#some people say we're a bit rude with him but like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

welcometowhore-rrorville · 10 months

Note

I AM LIVING FOR YOUR SLASHER HEADCANONS, esp the last post!! but i have a question: what do you think michael would do if the next time he wants to fuck, they’re like “nope, don’t want to, you didn’t make me cum” and is generally just provoking him and saying shit like “i can just find someone that CAN satisfy me” and other dumb shit. would he not care?? get jealous? knife through the door?? so many possibilities

Thank you thank you!!! <3

𝒞𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐹𝑜𝓇

Featuring: Michael Myers

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: oral sex, fingering, rough sex, overstimulation, general nsfw things, mdni, i got carried away, unedited because I didn't think i'd write this much

As for your question(s):

I think it definitely depends on how long you've known him. The only way he'd give a flying fuck about what you think is if he was down bad. Especially if we're talking about the OG Michael. RZ Michael is easier to convince to actually give a shit what you want in bed, but it's still not a priority for him. Still, there are certain personality traits you can exploit to get what you want. . .

When you first brought up that you were unsatisfied in bed, it was a very soft comment after he was done and zipping his jumpsuit back up.

"I didn't even cum. . ." you mumbled, staring at your bare abdomen and leaking cunt. It was all him. You didn't even have the chance to pleasure yourself; it was too difficult with him constantly flipping you over and manhandling you. Your body was sore and bruised, but you laid there, discontent.

You moved your gaze to look at his masked face. Judging by the way he stopped his movements, he'd heard you. You bit your lip, turning your eyes away and down to your hands which fiddled with each other. You knew he didn't care, but it would be nice if he did.

"Just get out, okay?" you spoke, embarrassed and a little angry. "I'll just get myself off since you can't seem to do it."

Your tone had him walking around to the side of the bed, grabbing his discarded knife from the nightstand. You flinched, but didn't bother to run. If he wanted to kill you, he would have already.

Just as you figured, he turned back around, trudging out of your bedroom with the blade in his grip. You rolled your eyes. You were half tempted to call up and old friend of yours for a night, but realized that might end in bloodshed. Michael was much too possessive for that.

Suddenly, an idea crossed your mind. You knew Michael was selfish, but he also always had something to prove. He wanted to, no, needed to be the best at everything. Nobody could escape, outrun, or hide from him, and he knew that. So what if. . .

It was a few days later when he came back, heavy footsteps on your porch alerting you. Still, you pretended not to notice, phone up to your ear as you chatted. You were leaned against the kitchen counter, occasionally popping some popcorn into your mouth.

The door to your house creaked open before shutting again. You paid no mind.

"Go out? Ha," you spoke, fingers moving around a stray popcorn kernel absentmindedly. "If I want to get drunk, I'll do it in my own home, thank you very much."

At this point, he was looming in the kitchen doorway, but you didn't even bother with a glance.

"Oh, go out to meet someone, huh? Yeah, I guess that would be nice. . . I mean sure, there's a guy that stops by, but I'd be lying if I said I was satisfied." You leaned against your fridge, his massive form still lingering just a few feet away.

"It's just. . . other people I've been with have gotten me off four, five times a night, but this guy? Not once. Yeah. You heard me. Not once."

You made sure to emphasize that last phrase. You knew the dangerous game you were playing, but you didn't care. "Talk to him? Girl, I've tried. He's like a brick wall. Doesn't even say goodbye. As soon as he's done he's out the door. Rude? Tell me about it. Sure, I've had better, but he always keeps crawling back looking like a kicked puppy. I just kind of feel sorry for him."

You didn't have time to speak again before the phone was ripped from your grasp and tossed carelessly across the kitchen, plastic pieces shattering across the tile.

One hand wrapped around your throat while the other rested just beside your head, almost denting your poor fridge with the force. The choke was painful but not deadly, and you locked eyes with the culprit, staring intently.

He pulled you against him before slamming you back against the fridge, and you winced at the sudden force. "What's wrong with you?" you sputtered out, your hands trying to fight the grip on your throat.

He glanced at the destroyed phone, and you had to stifle a smirk from appearing on your lips.

With another slam, he finally released his hand from your neck, and you took in a few shaky breaths. Still, he loomed close enough to leave you pressed against him.

"You're angry," you spoke, rubbing the marks forming on your neck. "I assumed Michael Myers never got angry."

He looked to the shattered telephone again before looking back at you. He wanted an explanation.

"What do you want me to say? It's true. And I'm pissed about it. All you ever do is use me then leave. I haven't had a proper orgasm in weeks!" You pushed your hands against his chest angrily, but he didn't budge. "I know you're not a good man, but it still isn't fair. I can't even call anyone because you'll have a knife through their neck before they can get their pants off."

He let out a breath, both hands finding purchase on your hips. "Now's not the time," you huffed, moving to push his hands away. His grip tightened. You headbutted his chest, forehead resting against the rough material of his jumpsuit. How could he be raring to go at a time like this? "Unless you've got anything planned for me tonight, I'm not interested."

He didn't falter. You looked back up to try and read his face through his mask. It did not work. You could tell he was. . . different than usual, but he was probably still pissed off from your words over the phone.

His fingers nestled behind the waistband of your shorts, and in one fell swoop they dropped to the floor. You stayed silent. He never had the decency to take your clothes off. It was always ripped or sliced, and there was never any time taken. Hell, he'd never taken your shorts off without your underwear going with.

You stifled a laugh. Was he actually. . . trying?

He slid a knee between your thighs, pinning you. One hand explored your upper half, sliding under your shirt until he hit your bra. His other hand travelled downwards, slipping underneath your panties. You felt a rough digit slide against your clit and let out a sudden breath. Quickly, he backtracked, moving back up until he found that same spot.

You had to bite your lip to prevent a gasp from leaving it. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been stimulated there. It was suddenly all too-sensitive.

Two fingers caught the small nub, and you had to grip his shoulders to prevent yourself from falling. The digits toyed with it, squeezing and brushing like he was testing something. Your forehead pressed against his chest as heavy breaths left you.

One hand worked at massaging your chest, running a thumb against your nipple, while the other played with your clit harshly. You didn't expect him to be gentle in the slightest, but it still had you shimmying your hips in discomfort. It's not that you weren't aroused, and in fact, you were all too turned on. He'd never shown any interest in any part of you besides your cunt and mouth, and even then it was only to slide his dick into. This? This was all new. This feeling of rough hands overtaking your body, touching your skin, pleasuring you for the first time. . .

You pushed your hips forwards, trying to gain friction. With any luck, you could actually get off tonight.

Suddenly, all hands were off of you and he stepped back, tilting his head.

You rushed to hold yourself up, knees wobbly. You shot daggers at him, eyes burning. He stopped. Why the fuck did he stop?

He stared at you, waiting for something. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking as put-together as you could with wetness creeping down your thighs and shorts discarded on the floor.

"I'm not apologizing, if that's what you want," you muttered. "Congratulations, you found the clit. Took you long enough. You'll have to work a little harder if you're looking to clear your name."

In a flash, he had you hauled over his shoulder, and you let out a gasp of surprise. You could only sigh as he took you to your destination.

You were dropped onto your bed, legs dangling off the front as he pushed you down into the mattress. You cocked a brow.

In an event you'd never thought would happen, he kneeled down in front of you, hands spreading your thighs apart. Was this a dream? You were in shock. There's no way he was going to. . .

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your panties were slid down your legs and tossed aside. It didn't take long before one hand was back between your legs, rubbing your clit as the other pressed against your stomach to keep you in place. You couldn't move your thighs which were locked apart, blocked by his shoulders.

You couldn't sit up with the way he had you pinned, and so stared at the ceiling, hands gripping the sheets.

A new sensation startled you, and you tried desperately to sit up enough to see, but it was no use.

It was his tongue, dragging up your folds until he reached your clit. He took the nub in his mouth, and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to prevent the noise that threatened to come out.

That old and familiar feeling built within you, like a spring coiling and coiling, ready to snap. Your mind went blank as a tension built within you. It was like everything but your cunt was numb. There, feeling was in overdrive. Every swipe of his tongue, every prod of his fingers inside of you, swiping forward to push against your favorite spot: it was too much.

You came with a breathless gasp, back arched as your hands dug into the sheets. Even without seeing, you knew your cunt was a mess. You could feel your cum seeping out. You could smell the scent of sex in the room. Your thighs shook, pussy clenching around nothing.

You expected him to pull back, but instead you felt his tongue licking at your cunt, swiping up any spill into his mouth. You let out a whine as he prodded inside, tongue lapping up your wetness.

Digits were back to circling your clit, and you moaned, still much too sensitive. Despite this, he had no intentions of stopping, instead switching out his fingers for his mouth as he thrust a finger inside of you. You had no time to process before another joined the first. Your head pressed desperately against your bedsheets.

"Slow down," you gasped, voice shaking. He didn't heed your words, and in fact, sped up the way his fingers pushed in and out of you. You whined. The tension was already back and ready to snap within you.

"Michael," you cried, eyes clenched shut. "Please!" You weren't sure what you were pleading for.

You came again, more violently than the last. Over and over your cunt pulsed, leaking your cum to pool at your enterance, only to be pushed back in with the shove of his fingers.

"Okay! Okay! You win!" you panted, wiping the sweat from your face.

When he still showed no signs of letting up, all you could do was let out a weak groan. You got what you desired, you supposed. But it seemed he found something he liked as well.

All this because you decided to talk a little shit about him. You didn't dare tell him there was nobody on the other line.

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angelscherryblossomswrites · 23 days

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Walk like an Angel

summary: reader is a sweet sinner, always polite and never rude. so imagine the hotel crew's surprise when their sweetest demon turns out to be a serial killer warnings: cursing (bc it's hell), talk of murder/gore/blood author's note: not proofread and rushed

~angel~

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

reader was helping around the hotel as they normally do when a new sinner walks through the door. Charlie immediately goes to greet this sinner, speaking enthusiastically, while Vaggie follows behind and nods casually at the sinner. Charlie calls everyone over to introduce them. It starts simply with Angel, who waves casually while sucking on a popsicle, and Husk, who is cleaning some glasses behind the bar. It gets to Niffty, who jumps on top of the sinner and asks if their a "bad boy" before running off to kill some bugs, and then Alastor, who simply gives his creepy grin per usual. When Charlie gets to you, however, the sinner seems to freeze. Sinners freezing when seeing you isn't common but it also isn't rare, so the hotel crew just assumed this sinner was surprised with how innocent you seemed (since, hell, the crew were surprised when they first met you too).

"you... you wretched bitch!" The sinner yells at you in rage, which causes the others to jump at the sudden loudness, while you just tilt your head at this sinner. "do I know you?" This just makes the sinner even angrier.

"do you know me?! you killed me!" You pretend to think for a little bit, tapping your chin, before finally speaking "now that you say that, you do seem familiar."

You smile at the sinner, who just glares at you before storming out of the hotel while muttering curses under their breath.

"ummm, what the fuck?"

Angel was the first to speak and this caused the others to snap out of their shock as well. You simply look at him. "what was what?"

You ask as you go back to sweeping the floor, as if nothing had happened.

"what Angel is trying to say... reader... is that we're just wondering how you knew that sinner.."

Charlie says hesitantly, as if to not hurt any feelings while you just nod.

"yes. I briefly.. encountered.. them when I was alive."

The next to speak was Vaggie, who seems more blunt then her girlfriend.

"reader, they said you killed them. did you?"

You nod again. "yes, that I did do."

It goes silent for a few moments.

"damn.."

"well isn't this fasinating?" Alastor's voice chimes through the, mostly, silent hotel.

"why the hell am I only being told now?!"

Angel says, sounding sliently offended he hadn't been told sooner. "I just never thought to bring it up, sorry..." You shrug before Charlie's enthusiastic voices shifts your attention. "well.. at least it was only one person.. it will be harder, but if you really put in the effort I think you can be redeemed in no time!"

"oh.. no.. I killed, like, eight people..." The hotel goes silent again before Husk speaks up.

