude I'm gonna be so honest, when I first read this my only thought was "who the fuck is Stella" but don't worry I remembered.
So anyway, I don't think Stella would ever be on good terms with reader. She definitely gives of the vibes of someone who doesn't like being a parent, and honestly since I haven't watched HH this could be wrong, but she definitely seems like someone who was forced into this role, and because of that resents her husband and daughter. When it comes to reader, I think she sees Octavia being happy and, almost in an act of jealously, she attempts to drive a wedge between you and her daughter.
She doesn't like the fact that you're here, she thinks it's wrong, it's not right for a human to be in hell. She doesn't like the fact that her daughter associates with you. And she hates it even more when Stolas starts to grow close to you. I think internally she starts to feel like she's being pushed out of her own family, and even thought that's what she wanted, she didn't want it to happen this way.
I think she would get Striker to stalk you, but only for a short while. It's mainly due to the fact that once Striker sees that you're a kid who's a nervous wreck most the time he starts to question whether or not this is a good idea. Don't get me wrong, Striker will do it as long as Stella's paying him, but he honestly doesn't see the point since you're mainly just with the I.M.P.s.
Now, would it be interesting if somehow Striker was the one to figure out readers connection to the Hotel Gang, yeah it would. I don't know how he'd figure it out, but I think him spilling this information to Stella, and Stella deciding to hand you back to them as a way of getting you out of her life is pretty interesting idk.
#yandere x reader#soft yandere#platonic yandere#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#yandere hazbin hotel#platonic yandere hazbin hotel#platonic yandere helluva boss#yandere helluva boss#helluva boss x reader
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