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reiderwriter · 1 month

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I have a hotch request and if you don’t write it I completely understand☺️

So you’re dating hotch for a couple months and you’ve only went over to his house like 5-6 times(so that’s how many times you’ve hung out with jack) anyway, you go to use the washroom or something before you leave to go home and jack asks his dad if you’re his gf and if you’ll be having a sleepover with them (as you’ve never actually stayed there before) and his heart becomes all warm n fluffy

A/N: Hi! I don't usually write for Hotch, but I decided to give it a crack because this fits pretty well for @imagining-in-the-margins KidFic challenge! It was a fun challenge to write, so thanks for the prompt! I changed it up slightly, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, step-family dynamics, etc.

10 months of casual dinners, midnight strolls, and stolen kisses, and you still weren't ready to accept that you were in love with your boss.

Aaron Hotchner was a complicated man, and loving him wasn't as simple as your heart wanted it to be. You worked together but rejected any favouritism he may have shown you. You slept together, but you never stayed in his bed. You kissed him, but you never told him you loved him, even though you were sure you did.

You just weren't sure you were ready to be a stepmother.

As a child of divorce, you'd been graced with two step-parents growing up, and while neither were story book evil, they weren't exactly the most welcoming either. You'd bounced between your mother and father's houses, trailing duffle bags, afraid to take up too much space for fear of ruining your parents’ newfound and direly earned happiness.

Jack had the misfortune of being both a child of divorce and having lost his mother entirely too young and entirely too suddenly.

When you'd joined the BAU, off the back of Haley Hotchner’s death, Aaron had been a man in mourning, a man scarred by circumstance and regret. But he'd been brave, and he'd been loving, and he'd worked so hard to give his son a good life.

Five years later, and it seemed obvious now that you had at least respected the man from the very beginning, if not pined for him quite openly.

There was that final hurdle left to cross, though, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be ready to do so.

A phone call startled you out of your worries as you sat on your couch, dissociating after a long and hard won case. The shrill ring startled you into action as you frantically searched for wherever it was this time that you left your phone.

“Hello, yes, I'm here, hi,” you said, finally finding the phone abandoned under some couch pillows.

“Y/N, it's Aaron.”

“I know, Aaron. Caller ID, welcome to the 21st century,” You couldn't help smiling into the receiver, so smitten with the man your face was just doing whatever it liked.

“Right. Look, I wouldn't usually overstep like this, but Jessica and I have to go upto Roy's retirement house, he's not dealing too well with the new environments, and all of Jack's regular babysitters are enjoying the spring weather. I'd ask his friends' moms for an impromptu playmate but-”

“But you'd rather he be with someone you trust? Aaron, it's fine, I'll come over and watch Jack for a few hours.”

He sighed into the receiver, and after a few more niceties, you ended the call, still grinning like an idiot.

You were still grinning like an idiot when your earlier anxiety came back and hit you straight in the chest. You'd met Jack before, but you'd not so subtly avoided any kid based conversations and meet-ups for the last 10 months.

You had no idea how to entertain a nine year old boy, but you decided quickly that you couldn't half ass it.

The drive to Hotch's house was almost embarrassingly familiar to you now, having been there so often in the past few months. Jack enjoyed regular sleepovers with his aunt and schoolmates so you could enjoy regular sleepovers with his father, a fact that you had to remind yourself to keep private as you knocked on the door.

“It's open,” Aaron called from inside, and you hesitantly opened the door and stepped in, bag of last-minute toy purchases stuffed under your arm.

From the door, you could see Aaron in the kitchen, hands deep in soapy water as he washed lunch dishes and pots, sticking his head out to smile at you.

“Aaron Hotchner, domestic goddess. Who’d have thought?”

“I'd ask you to keep this to yourself at work.”

“Of course,” you said, stepping a fraction closer to him. “Anything to keep the mystery alive.”

He leaned in for a quick kiss, and you reciprocated, letting it linger a second as you smiled into his touch.

Drying his hands on a towel near him, Aaron called across the apartment for Jack.

“What's up, Dad?” He asked, peeking out of his bedroom door.

“This is Y/N. She works with me and Uncle Rossi. She's going to take care of you for a while while me and Aunt Jessica and I visit your Grandpa. Come say hi.”

Creeping out of his room slowly, Jack came to stand just in front of his father's legs as Aaron put his hands on his shoulders, proudly showing off his mini doppelganger.

“Hi, I'm Jack.”

“Nice to meet you Jack, my name is Y/N.” You stuck out your hand, and he shook it. You noticed how small his hands were, but how strong his grip was. He was confident, but he was still just a small kid, and you were even more motivated not to mess this up.

“What's in your bag?” He asked, flicking his eyes down to it every few seconds, as if he was itching to stick his nose right into it.

“Jack, manners, please.”

“It's okay, Hotch. I brought some toys. Your dad mentioned that Santa's gave you a Nintendo at Christmas, and I thought I'd show you a few of my favourite games.”

His face lit up as he quickly stepped closer to you, hands on the bag as he waited for you to offer it up, now openly ogling the bags contents, knowing it was for him.

“You didn't have to bring anything, Y/N.”

“I wanted to make a good first impression.”

After being dragged to the nearest sofa and sitting through a five minute walk through of all the house rules, urgency exits and remote locations, you were left alone with Jack Hotchner, remotes in hand ready to play Mario Kart.

“Okay, now all that's left to do is choose the course you want to race on. Which one do you want to play on?”

Jack had chosen to use Bowser as his character and chosen Toadette for you quite cutely, and you'd quickly finished cart selection, too.

“We should go through them in order, so we complete them all,” he said after a moment of deliberation.

You giggled at how seriously he was taking it. And then the first race in the Mushroom Cup started, and you were seriously impressed by how quickly he'd picked up this game. Either kids were just better at video games in general, or you had a prodigy on your hands.

His serious face was a carbon copy of Hotch when he was hunched over paperwork, and he gave you the same quietly disapproving frown every time your character momentarily overtook his. It was adorable seeing the two reflected in one another.

By the shell cup, you were nearly exhausted, despite having spent the entire time glued to the couch.

“What do you think about taking a snack break?” You asked, looking over Aaron Jack, who had turned himself upside down on the couch somewhere in the last three matches and was still beating you.

“Okay. I'll show you where Dad hides the good snacks,” he said, quickly rolling off the couch as if his bones were liquid.

You, on the other hand, cracked as you stood, the irony not lost on you as you hobbled your way to the kitchen.

Opening the cupboard under the sink, Jack routed around for a few seconds before returning with a small box of Reeses Pieces, which you gradually accepted alongside a glass of apple juice.

“You're a good kid, Jack,” you said, ruffling his hair as he playfully swatted your hand away.

“Yeah, that's what my dad always says.”

“Your dad is a very smart man.”

He nodded and then went back to quietly eating his candy, somewhat lost in thought.

You weren't sure if you were supposed to ask him what he was thinking about, or avoid the topic and dive straight back into video games, so you just ate your candy, too, standing together in the kitchen, Mario Kart music playing in the background.

“Do you like my dad?” He suddenly asked, swallowing down one more bite of apple juice. You'd forgotten that kids were the bluntness people on the planet, not yet having learned the necessity of delicately creeping closer to the actual topic of discussions like adults.

Jack had landed a sucker punch right to your guy, and you were suddenly choking on Reese's Pieces.

“Umm,” you said, catching your breath again and hoping your embarrassment wasn't plain as day on your face. “Yes, I respect your father a lot, Jack.”

“But do you like him?” He said again, eyes wide and expectant as he looked up at you.

“My dad can be a little scary sometimes. I heard some of my friends' moms saying so at Mitchell C's birthday party last week. They said he's scary, but he's so sad and lonely.”

Your heart sank in your chest as you watched Jack worry about his dad, worry if Aaron Hotchner was lonely or sad.

“Jack, your dad isn't lonely or sad. He has you, and Aunt Jessica, and-”

“And you, right? Because you like my dad?”

“R-Right. He has me, too.”

“Great. Let's keep playing. The Banana Cup is next.”

As suddenly as it had started, your serious talk with Jack was over and he bounced his way back to the sofa, clicking go on the next race, as you ran to quickly take your place again, too.

Five hours later, and you were being shaken softly awake, controller still in your hands as you blinked your eyes open. Somehow, it had gotten dark, and both you and Jack had simultaneously fallen asleep on the couch.

Now Hotch hovered over you, carrying the sleeping boy in his arms as he woke you up. He mouthed ‘coffee?’ and you nodded quickly, sitting up further and grabbing the nearest remote to turn off the Nintendo.

With Jack situated in bed quickly, you made your way to the kitchen. Aaron joined you after making sure Jack was still asleep, walking up behind you and wrapping two arms around your middle, leaning his head against your shoulder and exhaling. Despite the shiver down your spine, you leaned further into him, enjoying the feeling of him in your sleepy state.

“How was it?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You were almost sure that he was conducting this conversation from behind as a means of convincing himself not to read into your every movement and expression.

“It was great. He's a great kid, you know?”

“So I've been told.”

“He's worried about you, too. He said the moms at his school think you're scary and lonely. Which in suburban house mom translates to romantic hero, though I don't think he realizes that.”

You felt the grumble of a laugh behind you, the sound low and comforting as you let your eyes flutter closed again, content in his arms.

“Jack…misses his mom. Rebecca is great, but he likes talking to the moms at school. Maybe a little too much, I don't know.”

“You miss her, too.” It was a statement, not a fact.

“I do,” he said sadly, holding you tighter. “Is that a problem?”

“No. No, god no. Aaron, I-” your voice broke, and you hesitated slightly, clearing your voice. You squirmed in his grip until he released you enough to face him.

Doing so may have been a mistake, though, as you locked eyes with him and so desperately wanted to kiss him, to claim his mouth with yours, and let him lift you onto his kitchen counters.

You squeezed your nails into the palm of your hands to ground yourself and took a steadying breath.

Which was when Jack decided to make a reappearance.

“Dad?” He said groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you had only moments earlier.

You quickly broke apart as Aaron smiled disappointedly, almost as if he were expecting the interruption.

“Hey, bud. Did you sleep well?”

Jack nodded, tilting his head a little as though still disorientated.

“Did I fall asleep on the couch?”

“Sure did. Both of you, actually.”

Jack looked at you then and smiled sweetly up at his dad.

“So Miss Y/N is staying tonight?” He asked, suddenly a little excited and expectant.

“Well, Miss Y/N has her own house, so we can't just expect her to-”

“Yeah, I'm staying,” you blurted out, cutting off Hotch mid-sentence. He raised an eyebrow at you, but you ignored him and smiled down at Jack.

“And if you head back to bed now, I'll make some pancakes for you in the morning,” you whispered conspiratorially with the boy, who raced back to his room.

Before shutting the door fully, he stopped by his dad and tugged him down to whisper level, saying something before yelling goodnight and taking himself back off to his room.

“What? What was that?” You pouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Aaron.

“You first,” he laughed back, leaning on the nearby counter.

“I promised him pancakes in the morning. What did he say?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, pulling you closer to him again. “He just said you had an interesting conversation earlier.”

“Was it the one where he asked me if Mario speaks English, Italian or Japanese, because I couldn't answer that question for sure.”

“He said,” he leaned down to your ear to whisper the next words. “That you told him you like me. And he thinks you meant like-like.”

You flushed hot and avoided eye contact. A childish part of you wanted to deny it, to scoff and run away, like you were on the playground and not in a dimly lit kitchen at midnight. But you couldn't.

“I do. But I'd probably say love and not like-like, seeing as though I'm not nine.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered, noses touching as he descended to capture your lips once more.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

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honestsycrets · 11 months

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dedication | young!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | young geneticist!miguel o'hara x scientist!reader

❛ type | oneshot, explicit.

❛ summary | alchemax is a dangerous place to work. miguel's new assistant may be over her head. maybe he can help her, though.

❛ tags | virgin reader, f!reader, shitty science, plot heavy, loose canon references, literary liberties, loss of virginity, overprotective Miguel o'hara, jealous miguel o'hara, some objectification, workplace politics, aftercare (as requested), corruption (is it tho?), bc what bc, Spanish is not translated, young!miguel, heel-foot fetish, somewhat romantic.

❛ fulfilled request | can we please have a miguel x virgin reader and he didn’t even know until he was already putting it in?? And then voila his corruption kink unexpectedly growS? @a--dedicated--fangirl

❛ sy’s notes | miguel sort of works on that whole corruption aspect throughout this fic, but i wanted to meld these two ideas together to create a reader who is entirely dedicated to Miguel. This piece was a bit long for me.

“Miguel, your new assistant is here.”

On paper, you’re an excellent candidate for the genetics program.

An excellent GPA, renowned company internships, decent publications, and a diverse upbringing. It was all good. Great, even. But as the head of the genetics program at Alchemax, he has a little thing called priorities. Interviewing everyone himself was low on the rung of shit he felt like he should be doing. There was, however, one little, itty bitty, tiny problem with bringing you on board.

“Dr. O’Hara? ¿Estas bien?”

That shirt-- is not meant to hold those-- His brain was left field, glimpsing at them. A slightly sheer button-up revealed the outline of your bustier and its inability to conceal your body. They should have been illegal. He was pretty sure they were illicit in the handbook on his table. He should really read that again. Maybe then he wouldn’t be salivating over something as simple as a co-worker-- He needed to get out of the lab. The bleached walls tightened around him, the space smaller than he remembered. He was going to get caught.

Realistically, the lab was full of witty people. Many of them were witty men with subpar looks and stupider dicks. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. Not only because your lips were plump, painted petal-pink, and kissable or because the depth of your sultry eyes went straight in the dick. No, but because that would be improper of a man of his stature to tell one of the only women in his care that she was too gorgeous for the job you were clearly qualified for.