"WHAT THE FUC-"

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

Author's notes: finally finished this!! it was sitting in my drafts for like 3 days. sorry if it's rushed, i was just trying to get this posted 🤷‍♀️ hope you enjoyed!! ~angel~

#angel'sblog #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #sinner reader #charlie x reader #alastor x reader #vaggie x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #Spotify

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cherievol6 · 11 months

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frown

word count: ~800 words

warnings: none, it's just harry being cute

harry's frowny and you're teasing him

“I thought you looked a bit mean when I met you.”

Harry stops playing with your hair and tears his gaze away from the boys kicking a football around. The tour bus is parked on the gravel beside you to shield the world from your small group, though the area you stopped to stretch your legs was fairly secluded anyway.

“You what?” The amber setting sun casts over just one of his eyes when you look up at him from leaning against his chest. It makes the one eye look like a polished green marble. He looks slightly confused, a frown dug between his eyebrows, but a slight smirk starting to grow on his lips.

You shrug. “Yeah. That night we met in London, you looked all scary and mean with your long hair and your signature frown.” You giggle quietly, mimicking his facial expression that he almost always had etched on his face.

Said frown deepens, and he pouts out his bottom lip for further effect. His voice is defensive when he replies, before giving your hair a slight tug. “Yeah, but- I bet when we spoke you thought I was nice as pie!”

“Well yeah. I wouldn’t be dating you now if you weren’t.” You laugh reaching a hand up to wrap a ringlet of his hair around your finger. He pout his lips before he grabs your hand and kisses your fingers.

“I don’t like the idea of not looking approachable. I don’t want people to think I’m rude.” He mumbles, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Oh, H. I’m only messing. Plus, for the record, you didn’t look so scary when I finally plucked up the courage to talk to you,” he smiles at this, and you can tell he’s fishing for a bit of validation, so you appease your boyfriend, “especially not when the first words that came out of your mouth were just word vomit. I knew you were a bit of a lover boy from then on.”

You recall it fondly, Harry looking like he owned the damn place when you walked past him with a crystalline glass filled with liquor and a face like thunder. You watched him for a few minutes that night and noticed he was surrounded by the boys, but didn’t really have anyone to talk to. At that point, you bit back your fear, because when would you ever get the chance to do it again? His frown had instantaneously wiped from his face when he got a glimpse of you stalking towards him with a mischievous look on his face.

“My god.” You mimick Harry’s throaty gruff he’d accidentally said aloud when he saw you approaching that night you met. His loss of composure had given you a massive confidence boost - an ordinary woman like you could make Harry Styles speechless.

“Alright, shut up. You looked really pretty in that black dress…I wasn’t thinking with my brain in that moment - if you know what I mean.” A small blush creeps up on to his cheeks and you grin from ear to ear.

"Oh yeah? Dirty bugger." You tease.

"I meant my heart, obviously..." He uses his sarcastic tone and you scoff.

"Yeah, I'm sure you did." You laugh, rolling your eyes and trying to push his arm away. He locks you in a vice grip and plants a loud smacking kiss on your cheek.

"If we're being honest right now, I was frowning like that because I wanted to come up to you earlier that night, but some random silver fox beat me to it."

"So you were sulking?" You cackle, sitting up and pinching his cheek, before dropping your voice, "you being a bit jealous is kind of sexy."

He scrunches his nose.

"I wasn't sulking." He says (in an ironically sulky way).

“Aw, H. You have me now, though. Unless that silver fox is hanging around here..." You playfully pretend to search the pitch for the man that tried to chat you up that night. Harry rolls his eyes and gently pinches your top and bottom lips together to close them. His playful frown is back and you try to reach up and rub the creases from his eyebrows.

"I wasn't even listening to what that sleaze was saying," Harry frees your lips and you hold his chin, "He actually caught me looking at you a few times when he was trying to tell me all about his boats in France." Harry laughs through his nose at this, a smile spreading across his face at that.

"Yeah?" He mumbles, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"Yeah," you hum, running your thumb on his bottom lip, "I told him I was only interested in new money. Boy-band money--"

"Right! That's it." Harry grasps your wrists in his hand and rises both of your bodies quickly, hoisting you over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

"Harry!" You bark out a laugh as he starts to walk to a line of trees.

"Boys! I think we need to ditch her here, she's only in it for the money!"

hiiiiiiiiiii. this is short but sweet!!! not my best but i thought i'd feed you just for a little longer until i finish my last uni exam (ON FRIDAY YAYYYY). on the home stretch. kissy.

also i have some things in the works ;)

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #boyfriendrry #harry styles story #harry #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #cherievol6 #harry styles boyfriend #boyfriend!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

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Trailer park Steve AU part 11

part 1 | part 10 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobic language, explicit sexual content (if you are under 18 then kindly GO ON NYOW GIT come back when you grow your first gray pube)

It feels crazy, after all that, to just get up and face the day. Feels like last Fall all over again: he’s concussed in the back of class getting bagel crumbs on a worksheet with his face still pulverized. There’s a gross pang in his chest as he goes about his morning routine, his heart all squishy and bruised like some dickhead smashed a plate over it, but whatever, he guesses. Public education and minimum wage wait for no one.

Robin grills him the whole car ride: “Oh, my god, is he okay?? Is he alive? Is your mom okay? What the hell, Steve?” and he lets her ramble with wide, worried eyes; doesn’t even get to the part about Eddie. When they pull up to the school she gets out of the car and comes around to his side, knocks on his window and leans in when he rolls it down to give him a ridiculously long hug.

"Robinnn," he grumbles; his face is mashed against her boobs. "People are gonna think we're dating."

She bends to hug him tighter still, her bony ass hanging out his window where the whole school can see. "I'd date you in a second."

"You've literally said that you wouldn't."

"Platonically, I would!!"

She gives him one last squeeze, and he watches her waddle off, trumpet case awkwardly smacking her calves.

And then he just... goes to work. He goes to stand around a nearly empty store and pretend like he even has any work to do, restocks the already full displays of candy and buffs the countertops until they shine. Three hours in and he's run out of ways to look busy and Keith is “doing admin stuff” in the back, so he gives his mom a call. Makes sure she's okay; did she eat anything yet; any updates on Ernie?

She’s fine, she's not hungry, he's alive but that's all they know for now, her tone distantly polite like Steve's nothing more than a friendly cold caller.

He shoves his fingers in his eyes ’til he sees stars when they hang up.

He calls the Henderson house next, leaves a message to apologize for skipping out early, promises that he'll be there next Wednesday and he can bring dessert this time. There’s a lunch rush after that, but the day still drags like a bad hangover, a dull throbbing in his bones, and when he finally gets home he collapses onto his bed and passes out on top of the covers with his dumb work vest still on.

—

Eddie's acting weird.

Steve sees him again on Friday, spots him and his uncle having a smoke out on the porch and wanders over to say hello. Wayne seems happy enough to chat; gives him all the news on Ernie — "Bastard's unkillable," he says, almost impressed. He’s stable now, should be home any day.

Eddie, on the other hand, spends the entire interaction behaving like a skittish cat, eyes darting to and from Steve, leg jiggling as he quietly puffs his cig.

Steve half expects him to slink off and come back to drop a dead mouse at his feet.

He feels his brows knit together, agitation creeping in. It's not like he thought they'd be best friends after a single night of ceasefire or anything — as if they'd start braiding each other's hair and trading their deepest, darkest secrets or whatever queer shit — but like…

He thought they might be cool now. At least a little bit.

And Eddie's not being rude to him, exactly, but that's somehow even worse. The polite disinterest. The subtle shift to the left. Back and away.

“Okay, well, uh...” Steve glances at Eddie, who's looking anywhere but him. Fucking fascinated by a loose thread on his ripped jeans, apparently, plucking at it with anxious fingers. “See ya around, I guess?”

Wayne says not be a stranger, and Eddie gives him a quick nod. “See ya.”

Steve grinds his teeth about it for the rest of the afternoon, then decides, like, screw this. It's a Friday night; he's not sitting around sulking all evening because Eddie Munson hurt his feelings.

He calls up a girl — some pretty blonde chick he remembers from the cheer squad — and sets up a date for later that night. Takes her to the drive-in, buys her a vanilla shake. The date's fine; it's good; it's fine. She's pretty enough, and she offers to suck him off when the main feature starts.

It’s not a good blowjob. Arguably one of the worst ones Steve’s had, and he’s had quite a few. She keeps gagging herself with these gross squelching sounds, barely getting even half of his dick in her tiny mouth and not bothering to use her hands to make up the difference. Just leaves them resting on Steve’s thighs while she makes fake whimpering moans like she’s sooo turned on by this; fucking as if; and somewhere in the middle of her repetitive, sloppy bobbing his mind starts to wander off. To the trailer, to the lot fees, the fucking pharmacy bills. Their ever-dwindling savings and what percentage of them he just wasted on this lackluster movie night; surely they’re gonna run out any day now; tick tock, tick tock.

"Um," the girl squeaks as she pulls off with a gross slurp. Steve looks down at his lap, sees he's gone soft. "Am I, like, doing something wrong, or...?"

Her voice is high and quiet, innocent and sweet, and Steve feels like an asshole. He squeezes himself at the base, gives a few quick strokes to get himself up again. "No, you're perfect, honey," he lies. "Stick out your tongue for me?"

She bats her eyes demurely and rolls over onto her side, gives him some kind of sexy pout before opening her mouth so he can jerk off over her. Steve works his wrist; tries not to be rude and look away, but her colors are all wrong. Strawberry hair. Blue irises. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his hand faster and thinks of dark brown. Dark hair, dark lashes, dark eyes like the deep woods. Endless. Sort of mesmerizing. Nancy? "Oh, fuck," he gasps as he comes.

The girl squeals and jerks away from him, hands flying to her face. "Oh, my god! Oh, my god! You got it in my nose!"

"Sorry,” Steve grunts, shuddering through an aftershock. There’s cum on his hand, on his pants; all over this poor girl’s face. He thinks he got some in her eyelashes. "Shit, sorry, let me, uh—"

He leans over and rifles through the glove box, trying to find a napkin for her. No dice. Best he can do is an old McDonald's wrapper with a grease stain on the side. "Here, does— does this work?"

“Ew!”

“Sorry, I mean it’s that or my shirt, but then I’d have to drive you home shirtless, so-”

“Ugh,” she gives him a bitchy look. Tries to, anyway. One eye is glued shut. “Just give me that, please.”

His limp, spitty cock is still hanging from his pants when he passes her the wrapper. Flaccid and sad, like a white flag of surrender, and a bubble of hysterical laughter slips out. A choked burst of it, a pufferfished pfffft as it explodes past his lips. He’s not sure if it's the orgasm or the ridiculousness of the situation or if he's just plain lost his mind, but the girl glares at him, which...

There's still a glob of jizz on her cheek, so it doesn’t help matters much.

"I think you should take me home."

"Y-yep. Sorry. Yeah."

“Like now.”

Steve tucks himself into his jeans.

—

part 12

tagging whoever commented yesterday if your settings will let me @slutforcoffein @annabanannabeth @rani-mayida @awolfstudio @noodle-shenaniganery @yourmom-isgay @zombiecreatures @anne-bennett-cosplayer @thestarslittleking @evillittleguy @acedorerryn @messrs-weasley @bronwenmarie @lololol-1234 @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @space-invading-pigeon @violetsteve @ahsokatanoss @slowandsteddie @zoeweee @silver-snaffles @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @thealwithnoname @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @hellion-child @stevesbipanic @trensu @steves-strapcollection @hotluncheddie

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #wayne munson #claudia henderson #st fic #my writing #my fic

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stevenssacrab · 2 months

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Do You Hate Me?

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Loki mistakes your nervousness around him for hatred, will Loki find out the reason behind apprehension, or how you really feel about him?