“Sí, coño,” He fixed his glasses, crooked on his broad nose. He stood up from his desk and grabbed his lab coat, swirling it around his broad shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, you tracked the movement with your eyes. “Do you want a cafecito? Miss…”

You told him your name. He mulled it over on his tongue, lathing it in a gentle acknowledgment. Cemented it in a place he wouldn't forget. You tinked your head to the side, your lashes fluttering when he cleared his throat. Great, just shocking--

“After you,” he headed for the door. He held it open for you, plastering his back to the wood. It didn't matter. You slid by closer than he’d prefer, your hand catching on his belt buckle with muttered apologies. This wasn’t going to end well.

Cafecito is an excellent excuse to pull his dumbass together.

It also calms his nerves, centers his mind, and allows him to compartmentalize. Whether or not you could hold your own wasn’t his issue, his issue was the necessity of someone he could trust. Ugly, beautiful-- so long as they were efficient, Miguel would make due. The cafeteria was a large and clean space. The many tables were crowded with wrap-around stations for poorly crafted, misery-inducing meals. Miguel paid and took a seat at a creaky table. One where he could see the door open, shut, and keep an eye on the comings and goings of meager scientists and annoying managers.

“You’ll be working with me.”

You pursed your lips around the warm cup of coffee, taking a ginger sip. He noted your lipstick stain that remained as you pushed the cup toward the middle of the table you shared with him. This damn suit vest was stifling. He gave you a long, slow look, tilting his head to the fact that you’d not drunk anything. It’d be rude to acknowledge.

“Delgado told me,” you smiled warmly. “He said you’re a genius. I don’t know that I believe in geniuses.”

Hmph. Delgado, things fell into place. That sycophant knew what he liked. He also knew that Miguel was better than him, always was, and always would be. Miguel offered you a slick smile, convinced he could assure you otherwise if he needed to. “Delgado says a lot of things. I’m surprised he gave you to me.”

“Why is that, O’Hara?” the way his name slipped off your tongue was a hot sin. If only he believed in a god. His eyelids shifted over his eyes, heavy-lidded and dark.

“You’re beautiful. He likes to collect beautiful things,” Miguel tried, curious. Your nails clicked in succession over the table. A repetitive click, click, click. He would be annoyed too if he were no more than a ploy. A distraction. Miguel wasn’t sure that it wasn’t working. His eyes flickered down, catching one of your palms curling into a tight fist, tension rolling through your fingers and up your arms. “He knows I do too.”

You leaned in, close enough that he could spot the unique freckles spread out in a crescent moon beneath a layer of makeup on your face. Beautiful. “I’m not here to belong to you, O’Hara. I hope you know that.”

He was off to a great, fantastic start.

“Understood.” Miguel leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping up his lips. Or, believe that you believed that. You spared him any more mincing comments. Appeased by his suggestion, you brought your drink back to your lips.

“Good. What are we sequencing?”

“Me.”

You swallowed. “You? You can’t be--”

Mhm, he stared, lips pressed tightly together. “You’ll code my DNA. Then we’ll splice it.”

"With what?"

"You'll see."

“Is this your little,” you swirled your finger in a circle. “Pet project?”

Unfortunately not, he would have liked to say. That information was confidential, and though you worked on the project, there were levels to his willingness to involve you in the delicate flow of workplace politics. Still, you might make a healthy distraction from his work. Miguel took a swig of his cafecito, boring into the black substance.

“Something like that.”

Having a pretty assistant means things don’t always get done according to schedule. Not quickly enough, not by far. There is a time limit to everything at Alchemax. The quicker, the better. Thus this project demanded more hours of his time. The project was spliced between the work required of him by superiors and you, your quirks, and your preferences.

Miguel has learned a great many things about you in a short amount of time. You don’t appreciate misplaced pet names. You actually can’t handle coffee because of the caffeine or the sugar. He also learns things about himself. How little he likes when Delgado comes to check on progress because he isn’t actually checking on shit. He's checking you out.

He likes to weasel his nasty fingers around the door, peering in to try and find out what specimen he’s actually working on. Miguel was much too smart for that. His beady eyes caught Miguel over your shoulder, mumbling up to him about a new finding in tests you ran earlier that day. Your face mask twirled around your index finger, finally free and at a documentation workspace. Funny, because he clearly redacts information from your well-recorded notes on the daily. You refuse to include less.

“Hey Mike,” he said. “How are things… Oh hey, you. You settling in, honey? Mike treating you ok? I can discipline him for you.”

“As if you could,” Miguel huffed.

But Delgado spying on you, the way you record progress by pouting out your lips, shifting between paper and your lab reports, was intolerable. Because... well, he has sensitive information on there. Your nose scrunches in distaste, but you bow your head just slightly as a hello. He might be his supervisor, but Miguel doesn’t need one to know why this asshole is in his lab turning his smarmy brown eyes over the way you sit: one leg over the other. You seem to realize it too, trailing your eyes over his gaudy suit to Miguel’s sinewy hand on your shoulder.

“Stop being a creep,” Miguel complained, “She has actual work to do.”

“Actual work? As opposed to--“

“Yes, what you do.” Miguel spat out. You eschewed a giggle, turning your face over a pristine white lab jacket that thankfully, you had no qualms in wearing. Otherwise, he might not finish any work in the lab at all.

“I supervise--

“You’re still talking but we’re not listening,” Miguel waved him off, plucking up papers by your side. Your eyes snap up to Miguel’s deep chocolate eyes hidden behind the thin frame of his metal glasses, waiting for a proper response. “Goodbye, Aaron.”

Miguel walks to the door, locks it with a click, and returns to your side. You glance at his white lab coat, fluttering around his tapered waist. He loves the way your eyes look at him with a soft, inviting expression, beseeching him to come to sit by your side as he always did. “Not a fan of Delgado, I take it.”

“Are you?” Miguel sits with his legs spread, his fingers threading through his thick brown hair. You set your papers down, swiveled toward him. The wheels of your rolling chair squeak on either side of his thick, black boots. His eye catches your thick thighs, squashed between your midi skirt, its atrocious slip causing him discomfort. His hand leaves his thick hair, dropping in unison side by side.

“I can’t stand being called honey, Mike.”

“Shut up.”

The days proceed similarly. Days filled with brushing past him as he slides in samples and reagents. He might lose a sample, clattering on the floor, and you always rush to help him clean up. Lunch together, because no matter how late he eats, you’re there beside him. Then as night falls, you stay until he has finished whatever he needs to do.

“Time to eat something,” you slipped into his office. The clock ticked past midnight. Miguel flicked through handwritten pages of information that did not need to be recorded in computer files. You watched his eyes scan over the ink on the page, acknowledging you with a grumpy grunt. Not now, not when he was so close to finishing the last section of the project.

“Empanada,” you turned his palm over, placing the flaky pastry in his hand. Caramelized apple. He loved a good apple empanada. He watched as you walked over to the coffee maker, drawing him a warm cafecito just how he liked it. Miguel dropped his pen, stretching out his aching spine.

“Gracias. From where?”

“I made them,” you set down the cup a little harder than intended. The surface rippled, throwing hot coffee drips onto his pages. His eyes flickered up from the pages to your eyes. Without thinking, he blathers:

“That so?” A pause. “Don’t you have a man?”

“Miguel. With this sequencing project, you’re the only man in my life. Shut up and eat the empanada.”

“Huh. Good. I like that.” He swallowed the empanada with a bob of his head, his tongue lathing over his teeth for any more of the sweet sugar. He stood up, finding your expression soft, drawn out by a sense of longing that he couldn’t imagine he saw.

“You like my sad love life?”

Yes.

“No, we have a company event. A ball,” Miguel chided, his tone gentling as he slipped away from his desk, abandoning his steamy coffee on his desk. He backed out of the doorway, “It’s all Stone’s politics. You know how these things are. I have to go. Come with me.”

“Is that a request or an order?”

“A date.”

I’d love to. Your words were the only thing that made tonight bearable. Slinking his tanned skin into a dark blue suit that cinched everything too tight was… unbearable. It clung to his skin like a second skin and choked off his air. But it might be worth it to see your face-- just maybe. He tracked the fluttering tails of fish behind bulletproof glass, following them as they fluttered away into their rock. He wished he could too.

“Miguel?”

“You’re here,” he turned around, dropping the champagne he idly held in his hand. It went forgotten by his boot as you called his name again. His gaze fixed on yours, the slinky navy blue dress caused his heart to thrum through his chest, chasing the sight of your body at his feet, picking shards of glass up with the aid of a worker, apologizing profusely for the mess. A soft puff of breath slipped from his lips as you stood back up, gripping your purse a little harder in your hands. He ran his hand over his jaw, drawing himself back to his senses.

“Miggy,” he husked out. “Call me Miggy.”

“You look handsome, Miggy,” his name felt unreal on your lips until he felt the pressure on his elbow. Your soft hands slunk around his, cradling him for some security in the face of the large doors. He shook himself back to his senses. Right, there was a reason he was here. “But shouldn’t we go?”

He should have-- but did he want to? No, not really. He didn’t want to see Stone’s greasy face, let Aaron take a peek at how you looked dolled up, or any of the rest of these fuckers. What he wanted was something else entirely.

“Listen.” Miguel stopped, his other hand coming to the jeweled bracelet on your wrist. The doors to the ballroom lapsed, groups of older men filtering in and out with their pieces of the night: doting wives, longing husbands, and partners that their wives or husbands probably didn’t know about. “Don’t wander off from me. They’re all snakes. All of them.”

“Even you?”

“Hermosa,” you didn’t leer at him. “I’m the least of your worries.”

He wasn’t wrong. The ballroom was dolled up in lush fabrics, fine china, and a copious amount of food as it was every year. Miguel found the attempt to distract from what really went on behind closed doors at Alchemax a bit cloying. This year the music was at least tolerable. It filtered out into the ballroom in a syrupy melodies driven on by the soft, promises of rich men for the exchange of sex. For much of the night, he could stomach the various men poking and prodding at him about his impending research. So long as you were here.

“Miggy,” you breathed, a hot puff of air against his ear. He leaned down, his hand atop of yours. “Will you dance with me?”

Dance? Miguel had two left feet-- it’s why he was a geneticist. For all the work you did on his behalf in the lab, including this very night, he owed you the benefit of whatever you wanted. He searched out a quiet area, one where the only disruption could be the stream of moonlight in through a window. You preferred it over the wall of vivacious men and over-powdered women. He preferred it over the atrocity of his footwork.

“It’s not much of a date,” Miguel’s hand slid around yours. He encompassed your small palm with his large hand, the other gliding across the soft, exposed skin of your back. You swayed with him, side to side. He was an awful dancer, but there was something endearing about that. He saw it in your eyes, the glimmer of curiosity, gliding your dark heels against the inside of his foot. Damn, he still sucked.

“No,” you agreed, shifting to take the lead. He followed your steps. Right, back, left, up. Maybe he stepped on your long dress once or twice, too. Shock, he cursed again, stepping over your foot.

“You’re remarkably bad at this.” You settled your head on his chest, letting your box steps fade into little more than the shifting of your hips.

“I know. Let’s just-- sway?”

“Swaying is good.”

“O’Hara,” boomed Stone. But of course— peace couldn’t last forever. Like a bullet through the chest, a voice caused him to turn in startle. His tan cheeks flushed with warmth, feeling cut off from the cover of others. He was dressed in the most gaudy of clothes that almost seemed to match the crooked expression on his pale face. No matter how many times he tried to fix it, it always looked… wrong.

Stone’s hands came together, clapping multiple times to force the crowd of politicians, scientists, and bought-in participants to fade away. His voice caused Miguel to growl, a low rumbly noise that you soothed with your breasts pushing gingerly against his arm. He could do it. He could handle this pompous little shit-- “And who is this beauty? A new girlfriend, perhaps? Fiance? O’Hara could do with a wife. Settle him down, y’know.”

Miguel huffed out of his nostrils. “This is my lab partner,” he cleared his throat, leaning forward. “For… the project.”

“Her? A lab partner? Ha!”

Shock. He didn’t have to look at you to know you were insulted. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing out the tension as you smiled through the interaction, taking over for Miguel. “We have measurable results.”

“That’s what I like to hear, sweet thing. Now, Miguel, Aaron has found a test subject…”

“I’ll interview them.”

“No need! I--”

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone. I’ll let you two talk,” you slipped away, your heels clicking off into the busy crowd. Stone was talking. Miguel knew he should listen closely. His half-formed plan to see what the future held for his research was wafting into the air, wisps of it in his ear. Tomorrow-- test-- can you? Panic blinded his senses. He could find you nowhere in the room, and even if he did, would he be too late?

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, it’s… excuse me.”

The issue with falling for someone was the scythe of his fear. His position was inherently risky. No matter how many groups of people he cut through trying to find you, you weren’t there. No tiny little appetizers of shrimp on half a skewer. No booze, because your head would swim. Not near the bathrooms, either. He rushed down the steps when he found you, just before the large iron gates, staring up at the stars peppering the sky.

At your feet, Aaron. His drunken fingers trying and failing to guide the strap off of your ankle. You, of course, sat there staring dumbly down at his failed attempts to do something as simple as fix your damn heel.

“I’ll take it from here.” Miguel booted Aaron out of the way. Who, with his sloppy sloshed curses, tried to win a fight with him. He eventually won out. Aaron slunk away, somewhere up the steps. Miguel wasn’t counting. “You didn’t listen.”

“Hm?��

Miguel loosened both straps, sliding his open palm under your foot for one then the other. You gazed at him, sliding the black heels off your feet, tutting his tongue at the blistered back of your feet.

“I told you not to wander off.”

“I just wanted to see the stars. Besides, it was just Aaron.”