Rating: 17+ slight angst

Warnings: Mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1.4k

a/n: Apologies for going MIA, I got sick AGAIN but it was even worse the 2nd time around, feeling much better, hope y'all enjoy some Loki fluff

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

"I'm just putting in my earrings; I'll be right there!" you answer back, getting one last look in; your hair is pinned back with two strands framing the side of your face perfectly, the back flowing down a bit past your shoulder blades, with rhinestones weaved into the strands for that ethereal look, you're wearing an elegant a-line silhouette sage green dress with pink and green flowers embroidered through the expanse of the dress, it hangs off the shoulders with corset detailing in the torso, the sweetheart neckline showing off your collar bones beautifully, the puffy sleeves hiding your delicate arms, tea length, displaying your beige block heels perfectly, every detail of your outfit is elevating an overall polished chic aura you could feel radiating off you from miles away.

"You look perfect. Don't worry, let's move," Wanda calls out, grabbing your arm and dragging you to the elevator, "Isn't it kind of expected to be late to your own party?" you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly.

"Yes, but over an hour late is just rude. Didn't I raise you better?" Wanda responded calmly, fixing her hair in the elevator's mirrored wall, "Yeah, I know, I know," you replied, running your hands over the dress, smoothing out any wrinkles; you've been to tons of parties; that's not what's making you anxious, Thor promised you he'd bring Loki, or at least attempt to, just the thought of the tall, mysterious man makes your palms sweat, working as a biochemist under Bruce's watch was amazing, working with the brightest minds, on the edge of multiple scientific discoveries but for you what made it all worth it was the people you got to meet, you've met some of the world's bravest people, some avengers some not, after getting to know them, they're just like everyone else, they have their ups and downs, close friends, family, but one avenger captured your attention as soon as he walked into the room, it was hard to miss the standard Loki holds himself to, always remaining composed under stress, but he's charm, that's what's really got you in his grasps, he'd win over anyone with ease.

"We're here," Wanda said excitedly, patting your shoulder assuringly, "He'll be here, don't worry," you press your lips together into a thin line and step off the elevator; you suddenly feel a strong arm wrap around your shoulders.

"Hello, Lady Y/N," Thor slurs out, giving you a tight hug; you laugh; he's a couple of drinks in; you look around the room, but Thor cuts you off. "He's not here yet," he says sullenly, giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze; "Come, Lady Natasha has been looking for you," he grabs your hand and pulls.

"You're here!" Natasha excitedly squeals, wrapping her arms tightly around you, "So, where is the lucky fellow?" she teases, gently nudging you with her elbow; she was the first person you told about your feelings for Loki, but she already knew before you even said anything, according to her you can't hide your emotions well, seems like everyone knows how you feel about Loki except for himself, you still don't know if it's for the better or not.

"He's not here yet," you say sadly, but quickly smile; it is your birthday after all; you're not going to let one person determine if you have a good time or not; with your mood having shifted, you motion the bartender over, "three vodka shots please," you asked politely, you've decided, Loki or not, it's going to be a good night.

You walk out of the bathroom, water bottle in hand, open it, and gulp it down, "Not drinking on your big day?" you hear that delectable English accent, and you already know who it is before you've even turned around.

"No, just taking a break," you laugh nervously, shifting your weight. Loki steps closer slowly; you watch him carefully with doe eyes; he grabs your wrist, gasping at the contact, he pulls you into a warm hug; you sigh contentedly and bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent, a delicious musk, Loki pulls away after what feels like only a second. Loki glides his hand down your arm, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps; he captures your hand and lightly kisses it. "Happy Birthday, Lady Y/N," he says smoothly; you giggle giddily, your cheeks heating up quickly.

"Thank you," you say shyly, gently pressing your cool hands to your warm cheeks, "have you been here long?" you ask, tucking the pieces of hair behind your ear, "No, I just got here,” he says coolly, still holding your hand, he gently runs his thumb across your knuckles, you’re trying your best to remain composed, but every fiber of your being is firing off right now.

“Are you alright, dear?” He brings his hand to your hot cheeks. “Y/N, you’re burning up; let’s step outside for a minute,” not waiting for your response, he whisked you away, not that you’d be able to respond; you were still processing how perfectly his hand fit in yours, to your relief you feel the cool air hit your warm face, you breathe a sigh of relief, you didn’t realize how much you needed this, Loki leads you away from the music and chattering, to a calm and quiet place, with a view of the city.

“This is much better,” he uttered; he turned to you, taking in your dress, how perfectly it fits you, the sage green complimenting your complexion magnificently, “you look beautiful,” he spoke just barely above a whisper, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it, your heart skips a beat, this unfathomably gorgeous soul called you beautiful.

“Th-thank you,” you respond, eyes looking at the floor; you know if you meet his eyes, you may explode, “you know this has to be the longest conversation we’ve had; you always seem in a hurry to get away from me,” he admits, laughing nervously, playing with his fingers “did I do something wrong?” He asks, his hurt eyes searching yours for answers; you hadn’t even thought about how your behavior has been affecting him; you’ve been so worried he’d find out your feelings that you’ve cut every conversation short, kept your answer one-worded, all to protect yourself, to protect the scared little girl who’s afraid of rejection. Most of all, to protect your heart from the inevitable disappointment, your heart breaks a little; you had no intention to hurt Loki, to make him think you don’t like him, or worse, hate him.

“No, you didn’t do anything I-“You stop yourself before you can say it; you don’t know if you can go past this point.

“Then what is it? I keep racking my brain, wondering if I’ve done something to upset you or make you hate me, but nothing, please, just tell me why,” he said sorrowfully, inching closer to you.

“Loki, I don’t hate you, I just-“ you uttered, “I just don’t know how to act around you; you are so kind and compassionate, and I just didn’t want you to find out how I feel about you,” you babbled out, “ and I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t live with myself if you thought I hated you, and I understand if you don’t wanna talk to me anymore, I just needed to tell you because I-“ Loki cuts you off with a tender kiss, his hands caressing either side of your face, you melt into his touch, your lips moving in perfect rhythm with each other, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your hands in his hair, playing with the long silk strands, you don’t want this moment to end, he sighs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his body, you pull away to breathe, Loki rests his head against yours, and you both stay there, listening to each others breathing, playing with each other's fingers.

“I could never hate you, Loki,” you confess; Loki chuckles lightly, interlocking your hands together, “you know I always wondered why you always seemed so nervous around me,” he smirks playfully, “shut up, I wasn’t that nervous,” you laughed, playfully smacking his arm, “no? I seem to recall you tripping over yourself in your hurry to get away from me," Loki snickered; you doubled forward in a fit of laughter.

"Okay, maybe I was a little bit nervous," you smiled broadly, "Maybe just a little," Loki teased, pulling you in front of him and hugging you from behind; you sighed and leaned against him, both of you swaying in the cool breeze, relishing in the feeling of bliss that buzzes throughout yours and Loki's body, it's been a pretty good birthday party.

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genshindsau · 2 months

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Summary: Scaramouche struggles to accommodate to his place in the harem. It isn't easier when some of the other members of the harem constantly try to talk to him or make him spend time with you. He tells himself he doesn't want to, that he is fine blending into the background and being easily forgotten (is he truly?). Concubine!Scaramouche. Empress!reader

CW: Reverse Harem, cursing, sexual implications, nsfw mentioned but not actually described, mentions of Scaramouche's past (as well as other characters), Scaramouche is rather rude in this and can be degrading to the other members, sexualization, literally just Scaramouche struggling with his feelings, non-sexual nudity.

AN: This wasn't exactly what I originally planned, I ended up including a lot about other characters rather than focusing just on Scaramouche and the readers... oh well. There are also a bit of time skips. Dialogue may be choppy as well, especially towards the end. If its to hard to follow please feel free to let me know.

"I'm just saying, when she does the thing with her fingers…" Childe, as he likes to be called, curled two of his fingers in front of Scaramouche's face. He was wearing a cheeky smile, his eyes glittering as he stared at Scaramouche.

Scaramouche clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together as his eyes narrowed at Childe.

Go away. Please. Go away. He kept repeating these words in his head.

"Oh," Childe leaned forward, his chin resting on his palm. "I suppose you wouldn't know."

His words held no malicious intent. There wasn't any pity either. Scaramouche knew that but he still wanted to scream. He also wanted to punch Childe right in his bright, smiling face. He was getting too much enjoyment out of bothering and annoying Scaramouche.

"There is nothing wrong with not defiling myself."

Childe snorted. "Is it really defiling? I mean," Childe shrugged his shoulders. "She is our wife."

"No, she isn't. Neither of us are legally married to her."

"Exactly," Childe snapped his fingers. "We're concubines; Her concubines. We get all the fun."

Fun? What part about being a concubine is fun? Childe is a mindless puppy who will go wherever you ask, do whatever you ask. Even kill whoever you want. He has had the unfortunate experience of seeing Childe covered in blood and a body at his feet. When you appeared, he expected the worse. Expected Childe to be whipped or scarred. Instead, you ruffled his blood-coated hair and said you deal with the clean up.

Why is he even listening to him?

"Look if you really don't want to spread your legs for her," Scaramouche cringed at Childe's words. He had a feeling Childe was making his words as crude as possible to get a reaction from Scaramouche.

He was succeeding.

"Then that’s fine. But you do a really shitty job at hiding the way your eyes linger on her."

"I - I do not!" Scaramouche balked at him, his cheeks heating up.

"Really?" Childe deadpanned.

"I would not consider it! She already has more than enough people who would let her use them. I will not be one of them."

Scaramouche felt like he needed to defend himself. Needed to make himself stand above the others and not be one of the men who succumbs to his position as a glorified body to use. He lasted this long - lasted through multiple masters without ever having to give them his body. He can't allow that to change.

You've never even touched him, his mind whispered to him. Aside from the time you disintegrated his previous collar, you've never laid a hand on him.

Childe quieted for a moment. It unnerved Scaramouche as Childe stared at him. He felt like he was looking into his soul and he almost wanted Childe to keep teasing him. He'd prefer that to how he was now looking at him.

"She's not like that." Childe voiced out. His voice almost stern.

"If you're really not interested, then whatever. That's fine. But don't assume things about her when you haven't even try to understand her. She may be cruel to her enemies but they deserve it. She would never force anyone - never force her concubines or consorts to do anything they didn't want. Whether that is in her bed or in their personal life."

Scaramouche's eyes wavered at the shift in Childe's tone. Childe sounded dangerous right now.

"Why," Scaramouche's voice cracked. "Why would I even want to know her - or understand her?"

"Our lives are dedicated to her. They belong to her, wouldn't you - "

Scaramouche cut him off " - And you're okay with that? Belonging to someone like her. Someone who is part of the Imperial Family?"

Childe cannot be that daft. Everyone knows about the Imperial Family. Knows that no one should trust them. Knows that they are cruel, tyrannical, and would do anything to be the empress. He doubts that you are any different. No, he knows that you are no different.

"Sure." Childe leaned back against his chair, his tone softening now. "She gives me whatever I want. Lets me have some control over my life. Lets me fight. But she also protects those who belong to her. She's stern and callous and can be this terrifying larger than life figure but that does not mean she is going to go down the same path as her family."

"… you can't be so sure of that."

"Just like you can't be so sure that she will turn out like her family. I believe in what I see. Maybe she puts on a certain façade in front of us but so what if she does? She still treats us better than anyone else would."

Scaramouche cant find it in himself to refute anything Childe says. He pointedly ignores the underlying truth in Childe's words. It doesn't matter if you've never laid a finger on him or even so much as spend time alone with him. You're royalty. You're part of the imperial family. That automatically makes you a terrible person in scaramouche's eyes.

Scaramouche was dragged out of his thoughts by the scraping of a chair against the floor as Childe stood up. He stretched his arm above his head before resting a palm on Scaramouche's shoulder, ignoring the flinch that came from Scaramouche.

"If you want to ask anything? Or If you want to try something? Anything? I'm sure she will listen if you ask. You just got to be brave enough to do it." Childe winked at him as walked out of the room, humming happily.

Scaramouche ignored the subtle blow to his character from Childe. He was fine the way he was now. He was fine staying in his room and being an easily forgettable presence (no, he wasn't). He was fine not getting close to you or the others in the harem. Keeping to himself is how he has survived everything he has been through, so he will do what he has always done.