“It’s never just Aaron. It’s Aaron and Stone.” Miguel’s eyebrows pushed against one another, recording your failure to listen. You crossed one leg over the other, sliding your toes over his silk tie, kept beneath a vest. He knelt before you, searching your eyes for the right answer. “You don’t know… what you’re getting into. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself, Miguel. Please don’t--” you sighed. “Don’t be like them.”

He knew what you meant. Like Aaron, peeling off your shoes at the sign of discomfort because you were a pretty woman. Or Stone, who couldn’t comprehend your value as a scientist. Those who doubted you because of your color, gender, or a mixture of the two. His mouth twisted in frustration. He was in deep. Whatever you desired, he wanted to give. It came at a price.

“Are you mine,” the words came out stiff, “or theirs?”

“Miggy,” you turned the word over on your tongue, willing him to stand down. His dark eyes settled on yours, unmoving. “Why do I have to pick?”

“You can’t have both. You’ll have to choose. One day.”

Your mind worked. He knew from the way you pursed your lip out, then in, puncturing its pillowy surface with your teeth. You shifted your gaze to the water, the stream coursing down the unfeeling stone. Miguel's fingers ran across your inner thigh, causing you to gaze down at him. The steps of others on the other side of the fountain, fading into the depths of the night caused you to break his gaze. Miguel offered you his hand, fitting the shoes under his other arm as he walked toward the valet. You took his hand and interlaced your fingers.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” you said, though the words felt thready and thin, nary a whisper. Something in the undercurrent of your voice concerned him. A thread that needed to be snipped, convinced of the vileness of the city-- of who you worked for.

He doesn’t make mistakes.

But he left the project code on his desk. It should have been there, yet, the corpse of a decrepit, awful creature withered on the lab floor proved otherwise. Someone had taken it because he was distracted. As a result, someone lost their life... even if it was Stone's doing.

Now, scouring through his papers, his hands tremored like a common drug addict. He supposed he was one, a druggie, tremoring like a shot hungry, Rapture crazed--

“Miggy?”

He snapped around. His gaze melded your figure into one beautiful blurb, even with the glasses on his broad nose. It was your voice, coded in something close to concern. Miguel ran his hands through his hair, long strands falling messily over his eyes and cheekbones. He flattened his hands out atop his head.

“What are you looking for?”

“The notes,” he weathered a breath. He doddered about the room, throwing a stack of paper onto the floor. They crumpled over the floor, mixed projects, notes on the specimen, but none were his. “Where are my notes?”

“You’re sick,” your voice broke gently, as if speaking them alone helped. A horrid crack of laughter slipped from his throat, drawing into a long lament as he repeated the words after you. Sick, you said, he was sick. If being sick was the least of his issues, he would have been a happy man. Your steps rang into his ear, heavier than before, painful and loud. He crumpled onto the couch in his office, his hands cupping them. Your soft hands coursed over his chest, unbuttoning his starched button-up and sliding it down his muscular upper arms. “This might hurt.”

No kidding, needles always hurt. But the instantaneous relief that flooded his system overrode the momentary pain. As your fuzzy figure came into focus, he recognized the drug that you set aside.

“You didn’t--”

“You were right, Miggy, about the-- Mr. Sims.” Miguel gazed at you, leafing through novels of notes with trembling hands. He cursed himself for subjecting you to seeing that. Not quite human, not quite... The twisted look on the poor man’s face. What months of research with one another had offered. He would fix it. He knew the research was on point. It was the application that was lacking.

“I have a copy of your notes,” you murmured as if someone could hear. They likely could. “¿Ay, puñeta, dónde está? Ah! Here, here it is. Your… profile.”

“You kept it,” he glanced down at the hastily scribbled note attached to the clip. ‘Miguel’s profile’ alongside a soft pink heart. He stopped your hands from thumbing through another leaflet. His eyes traced the dry ink of the heart. His thumb moved to stroke it, catching the sight of bubbling tears welling over in your eyes out of the corner of his eye. The tears slid down your full cheeks, triggering his discomfort to well up in his stomach. Miguel shifted closer, flicking fat droplets off your slight jaw.

“Hermosa,” Miguel shifted his head, cocking his eyebrow. “¿Que te pasa?”

“I should have listened to you Miggy,” you began, inhaling air forcefully through your nostrils. Breathe, you murmured. Miguel's soft hand cupped the back of your neck like a collar. You were happy to be collared by his hand, it felt safe.

His eyes narrowed, thumb caressing the loose strands of hair at your nape. “You should have. You know I'll take care of you."

You nodded.

"You have to be fully dedicated to me.”

“I am.”

“Show me.” You fluttered your eyes, the gears of your mind working to understand what he meant. His hand fell away to trace the bow of your black blouse. He tugged on the knot, slipping the bow loose and running his fingers over your exposed cleavage below. “Take off the blouse.”

Was it necessary? Some might have said no-- but sex, in its connective nature-- was the ultimate dedication. At the end of it all, that's what he craved: your eyes, your actions, all born with him in mind. With trembling fingers, you untucked your shirt from your black slacks. Miguel sat back, tracking the soft lace of your balconette bra teasing his eye. You loitered for a minute too long, enough for him to lift his thick eyebrow.

“Don’t stop now,” he said. Your knees knocked together, slipping the shirt over and off your torso before draping it on the arm of his couch. Your bra followed quickly after, slipping out of the twisted straps. You skimmed your hands over your breasts, holding them for comfort.

"No." Miguel flicked his fingers, motioning for your hands to move from your thick nipples. You pushed your breasts together, allowing him to marvel at them a second longer. “Que maravilla... You have no idea how long I’ve waited. Go on, take off the rest now.”

You suckled in breath, sliding the button of your pants loose. Then the zipper, its cloth scratching your thighs on its way to pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, joining them too with your shirt. Miguel sat up, running his calloused fingers over the side of your hip and waist. His thumbs hooked in your panties, drawing them down over your pussy, a moist spot on your panties connecting a small string of wetness to your pussy. His palm slid between your thighs, pinned by your thighs pressed together, whether out of an innate need for more pressure or shyness to show him how wet you were. Hm. Miguel melded your ass, striking your skin with his large palm, it jiggled.

“Miggy,” you breathed, shy and intimidated. “I have to tell you something…”

“Lay down,” he told you.

“But Miggy, what if someone…” Your eyes darted away from his, chewing on his cheek as you slid back down beside him. You settled on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs. The couch was stiff, hard against your neck. You stole a haughty glimpse at his face, focused entirely on coursing his palms over your calves and thighs, then back down to your slight toes. He ground your feet over his stiff cock, obscured by the fabric of his slacks. He felt big-- bigger than you could have imagined from the look on your face.

“¡Basta!” Miguel growled, “No one is going to come in. Let me see you.”

You flushed.

“You want me to…” you glanced down, your curls were soft to the touch.

“Touch yourself for me.”

With your heart strumming in your chest, you shifted your hand down, spreading your lips, soft and wet. You were so wonderfully shy to follow his orders, the pads of your fingers rubbing along your outer lips, massaging them warm and swollen. You buried your eyes into your other arm, dragging up and down, over and over. A delightful sigh greeted his ear, ensuring that though you were too embarrassed to look at him, you loved it. He allowed it for now-- because he was a gracious, forgiving man.

“Shock,” Miguel shuffled at the button and zipper of his pants, freeing himself from his slacks. He spat into his palm, stroking over his fleshy length, squishing his cock against your foot. Your toes curled over his cockhead, engrossed in Miguel’s rumbling pants, the soft pleasure that bloomed from his chest. Your eyes trained on his lips, the slight breath suckled between his teeth. Your fingers glazed over your stiff clit, pausing as though you needed his permission, just how he wanted it. Your sweet submission.

His eyebrow perked. “You can touch it.”

“Oh,” you glanced down, tracing the way Miguel fisted himself, swirling up to his cockhead, along fat veins and the bubble of salty fluid on his tip. His permission seemed to spur something else in you, flicking your swollen clit to the sound of his pleasured growling, your own pleasure growing in tandem with his.

“¡Ya!” he annunciated, watching as you failed to stop. All at once he stopped his ministrations. A sigh escaped his chest as he pushed himself up, smacking your hand away from your puffy cunt. His cock bobbed between your bodies. You wanted to touch it, but couldn’t.

"Wait," you cried out. His cock twitched as he lowered his hips down, drawing sweet lubricant on his cock, stroking your pussy. He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a warm kiss. He dipped his hand down, his cockhead prodding and poking, dipping lower with the aid of his hand.

“MiggyI’mavirgin,” you said all at once, his cockhead nudged against your entrance. Miguel’s head about snapped as he looked up, eyes popped wide open in disbelief. Before he could quite form a coherent thought, your hands shot out to grip his suit vest, stopping him where he was.

“¿Qué dejiste? Say that again?”

“I haven’t… I haven't had sex,” you murmured. He hadn’t put it together. Your shyness, the awkward way you shuffled around, loosening your bra and hiding your perfect breasts from his eyes. The words were finally out in the open but didn't register.

"A..." Miguel fisted his cock, once, then twice, shifting back to kneel before you. Your eyes fell on his muscular thighs, the way his hand fisted his dick. “You’re a virgin?”

“I’m too old for this,” you mumbled, hiding your eyes with your palms. Miguel shifted to cast aside your hands from your eyes, his muscular body caging you underneath, looking for an explanation. “I just. Between school, work, I never had time.”

Not that he was complaining.

"No boyfriend?"

You shook your head. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only were you gorgeous, but you were untouched. His, completely and fully. He liked it better that way-- to be the first memory smeared in your head. So that when you looked back on this moment, right now, it would forever be marked by his face.

"It's mine," he blurted out all at once. "I want your first to be mine."

His hand dropped down to your cunt. The pad of his middle finger worked at your entrance as though he were exploring the truth of your statement, stretching you with the aid of his fingers. You were tight, it had to be true.

You nodded, face buried deep in your arm. It didn’t take but moments for him to draw his hand back, suckling the lubricant from his fingertips. You distantly registered his words, “Damn it, you... you don't know what you do to me.”

Before you could say a word more, Miguel positioned the head of his dick against your slippery virgin hole. You clenched, glancing down between your bodies again, as you had a dozen times, anxiously waiting. Miguel hushed you, the repetitive shushing of his lips soothing you into complacency, forcing your muscles to relax. “It might hurt. But the pain won’t last,” he assured you.

He rolled his hips forward. His sharp exhale shook with every centimeter that gave way. Your walls were forced apart, suffocating you on the shock of adjusting to having someone, no not someone, Miguel-- your Miguel, sinking into your tense body. He throbbed, twitching in your body. His hands fisted in the aged couch, catching the breath in his chest.

“Ay, Miggy,” your nails dug into his shirt, loose around his firm muscles. “Miggy, no puedo,”

“You can, you’re so good, eres tan buena,” Miguel swept your lips between his, taking the moment of your surprise to bury himself further, swallowed by your cunt that resisted his intrusion. Your lips fluttered in the kiss, keened out a cry. The pain of his dick, forcing its way through your passage is quelled by the knowledge that he’s here, with you, his girth forcing you apart, stretching you apart, seating himself flush against your womb. His voice was caramelized, sugared over, and so good. “Look at how well you’re taking me already.”

“Coño, that’s a tight pussy,” He slid his hips back, the warm sensation of his withdrawal pulling free before shoving back in, a cry shoving forth from your lips, filling his office and the connected lab with your cries. He might have heard someone draw the door open, his hips driving back in, centered on the magnificent groans that stuttered free from your chest with Miguel’s careful thrusts. You keened his name, a repetitious Miggy, Miggy, Miggy-- it was Aaron, probably. He recognized the way his feet drug on the floor.

He hoped he didn’t just hear it. He hoped he saw it too, the way his balls slapped against your ass, the mess of blood soaking the already unhygienic couch, the way his cock pulsed. You were blissed out, so full and well of him like no one else ever had-- because you were his, and his alone. It wasn’t just sex. It was more than that. From Aaron, whose shuffled steps fell out of his office, to any other little bitch in the office who had their own gain.

“Damn,” Miguel shifted back, hooking his hand around your thigh to drag you back onto his dick. He swirled his thumb against your stiff clit, whirling it around in one circle, then another, and by the third your knees knocked together, bearing down on his cock to hold him still. “I can’t--” you stuttered out, I can’t--”

“You’re going to,” he hissed. “You’re going to cum right here, right now, split open on my dick.”

With another circle, you croaked an ugly cry, a terrible, ugly cry that Miguel couldn’t find any more beautiful as your body buzzed around him, tightening and squeezing your already tight cunt around him. Blissful pleasure radiated there, riding his dick for the friction against your virgin walls, your thoughts fading into a realm of insistent pleasure, where thoughts were space mush.

Miguel withstood the pressure on his cock, clamping his hand down on your hip. His thrusts stuttered, filling your belly with whip after whip with his full hot cum. Your body twitched in the throes of his orgasm. He tracked his eyes down to your body, withdrawing with a bubbly pop of his dick from your abused hole, the intermingling of cum and virginal blood dribbling down your cheeks.

Your gaze tracked Miguel, pressing his lips toward yours one more time. You shifted on the couch, legs pathetically tremoring. Miguel chuckled and walked toward his electric kettle, papers crunching underneath his feet, “Don’t bother moving. Not that you could, anyway.”

He warmed a warm cloth with hot water, testing its temperature on his palm before sitting beside your crumpled legs, spreading your legs to clean his mess and sooth the abrasive way he took you. He spread your lips, ensuring you were clean before he would flip the cloth, dropping it on top of your vulva.

“You know you’re mine,” he asked, though it came out as a statement. With another cloth, Miguel cleaned his soft cock of the mess, exhaustion of the sex and what was to come returning to his gentle, deep voice.

“Sí,” you answered.

“And you’d do anything for me. Only me.”

The words were laced with something more than a suggestion, but an affirmation of your loyalty. Your love. You pushed yourself up, hanging off his arm after he tucked himself into his pants. “Para siempre.”

He leaned down, plucking the bundle with his sequenced DNA information. Your eyes coursed the information on the page, darting up to his tired eyes. You wanted to ask why or what he knew. Miguel knew it didn't matter. You were his now, from the top of your head to the bottom of your gorgeous toes. You trusted him fully. As you should. With the empty vial of Rapture sitting beside him, forgotten, he spared you a mincing smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Good. Let's fix our project.”

#miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spider 2099 imagine #across the spiderverse imagine #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #spider 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut

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drabblesandimagines · 6 months

Text

Imperfections

Leon Kennedy x female reader Fluffy festive nonsense

Leon squints at the small piece of paper, trying to decipher the name upon it. It’s not the handwriting he’s struggling with, more the fact he probably does need reading glasses and he hates to admit it. He looks around, making sure no-one is looking in his direction and holds it aloft, trying to find the perfect spot where the blurry squiggles will finally transform into a name.

A name he knows all too well, it turns out.

Yours.

You’ve been working for the department just shy of a year – a new recruit in February – and had been partnered with him on a fair few missions. He’d underestimated you at first, mistakeably deemed you too sweet a thing to be wrapped up in this sort of business, but you’d shown him your mettle from the off and especially when things had got dicey – held your own, got the job done, saved his ass a couple of times and all usually with that beautiful smile on your face.

God, Kennedy, he chides himself, smitten or what?

He folds up the slip of paper, sticks it in his wallet for safe-keeping and his mind begins to whirl - what in the hell is he going to get you?

Secret Santa at the DSO – a bit of holiday nonsense put forward as a suggestion to ‘boost morale’ and apparently the President had loved it, has thrown together a whole Holiday Mixer around having the exchange. Everyone working here isn’t depressed due to a lack of Christmas spirit, more the state of the world itself and the dark depths they’re forced to confront…

But, hey, Leon S Kennedy will do as he’s told as far as the President’s concerned, and so he’d stuck his hand in the Santa hat when it had been thrust in his direction, full of his colleagues’ names.

There’s rules – has to be in government-officiated fun – gifts to be exchanged at the Holiday Mixer in a week’s time and, to try and avoid an influx of gift cards and novelty socks, it must include a handmade element, with a $25 limit.

“So,” you plonk yourself down on his desk - right on a pile of manilla folders that were left there earlier for his upcoming briefing and he’d yet to tackle - and lean in, “who’d you get?”

He sweeps his hair out of his eyes and sits back a little in his chair to take you all in. “Uh-uh, that’s against the rules.” You roll your eyes at that. “And since when has Leon Kennedy been a stickler for the rules?”

“I just don’t wanna be on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Fine.” You pout, crossing your arms in fake annoyance. “I won’t tell you who I got either.”

“Good, cos I don’t remember asking... And don't make an old man joke."

“Wasn't gonna." He gives you a look and you can't help but smile. "Okay, but seriously - I get the handmade rule, I do,” you shuffle back a little more on his desk, making yourself comfortable as you get to your point, “but what I don’t get is why it’s mandatory to participate in the whole thing.”

“It’s not really mandatory. We’re a small operation – you don’t participate, you’ll show up on the President’s radar for not being a team player. You know he’s all about that.”

“Well, make us do a team building exercise - build a bridge out of newspaper, do trust falls or something besides try and be crafty.”

Leon scoffs. “I’m not doing a trust fall with you – not after last time.”

You open your mouth to reply – that was most definitely not meant to be a trust fall, Leon had just straight up fell - when Hunnigan pops her head around the cubicle, not even surprised to see you sitting on his desk, and gives the two of you a polite smile.

“Kennedy – intel briefing set for 1200. You prepped?”

“Sure am.”

Hunnigan eyes the pile of folders she clearly remembered placing on his desk first thing this morning, the exact ones which are nestled underneath your thighs.

“Uh-huh… Conference room seven. See you there.” She turns on her heels and departs, and you feel Leon’s hand ghost your thigh.

You look down, a little startled – sure there’s been flirtatious touches here and there, a time where you would’ve bet that month’s pay check that he was gonna kiss you after a particularly close call but swerved for your cheek at the last moment – and realise he’s tugging at the corner of a folder.

“Whilst I won’t deny that you’re an awful pretty paperweight, mind if I get back to work now?”

You slide off – managing not to take the folders down with you - and mock a salute. “Yes, sir.”

The briefing is dull, which should be a good thing, really. No current BOW threats on the radar, though the threat level remains at orange. Leon can’t remember the last time they lowered it to yellow, so it seems a pointless system to him but he still throws in his two cents when called upon. He’s got another few weeks of desk duty to get through after Alcatraz after his medical - knows he’s not getting any younger and that’s why it’s taking him a little longer to recover after quite the beating.

Dismissed from the briefing, Leon swings by your desk on the way back to his, only to feel a little silly when he’s disappointed at the lack of you at it. There’s a shoebox sat on your desk though, lid taped on with a few rounds of parcel tape, but overall it looks a more than just a little worse for wear - crumpled corners and scuff marks all over the cardboard.

“Snooping, Kennedy?”

He can’t help the smile when you come to his side, your laptop tucked under your arm – must’ve had a meeting of your own. He holds up his mug, waving it from side to side in demonstration. “Was gonna see if you wanted a coffee, actually. That package looks a little suspect to get through the security check, right?”

You place your laptop down beside it and frown, before reading the return address. “Oh, no. It’s just some things that I asked my ex to send on. I forgot them in the move, only realized when I went to put my tree up last week…”

You trail off as you move the box towards you ever so slightly and there’s a horrible clinking sound that makes your stomach sink.

You grab a biro, jamming it through the tape lined around the edge as a make-shift knife and tentatively pull off the lid, bracing yourself for what you might discover within. Whilst you had safely stored them away in layers of bubble wrap, each in its own bo, he seems to have dumped them all out into the shoe box, one layer of bubble wrap on the bottom, another on top and they’ve obviously cracked together in transit, resulting in the shattered mess before you.

“Shit.” He comments, softly, watching as you pick up shards. “What are they?”

“My grandmother’s baubles.” Your voice goes flat as you pick up pieces of what once were precious memories and his heart aches. “She was a really talented artist before the arthritis got bad… Used to paint these and sell them at Christmas fairs.”

He’s silent as you continue picking through the pieces. There’s one that seems mostly intact, a smaller one but after further investigation there’s a big chunk missing from the side and you drop it back down in the box in defeat. Leon lays his hand on your shoulder then, seeing how you almost deflate in front of his very eyes, and he hopes to give you a reassuring squeeze – to let you know he’s here, he's always here for you, even if he’s not going to say it aloud. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” But he knows it’s not by how tight your voice is. You’ve never got emotional in front of him before, not even when you’d been injured had you let that stupid, gorgeous smile falter. “I… I have to head out. I’ll see you later.”

You place the lid back on the shoebox and shove it off the desk. It lands in the waste basket with another awful sound of broken ceramic.

“Whoa, wait, don’t you wan-?” He begins to protest but you shrug his hand off your shoulder, shaking your head and now keeping your eyes downcast.

“Sorry, I really have to go.” He swears you just about jog out of his sight, no real destination in mind.

Leon doesn’t see you the rest of the day, though he swings by your desk a few more times when he gets up to stretch his legs. The maintenance team will be in later – dispose of the shredded paperwork, wipe down surfaces empty the waste baskets… so he doesn’t think twice when he picks up the shoebox as he leaves, holding it tightly in the crook of his arm as if it were the broken pieces of your heart.

Later that evening after dinner, he sits on his sofa, changed into his sweats rather than stuffy shirt and suit trousers, a soda on the table in a heavy-bottomed glass – doesn’t drink anymore, isn’t worth it, but he still likes the weight of a good glass in his hand – with his laptop perched on his knees.

The cursor blinks in place before he slowly types in the search bar.

How to fix a broken ceramic bauble.

He’s good with his hands from weapons maintenance, can handle delicate stuff, so why couldn’t he glue some bits of ceramic back together into a sphere?

He scrolls down the search results – various how-to articles and videos. He reads through a few, learns that it can depend on such factors of where the break occurred, if it’s clean break or not, how thick the ceramic is and, after all that, there’s the danger it could look like a kid put it together for their mom at kindergarten with a pot of PVA glue and got bored halfway through.

He’s not put off, though, as he continues his scroll until something bright and gold catches his eye…

Kintsugi?

Huh. Sounds… promising.

He does a test first. Practice makes perfect, and he’s determined he will make them as close to perfect again as he can… once he’s sure he’s got the hang of it. He buys a box of six ceramic baubles from a nearby department store, whacks one off the table edge gently until it shatters into reasonable-sized pieces, then sets about setting it back together with the kit he’d bought online – paid for express next-day delivery as well, no time to sit and wait around for 3-5 working days, longer in the Christmas build-up.

You’d not mentioned the baubles the next day in the office or how you’d rushed off, just came and sat on his desk with a coffee, had the usual back and forth banter but he can tell you’re a little flat, the light isn’t quite reaching your eyes as it once was and he hates it. You’d been excited for Christmas – even brought in a Christmas mug on the 1st of December – but it’s all been extinguished, now a DSO-logo stamped black mug in your hands.

It takes him the entire box over the next few evenings until he’s confident enough to tackle one of your prized possessions. Each bauble is unique – swirling patterns of pastel colours on all-white ceramic, but he treats the pieces like a puzzle as he slowly divides the piles into category of each bauble – four in total – and gently works out which piece belongs to which. There are bits that aren’t going to be a clean seam but he’s prepared for this in his practice rounds, still a little shake in his hand as he finally puts two and two together.

He likes the meaning behind the practice - embracing imperfections, not trying to hide the cracks or broken bits, but instead highlighting it, making it a feature with bright and beautiful gold. Lord knows he isn’t perfect, far from it, and he will never be the man he was before Raccoon City. A few years ago, when he was at his darkest, he would’ve described himself as beyond repair – too smashed up to ever be whole again.

Slowly but surely, he’s began to piece himself back together, embracing the fact that whilst he’s not quite whole and might never be, held together by his friends, his will and some glue and now your presence in his life giving him a little bit of sparkle.

He shakes his head, leans forward and switches off the made-for-TV Christmas movie.

Friday evening is here before he knows it and, frustratingly, an intel mission he’s on runs a little long – gets caught up in traffic. He needs to swing by his apartment to pick up your gift and needs to get changed while he’s at it – the dress code quite clear. He enters the hotel ball room in a shirt, suit jacket and trousers, sans tie, an over an hour and a bit late, carrying the gift bag as carefully as he would a baby or a bomb. The mixer already seems to be in full swing - there’s half a dozen round tables, discarded wrapping paper scattered across the tops of them as well as empty champagne glasses and he realizes he must’ve missed the gift exchange.

“There you are! I thought you were a no-show.” You tease, appearing at his side a little too quick to not have been waiting for him. You’re looking beautiful in your black cocktail dress, the one that hugs all the right places and your hair half up and half down, held in place with a red bow.

“Duty called. Did I miss the exchange?”

“Eh, kinda. It wasn’t a whole big thing. The President’s not coming – double booked himself, so everyone’s just been awkwardly exchanging gifts and downing more and more free drink.”

He tugs at the ribbon hanging down off your shoulder ever so gently.

“Well, you certainly look as pretty as a present. Please tell me you didn’t panic and gift yourself…”

You ignore him, loop your arm through his instead and guide him over to an empty table – there’s a large queue at the open bar and hopefully a few more minutes of privacy before making endless small talk – and encourage him to take a seat. As he does, you crouch besides another chair and fish for something underneath, pulling out a red and gold gift bag, an embarrassed smile as you hold it out to him.

“Merry Christmas, from your Secret Santa.”

He raises an eyebrow but still accepts the bag, placing it on the table. “You’re kidding.”

“No. Why?”

“You’re my Secret Santa?”

“Can you at least hold in the disappointment until after you open it?” You pout.

“No, I mean… I got you. We got each other.”

“What? That’s… weird.” You sit down heavily in the chair, looking a bit bemused. “What’s the statistics on that even happening?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to demand a re-count.” He rolls his eyes and holds out his own gift bag. “Ladies first.”

You smile, brushing your fingers with his as you take it, before placing the gift bag down on the table and see four small cardboard boxes nestled within. You take out the first one and unfold the tabs, carefully, before removing the piece of red tissue paper he’d nestled on top.

What lies below it makes your heart stop.

It’s your grandmother’s baubles, or one of them, now held back in one piece and held together with threads of beautiful gold.

You look at him and then back down at the bauble.

“Is this…?”

“Yeah.”

“Leon, I…”

He sees the tears in your eyes as you take out the remaining boxes with a shaking hand, lining them up on the table and revealing each one in turn.

“I hope they aren’t an insult to your grandmother’s memory.” He blurts out after sitting in silence, unsure of what to make of yours. “They were just about to be tossed and so I took them, did some research on repair techniques and, well…”

“Did you do this?” There it is – the smile, the real smile that lights up your eyes.

“What, you think this old dog can’t learn new tricks? Everything’s on the internet these days.” He shrugs off – he won’t tell you the hours he spent, the headaches he got from squinting as he pieced parts together. Hell, he’d do it all again if he had to.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful. I… I can’t believe you did this for me. I… I just, I mean…”

He places a hand on your knee, gives you a soft smile.

“There’s a lot I’d do for you, you know, if you’d let me.”

There’s a moment as your eyes meet that you feel perhaps your cheeks have gone as red as the bow on top of your head and quickly try to deflect, nodding your head at his unopened gift bag.

“You should’ve let me go first - this is going to be such a disappointment in comparison.”