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Scaramouche kept his eye trained on the plate, ignoring the simmering of anger and something else in his gut that he can't name. It was dinner. He dreaded dinner because he was forced to sit with everyone - with you, even though he is about seven seats away. You barely said a word. If it wasn't for the heaviness in the air he might have been able to ignore you and pretend but your presence always left an uncomfortable weight settling around his body - like your engulfing him; all around him no matter how far away he stands.

He wonders if the others feel it. If they do they don't care; or rather revel in the feeling. It just makes him overly conscious.

His hand clenches around the fork in his one hand, turning pale due to the strength as he has to listen to the incessant chattering of the others. It grates on his nerve, rubbing him raw as he has to listen to the happiness that flits from every voice he hears - yet he doesn't hear yours.

He startles as a hand clasps on his shoulders, a good portion of eyes also landing on him. He blinks a few times barely realize someone was calling him. His eyes land on Childe first because of course it does. He then looks to see Venti (fuck), Heizou (double fuck), and finally Itto (well now the world is just being cruel) sitting across from him.

Childe is leaning back in his chair, two of the legs lifting off the ground. "You really have no filter."

It took Scaramouche a moment to realize Childe wasn't talking to him but rather Itto who had an annoying innocent smile on his face. Venti looked somewhere between interested but closed off. His body curls into itself, his shoulders hunching in such a small move that Scaramouche is sure he is the only one who noticed. In the back of his mind, he wonders if these kind of talks drag up old memories for the other concubine - not that he cared enough to learn anything about the others, he just happened to hear about it in passing. Heizou on the other hand has a shit-eating grin on his lips, teeth bared in laughter.

"I - " Itto gawked for a moment. "It's a perfectly normal question."

Scaramouche tried to refocus, to remember what was said but he couldn't.

"Maybe so but asking at dinner, really?"

"Where else am I going to ask? He scurries off like a little mouse whenever he's spots anyone. It's natural to want to know more about each other." Itto is wonderfully dense at times it seems like both a blessing and curse. Scaramouche wants to curse him out but there is no malice in Itto's tone, just genuine curiosity and his words curl uncomfortably in his throat.

"And asking about the time he spent with y/n? That's getting to know him?" Though it may sound like Childe is admonishing Itto, the smile on his lips says the exact opposite. Childe could careless, he was just enjoying the way this would egg on Itto and annoy Scaramouche.

"Besides everyone know he hasn't spent the night with her - or even an evening with her." Heizou was the one who spoke this time.

"That is none of your business!" Scaramouche sputtered out, his ears turning red.

"Seriously?" Itto turned to Scaramouche with wide-eyes. "Why not?" It was an innocent enough question but Scaramouche wouldn't answer - much less at the dinner table where everyone is basically in love with you and not to mention the fact that you are only seven or so seats separated from him.

"It's no use," Childe shrugged. "I've already asked him about it."

"You didn't ask, you interrogated me." Scaramouche gritted back.

Childe just waved a dismissive hand.

"Why complain. As far as I see it, that means more time for us." Heizou spoke up.

"Well yeah," Itto agreed. "But still… you should be able to experience things with her. I mean, you haven't even spent any time with her? At all?" Itto seemed genuinely curious but all Scaramouche could do was grind his teeth as his eyes narrowed at the plate in front of him. He focus on ignoring the embarrassment that caused him to want to curl up in his seat and well just die. He thinks that would be preferable over what he is currently going through.

He's thankful that he is sat at the other end of the table. Maybe, just maybe there is a chance you didn't hear any of the conversations, the teasing aimed towards him. Yet he knows you did - that is if you decided it was important enough to listen to, you would.

Without meaning to his eyes flickered down to your end of the table. Your head was angled and he followed where he thinks your eyeline would be and landed on Aether and Tigh-nari who appear to be laughing together about something. You're face doesn't even twitch, your lips don't curve upwards but they don't frown either. It's completely neutral, just like it was when he first met you - when he still belonged to Ei - but it didn't feel nearly as oppressive.

He didn't understand why. Nothing's changed. Not for him.

"I don't want to." He kept his voice low. "And I do not see how it is any of your business or why you keep bringing it up," He glared specifically at Childe who stared back at him.

Itto gaped at him for a second before he shook his head. "We're not trying to make you uncomfortable or anything. I didn't mean to imply anything lewd. But… you don’t want to be involved in anything - whether it is with the harem or y/n. You're going to spend the rest of your life here, with her, with us - with all of us, even the people who seem to be the hardest to get to know want you to be comfortable and happy here. Closing yourself off, distancing yourself… maybe you had to do it in the past but the people here,” Itto shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “What I am trying to say is that no one here wants to hurt you or see you suffer."

The last thing Scaramouche needed is to be told this by Itto of all people. He wanted to scream. Wanted to rip his hair out. Most of all he wanted to rip out the longing that wracked through him at Itto's word. It felt like he was peering down into Scaramouche's soul and voicing out everything Scaramouche had pushed down. Tucked so deep inside of him that even he forgot.

When he was younger, that was all he wanted to hear. After he was taken the first time, he imagined faceless people who accepted him and loved him but as months passed, then years and then he was sold to Ei, he forced himself to get rid of that pathetic yearning. People just weren't like that. People were selfish and cruel.

Yet, he saw it around the harem building and in the palace countless times. Thoma baking treats for the rest of the harem members just because. Venti who stayed up playing the flute for the others who couldn't sleep. Even Ayato - who Scaramouche deemed the most selfish - would cover the other harem members up in a blanket if they feel asleep anywhere. Aether, who knitted blankets in the winter, not only for the harem members but also for servants and staff.

You… you who never raised your voice at your harem members. You who took in a unconventional men - Itto, Venti - and never made them feel less than because of their background. You who carried them to their beds when they fell asleep. You who…

It doesn't matter. None of it matters.

"You're sheltered. Naïve." Scaramouche forced out between his teeth. "We're not family. We're not brothers. We're all stuck under the whims of a women who could kill us with a thought." His voice increased in tone as he spoke. He wasn't shouting, but he was loud enough to draw attention to himself. "I will never think of myself as lowly as the rest of you do." He squeezed his eyes shut.

He was telling himself to shut up. Screaming at himself inside of his mind but he couldn't stop.

"I won't settle for debasing myself like the rest of you do. Especially for someone who doesn't even love you back."

There was a small cough and Scaramouche froze. It was silent - no one else at the table spoke and he could feel numerous eyes on him. The color drained from his skin as he hastily stood up, throwing the napkin on the table before quickly leaving the table. He didn't even care for protocol or for your dismissal.

As he fled down the halls, tears of anger and embarrassment burned behind his eyes but he didn't let them fall, even as they blurred his vision. The door slammed shut behind him and he collapsed against it, his head thumping against it as he cursed at himself. Cursed at the others for being so kind to him. Cursed at you for not being as horrible towards your harem as he wanted to believe you were.

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No one spoke to him the next day. Not that he made it easy. He hid in his room, ate his breakfast in his room, stared at the window in his room. He only ever saw the two servants assigned specifically for him. They even brought up dinner for him - telling him that you told them to do that. You probably didn't even want to see his face. He lashed out at the others concubines; concubines you cared about much more than you did him.

It still left an uncomfortable burning in his chest. He made himself vulnerable. He showed too much emotion, not just in front of one or two people but everyone in the harem and yourself. He might as well as starting weeping in front of all them as well.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He blinked, lifting his head from the pillow. He wondered who it was. Servants only knock out of politeness once before entering the room, other harem members just barge in at times. For a minutes he felt a tinge of fear thinking that it was you, but you wouldn't knock either - you had no reason to.

Scaramouche moved to open the door so only a sliver of light creeped through. The first thing he saw was the long red hair, pinned back and the red robe - It was Diluc.

"Can I come in?" He asked softly - like he was coaxing a wild animal. Scaramouche nodded and opened the door further to let him in.

Scaramouche bowed his head, his eyes lingering on the embroidered robe Diluc was wearing. His eyes trailed over the golden patchwork. There wasn't a single stand of hair out of place, everything was perfect. He was perfect.

Diluc's eyes glanced around the room but he said nothing. Scaramouche was expecting an admonishment, something about his bed being dirty or the left over plates on the bed but Diluc's eye's just skimmed right over them.

"I wasn't expecting company." It came out harsher than Scaramouche intended. He had never been alone with Diluc before; barely said a few words to him besides the first few days he was introduced into the harem. Diluc was either busy, bustling about the harem building or he was by your side.

"I suppose I should have sent a servant or someone to tell you beforehand. I'm sorry if this seems abrupt, I just wanted to… see how you are doing."

"You mean after my outburst." Scaramouche forced out, his voice tight.

Diluc let out a soft, sympathetic sigh. "Yes, I suppose so. Though, I wasn't thinking about it as an outburst."

Scaramouche didn't care. If Diluc was here - all he could assume was one thing.

"So you're here to deal a punishment?"

"A punishment?" Diluc tilted his head, confusion in his voice.

"I insulted the other concubines. I left before I was dismissed. It's your job isn't it? As the head consort - you deal out the punishments."

"You misunderstand." Diluc shook his head. "Can I sit?" He motioned towards a small couch that was placed in the room. Scaramouche nodded and Diluc sat down, his hands smoothing down his clothes.

"I am not here to give out a punishment. You are not the first to resort to insults or get angry at the others. It is natural that it happens when there are so many of us, and with such different personalities." Even as Diluc spoke, there was a small smile forming on his lips. He almost seems like he is reminiscing as he speaks of the harem members.

Scaramouche takes small steps until he is able to sit across from Diluc, keeping a good amount of distance between the two of them.

"So you decided to what? Come here out of the goodness of your heart." There was distain in his voice as he tried to figure out Diluc's true intentions. "Or are you here to defend the others? Defend y/n? If you are, you can leave. I don't want to hear it."

Diluc just gazed at him, no malice or annoyance in his eyes.

"I am not here to defend anyone. I am here because I wanted to check up on you. I know we haven't had a lot of chances to talk or even get to know each other - that's no ones fault - but, I would still like for you to be comfortable in the harem. Find some sort of enjoyment in the life you are now living."

Scaramouche stared at Diluc, scrutinizing him.

"Why are you all saying that?" He shook his head. "You, Itto, even Childe for fucks sake. All of you go around, stating that I should be happy and appreciate the life I am given." Scaramouche raised from his seat as he spoke. "But all of you - you guys have no idea about how awful this world truly is. How awful it can be. How things can change in a split second. How can you come in here and - and lecture me about life when you and all of the others are sheltered behind the whims of a cruel woman."

There was silence. Scaramouche words continued to float through both of their minds. If he wasn't getting punished, he definitely would now.

"You don't think we're not aware?" Diluc question is so simple and it sends a shiver down Scaramouche's body. There's no heat to his tone and Diluc doesn't appear to be angry. But the way he says it, the small almost pained smile that graces his face, it leaves Scaramouche stumbling over his words.

"I - I didn't mean - I mean…"

"It's okay." Diluc lifted a hand as if to placate him. Diluc's eyes shifted away, as if in thought, before looking back at Scaramouche. "I grew up in a family with three sisters. They were…. terrible. Terrible people. Terrible wives. I would see my brother in laws hiding bruising, hiding their pain. I would hear the comments my sisters directed towards their own husband - comments so degrading and humiliating that even as a young boy, I wanted to curl up and cry just from hearing their words. They would even let others say whatever they wanted. They never defended them. Never did nothing. In fact, sometimes my sisters would egg others on to say even worse."

Diluc remained poised as he talked but there was a shakiness in his tone that betrayed his feelings. Scaramouche's heart clenched in his chest - though, he is not sure why.

"For the first 18 years of my life I grew up around them. Grew up in a family that basically trained me to be a perfect husband, seeing me more as an investment to getting rich than an actual person." A sigh slipped past Diluc's lips. "What I am trying to say is: I know we have different experiences. Everyone in this harem has different experiences when it comes to our time before we entered the harem but try not to let it define how you are going to live the rest of your life. I can't tell you to trust me, or trust the others, or even trust Y/n, that’s a choice you have to decide whether you want to make or not."