Leon gives your knee a squeeze before he peers into this gift bag, digging out a small gift box. He places it down on the table and tugs off the lid to find there’s a beautiful ridged glass nestled in red tissue paper, heavy-bottomed – you know his preference all right - but there’s something within the glass too. A mass of what appears to be red and green yarn, a little loop of black string at the top… He picks it up between two fingers.

“It’s…” He trails off, looking at the colours. “It’s certainly festive.”

“Okay, I can’t knit but I tried and that’s the important thing here, right?”

“No, no, it’s… cute.” He smiles. “And the glass – I love it. Just my style.”

You bite your lip, looking a little flustered and unsure, but he assumes you’re still feeling a little emotional over his present… until you try and yank the yarn from his hands.

“Hey!” He gets to his feet out of instinct of being attacked and clutches whatever it is closely to his chest.

“Look, if you just give me it, I can try some other craft thing. Just I was in a pity party all week and I stayed up all night doing that and it shows.” You get to your feet then, trying to weasel through fingers into his to retrieve it. “I can’t leave you with that, it’s not fair.”

“No, it’s mine.”

You don’t give up your attempt to wrestle it back, though Leon’s grip never falters. “You don’t even know what it’s meant to be!”

“Sure I do. It’s…” He retaliates, whipping it quickly above his head and yours – too high for you to snatch out of his hands despite your heels – and squints once more, comparing it against some of the festive décor in the hall.

“Oh.”

“It’s so dumb.” You begin your protest again, now trying to grab it from above your heads. “I just tho-” Leon wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you forward firmly against his chest, before he finally drops his other arm and cups your cheek, knitted mistletoe still in his fingers and kisses you firmly on the lips, swallowing down the rest of your sentence. He can’t help but grin as he feels you relax into his embrace, pressing your palm now flat against his chest. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, poking ever so gently to seek permission and-

“About goddamn time, Kennedy!” The shout of an inebriated agent causes the two of you to pull apart and you feel flustered by both the overdue kiss and what feels like the eyes of the entire DSO on the two of you.

Leon takes it all in his stride though, keeps a warm palm right on your lower back as he smiles and nods at whoever the hell it was that had interrupted, before pressing a sweet, solitary kiss to your cheek.

“Now, seeing as I’ve got this mistletoe, how about we go back to my place and try it out a little more, beautiful?”

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 6 months

Text

Tear stained pillow case - p4

Pairings - Drew Starkey x reader

Summary - Trying to forgive and forget

Warnings - a little angst, handjob. (18+)

A/n - wow wow it’s taken me so long to finish this chapter and honestly I wanted it to keep be angsty and depressing but I’m a sucker for happiness.

Part 3

Two weeks had gone by since you and Drew decided to move forward, it had been hard for you. Hard to let him back in, hard to trust, hard to let him touch you. But, even though it has been hard, the erratic beat of your heart and goosebumps that littered your silky skin when he was around was enough for you to know to push the negativity to the back of your mind.

You continued to tell yourself to take it slow and let the relationship start back up, you couldn’t jump back into the deep end. He was on board with everything you said, he gave you space when you needed it and he didn’t push you to talk when you didn’t want to.

But that didn’t mean you hadn’t thought about their kiss. Especially today when he was doing an interview just across town. He had called you when he was leaving and straight away he could tell, you were very quiet on the phone he almost couldn’t hear your responses.

“Please babe”

“Drew… you kissed someone else, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy” you sighed over the phone, pacing your bedroom floor.

You had been on the phone for just under 10 minutes. He had a lot of work commitments. You’d seen each other twice, both times had been great, he took you to the park for a picnic and the other time he made you watch rom coms with an abundance of snacks.

“It was just a kiss”

“Just a kiss?”

“Wait.. I didn’t mean it like that”

“Just a kiss? To you it may have been just a kiss… to me you were throwing away 4 years of love and adoration”

Your fingers hit the side button, closing down the call with him. You felt sick, you always felt sick. It had never been like this when he was filming for outerbanks but then he met Odessa and was booked for a role with her, you obviously didn’t care if he had to kiss or act out sex scenes for a movie,

You were so proud of him and you wanted him to have the best career, but the moment people started shipping them together that’s when it started making you feel sick because you could feel it within yourself that he was slipping away.

“y/n”

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by your Mum slinking in. She closed the door behind her and pulled you into a hug, brushing your hair from your face.

She guided you back to the bed and let you cry, tears staining her work blouse.

You didn’t want to keep crying over him, you wanted to forgive him and move on. But every time you looked at his lips the images of Odessa and him flooded you. You felt like you were drowning around him. And that couldn’t be good.

“He loves you dearly”

“Then why did he kiss her?”

“I don’t know baby… but I do know that man would do anything to have you forgive him. Do you want to forgive him?”

“Of course I do… I just don’t know how”

She continued to pat your hair, humming a soft tune before pulling you up right. Grabbing a tissue she wipes under your eyes and begins to pull your hair up into a ponytail.

It brought back memories of when you were a child, warmth surrounds your aching heart.

“Your going to get yourself dresses, your going to go to reach out to Odessa” “wait what” “let me finish”

“You're going to talk to her, ask the questions you need the truth too. You're then going to make the decision, do you stay or do you go”

You hadn’t told Drew that you contacted Odessa, a part of you wanted to make sure he couldn’t reach out to her and tell her to keep her mouth shut, it made you sick to even think that. Drew wasn’t that kind of person, he would have owned up to his mistakes the moment he told you he kissed her.

Surprisingly she had been more than willing to FaceTime you, she called you at around 5pm. Your fingers shook as you pressed the answer call, her face popped up on screen. She was a lot prettier than you, was the first thing you thought, it latched onto the part of your brain that had you feeling self conscious the whole call.

“I’m really sorry y/n, it was such a dumb thing to do on my part” your eyebrows crease together. “I kissed him”

“Oh” she doesn’t say anything for a moment, running a hand down her face and fixing the phone up. “Can you tell me what happened?” You question, you needed the full story. “Of course”.

Odessa admitted to falling for Drew, she said she had no intentions of doing so. That her and her girlfriend had broken up and he was there for her during the filming of hell raiser. She told you how she knew it was wrong and constantly fought with herself when she was around him, telling herself he was in a relationship. But it didn’t stop her from kissing him one night, the two of them left an event and were standing in the hotel hallway. He wanted to make sure she went inside before he went to his, she took his loitering around for something else and grabbed him by the shirt, the kiss lasted maybe 15 seconds.

She said he hadn’t kissed her back at first but then he did just before pulling away and leaving her in the hallway without a word.

She said he wasn’t their in the morning and she knew she fucked the friendship because he stopped answering her calls.

“And then I found out the two of you broke up and I wanted to reach out and say it was my fault but who wants to hear from the slutty friend”.

“Nothing else happened?”

“Nothing else, he left and I haven’t seen him since”

“Okay”

It’s silent for a few moments, you can feel her staring at you. “I’m really sorry y/n”.

You nod your head and stop the call, you didn’t owe her a thank you or a goodbye. You got what you needed.

You drove yourself over to your old apartment, bags packed. If you were going to give this another shot you needed to go back home, you couldn’t keep putting off seeing him. How were you meant to push through if you only see him once a week?

Your key is in the lock before you can wimp out, the house is dimly lit and you can hear the shower running. You drop your bags and lock the door behind you, your legs are taking you towards the sound of running water. Slowly strip off your jumper and shirt followed by the rest of your clothes until you're enveloped by the steam, clearing your nostrils.

You tap your knuckles against the bathroom door “it’s me”. His head pokes out of the glass door, you don’t miss the way his eyes widen at your naked body. “Hi”

Stepping into the shower he stares down at you with a smile but he doesn’t touch you, unsure if he is allowed to. So you reach up and press your palms to his chest, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. His hand holds your jaw, you're the one deepening the kiss. He lets you take control, he doesn’t want to push you to do something you weren’t ready for. “Sorry” he mumbles as you're pulling away and looking between the two of you, his cock was hard. Poking you in the stomach, his cheeks flushed pink. You hesitate for a split second before your hand wraps around the base of him, looking up at him through your lashes you catch the role of his eyes.

His cock throbs within your hand, pre cum leaks from his pink tip. Your hand jerks up and down his shaft, emitting moans from Drew, his hips begin to jerk. Your thighs pressed together at the sounds he lets out, you can feel your own arousal leaking down your thigh. His large hands grips the glass door steadying himself, his knees weak under him. “Y/n” he groans, you looking between his face and his cock. His body shudders under the shower, spraying you with warm water. “I’m… oh fuck I’m going to cum” he grunts, your free hand cups his balls this tips him over the edge and his spurting his cum all over his stomach.

He takes deep breaths to calm his erratic heart rate, your small hands push him under the water and help him clean himself up. “What was that for?” He questioned, you shrugged and leaned up to kiss him again. “Paying my debts from the other night”.

He thinks back to the night he helped you get off on his clothes cock, another pink blush creeps onto his cheek. “You didn’t have to but thank you”. You kiss for a bit longer, his hands wander all over your body sending shivers down your spine.

A familiar warmth settles within you and you can’t hide the bin grin in your face. You missed this, you missed him.

Then he’s helping you wash yourself, wrapping a towel around you when you both get out. “Do you need clothes?” “My bags are at the front door”.

He can’t hide the smile that creeps on his lips, he practically runs out of the bedroom and grabs your stuff. He watches you pull things out and put back in their place, he quickly throws on a pair of basketball shorts and watches you change into a shirt and shorts.

“Is that my shirt?” “Yeah” another smile creeps on his lips. You had been wearing one of his shirts everyday since you broke up, it had started to smell more like you than it did him.

He’s sat on the bed watching you until you take a seat next to him. “I spoke to Odessa” tension fills the room but he doesn’t move, eyes still on you waiting for you to speak again. “I asked her to tell me everything” “okay”

He turns slightly and pulls you closer to him, your legs over his. “I’m still not over the fact you kissed her but it does make me feel slightly better that she initiated it and you did stop it after a split moment of hesitation”. He nods, his fingers are drawing circles on your thigh. “I’m so sorry” he breathes. “I shouldn’t have said it was just a kiss, it was a kiss that broke us up and I’m so stupid for saying I couldn’t do it anymore, of course I could. You're the only person I want, actually the only person I need”

“Your the only person I want too”

🏷️ - @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @drewstarkeysleftfoot @cameronmedia @users09 @teresalesbian @outerbankspov @bbycowboi @stuffyownswrld @ietss @tastycakee @maybankslover @loverofdrewstarkey @wpdailyminimeta @willowpains @littlefirefly08 @brooklynscherry-z @imnotapretzelsstuff @ijustwanttoreadlols @its-ria-07 @onedayatatime6 @victory-in-the-llama @brooklynscherry-z @abbyshmaby @lassie-bird @daisylovesrafe @pet1t3 @crazyf0robx @willowalexissss @kys4-20 @xo-hayleyy-xo (I tagged a few people who commented on the last part, lmk if you don’t want me to tag you in the next part)

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chrollohearttags · 11 months

Note

Zeke is a terrible horrible no good ass heathen but Ik that dick got some bop to it. Like I just know he know how to FUCK and it make me so mad. I need him 😫😫😩

OKAY? And heavy on it. 😫😫 that man might stress you out, have you going crazy but he some pressure. And let me just give y’all ALL the warnings bc this man is a freak! A true one. So read at your own risk. It includes EVERYTHING!

The thing is, you’d never be able to just ‘leave him alone’. Try as you might, you’ll be right back and he’s gone remind you every time why he’s not going anywhere. Zeke fucks like a man with nothing to lose and that’s the problem. He ain’t with the kid shit. I’m talking folding you up in a full nelson, straight pounding up into your shit while he’s forcing you to look in the mirror while rubbing your clit (and he loves anal like an unhealthy amount so you know what he’s on). Bouncing you up and down like his flashlight… “..see, I told you it’d feel good. You just have to trust me more often, my love.” Meanwhile, you’re clutching your own thong between your teeth, salivating from being fucked like this. He knows he’s big and he’ll most certainly taunt you about it. “You told me it was too much and now you can’t stop creaming on me..such a liar, (y/n)..” meanwhile, you’re biting down on your lip trying to stifle your moans as not to give his ass too much. But you can’t help it..

he’s fucking you so good that you’ve probably came about three times subconsciously; squirting and spasming on his cock. You find yourself tapping at his abs and while he’s burrowed over you, hand firmly gripping the headboard whilst he’s drilling your shit, you feel him force your hands to the bed and hold your wrists. “Pushing me away, you know how much I hate that. Take this fucking dick like a big girl..” he’s sticking fingers in the mouth, spitting in it, doing it all! He takes you far beyond your limits, doing things no one else would even dream of. Putting you on all fours, pulling your arms back and giving you hard, deep strokes with his foot pressing into your head. “Don’t give me that fucking look, I’ll get it redone. Just open f’r me. Wanna see that pretty pussy spread.” “That asshole looks so good, make it flex just like that..we’ll worry about that later. You still look beautiful.” just knowing you’re gonna give him shit about your hair. He doesn’t give a damn because he’s too busy focusing on how tight you are and how hot it sounds when you scream for him. Especially when you’re just as vocal and commanding. “Yeah, take it! Stretch this pussy!” “Right there, fuck this ass! ‘S so deep.” It gets NASTYYY with Mr. Ezekiel. And don’t let you two just have fought or had a heated argument..oh, it’s the best dick you’ll ever have. Going for hours until one of you breaks. Him throat fucking you, slapping and choking you…the works. Tears flowing your face and you’re fucking like you hate each other. It’s so much tension and passion, you can’t get enough of him. That hate sex hits sooo different with him because ironically, you’re falling in love all over again. He’s ripping orgasm after orgasm out of you, you’re clawing up his back leaving all types of scratches. The sheets are soaked and you’re certain he’s cracked the headboard from the strength of him clutching it. 1000/10 every single time.