Diluc stood up, his movements effortlessly beautiful. He stepped closer to Scaramouche but didn't touch him. "If you do decide to try, you can start with something small. I promise you that, as long it doesn't pose a threat to you or anyone in this palace, it will be fulfilled."

With a small bow of his head, Diluc moved passed him and towards the door. "I hope to see you at dinner tomorrow."

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Start small. Start small. Scaramouche repeated those words inside of his head before letting out an annoyed, disgruntled sound.

His hands gripped at the strands of his hair, longer than he has ever been allowed to grow it out, as he paced around the room. The only light shining through is the moon and the stars - they are the only one's baring witness to his meltdown.

He doesn't want to. Actually, he does. He just doesn't want to admit it. Admitting it would mean allowing everything he pushed down into the small crevices inside of him would come spilling out. One at a time, slowly, over time until he can't stop it and he is overflowing with all the pain and loneliness that he thought he had moved on from.

He wants friends. He wants to be loved. He wants to be cared for. He wants to do things; explore, paint, learn to ride a horse. He wants it so bad that it makes him sick. He wants to be involved. He wants to believe that he is worth more than the shiny collar that used to be fastened around his neck - signifying that he is nothing more than a prize without a voice, without a say.

Not is, he tells himself. Was. He was nothing more than a prize. But, he doesn't have to be. Not if he decides to at least try what everyone else has been telling him.

But what if it goes wrong?

He can handle being dismissed and looked down on right now. He just stuffs the anger and despair down alongside everything else. But if he opens himself up; allows himself to possibly believe that maybe he can fit in and be accepted for himself, and it all turns to nothing… he isn't sure if he will be able to pick himself up again.

It is either do this one thing or don't do it. It's simple. The choice is simple. Pick one, ignore the other, that is all he has to do. It doesn't even have to be a lot of words, just go up, say what he needed to say then leave. If worse comes to worse, he could say the others encouraged him - that Diluc encouraged him. That would at least get you to think before you decided to lash out and punish him for interrupting you with nonsense.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," Scaramouche groaned as if he was in a lot of pain, a string of profanities leaving him, something he would never do in the presence of others.

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He stared at the bronze door in front of him, his eyes narrowed. He pointedly ignored the guards who stood at each end of the halls. He also ignored the looks sent his way when he entered the hall that led to your room. He wonders what is going through their mind when they look at him.

That he is desperate. Pitiful.

Maybe that he finally degraded himself enough to be used.

He raised a hand, his hands forming a fist as he prepared to knock on the door. He stilled right before he brought his fist down. What is he doing? What if you're not even in there? What if you just send him away without allowing him to say anything?

Nope. He's not going to allow that. He is not going to allow you to not listen to him when he had worked up the courage to come all the way up to your room - a place he spend his entire time in the harem ignoring.

Instead of rapping his knuckles against the door, his hand grabbed the two handles and pushed the door open.

It wasn't what he was expecting.

Well, he wasn't sure what he was expecting but not this.

You're room looked every part like it belonged to royalty but there was something else that left it looking almost cozy. In between all the furnished gold, there was tea placed on the table (two cups) and a half-eaten cake. There was a pale-blue silk robe thrown over the couch which he knew belonged to Ayato. There was cushions thrown on the floor along with a blanket. Leaning on the floor against one of the walls he saw numerous painting - some finished, some not - but none of them look like the ones seen hanging up in the halls of the palace.

He couldn't continue to look around the room before one of your personal servant's drew his attention. The servant startled at Scaramouche's unplanned and borderline inappropriate entrance into the room - a resort building on their lips but they quickly clamp their mouth shut as a voice - your voice - echoes from another room.

"Its fine. Leave us."

For a moment he thought you were talking to him but just as quickly the servant bowed to him, though their face screwed up. Their lips pursed like they were looking at some annoying pest. Since you were still in the adjacent room, Scaramouche felt brave enough to send a glare at the servant.

Concubine beats servant - even servants who work directly under you.

He can't lie, it felt nice to do that.

He was left alone in the room now. His feet were frozen to the floor as his eyes lingered on the open doorway, fluorescent light spilling out and into your bedroom. You were in there. You knew he had entered your room and you haven't told him to get out. Not yet at least.

"Are you just going to stand there? Or did you barge into my room without a reason? Unless you finally decided to give up the whole 'Don't talk to me. Don't touch me.' facade. I thought you'd hold out longer."

He flushed as you spoke. Both from anger and embarrassment at being called out. His feet carried him towards the entrance of the doorway, a resort building on his lips.

"I have in no way come here to spend time with you or be... touched."

"But you do want to talk." It wasn't a question. You seemed to already know why he had stormed into your room and now...

His eyes widened.

He had walked right into your bathroom and there you were. You were in a huge tub, naked but the water and suds covered you from the neck down. You still had your eye's covered as well.

His brain failed him. He couldn't form any words and a redness blossomed on the tip of his ears.

"You're leering."

"I am - I am not." He sputtered.

"Wanna join me?"

"Absolutely not."

You shrugged. "Then you're going to just stand there?"

"I - no I am not. I just came to -"

"To what?"

Scaramouche pursed his lips. His eyes flicker around the room, looking everywhere but at you.

"Diluc," he figured this would be the safest way to start. "Diluc said I should come and talk to you. The others did as well."

He trailed off awkwardly, expecting you to say something to him but you didn't. Instead you just leaned back against the tub.

"I wasn't going to."

You just hum.

"I thought it was a ridiculous idea but I just want to make things clear. I - I am not here to be one of your bodies to use. Or for you to assume that I am going to do whatever you ask me just because you're... you. I've spent enough of my life being surrounded by women who try to dictate everything about my life from what I eat to what I wear.

"I have no desire to understand you or get close to you. But I will apologize for the way I acted towards the others - your concubines and consorts, I mean. They - they are not you and just because I don't like you doesn't mean I should have been so... callous with the others and lashed out during dinner."

He let out a shuddering breath, a weight lifting from his chest as he said everything he wanted to say. He didn't realize just how nervous he actually was before coming into your room. His body feels limp.

You, however, didn't say anything for a short while.

In the back of his mind, he bet you enjoyed seeing him shift uncomfortably, a small sheen of sweat forming on his skin.

"Very well then."

He blinked at you.

"So that's it then." He stared at you, his eyebrows furrowing.

"That's it. Why? Where you expecting something else."

"Well no. I just - you're not angry. I mean at me insulting you earlier and then coming in here and basically saying I'll never," He trailed off, not sure why he was trying to explain anything to you - not when you don't seem to care.

You laugh softly. The sound ringing in his ears. "I was angry but not at what you said about me. You think you're words were insulting? They were the truth. Besides I've been called much worse." You shrug. "What I was angry at was your blatant disregard and disrespect for the others. But it appears that you've changed your mind and realize that you shouldn't blame them just because of your hate for me so no reason to linger in the past."

"You almost sound like you actually care about them." This slipped out before he even realized what he said. Perhaps after what he said earlier, after confronting you, he finds it harder to hold his tongue.

Your lips tighten but other than that you don't say anything. You don't agree or disagree with his statement.

"So you don't love them? Even though all of them seem like they are deeply in love with you."

You don't answer and Scaramouche thinks he screwed up.

"Does love have to be the only reason I take care of those under me? Can't there be any other reason?"

"Selfishness? Control? Pride?" Scaramouche spoke without thinking.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Scaramouche swears he see's your lips twitch. "I may not love them but they're mine. I protect what's mine."

So, he was right about some things.

"So it is pride and ego."

"…"

You shift in the tub, your head falling back against the marble. His eyes flicker down to your throat, watching as a bead of water travels down your skin before snapping his eyes back to your face.

"Most of them are innocent to the truth of the world." You broke the silence after a minute.

"They know men are deemed lesser in this society but they haven't experiences the harshness that the world can offer. Not like you have or Venti or Diluc."

He doesn't see how this answers his previous questions.

"Do I love them? No. I don't believe I am capable of loving anything. But, I care about them. About what they can do - both for me and for themselves. I don't want them to whither away in a society that takes everything from them and become a shell of who they are and what they want to be in the future."

Your fingers drum against the marble of the tub, a small sound echoing in the bathroom.

"You see me as a horrible, cruel person and in some ways, I would say its true. I don't care about the lives of people outside of this palace - not even the people I am meant to. I don't feel anything when I take the lives of others - whether they are enemies or just people fighting because they have to. Sometimes, I even enjoy it. That alone would have everyone labeling me as cruel and even sadistic and I would agree. However, I protect them, ensure they have a good life because I need to. I need their support. But… the people in this palace - they are my people. I want to keep them happy, keep them sheltered, keep them protected; and I'll do whatever that takes in order to guarantee that."

Your head lifts from where it was resting against the tub. He can't see your eyes, the cloth still covering them, but he can feel your gaze penetrating him. The sudden pressure around him is becoming a constant whenever you decide to gaze at him.

"Now, that includes you too. You were a war prize originally, that much is true. You were a means to insult Ei but now you are one of my people. You may just be a concubine but I don't want you clinging to your old life and your old ways of thinking that you need to isolate yourself to survive."

He hated the way you see through him. This is the most you've talked to him - ever; and yet you read him without a problem. It leaves him feeling naked and bared in front of you, even with all of his clothes still on.

"Think what you want about me. I don't care. But the others, they are good and pure and kind. At least open yourself up to them. Each of them will take you in with open arms and love and care about you in ways you may have forgotten."

Scaramouche wasn't sure how to reply to all that. You weren't being vulnerable or even truly opening up to him but there was something in your words that left him shifting on his feet.

"And if I don't want to?" His voice came out shakier than he wanted. His eyes glued to his feet rather than looking at you.

"Then don't. Spend the rest of your time in the harem alone and miserable." You waved a hand like it meant nothing to you.

"I can make sure your fed and healthy but other than that everything else is you're choice."

#genshin au #consort au #empress au #genshin impact #genshin x reader #c:empress #genshin impact x reader #c:scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

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cutielando · 2 months

Text

i should hate you, but i can't ~ rafe cameron

my masterlist

Rafe Cameron.

There were no words to describe what you felt for the boy.

Love? Adoration? Hate? Disgust?

It was a multitude of things all stacked against each other, each battling to come out on top. He was rude, he was a junkie, he couldn't stop picking fights to save his life, he belittled everyone around him, and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

So then, why were you so attracted to him?

Maybe it was your very poor taste in men? Or yo were just unfortunate enough to be attracted to the bad guys? The possibilities were endless.

Rafe knew how much of a crush you had on him. He used every single opportunity to point it out when you would find yourself alone in his presence. Especially at the parties he would host.

You never wanted to give him the satisfaction of seeing you too much, but his parties were legendary on the whole island and your friends never missed one. You couldn't allow yourself to be the only one who wouldn't go, it would be too obvious.

That's how you found yourself in the kitchen of Tannyhill, trying to find a bottle of vodka to refill your cup.

Kooks were dancing all around you, grinding against each other, spilling their drinks all over themselves and not having a care in the world. Typical for every party held on Figure 8.

You were desperately trying not to bump into anyone, quickly finding your way towards the alcohol counter.

"Where the fuck is it?" you mumbled to yourself, not seeing the bottle anywhere on the tray.

"Looking for something?" a voice called out from behind you. More specifically, his voice.

You rolled your eyes before turning around, your eyes landing on the man of the house himself, Rafe Cameron.

Eyebrows raised, a taunting smile on his face looking back at you, the alcohol bottle you had eagerly been searching for right in his hands.

"What's it to you?" you crossed your arms, resting your back against the counter.

"Given that you are snooping around in my house, I would say I deserve to know what you were searching for so desperately, wouldn't you agree?" his tone was taunting, just like his whole personality. Living to make your life miserable.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't deny that he was a tiny bit right. You had, after all, been snooping around his house searching for alcohol.

"I was looking for the vodka, had to get a refill and entertain myself somehow" you explained, tired of the conversation already.

"You should've just come to me and asked about it, sweetheart. You know I'd never deny you" he winked before handing you the bottle, departing right after that.

This was the interaction you always had with him. He would just come in, make fun of you in some way, proceed to sneakily try and flirt before just leaving.

It was an ongoing cycle with him.

One you never thought you'd participate in.

As the night rolled away, so did the alcohol into your system. It was well past midnight and you were having the time of your life, dancing with your friends and not having a care in the world.

The interruption came when a Kook, more specifically someone you couldn't stand being around, decided to just come up behind you and start dancing with you.

"You've got some moves on you, baby" he whispered in your ear, his hands caressing and guiding your hips against his.

You tried to pry yourself out of his arms, but the hold he had on you made it impossible. He was holding onto your hips tightly, grinding into your behind.

Rafe's eyes found you in the middle of the huge sea of people in his living room, his anger rapidly spreading through his body when he noticed how uncomfortable you looked. Downing the last remnants of his drink, he quickly made his way towards you.

"Let go of her" when you heard Rafe's voice, it was like hearing an angel. You had never been more grateful to be with him than you were in that moment.

"Get lost, dude, we're having fun" the Kook answered, gripping your hips even tighter now.

Even in your hazy state, you started pulling away from him, clawing at his hands to let you go.

Before you could even register what was going on, you felt his hands being yanked off of you, and you saw Rafe hovering over the Kook, who was on the floor holding his bleeding nose.

"Don't ever touch her, or anyone, like that ever again, do you hear me?" you heard Rafe say, his voice dangerously low.

When the Kook nodded, Rafe turned around and took your hand, pulling you through the crowd and towards the back door. He slid open the door and you were met with fresh air, your brain starting to sober up a little.

"Are you okay?" Rafe asked, taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulder when he noticed you shivering in just your dress.

You nodded, words not yet able to roll from your lips.

"Why did you do that?" you asked after spending some minutes in silence, your mind still hazy but almost completely sober now.

You had always been able to handle your alcohol pretty well, which many times came in handy. Especially now, when you were alone with Rafe Cameron in his backyard after he just saved you from a creep.

"What?" he asked.

"Why did you help me back there?" you specified, shuffling so you were closer to him.

He shrugged, kicking his feet. "Anyone would've done the same. Plus, I don't like guys who touch girls against their wills, and you clearly looked uncomfortable while he had his hands on your body" he explained further.

You stared at him, both of your eyes locked on the other. Maybe it was the alcohol still in your system that prompted your actions, or maybe you had just been suppressing it for far too long, but you found yourself kissing him, your hands gripping onto his shoulder and the hair at the back of his head.

He was stunned for a brief moment before he relaxed into the kiss, pulling you closer and holding your waist gently.

If anyone would have seen the two of you in that moment, they would have thought the world had gone crazy. You spent so many years hating each other, making fun and just picking on one another, you had never given second thought to the feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach every time you would see each other, when your eyes would lock in a crowd of people.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, neither of you could help the big smile that was on your faces.

"What did we just do?" you asked, biting your lip.

"I think maybe we got tired of hating each other" he teased, holding you against his body.

"Oh, Rafe, as much as I wanted, I could never hate you" you said before leaning in again, not being able to get enough of his lips.

Oh, what a turn of events.

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meltedheartz · 2 months

Text

thinking about ftm!reader and mean!izuku who thinks it's so cute how they just can't defend themselves against him :((

tw : college!au, dub-con, condescension, mild bullying (in a way), chubby reader, reader wears glasses, reader's a bit of a loser, dacryphilia, creampie, no protection (don't be silly, wrap that willy!), mating press, izuku's a whore for reader, praise and petnames, don't care how big you are cuz izu's bigger, gn pronouns used :3

word count : wrote this on a whim, so i honestly don't know..

it starts when you accidentally bump into him, stumbling back yet he was barely even startled. you apologize profusely, and izuku just waves you off at first.

you think it's rude, before rushing off to wherever you were trying to get too—forgetting about it.

but izuku spots you around that coffee shop near the campus, sees you in the hallways with books nearly stumbling from your arms, watches as you take notes as the professor speaks.

a couple of people whisper about you, how you never bother speaking to anyone, and how nervous you seem when someone approaches you.

it's like cornering a bunny, izuku thinks when he decides to speak to you.

well, it's more like being passive aggressive than actually conversing.

"wow, you're soo smart. you must be real fun to be around, huh? your voice is really high pitched, are you sure you're alright?"

you tell him to stop being a dickhead, if he doesn't wanna be around, he doesn't have to be. izuku waves you off and laughs, says you're like a startled animal that thinks it's intimidating, and it makes you frown.

"you're an ass," you poke at his chest, before picking up your bag and adjusting your glasses.

"hm? where are you going?" izuku pointedly ignores your insult, but it feels more ticklish than insulting or hurtful.

you ignore him right back, attempting to storm out of his dorm room. of all the people you get to work with, you get paired with him. it's annoying—more an inconvenience, than anything.

izuku watches as tears well up behind those clear rims you wear, sees the furrow in your eyebrow and nearly laughs at it, wants to call you a crybaby for it; just like everyone used to do to him.

he can sort of see why they did it, and when it comes down to someone as soft and quiet as you, it's nearly impossible to resist.

"we're not done with either of our parts. you don't need help on yours?"

when you don't answer, izuku takes it upon himself to grab you hard enough to stop you, but not enough to hurt. it causes a slight discomfort, makes your breathing stutter a bit as you sniffle and try to pull away—but you physically can't.

izuku speaks again, looming over you with a small scowl. "why are you ignoring me? i thought you wanted to get this done, what happened to that?"

you just wanna slap him for asking that. he knows the answer — knows exactly what he did wrong and why you got fed up.

"let go of me. i'll work on my part by myself, dickweed."

"nuh-uh, that's not fair to either of us, is it?" izuku coos, grabbing your bag for you and tossing it onto the futon he has sitting just a little bit away.

you sniffle again, more tears welling up and threatening to tip over and down onto your chubby cheeks, and you can't even wipe them away cuz you're arguing with such an asshole.

you seem so frustrated and angered, but he knows that instead of yelling, you cry. it's pathetic, makes him wanna bite your cute face and boop your nose just to see you sniffle some more.

"you mad at me?" izuku asks, tugging you back into the small apartment that you stupidly decided to visit to get your joint assignment done.

"this is stupid — let me go, midoriya." he frowns at that, his grip loosening just a bit before it tightens again.

he clicks his tongue and drags you right back to his room, with all the superhero posters and expensive collectors items that can't be found anywhere else.

izuku sits you down but doesn't let you go—hasn't let go of your arm since he got a hold of it. "what happened to calling me by my name?"

"that is your name," you snark back. you watch as his eyes narrow a bit and he makes his way on to the bed, looming over you.

you feel.. small. it's not like you were ever bigger than him, he goes to the gym more times a week than you can keep track of and is over 6'0" — of course you aren't bigger than him.

"don't get smart with me honey. you know you don't wanna do that." izuku sighs and makes you lay down, and you feel your heartbeat speed up as your eyes widen.

you struggle and squirm, but he just smiles and puts more of his weight on you, making it near impossible to even move.

"m-midoriya—"

"izuku. say it," he breathes out, tucking his face into the crook of your neck almost forcefully.

he hears you hiccup, sees as the tears flow over and how your eyes get all glassy—all doe-eyed and he laughs.

"izuku, get off me—" you try to move again, you feel the grip around your wrist tighten more and it feels more and more uncomfortable as it does.

"i love you. you're so cute, what would you have done if it was someone else on top of you? hm?" izuku raises his head to look at you, and feels bad.

feels that guilt of actually making you cry, seeing how scared you are of him. "ah-ah, shh. i'm sorry. i didn't mean to make you upset, okay?"

that doesn't make the tears stop, but izuku thinks it's fine. the apology sounds genuine—more genuine than the usual sarcastic 'sorry' he gives you, more genuine than the mean laughs he gives you after making you throw a crumbled paper ball at him.

"i hate you, you're s-so mean," you hiss, wanting to kick and scream at him.

you feel the hold he has on your wrists loosen, but he doesn't let go entirely. but it's more than enough for you to wriggle free.

izuku smiles again, "i know. i know, 'm sorry."

the words that leave his mouth make you hiccup and stare at him, the typical scowl you always give izuku on your lips.

"you never show that you're actually sorry." you sniffle, and have to move to wipe the onslaught of tears the stumble down your pretty face.

izuku pauses when you say that, eyes grazing over your face before he lights up.

"how about i prove it, would that make you feel better?"

"s-slow down—"

"mgh—s-sorry," izuku gasps, but doesn't make any move to slow down, hips stuttering into yours as he watches you shake and clutch at the sheets.

it's been a little over thirty minutes, you think, but you're not sure. it's not like you can think when you can feel izuku's pretty cock all the way in your tummy—making sure you know he's actually sorry.

he spent all his time before this slurping at your pretty cunt, fingering you to completion as he sucked at your cute clit and made sure you felt good.

even now, izuku was trying to make sure you felt as good as you possibly could with him, watching your eyes roll back with every thrust into you.

"love you s'much, soo soft n pretty-" izuku whines, kissing you all sloppily yet so lovingly.

it makes you clench up around him, trying to close your legs but you jus can't because of the mean mating press he has you in.

"such a good boy for me, yeah?" the words paired with his dick stirring up your guts make you wail.

it's almost too much, but it's not enough as you cream around his cock—a milky white ring forming at the base of it as he pants and gasps right next to your ear.

he pounds a little faster—a little harder before his thrusts get sloppier and nearly lose rhythm. you can barely see his face without your glasses and the tears blurring your vision further.

but izuku makes sure that you can hear him good and well as he moans and whines, feeling the blunt tip press against your cervix as though it never wants to leave.

"shit, shit— 'm cumming," he gives short little thrusts as he does, cumming harder than he has in months just knowing that he finally has you.

you're both sweaty and you feel a little icky, embarrassed at all the crying you did. izuku kisses you—softer than he did before, wiping some hair from your face as he does.

"love you." izuku mutters. he doesn't care if you don't say it back, just as long as you know he loved you at the very least.

"i love you too."

A/N ; i haven't written smut or anything in MONTHS. i hope this is good in some parts, it's very rushed and not well thought outt :((

b4 anyone asks, minors are allowed to interact with my account. i don't care, as long as you aren't under 15. i fully understand that you guys have hormones, and the "minors dni" thing is straight bullshit to me. luv you guys, i will be making an account intro, but it won't be anytime soon cuz i'm lazy.. ＼(≧▽≦)／

#heartz.png #heartz.png files #izuku midoriya smut #midoriya izuku smut #izuku smut #deku smut #midoriya smut #bnha smut #mha smut #mha #bnha #midoriya izuku x reader #male reader #trans reader #poc reader #izuku x male reader #midoriya x male reader #midoriya x you #izuku midoriya x you

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theminecraftbee · 5 months

Text

Joel turns around. Martyn is standing there. His eyes are a burning red that gives Joel the heebie-jeebies. If anyone would know to be scared, it's Joel! He would! He'd recognize a mad dog if he saw one anywhere!

Anyway, all of that is to say that his high-pitched scream had been totally justified. "Oh my word Martyn what are you doing here?" he says, clutching his hand over his heart, several feet further back than he'd been thirty seconds ago.

Martyn snorts. "Is the sign not for me? Figured there was no one else it could be for."

"The what?"

"The sign."

Joel turns around. Outside his base, the other Mounders have hung a helpful banner: "SORRY EVERYONE YOU LOVE IS DEAD <3".

He'd told them it was kind of rude, hanging that up. Sort of made light of the whole thing, really. His wife and Mumbo and Jimmy had died, guys, don't be idiots about it. Bdubs had loudly told him that he was TRYING to be helpful, Joel, geez, why don't you appreciate his efforts? Pearl had shrugged and said they don't exactly make cards for this kind of thing. Joel's pretty sure they do, actually but...