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pink-sparkly-witch · 8 months

Text

The Babysitter

Summary: Jared convinces Jensen to go to a bar and have a little fun, but it’s not until he’s driving the babysitter home that he gets the kind of fun he didn’t even know he wanted.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Hot Babysitter for @j3bingo

Warnings: flirting, age gap (20/41), pwp, daddy kink, praise kink, smut, oral sex (m rec), fingering, p in v.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I hope you enjoy this filth! 😘💖

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

“Come on, man!” Jared encouraged. “It’s been a year since your divorce. You gotta get back out there.”

“I’m not ready to date, Jar. I told you that. My focus is on my kids right now,” Jensen huffed, having lost count of how many times Jared had tried to get him to start dating.

“Hey, I didn’t say anything about dating,” Jared chuckled. “I’m talking about going out to a bar, having a few drinks, maybe taking a girl home for some fun. We could go out tomorrow? I’ll be your wingman, just like old times.”

“And where am I supposed to find a babysitter with such short notice, huh? Gen’s away, so it’s not like we can ask her,” Jensen retorted.

“I’ll ask Y/N,” Jared shrugged. “Gen and I trust her completely. She’s a med student and has been watching our kids for a couple of years now.”

“I don’t know, man,” Jensen groaned.

“She’s not a complete stranger to your kids either, you know. Y/N’s watched them before, too,” Jared continued, not taking notice of his friend’s reluctance. “Come on, even if it doesn’t end in a good time between the sheets with a hot girl—which I am all for, FYI, because, dude, how long has it been?—we can at least go out, have a few beers, watch a football game. What d’ya say?”

“It has been a long time since that. And even longer since I went to a bar to watch a game,” Jensen agreed. “And the Cowboys are playing. Yeah, alright, let’s do it.”

“Yeah?” Jared grinned.

“Yeah. Call Y/N and see if she’s free and doesn’t mind a couple of extra kids for the night.”

While driving to Jared’s, Jensen couldn’t help but feel excited for their night ahead. It had been so long since he’d taken any time to himself. He’d been so focused on his kids and work since the divorce and had fooled himself into thinking he was happy. He deserved to have a little fun. He still had a lot of life to live and a lot of love to give, and although he wasn’t looking to date quite yet, if someone caught his eye tonight, maybe he’d get lucky.

Jensen pulled up in the driveway, got himself and the kids out of the car, and went up to the house. With their families so close, the kids opened the Padalecki’s front door and ran straight into the house.

Chuckling, Jensen walked in after them and closed the door behind him. As he made his way down the hallway, a laugh as sweet as honey reached his ears, and he found himself straightening his posture and puffing his chest slightly.

“Hey, man,” Jared said as he walked into the kitchen, where a woman with Y/H/C hair had her back to him. “This is Y/N,” his friend continued, and when she turned around and smiled at him, Jensen’s heart skipped a beat, and everything else Jared said was lost in this stunning woman’s haze.

Y/N was hot and way out of his league, and not just because he was old enough to be her father. She was gorgeous with her big doe eyes, beautiful smile, curves in all the right places—

“Jay? You with me, man?” Jared’s voice pulls him away from his stupor and back to the two people in the room: Jared, with a concerned frown on his brow and Y/N, smirking softly at him and gently chewing on her bottom lip.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just trying to remember if I locked the door when I left,” Jensen lied.

“Okay,” Jared said, not sounding entirely convinced but seemingly letting it go. “Ready to go?”

“Sure. Thanks for this, Y/N. I appreciate you taking on another two kids for the night,” Jensen said, finally getting something out to the girl.

“It’s my pleasure,” Y/N smiled softly, and he swore he saw a little bit of flirtatiousness in her eyes.

“Thanks, man. I think this is just what I needed,” Jensen said as he and Jared got into the car to drive home. “It’s been so long since we just grabbed a beer and some wings.”

“It has,” Jared agreed. “It was nice to have my buddy back, but I gotta ask, no interest in any of the women in there? At least five had their eyes on you, man, and some of them were gorgeous.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that, but when I am, you’ll be the first to know.” It wasn’t entirely true. If Y/N were older, he’d definitely try and hit that, but he was far too old for her, and there was no chance she’d want to have sex with an old man.

They settled into a quiet ride back to Jared’s house, filled with light conversation on their plans for a day at the lake with the kids tomorrow.

Pulling into Jared’s drive for the second time that day, both men exited the vehicle and headed into the house and through to the living room.

Jensen stopped in the doorway, noticing that Y/N was watching a movie, her hair pulled back in a messy knot on top of her head, teasing him with her bare, unblemished neck that he wanted to cover in his marks.

He needed to get a grip of himself. And he definitely needed to dig out his favourite porn videos and carve out a little time to take care of himself because this was ridiculous. Y/N was hot; there was no doubting that, but his fascination with her had to be because of his lack of sexual release.

“Hey,” Y/N said when she saw them. “The kids are fine. They’re all asleep in the tent we put up in the playroom.”

“Great, thanks, Y/N. They didn’t give you any trouble?” Jared checked.

“None. They were perfect, as always,” Y/N smiled as she put on her jacket, threw her backpack over her shoulder, and tucked the cash Jared had given her for babysitting into her pocket.

“Thanks again. I appreciate you coming out at short notice and giving up your weekend,” Jared smiled at the young woman.

“They’re good kids, so it’s no problem. Plus, I managed to get some studying done without my roommates being too loud,” she giggled.

“I appreciate it all the same,” Jared nodded. “Hey, man,” he added, turning his attention to Jensen. “Why don’t you leave the kids here for the night? They’re sleeping comfortably, and you’ll be over for breakfast anyway, right?”

“You sure?” Jensen checked.

“Yeah,” Jared confirmed. “No point in waking and upsetting them when they’ll be coming back here anyway.”

“Alright, thanks, Jared,” Jensen said as he slapped his friend on the back, his mind already drifting to those porn videos. “Y/N, do you need a ride home? I didn’t see a car out there, and it’s the least I can do.”

“Sure. Thank you, Jensen,” Y/N replied, a shy smirk pulling at lips.

“How was your night?” Y/N asked as they climbed into his car.

“Good. It’s been a while since I just went for a beer with a friend,” Jensen replied.

“So it was just a drink with a friend? No ladies on your radar? Jared made it sound like you were out on the prowl, and he needed to be your wingman!” Y/N grinned at him.

“Uh, there were a few pretty girls, sure, but I’m not looking for that right now.”

“That’s a shame. I would’ve done anything to get a handsome guy like you to go home with me,” Y/N grinned wider, giggling when his head snapped towards her with his eyebrows practically hitting his hairline.

“Sweetheart, I’m old enough to be your dad!” Jensen spluttered.

“I don’t mind older men. In fact, I prefer them… Daddy,” Y/N looked at him and batted her lashes.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jensen gasped. He couldn’t believe she wanted him. “We can’t.” It was a weak attempt, but he needed to at least look like he was trying to turn down his best friend’s hot babysitter.

“But why, Daddy? Don’t you want me? Was I a bad girl?” she pouted and slid her hand into his lap, palming his hard cock through his denims.

“Shit! We’re really doing this?” Jensen groaned when she squeezed his erection, and she nodded her head.

“If you want to,” Y/N said, dropping her act. “If not, you can drive me home, and we’ll pretend this never happened. But if you want me, I’m yours.”

Jensen was speechless. An incredibly attractive twenty-year-old woman was in his car, calling him Daddy, making his dick harder than it had ever been, and offering herself to him on a platter. He must’ve died and gone to heaven.

“I want you, Y/N. Fuck, I’d be crazy not to. You’re fucking perfect,” Jensen said, looking into her eyes and making sure she heard him. He chuckled when her face lit up at his praise, noting that not only did this girl have a daddy kink, which he’d happily indulge her with, but a praise kink, too.

“Then let’s go home, Daddy.”

“That’s my good girl,” Jensen praised, watching Y/N undo his belt and pants and pull his stiff cock from his boxers. “Open up, sweetheart, let Daddy in.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open, and he groaned at the sight. “That’s it, baby girl,” he praised again, pushing himself between her plump lips.

Jensen moaned deep and long as she timidly closed her lips around him and sucked, gently rubbing her tongue over his leaking slit.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so good at that. You love sucking daddy’s cock, huh?” Jensen groaned when she nodded. “Yeah, I know you do, baby girl. Come on, I know you can take more than that.”

Y/N moaned around him, taking more of his cock down her throat, gagging on his length.

“Fuck, yeah, baby girl. Just like that. So good for your daddy, huh? Are you Daddy’s good little girl?” Jensen grunted as he pushed a little deeper.

“Yes, Daddy,” she gasped as he pulled himself from her throat and grabbed her chin, squeezing gently and running his fingers over her spit-slick lips.

“Do you need Daddy to help you undress, or are you a big girl that can do it herself?”

“I can do it, Daddy,” Y/N said as she quickly stripped out of her clothes.

Jensen groaned as his hands skimmed over her perfect, perky breasts and down her taut stomach. “You’re so perfect, baby girl. Daddy loves this beautiful body,” Jensen rasped. “Get up on the bed, sweetheart, and spread those pretty little legs. Let Daddy get a good look at you.”

Y/N climbed on his bed and crawled towards the headboard. Laying down, she spread her legs wide and smirked at Jensen’s deep groan.

“Good girl,” he praised as he crawled up the bed, caressed his hands over her thighs, pushed them apart and lowered his head to her hot, wet centre. “Fucking delicious,” he groaned, licking from the bottom of her slit to the top.

Pushing through her folds, he moaned when her slick pooled on his tongue, and he quickly lapped it up, licking and sucking and thrusting his wet muscle into her tight, dripping hole.

He moved to her clit, licking and sucking on the tiny bud while his fingers toyed with her entrance, circling it gently before slipping one inside.

“So fucking tight, baby girl,” Jensen grunted against her clit. “Gonna need to loosen you up before you can take Daddy’s big cock in your tight little pussy.” He added another finger and curled them upwards, rubbing against her sweet spot over and over.

“Daddy!” Y/N gasped, grinding her hips down on his fingers desperately.

“What is it, baby?” Jensen asked, looking up between her legs and seeing her desperate little pout. “Is Daddy making you feel good?”

“Yes! More, Daddy, please!” she begged.

“Oh, you sound so pretty when you beg, baby girl, and you know Daddy can’t resist when you beg.” He pulled his fingers from her and sucked her juices from them with a hum before crawling up her body and caging her beneath him.

“Please!” she mumbled again, and Jensen couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Alright, since my little princess begged so prettily, she can have Daddy’s cock in her sweet, tight, perfect little pussy,” Jensen growled and pushed his hips forward.

Y/N’s brow furrowed in pleasure with every inch he pushed inside her. When his hips met hers, and he couldn’t go any further, he groaned deeply at the feel of her tight cunt, stretching and fluttering to accommodate his intrusion.

“Fuck!” Jensen roared. “You feel so good, baby girl. So fucking tight and perfect for Daddy, fuck!” He pulled back his hips and slammed forward again, placing his hand on her stomach and pushing down gently, groaning lowly as he felt himself move inside her.

Y/N’s eyes rolled back, and her hips moved with his. “Fuck, Daddy! You’re so big. Feel so good, so full,” she moaned.

“Yeah? That’s because this little pussy was made just for me, sweetheart.” He’d never felt a pussy so good, and the daddy roleplaying they were doing made everything ten times hotter. “Who owns this sweet little pussy, baby girl?”

“You do, Daddy,” Y/N whined.

“That’s right, Daddy owns it. It’s mine,” he grunted with every jerk of his hips, and when Y/N’s orgasm hit, Jensen stalled his movements, holding himself inside her as her tight walls squeezed and pulsed around his cock.

“Fuck, baby girl! You feel so fucking good. I’m gonna come, sweetheart. You want Daddy’s come, huh?” Jensen chuckled as Y/N nodded desperately.

“Yeah? Where do you want Daddy to come?” he gasped, pulling his hips back and pounding roughly into her still-quivering heat.

“Inside me, Daddy, please! I need it!” Y/N whined. Jensen groaned loudly, pushing himself as far in as he could, and came hard, resting against her cervix.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped when he finally regained his senses and pulled his spent and softening cock from her satiated hole. “That was hot, sweetheart, and something I’d be up for more of with you.”

“It was,” she agreed with a giggle. “Unexpected, but hot, and something I definitely want to do with you again.”

Tags: @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

#j3bingo #the babysitter #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut

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impishjesters · 7 months

Text

First-time jitters (NSFW-ish)

warning(s): kissing, hickeys, suggestive themes, implied lead-up to sex, sexual jokes note(s): Naked twister kind of joke, not anything in a typical Jax insulting joke form. A/N: I actually really liked writing this, it gave me a chance to write just kissing and while I still suck at it, it was something. Plus I can totally see Jax cracking jokes to keep his s/o from being so tense and nervous. Happy that this didn't push me out of my comfort zone, even if it did make me feel weird about writing kisses. I'm not experienced in that department either. request: Hey I was wondering if you could write a very slight NSFW of Jax and the Reader? Maybe this is the reader’s first time and is nervous about it?

“I’ve uh, never done this before…” You mutter nervously, hands playing with the hem of your shirt.

“What sat on a bed with a man?” Jax snorts.

“Ass, you know that’s not—”

“Oh, you’ve never played naked twister? It’s a little slippery I’ll admit.”

“Jax…”

“See you’re already doing a great job, ya already got saying my name down. Though I’d like to hear it a bit louder and more desperately, maybe a tad more breathy.”

You cross your arms in irritation and embarrassment, this was not how you were going to spend your first time if he kept being a little shit lord and keep cracking jokes. You loved him and tolerated enough of this outside of the bedroom, it wasn’t exactly something you were expecting during such an intimate moment.