Sorry everyone you love is dead. Hah.

"My wife is dead, Martyn," Joel says.

"Who, Lizzie or Jimmy?" Martyn says, weirdly dark. "Anyway, my husband's dead, so--"

"Your what?"

"Mumbo and I got married one time. Everyone forgets that for some reason."

Joel has to think about it a while. "Huh."

"Yeah. Anyway, you've still got the other Mounders, huh? Don't know what you're crying about. Thought the sign had to be for me. Thought I'd show up. Get cake. Kill some people. You know how it is."

"If there's a TNT minecart in my base, the first thing I do after I turn red is kill you," Joel says.

"That's not really how it works this time," Martyn says.

"Yeah, well, screw you," Joel says. "Also, they didn't make me any cake. I should ask them for that next. Hah. A cake."

"You know, maybe don't ask for that? Parties tend to go wrong in this game."

"And who's fault is that, huh?"

"Hey, don't look at me! Or, do. Since I'm going to kill everyone, on account of everyone I love being dead and all. Really convenient excuse for murder, that. I should use it more often, if it didn't involve the crippling grief," Martyn says.

"Oh, please. At least you tend to have people to love in the first place," Joel snaps.

"Oh, right, that is your curse, isn't it?" Martyn says. "Sorta broke it last time, but you do tend to get isolated and a bit crazy. Hey, I wonder if we're the ones who traded, actually what with the whole wolf thing."

Joel blinks. "What?"

"Oh, we're all cursed," Martyn says. "After all, They like it better that way. Hey, do you think Jimmy's curse transferred to Lizzie, got cancelled out by the fact Lizzie tends to die stupidly, or got broken? Personally, I'm thinking random fluke, when it comes to canary nonsense."

Joel stares at Martyn. His throat is dry. "What?"

Martyn stares back. "Hey, I'm the mad dog this time," Martyn says. "You probably shouldn't be the one growling."

"Well then, you should stop saying stupid shit," Joel says.

"Stupid? Please. It's obvious everyone is cursed. Nothing to be done about it but to play into the--"

"NO ONE IS BLUMIN' CURSED," Joel shouts, his vision suddenly red and blurry in a way it shouldn't be when he's still on yellow. "NO ONE IS BLUMIN' CURSED. THERE'S NO SUCH THING! YOU'RE JUST, JUST MAKIN' UP REASONS IT ISN'T ALL A TRAGEDY THAT EVERYONE I LOVE IS FUCKING DEAD, MAKING UP REASONS THAT IT--NO ONE IS CURSED! IT JUST HAPPENS! IT JUST HAPPENS! IT JUST FUCKING HAPPENS! AND WOULDN'T IT BE BLUMIN' NICE IF THERE WERE A HIGHER POWER BUT THERE ISN'T SO SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT CURSES!"

He's panting. Martyn is staring at him. He stares back, a snarl on his teeth, the echoes of wolves and of grief, grief, grief, grief playing at the back of his throat.

"Joel?" Martyn says, hesitant.

"My wife is fucking dead. My best friend is fucking dead. One of my new possible best friends is fucking dead. Sorry about your husband, I guess? Get out."

"Bold thing to say to the guy who can kill--"

"I SAID GET OUT!"

Martyn stares at Joel a moment longer, and Joel finds he's not scared of the madness in his eyes at all.

Martyn leaves.

Joel realizes he's crying. The tears turn into giant, ugly sobs. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry everyone you love is dead.

"I blumin' hate caring about people," he says to no one at all through choked breaths, and he kicks a rock at the banner for good measure. It pokes a little hole through it and bounces off the dick-shaped tower behind it.

"Someone really should have made both of us a blumin' cake, they should," he says next, and he sits down until Pearl runs over, having heard the shouting. His face is red and his vision is still swimming. She stares at him, gathers him in her arms, and cries with him, and for the life of him, he doesn't know if that's any better.

#secret life smp #secret life spoilers #a bee fic #joel smallishbeans #martyn inthelittlewood #ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD THIS SESSION HAS INSPIRED ME TO WRITE APPARENTLY.#anyway the life series is a tragecomedy and everyone copes with that differently i think #i am trying to really CAPTURE the simultaneous tragic and comedic vibes here #anyway. opposing views on curses and causality in the face of grief huh?

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lowkeyremi · 7 days

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𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

pairing: k. bakugo x fem!reader summary: Your man's birthday is coming up! Time to set up the venue for the birthday boy! Uh oh... gotta keep it on the low, I think he might be on to you. content: fluff, established relationship, bakugo is nosy, little bit of swearing, mention of other characters (his friend group) (you can find the rest of the series here!) wc: 1k

"Shhhh!! Hurry up and bring the rest of the stuff out to the car." Kirishima and Kaminari can't seem to keep quiet while loading the rest of the supplies into the car for Katsuki's party. The two keep giggling and messing around.

"Sorry [name]! We'll be quieter!!" You highly doubt that because they said that the last two trips and if anything they've gotten louder. "Come on guys, we don't wanna give it away. You know how hard it is to actually surprise Katsuki." The boys know how much you've wanted to do this, so they quiet down and quickly take the rest of the party supplies to your car.

At this point it's almost like a challenge; to see if you can surprise him. His last two birthday parties you've tried to plan out were a major fail because Todoroki didn't understand the element of surprise and said, "Oh yeah, we're just getting everything ready for your party." and the other year he had threatened Mineta into telling him what you were plotting.

So, this year in order to keep it an actual secret, you had told very few people (kirishima, mina, sero, denki, and midoriya.) and sent Katsuki off to his parents to "enjoy his birthday with his family." His birthday isn't until a few more days but his parents were able to tire him out enough to keep him from asking questions or bothering you guys. he's currently in his room napping at 7pm.

"Alright, Sero, Can you read through the checklist once more to make sure we have everything?" Sero's quiet helpful, he'll be hanging up a lot of the decorations and what not. You had momo make a bunch of cool decorations yesterday while Katsuki was out with his parents and then sato baked a cake, that resides in the teacher's lounge thanks to Aizawa Sensei. You had also gotten the decorations that you and Mitsuki went out and bought a little while ago. She is such a big help and a huge part of why this whole plan is working.

Sero reads though the checklist and you give him a small "yeah" each time you see an item on the list.

"Okay I think that's everything let's go!"

In all honesty, Gym Gamma isn't that far away from the dorms, but carrying all of that stuff would have been a huge pain, which is why you're taking your car, with special permission from Aizawa of course.

When the six of your arrived at the gym you took charge of making sure the door was open for everyone to load everything in, and locking it behind you when everyone was inside.

Your teachers had already come up with some kind of white lie saying they were using the gym for some kind of new practice when in reality you're just setting up Katsuki's party.

So far everything's going according to plan, since Kirishima is probably the strongest one there he helps with setting up tables and moving them. While Denki sets up all the music equipment. (he, jiro, tokoyami and momo are going to play music)

Mina, being a natural leader is telling people where to put things, how high to hang up decorations and what not. She's really damn good at it too.

While you're in the trance your phone buzzes in your pocket and you hear the familiar ring tone of fireworks. When you and Katsuki started dating you set his ringtone to fireworks just to piss him off, and at first it did, but now he's just used to it.

"Hello?" In response you here a loud shuffling noise and a small grunt.

"Where the fuck are ya? Your location's off." If it were anyone else on the phone with him they probably would have thought Katsuki was being rude, but this is just how he is.

"Are you sure? I'm like 100% sure it's on." It's not. You know it's not. You aren't completely sure if he knows the gym is "off limits" because he crashed as soon as he got back. There's no way you're gonna risk it though because if he does know about the gym not being available he'll get suspicious of you being there.

"I'll check again, but I'm pretty sure it's off." His voice is groggy with sleep and he goes quiet while checking to see if you're location is on. While he's doing that you quickly mute your phone and yell out, "WHO'S NOT DOING ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?"

Midoriya is the first to respond, he runs right over to you ready to help.

"Listen, Izuku. I'm about to tell 'tsuki that i'm headed to my favorite book store on campus. I need you to take my phone and just kinda hang out there and if something goes wrong, like he tries to call just call one of the others so you can let me know, okay?" The green haired boy shakes his head furiously fast.

"I CAN DO IT!!" Even though you're slightly exhausted, Midoriya's energetic attitude does hype you up a bit.

You quickly unmute your phone, "Hey baby, I'm going down to the book store for a little while. I need to get this one book."

His bed creaks, indicating that he's just finally sat up in bed, "Alright, I'll meet ya there."

"I just need some time alone, please don't come by." You try your best to sound like you need space, because you know your boyfriend respects you and your space.

"Oh.. alright. If you want me to come get ya I will." Guilt slowly trickles through your stomach when you hear his voice drop into disappointment but you know it will all be worth it in the end.

"Love you Kats, I'll see you in a bit." The blond hums quietly in contentment.

"I love you too, be safe." With that he hangs up the phone.

Izuku quickly leaves with your phone to the book store and you + the others get back to work on decorating and making sure everything is organized.

"Okay guys! I think if we keep working at this pace we'll be done in thirty minutes or so." Everyone whoops in excitement.

It turns out you aren't the only one who wants to surprise Katsuki Bakugo.

day 1: you make a birthday gift for katsuki - @zanarkandskylines

day 2: you invite all of class 1-A to the party - @xbabyd0lli3x

day 3: shopping for decorations- @angels-fantasy

day 4: You make a present plan 2.0! - @starieq

💖 day 5: Decorating the venue for his birthday party ! @lowkeyremi

day 6: Baking the cake for his party - @queenpiranhadon

day 7: you and your classmates surprise him ! - @cashmoneyyysstuff

tag list: @gina239 @mystic60 @meowze4r @icedemon1314 @bigsimpo343 @ah-mya @whezdostuff @berry-vioo @seonne @slayfics @food8me @katsuisbaby @azzo0 @kit-katsukii @stoned-anime-babe @kukikoooo

orange = can't be tagged

#mha x reader #mha #bnha #bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader

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xoxo-sarah · 11 months

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Brother's Best Friend

Part 2

↝a/n: idk how to feel about this one. Feedback is appreciated! :)

↝pairing: robin buckley x Harrington!reader

↝Warning: arguing, a school fight, homophobic douchebag who says gross stuff, party, alcohol, pinning, kissing, not proofread

↝⎙ 6.15.23

She hated you. She hated how you dressed, how you acted, how you talked, how you smiled, how you laughed, how you walked, how you fixed your hair. How you applied lip gloss on your plump, kissable lips. Most importantly, she hated how you were Steve's sister. You and Steve were complete opposites, always having something small to argue about no matter who's around. But having each other's backs when needed.

She could recall a day where you wore a pink skirt along with a scowl on your face as a girl from school had been talking crap about your brother. The other girl hadn't been popular, but a shit talking bitch nonetheless, just listening to everything and gossiping when given the chance.

Robin had been at her locker when she heard everything, the caos and people talking about a fight as they ran down the hall. She followed the two younger highschoolers, coming around a corner to see you, ears a fire-y red and knuckles a ghost white as your nails dug into your palms. The other girl kept blabbering about the next bimbo to be in your brothers bed, which set you off. A small, humorless laugh had the cocky grin fall smooth off her face. Robin wasn't close enough to hear what you said before the girl had swung, hitting you but hurting herself more with how she had her fist, most likely jamming her thumb. A gasp echoed in Robin's head, watching as you only swung once, enough to say it was self defense- when in reality it just felt good to shut the girl up for a little bit.

She had just watched as the principal walked both of you down the hall, scolding you.

She hated how you made her promise not to tell Steve that you got suspended. "You can't tell Steve."

"And why not? You punched her!"

"For good reason!" You had countered, pleading her with your eyes. "Please, Robin." That might have been the first time you have been nice to her. There was always some snippy comments being spat at her when she was around, making Steve take up for his friend. "I'll do anything; He can't know."

So she kept your secret. You kept getting ready for school in the mornings, leaving with a small something for breakfast, and bidding Steve goodbye. She didn't know where you went after you left, or where you could spend 7 hours where Steve wouldn't catch you. But her mouth stayed shut. She honestly surprised herself, keeping a secret- especially from her best friend.

On a random Friday you had worn a blue skirt, accidentally matching Robin's blue shirt. Steve had pointed it out, laughing it off as you got a snack. Robin noticed the small smirk on your face ever since you came out of your room. She also noticed how it grew as you asked Robin to walk with you to school, since you were both going, of course.

"You're not going to murder her, right?" Steve joked, although seeming a little concerned. A little out of the ordinary.

Rolling your eyes, you slapped him upside the head. "I can't walk with a friend?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think Robin was a friend..."

"We're friends- right, Robin?" With a scoff, you turned to her, waiting for her to reply.

Slowly nodding, she couldn't help but notice the difference lip gloss you wore. Had you been wearing that one all week and she hadn't noticed? She had been over every morning to talk to Steve before school. No, she would have noticed. Why was she so worried about it?!

She stood up ubruptly, bidding goodbye to Steve before hauling herself through the house. She heard you running behind her. "Wait up!" Even now, she hated how she could smell your perfume when you finally caught up, walking beside her. "Thanks for not telling him."

Opting not to respond, she continued to walk, finding her shoes interesting.

"Sorry I've been rude to you in the past, I've just never been able to talk to people and the first time I met you I thought you were just one of his flings but then you stayed and I didn't really know how to feel and you were just so-"

For once it wasn't Robin rambling, she finally understood what her mother was talking about when she'd ramble on for what felt like hours. "Hey, Breathe."

"Sorry."

"I was so what?" Robin stopped walking, turning to you.

She noticed the small blush on your cheeks and ears, yet another pretty pink shade on you.

"What?"

"You said I 'was so'...what were you going to say?"

"Pretty. You were- are so pretty. Sorry." Any sign of the Harrington smirk and confidence was gone. You looked like a whole different person in front of her. Robin couldn't believe it.

"How can you go from a spoiled brat to a shy little thing?" She didn't notice how her voice darkened, usually not talking to you like this. But you had.

"What?" Your eyes widened, jaw droppimg before you glanced around.

Robin felt like she hadn't been in control of her body when those words slipped out. Sure, she had thought them but she didn't want to actually say them! "I didn't- that wasn't supposed to be said outloud. I didn't- I don't." Turning back around, she started walking again. "How about I accept your apology for being mean to me before and you forget about what I just said, deal?"

She could see your stupid grin from beside her, "deal."

"Give it back!" She hated how you would take things and run away with them, giggling as you did so. Like now, you took her sandwich and ran away through Family Video, giggling like a maniac. "C'mon, that was the last of the bread!"

"I'll give it back for a kiss." She hated how your words made her cheeks flush. You've joked about kissing her before, along with all your friends. But it was different for her. She didn't even know if you know about her being lesbian. Steve wasn't one to go around telling everyone her business so she doubted it. When she didn't reply, you slowly made your way back, handing her the sandwich back. "I was kidding."

"Yeah, yeah." She reached for her sandwich, putting it back in the ziplock, not feeling hungry anymore.

You noticed, of course you did. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"No." Your hand was suddenly on her arm, stopping her from moving. Your touch was like fire to her skin, despite how soft your skin was and how you've been whining about how cold it was recently. "What is going on with you lately?"

She opened her mouth to squash whatever you were thinking was wrong with her, but Steve came back from the back room, done with the new stock. "Y/n? I thought you were busy today."

When it hit you, Robin saw it in your face. Your hand fell from her arm, in search of your purse. "Oh shit! I gotta go-" Her eyes never left you as you stepped towards the door. "Robin, we gotta hang out sometime." Her eyebrows were practically over her head, like a surprised cartoon. Her brain felt as if she had forgotten how to talk, or even what word were.

She couldn't do that. She would not be in a room by yourselves ever again. "Date?" It slipped past Robin's lips before her brain fully went back from the frizzy state.

Steve gave a glance to his friend, not quite sure what had changed between you two- going from hating each other to wanting to hang out. He didn't question it. Not having to hear you take jabs at each other was heaven. "Maybe."

Robin heard your voice as soon as she entered the room, causing her feet to turn and try to quickly get out of the room and maybe even the country. "Buckley!"

Shit. Robin cursed herself, shutting her eyes as you giggled, making your way to her. She knew the party was a bad idea. She had been bored all day, with Steve having work and it being her off day, plus a Saturday. When she had heard some kids from school talking about a party, she didn't really think about who would be there. She now regretted that.

"Robin." She turned, seeing your smiling face, noticing your eyes creasing from how big you were grinning.

"Y/n." She acknowledged you. Your face fell a little when her face was straight, not sign of any emotion.

"I wouldn't expect to see you here."

Not knowing why that hit a nerve, she couldn't help to feel hurt. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! Uh," your smile fully fell, looking away from her. "Wanna come meet my friends?"

She had followed you through the house, weed and alcohol reeking through the room. Her eyes were set on your back, how the shirt tucked into the back of a pretty little white skirt. She wondered if that was all you had in your closet- it's not like she was complaining. More laughter echoed the little corner where a few people Robin had seen you hang around were sitting.

She stayed by your side most of the night, watching people around and you. She was never one for drinking, you however, wanted the buzz. You were even more giggly. Robin didn't know if she could handle it much longer.

"She just hasn't had this guy yet- I can't turn her back straight." Her eyes shot up to one of the guys who had interrupted your introduction to introduce himself. She could tell he had had way too much to drink, alcohol practically replaced the blood in his veins.

Her eyes followed where he and a few other people were looking and laughing. A girl who was openly lesbian was talking with her friends, laughing and enjoying the party, unknown of the cruel words being said.

The laughing pissed Robin off. Who did he think he was to say that? She couldn't believe you were friends with this guy. She half expecting you to laugh too, any second now. But as she turned slightly to look at you, you looked almost uncomfortable. "Mark, don't say stuff like that." The guy stopped laughing, his eyes traveling your body.

"What, Harrington?" He sat up, dragging his hand down his front to land on his crotch. Robin's nose crinkled in disgust. "You know what I can do to a woman." Your whole face broke out in disgust, almost as if all the alcohol would come up any second. "I'd have her straight as a board in no time."

As you stood up ubruptly, Robin's hands went out to catch you as you wobbled. "You're disgusting." You slurred, turning to walk away.

Robin was up and following you in a second, feeling as if getting away from that group was a breath of fresh air.

When the real fresh air hit her, she noticed you leaning against a tree in the front yard. She was quick to walk over. "Hey- you alright?"

"Yeah. He just makes me feel sick to my stomach."

"That might be the 10 gallons of alcohol you consumed." She joked, chuckling at herself, trying to lighten the situation.

"We should just leave." You got off the tree, wobbling on the sidewalk, towards your house. You didn't expect to feel her following you, thinking she would walk the other way, towards her own house. "What are you doing?"

"Walking you home." Her hands were in her pockets, the wind blowing her hair behind her.

"You don't have to."

"You shouldn't be walking home alone and drunk in the dark."

You didn't reply all the way back to your house. She walked you into the house, grabbing you a glass of water. The door opened with a push of her shoulder against it. "Here." She looked up, eyes growing wide with the lack of clothing you have. Her head shot to your door, closing it incase Steve came out of his room. Her eyes stayed on the ground as she quickly walked over to your dresser, almost slamming the glass down.

"Robin?" She hated how sweet your voice was. It almost didn't sound like you.

No one should ever sound that sweet, it's dangerous. "Ye-yeah?"

"Can you help me?" Her eyes looked up, going straight to your own, not daring to even look at your exposed collar bone.

"What?" Surely you didn't need help just throwing some clothes on.

Yet, you shamelessly stood in your underwear and bra, looking at her. "I can't undo my bra." You turned, your back exposed to her. She felt the air get stuck in her throat.

"Can't you just get in bed?"

"It pokes me." You whined, your hands trying to reach back but failing to fully find the clasp. Robin stepped forward, her hands becoming sweating as they met the cloth, slowly unclasping the three little metel pieces. Even after she was done, she couldn't help how soft your skin looked; how she wanted to lean forward and kiss until her lips felt numb.

"Thank you." She didn't moved as your turned, a tired smile on your face- her eyes stayed looking straight into your own.

The space between you was little, neither of you moving, for different reasons though, Robin had realized. She stepped back, letting you climb into your bed.

"You shouldn't go to bed with makeup on." Her voice was a little over a whisper. She had heard your complaint about how bad it was for your skin and your sheet and pillowcase.

You groaned, throwing your hand over the covers. Before you could voice your distaste for anything but sleep, she was walking towards your vanity, getting the makeup remover and walking over to the bed. You looked up at her as she kneeled beside the bed, bringing the cotton to your face, gently rubbing the makeup off. Your eyes raked over her face as if you haven't seen it before.

"There." She closed the bottle, throwing the cotton into your trash bin, going to stand up. Your hands stopped her movement, making her look at you in question.

She hated how soft your eyes looked up at her. "Thank you, Robin." Your fingers grazed her arm back and forth, an unknown pattern being made. "You're the best."

"I know."

"You can't go home."

"Why?"

"Because you shouldn't be out this late, all by yourself." She sighed, enjoying the patterns being drawn on her skin.

"I'll be fine."

"No." She looked at you with question in her eyes at how stern you were. "You can stay here." You patted the spot beside you on the bed. She felt the air get caught in her throat again, and her ear turn pink. As if on cue, rain hit your window, running down the glass as if it was taunting Robin and her emotions.

You don't lay in the same bed with people you hate. But she couldn't help it. It was late, cold, and raining. And your voice and face were so soft in emotion. She couldn't help herself.

Her eyes were glued to the ceiling, listening to the rain outside and your breathing beside her.

After a few minutes of silence in the dark room, she felt movement in the bed, and heard the blanket wrinkle with your movement. Suddenly, she felt your eyes on her, causing her to turn her head.

You were on your side, still having the same look in your eyes, as if she was the first person you had ever laid your eyes on. "You're pretty."

"You need to go to sleep, y/n." She dismissed you, seeing the sleep take over, noticing under your eyes and how your eyes were glossed over in sleep.

"Can I have a goodnight kiss?" She stared at you, not seeing the normal joking smirk, yet she nervously chuckled. She stopped when you sat up, a frown on your face. "I'm serious."

"You're drunk."

"Not enough." She followed your movement, sitting up and ignoring how the sheet fell from your exposed chest. "When I say I want to kiss you, I mean it."

"What?" You rolled your eyes, your hand going to grab hers.

"I like you. A lot, actually."

"It's just the alcohol talking- lay back down."

"No!" She flinched at your outburst. "I like you. I actually do. I have for a while. That's why I was mean to you when Steve brought you over. He's always managed to bring such beautiful girls over and you were way out of his league, truly. I was jealous, I guess." You were almost shy under her gaze, fiddling with your own hands now, letting her have her own back. "I kept being mean so I didn't have to ignore you completely - god, that would've killed me, Robin. I wasn't sure what to do- I certainly couldn't just go up to you and tell you I liked you. I wasn't sure, ya know? But when I saw the way you used to look at Vicky- I knew. I think I also brought my jealously out on you for that- sorry about that. She's a beautiful girl, I get it. But you're my 'Vicky'. I adore you more then I could ever physically express. And I probably wouldn't have even said anything if it weren't for the liquid courage, honestly. But I'm still thinking like I normally do. I know this isn't a mistake, no matter what happens between us next. And I am now realizing I'm blabbering. Sorry."

When you looked up, you were surprised to see her grinning.

"You're adorable." It was your turn to blush. "Can I kiss you?" Her quiet, raspy voice would have you doing anything she could ever ask.

"Of course. It's not like I've asked you 200 times-" her lips met yours, softly moving against each other and not coming up for air until your lungs screamed. She pulled back, her hand grazing the side of your neck.

You could feel her breath fan against your face, her forehead against your own. She whispered against your lips before going back into a kiss, not getting enough of you. "You talk too much."

Maybe she doesn't hate you.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

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