As if sensing your thoughts Jax took a seat on the bed and leaned closer, placing a hand on each side of you on the bed. “Oh c’mon angel, I’m trying to ease the tension. Ya more wound up than a music box, if ya this tense it’ll hurt. And we don’t want that.”

Jax wasn’t stupid, he could tell you weren’t ready when the topic was officially brought up and told you he was fine waiting. Blue ballin’ sucked but he’d endure it until you were ready—which was tonight, if you were still up for it.

He caught you chewing on your bottom lip and raised a hand to tap at your lips to get you to quit. “Ya know I won’t do anything to hurt you, especially if ya aren’t into it.” You giggle faintly and he slips his fingers over to pinch your cheek. “There we go, loosen up and I’ll help loosen you up so it won’t hurt. Trust me.”

“That’s pretty bold of you to ask me to trust you of all people.” You tease. However, there is reassurance in the tender touch and his tone that has you relaxing more and more into his touch.

Jax rolls his eyes playfully, giving your cheek another pinch before moving the hand back to the bed. “And ya pretty dumb to trust me of all people.” he pokes back.

It’s all in good fun, it’s not typically how he’d treat someone in bed but you aren’t just any random shmuck in his bed. Plus it’s your first time and he’d rather not make it an unpleasant experience, he would like to get laid more than once after all.

Before you can respond he gives you a quick kiss, shifting to get more comfortable on the bed with you but not making any attempts to undress either of you. “We’ll go slow, ain’t gotta get naked right from the start—though I won’t complain if you wanna strip.” His brows waggle suggestively but his tone is far from it.

“Can we just kiss for now?” Kissing isn’t new and it feels like a nice start to everything, you don’t want to back out now but you aren’t going to just force your way straight into sex.

“Sure doll.”

Jax is surprisingly careful with his kisses, each kiss is sweet yet firm until you find yourself getting impatient at the little pecks and run your tongue along his bottom lip. Working around his teeth takes a few minutes but in no time the kisses grow more heated and full of tongue.

The distance between the two of you gradually closes, Jax sits with his legs loosely crossed creating the perfect little spot in the middle for you. He drapes your thighs over his and tugs you closer to create just the right amount of space between the two of you, mainly so he doesn’t have to keep breaking his back to lean in.

Your hands find purchase around his neck while his hands find home on your lower back. It’s no different than the usual make-out session except this will actually lead to more than just the two of you separating and having to wind down or take care of things separately.

Jax is the first to break away, leaving you panting. You’re such a flustered, red mess and he’s soaking up every little noise and expression on your face. Diving back in he dodges your lips much to your confusion and instead aims for your neck. You tilt your head to give him better access and he peppers the area with kisses and the occasional nibble.

He pulls back after a bit, satisfied to see your neck littered with his marks, and gently guides your head to tilt the other way, giving the same attention to the unmarked side. There’s no way someone won’t say something later, the marks are too obvious and most definitely won’t be covered by your clothes—you’ll have to think of an excuse later.

Eventually, he has to pull away and admire his handiwork again, that smug expression on his face per usual, except the reason is different this time, more genuine. “What a pretty necklace ya got there doll, who bought it for ya?”

Necklace? You weren’t wearing any—oh the hickeys. “Jaaax..” That’s so painfully cheesy that you can’t help but whine and giggle.

“Your damn right I did. Looks so good on ya too.”

He runs his fingers over the fresh marks and you can’t help but shudder at the sensitivity. You don’t remember them normally being that sensitive, but you also don’t remember him ever leaving that many in one sitting. Something tells you those won’t be the only hickeys you’ll end up with.

Your eyes fall on his own neck, bare as ever, and find yourself feeling a little mischievous. “How about we give you a matching one?”

Jax’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if to help give you a better position before his hands knead into your hips. “Oh sugar, I’d be more than happy to be sportin’ a matching necklace with you.”

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

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look-at-the-soul · 19 days

Text

Every little thing you do- Part 7

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

A/N:Sorry for not posting this part earlier! I’ve been sick all week but I’m finally functioning like a human again 🤭 you’ll see some references to what really happened in season 3, I just adapted it to this story. Anyways hope you enjoy it! 🥰 let me know in the comments xx

Word count: 3,964

Tommy felt his anger raising, but he needed to calm down and think.

Think straight, have a clear mind.

Father Hughes was the most irritating person on earth. He didn’t want him to be involved in his charity project, that man was far from being someone respectable and he only make him waste his time. Deep down, Tommy knew he must have a dark past, something that he did wrong… he just needed to find what was his weakness.

It was still early, but still he needed a drink. Taking a glass and a decanter, he poured himself some.

“Thomas.” Polly called from the door.

“I need you to take care of everything today, gotta go.”

“Where?”

“I’ve a meeting, will probably be back later tonight.” He took a long swing of his drink. “Arranged a meeting with Vicente Changretta, Arthur and John will be there.”

They needed to fix the relationship with the Italians, after burning down the restaurant. He already had enough trouble in his hands.

“Fine.” She looked at him intensely. “You know… I was talking to Lizzie yesterday.”

Tommy hummed unbothered.

“Has Y/N told you if Lizzie keeps pissing her off?”

“No. Why?” He moved to his desk to take a few things.

Polly shuddered, perhaps she understood Lizzie wrong, she seemed to feel embarrassed and refused to say anything else to her.

“She’s jealous.” Polly ran her fingers through her hair. “She thought Y/N’s baby was yours.”

Tommy’s head snapped towards his aunt. His eyes had closed in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“Look, I’m not judging her, and you shouldn’t either.” Polly gave him a knowing glance, se had talked to the secretary and she seemed to be having a change of heart.

“She told me she’s willing to do anything to get you to trust her once more.”

Pondering on Polly’s words, Tommy thought for a couple of seconds. “Anything eh? Alright… she’s going to help us clean the mess she made.”

He’d try to push Lizzie’s buttons just to make sure how far she could go. The sudden change could’ve a reason behind.

Now it was Polly’s turn to squint her eyes. “What are you thinking of?”

“She’s going to break up this absurd romance with Angel Changretta. Very peacefully.”

“Isn’t that too much to ask?” She asked cautiously.

“Explain to Lizzie how life works, no matter what Angel says, he’ll always remind her of her past. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll always have her desk available here as a secretary, but if she keeps this going, I’m going to be her worst nightmare.” He warned right before storming out his office.

First he’d stop by to pay Ada a visit, then off to the meeting with the Russian royalty.

***

Y/N thanked the two men carrying the last piece of furniture into the office, they previously brought in the small desk and chairs, the bookshelf and a file cabinet.

In the corner of the room, she kept a box full of folders, sheets and other office supplies she would distribute among the classrooms. Most of her days have been busy organizing the storage and after a while it seemed to be presentable.

“Miss Y/N Y/LN?” The gardener called, getting her attention. “Your presence is required outside.”

“Oh! Sure.”

The Shelby Institute might open its doors any moment now, she thought as she strolled through the long hall, her shoes clacked against the floor, the daily walks around the institute made her keep in a good shape, because her belly was becoming more prominent day by day, of course she got out of breath anyways.

“We just need you to check if it’s the right color.” Paul asked pointing at the wall.

Tommy made sure to hire Small Heath people, purchasing all the material from local and small businesses, he felt this urge to help as much as possible because he couldn’t stop thinking given different circumstances, it would be him instead of them struggling with money, not having enough in their pockets to feed their family.

“This looks amazing, thank you for all the hard work you’re doing.” Y/N praised.

It wasn’t her place to supervise, but Tommy officially let her decide everything that was needed; from the color, decoration, even the personnel. He just kept signing cheques.

“Am I still on time to enroll my children? Could you ask Mr. Shelby, Miss Y/LN?”

“Yes of course you can! Bring me the papers tomorrow morning and the authorization.”

It was Tommy’s wish, to help as much people as possible.

The man gave her an embarrassed glance. “I don’t want them to be like me, I want them to have an education.” He added with melancholy.

“There’s nothing wrong to work in construction Billy,” Y/N encouraged. “But it’s admirable that you want them to be better.”

“That wouldn’t be possible without Mr. Shelby’s generosity.”

Y/N smiled at him but before she could step inside the building again, she noticed a car parking behind. Squinting her eyes because of the sun, she could barely tell who was that.

“Is this the Institution that runs that gang leader?” The man asked, judging by his attire he was a priest, but there was some off about him that said otherwise.

An uneasy feeling made Y/N take a step back, she covered her bump with the folders in her hands in a protective motion.

“Who’s asking?”

Tommy would be the last person on earth to have something to do with a priest.

The man looked her up and down, giving her a nasty and dirty stare.

“Tell him I’ll supervise this place, once it’s open.”

When he left, his vehicle made a cloud of dust. He didn’t ask politely, no, he pretended to be in charge of the charity.

Y/N walked inside the Institute again, making a mental note to add a room for the children to read, and they might need a fountain in the patio. She chuckled to herself, realizing she started to sound like Tommy.

No long after honking loudly, Tommy announced his presence, Y/N saw him behind the window as he was strolling towards her.

“Pick up your stuff, we’re going.” He announced.

“Where?”

“Somewhere, don’t ask.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve to ask, it’s going to be midday, there’s things that need to be done.”

Tommy stepped into her office, looking for her coat and handbag.

“Yeah I pay you a ridiculous amount of money it’s about time you hire an assistant.” He said with a wink.

“An assistant of an assistant. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard.” She added, Tommy noticed she crossed her arms, not pleased by his interruption, she was always doing what she had to do and don’t you dare to move something from her things-to-do-list.

“It’s something good, trust me.”

“Can I ask where are we going?” Y/N asked enjoying the wind in her face.

“No.”

“What’s with all this secrecy?”

“If I tell you, you’re going to tell me no.”

“Well, you better include food because the baby is getting hungry.” Y/N smiled at her bump, while her hands caressed in a circle motion. Day by day she was getting fond of her baby.

“Oh I was counting you’d say that, lately you’re demanding more and more food.” He added in a light mood.

“Polly says I need to eat for two.” Y/N defended.

Tommy chuckled and in a blink, he was gone. He literally stormed into the library.

The little information she managed to get was that now she was reading out loud for Tommy a book about Russians that ran away from the revolution and opted to live exiled and from the Crown’s charity. Tommy assured her that way was practical.

Parking later after in front of a couple of shops, but she still knew so little about what was behind Tommy’s requests.

“I’ve a meeting around, it should be quick,” he explained helping Y/N out of the car, “but I thought it might be good if you start searching for some baby furniture, eh?”

“Tommy…” She covered her mouth with her hand.

“And don’t even start saying you don’t have money, I promised your grandma to look after the two of you, and that includes the things the baby will need.” Tommy used her shocked state to practically drag her inside the store, wining the argument way before it could start. “Hello, we would like to check out a moses, a rocking chair, a drawer…”

Y/N stared at him silently, Tommy thought of everything and even though his generosity wasn’t a surprise, it still came out of the blue, catching her off guard.

“Would you like us to open an account?” Asked the perplexed sales woman.

“Yes,” Tommy answered eyeing a catalog. “Everything she wants, a lamp, the carpet, the sheets… just put it into my account.” He handled a card with his company name and address. “Pick you up in about an hour?”

Y/N nodded, still trying to process everything.

“Leave something for the rest of the costumers ey!” Tommy shouted from the door before disappearing.

The woman started swooning immediately. “I hope the baby will get his eyes.” The woman admitted with a blush.

Y/N opened her mouth to correct her and tell her that Tommy wasn’t the father, but she closed it instead, remembering the advise her grandmother shared with her; don’t explain your situation to people you don’t know, let them believe their assumptions even if it’s incorrect. It will save you of uncomfortable explanations.

So Y/N gave the sales woman an awkward smile and followed her to the back of the store, this moment would arrive sooner or later and she was already here.

“We can make any piece you want in a variety of colors, there’s a trunk in the corner that goes well with this dresser…”

“Let me bring the fabric catalog for the carpets.” Added another woman, they obviously wanted to make a juicy sale.

Y/N felt like she was walking on a cloud, the smile on her face couldn’t get bigger. And now, she was the one swooning over the furniture, her imagination taking her to unknown places with images of her rocking her baby to sleep, or taking a look through the canopy at a small bundle of joy.

An excited gasp escaped her lips when she landed her eyes on a crib mobile. Her heart did this flip inside her chest and she could hardly hide her emotions.

“Should we add it?” The expert eye of the sales woman noticed her excitement. “Your baby will be fascinated and spend hours staring at it.”

The mobile had a handmade star and a sheep, a fluffy cloud and a small sun. It was adorable, she couldn’t wait for her baby to be born to use everything.

Y/N was allowed to sit on the rocking chairs to see which one felt more comfortable and the women showed her a few combinations to create a whole set of dresser, a small wardrobe, a bedside table and also the different colors they had to offer. The more she looked, the more confused she felt because everything was beautiful! She had never had the chance to purchase furniture, since her house was filled with her grandma’s possessions.

A fond memory of her grandmother knitting a blanket for one of her sisters filled her mind, her parents didn’t have enough money to buy fancy furniture, so they used a basket as a crib, she was just a girl but she remembered it clearly.

Both women shared endless recommendations for her baby arrival, and Y/N felt extremely grateful and was willing to take every little thing that could be helpful.

As she flicked another page of the catalog, she wondered how long would it take Tommy to pick her up, then her thoughts wandered towards her sister Lee-Anne, the last time she saw her, it was the day her father hit her. They couldn’t meet because their parents where so strict now, after what happened, they were trying to move under the radar according to her grandmother. There were so many things she wanted to tell Lee-Anne, firstly assure her that she was alright, she didn’t need to worry, then when the time is right, she would explain everything to her, so the younger girl wouldn’t make the same mistake as her.

Not that she thought her baby was a mistake, no. Those are two separate things. But the circumstances it’s what was wrong, she was aware that not all women had a Tommy Shelby around the corner to selflessly take care of everything.

If only she knew then, she’d do it differently.

“Y/N?” A gentle voice called for her, something squeezed her arm slightly.

Her eyes fluttered open and Y/N looked around confused.

“You fell asleep.” Tommy pointed out.

“It happens all the time.” The sales woman gave her a small glance. “We didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Goodness.” Y/N felt embarrassed and mortified, she felt tired.

“So, I think you found the perfect rocking chair then.” Tommy raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“We’ll have everything delivered in a couple of weeks.” Her smile couldn’t get bigger.

Thanking them, Tommy and Y/N stepped outside the boutique, she wanted to stretch her legs so bad.

“How did your meeting go?”

“Boring.”

He always had just a few words to say. But his eyes, said everything that was crossing his mind.

“Did you get to drink vodka and do the Russian dance?” Y/N teased.

Tommy scoffed at her sense of humor.

“He’s a liar, a buffer. He’s just a filthy lucky bastard with the right connections.”

He sighed loudly, but at least Tommy was sharing something with her. In that case it would be so easy for him to make that man show his true colors.

As he started the engine, Y/N started telling him of all the adorable things they showed her at the store, noticing the way her eyes were glowing. And he obviously preferred that kind of news instead of the one Polly was about to share.

“I’ll wait here by the fireplace.” Y/N announced, not wanting to get in the middle of the argument.

Sitting in one of the couches, she leaned her head back, rolling her feet meanwhile a few steps away, the Shelby family were discussing over whatever John had made.

“If you apologize once, you do it again and again…” Y/N heard Tommy say as she was drifting away to sleep. But she was far too gone and tired.

Feeling drained after all the things he got busy with, Tommy couldn’t wait to be home.

“You can stay over so you don’t have to drive back.” He proposed to his brother Finn, who would be driving.

But as Tommy stepped into the entry, he stopped abruptly when his eyes landed on Y/N. She was peacefully sleeping on the couch, the flames of the fireplace casting shadows over her features while one of her hands rested under her belly.

He didn’t have the heart to wake her up.

“Bring the car around.” He whispered Finn, trying to concede Y/N a few more minutes before starting the road back home.

Taking off his coat, he slid it over her frame to cover her from the cold. Tommy tried to call her in a low voice, but she only adjusted her shoulder as answer. Y/N should probably take things easier, but she was adamant to finish the charity project, she was pouring every fiber of her soul into it and wanted to make sure every single detail was perfect.

“Y/N… let’s go.” Tommy tried again softly.

Fluttering her eyes, she slowly opened them squinting in confusion by feeling Tommy touching her shoulder.

“C’mon let me help you.”

“Hmm.” She hummed barely cooperating.

She was beyond sleepy by the time they reached the car, settled taking the back seat by herself, she heard the Shelby brothers talking something about an Italian pub and a fight that would eventually happen. Tommy mentioned something about their fragile ego and sending flowers to a hospital, but Y/N couldn’t be sure because maybe it was part of her dream.

She moved across the room, smashing the fresh berries for the pie she was baking, the lovely smell feeling the small kitchen, it was a sunny day and she could hear the birds chirping, when suddenly a baby cry came to her attention. Y/N rushed then to get pick up her baby who was demanding her presence.

“It’s just fine, are you hungry?” She cooed to settle the lovely bundle wrapped in a blanket.

“How’s my ray of sunshine?” Asked her grandmother from behind, reaching over to caress the baby’s face.

“Woke up hungry.”

“You feed the baby while I finish the pie.”

When the car took a turn Y/N’s bumped something, she woke up disoriented.

“Finally I was tired of you snoring.” Tommy teased taking at look over his shoulder.

“Oh my God I don’t snore!”

“Loud and clear.” Tommy assured her. “Like a truck driver.”

Y/N gave Tommy a surprised and embarrassed look, awkwardly she tried to fix her hair since it was out of place.

Finn rushed upstairs while Mary greeted them by the door.

“Something important came up?” Tommy asked the maid.

“Just a few letters.” She gave him a nod.

“Oh, and maybe a couple of responses to the charity invitation.” Y/N wondered out loud.

“All correspondence arrived under Mr. Shelby’s name.” The maid explained, making a bit obvious that she wasn’t very fond of Y/N.

Y/N looked between Tommy and Mary, waiting.

“Go on, go check the mail.” He told her softly.

“Mr. Shelby.” Mary tried to get his attention. “The mailman thinks Miss Y/LN is Mrs. Shelby, he asked me if Mrs. Shelby had anymore invites to send off.” The maid voiced with concern.

Tommy noticed the offended tone in her voice.

“Let him think whatever he wants, Mary.” Tommy shuddered, not thinking it was important. “As long as he takes the mail.”

“But…” she tried again, then closed her mouth when Tommy gave her the look.

“That’s all, thank you Mary.” Tommy dismissed her just as Y/N entered the reading room skipping happily.

“Guess!”

Sitting, Tommy groaned. “Guess what?”

“He said yes!” Y/N explained excitedly.

“Who?” He chuckled at her happiness.

“He leader of the Birmingham City Council is going to attend the dinner.” Y/N showed him the letter back. “Everyone has said yes.”

Tommy dragged his eyes from the piece of paper, towards Y/N.

“Ah.” Suddenly she got the energy of a kid, it was the nap during the car ride did wonders to her.

“I keep changing the menu, do you think we should offer something else?” Y/N kept explaining how she needed to send a Thank you note back to the people who had confirmed their attendance.

The charity was clearly an excellent job for her. Keeping her busy with something good whilst helping people in need and he was glad to have someone he could trust to take care of that.

“You need to remember to take this slowly, write off those notes tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.” He suggested.

“But Tommy, these things can’t wait, it takes days for the letters to be delivered and-”

“Very well then, why don’t you use the typewriter I gave you.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink.

“Tom!” She chuckled. “You don’t write letters of a social occasion on a typewriter.” Y/N explained him with a smile.

“Oh, forgive me.” He raised his eyebrows.

She then went on to show him another paper. “I’ve the drawings of what they plan to do with the grounds of the institute. There’ll be an area for the children to play. Look.” He hummed in response. “And the Birmingham Charity Commission have agreed to set aside their three rotten floorboards upstairs and grant us the license within a month.”

She finally took a deep breath after managing to explain him all in record time. There was a soft smile playing on his lips and she found tenderness in his eyes.

“You’re not listening to me.” Y/N sentenced.

Tommy leaned forwards. “Yes I am. I am.”

“You think I’m becoming obsessed?” Y/N stopped abruptly.

A chuckle escaped Tommy’s lips. “No, as a matter of fact, I love the passion you’ve put into this project.”

“This wouldn’t be possible without you.” Y/N expressed honestly.

Tommy gave Y/N a long look, studying her features, until he finally spoke.

“I’ve something for you.” Y/N frowned confused. “I know you’ll say it’s a bit too much, but still.”

“What did you get?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Close your eyes.” Tommy encouraged.

“Tom.”

He fixed his eyes on her, not taking a no for as answer. So she gave in, turned around and closed her eyes.

Leaning back, Tommy got something out of his pocket, holding the chain between both hands, he presented Y/N the present.

Y/N felt lost for words when she saw the necklace. “What’s this?”

“A sapphire.” He explained calmly.

The cold stone sent a shiver down her spine when it made contact with her skin. It felt heavy and strange to have a stone that bug hanging from her neck.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“A simple thank you could work.” He winked. “And before you even start, you can either wear it or keep it in the box it’s your choice.”

Y/N was still trying to process the overpriced present, never in a million years she imagined to own something like that piece of expensive jewelry.

“This is insane, but thank you.” She chuckled nervously. “Where am I even supposed to wear something like this? The charity event?”

“You can wear it to church if you want, it’s yours Y/N.”

“Goodness.” She looked down at her chest and touched the cold gemstone. “You really look for any excuse to show off your wealth, damned bastard.”

Tommy laughed loudly. “You got me.”

“I wanted to ask you to be my baby’s godfather… but you’re going to spoil the poor child.”

“Oh I think I earned that right, so you better keep considering me.”

She slapped his arm playfully, earning another laugh from him. Tommy pulled her by the arm but the sharp move caught her off guard and made her loose her balance, landing on his chest. His arms came around her waist instantly in a protective motion, and their laughs subsided as soon as they realized how close they were to each other’s faces.

Something they both didn’t know how to name ignited in that moment, suddenly her warm hands felt like burning through the layers of his clothes, his deep blue sparkled in a way she had never seen before.

Struggling to form a coherent thought, Y/N used his chest to support her arms and move back. Tommy cleared his throat just as he was trying to clear his mind.

“Sorry… I stumbled.” She tried to smooth her clothes.

“Yeah.” He noticed the blush on her cheeks.

“Better go to get s-some rest.” The words rushed out of her lips. “Have a good night.”

“Good night, Y/N.” He replied more to himself, watching her leave the room.

Taking the remains of his drink in a swing, Tommy thought how close they were of crossing a line that would change everything.

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@sydneyyyya @lau219 @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife

@darleneslane @lauren-raines-x @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @red-riding-wood

@lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest @wannabeperfectionists-blog (can’t tag) @yeppaweshallsee (can’t tag) @skydisneylover (can’t tag)

@holacia3 @galactict3a @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @ietss @abaker74

@natalie--rushman @elliaze @justrainandcoffee @teawonderfultea-blog1

#that’s what Cill said #tommy shelby x reader insert #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x imagine #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinders fan fiction #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x reader

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delic7te · 1 year

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sweet dreams | kaz brekker

kaz brekker x reader

summary: after an exhausting day, kaz lets you spend the night in his office

a/n : sorry for not responding to reqs, life was kinda happening. anyway here's something I wrote a long long time ago

Kaz caught himself looking at you for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, as if you might fall into the ground if he averted his gaze away from you.

The Crows were heading back to The Slat, worn out after a risky heist that ended up being a success but left them all exhausted and weak, eager to go lay back for a good sleep.

Except Kaz. The man was almost always wide awake and on watch, busy with something buisness related. He allowed you to tag along with his work at times because you had quite a gift for things like he did, even though he hired you as a weapon more than as a mastermind. But you became both and Kaz trusted you enough to let you help him out with planning heists and managing the Dregs, as you were in the buisness almost as long as he was. Of course, you had your own reputation and jobs, sometimes working for Kaz but mostly for yourself.

Still, Kaz and you partnered up at times.

When you were finally at the Slat, everyone drifted into their rooms immediately and shortly fell sound asleep. But Kaz needed to get some work done as always, which meant he would take you with him.

"Y/N, come along", he told you when you came through the door, glancing down at you again. You looked like you hadn't slept for weeks, your eyelids threatening to shut down any second now. "Huh?"

"There's some paperwork left if you don't mind", Kaz explains as he limps up the stairs, you following behind.

"Alright." A quiet sigh leaves your lips. "I planned on staying up a little anyway" , you lie.

Kaz felt bad for keeping you up even though he knew all you wanted to do was to lay back on your bed and give your mind a rest, but he still kept a straight cold expression when you both sat down in his office.

You took of your coat and put it on the couch by his window, sitting down on a chair opposite of his at his desk. Kaz sat right down, picking up files and spreading them all over the desk. "Where were we?"

You let out a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. "Are you sure this can't wait until the morning?"

It could. He knew it could. Yet something in him told him to keep going and keep you by his side for as long as possible.

Tonight, during a job, Kaz got really concerned for you. It was dangerous, bloody and filthy out there and even though you fend for yourself perfectly in jobs like that, he still sometimes saw you as a butterfly whose wings are about to be torn off by vultures and the cruel world.

He hated that. He hated feeling that type of cautiousness. But when you were in his office, working by his side, he could have an excuse to be in your presence while you were perfectly safe. He would never admit that to you, so he would rather keep you occupied and close to him.

"Hang on for just a few minutes, can you?"

With no choice and a small nod, you get back to all the paperwork scattered on the desk before you. "Atleast we got what we needed tonight."

♤—————————♤

After some time of silent working together, Kaz stands up from the desk. "Excuse me for a minute", he says as he limps to the bathroom.

Kaz shuts the bathroom door, taking off his gloves. He splashes his face and gloves with water, refreshing himself.

His thoughts shift back to his partner in the next room. When had he begun to trust a person like this? Maybe it were your talents: your fighting skills, your calculated moves, your bright, sharp mind. Or it was simply your charm and wit that enchanted him whole.

Those few minutes of peace with you were all he wanted for the rest of his life. It frustrated him, how much space could someone take up in his head.

Kaz walked out of the bathroom, when he saw you lay your head over your crossed arms spread out on the desk. Your eyes were shut and you looked as if you just passed out.

He realized how he kept you up for no reason, just his selfishness, even though you were tired out of your mind. This time he didn't want to wake you, but he figured you won't be comfortable if you fell asleep in the position you were currently in.

"Y/N?", he whispers softly, careful not to startle you.

Your head rises from the wooden surface. "Sorry", you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

Kaz sits back down. "Don't be. You can stay here overnight, if you wish. My room is open to you."

You shook your head. "No, I'll go back to my place, I'll be fine."

He scoffs. "Just accept something for once. We don't want you to pass out on your way out, do we?"

There was silence after you sighed, burying your face in your hands.

"I insist", Kaz finally says, and you didn't want to resist anymore because you knew that in the end he would make you stay.

"Where would you sleep?"

"I don't need to, yet. Don't worry about me."

"Even geniuses need sleep, Kaz", you frown, standing up from your chair.

He shrugs. "Exactly why you're gonna stay here and get some rest."

"I'll just take the couch here."

When you finally layed down on the couch close to his desk, none of you said anything for a long time. Kaz kept scribbling with his pen, which lulled you to sleep even more.

"You did a good job tonight", Kaz breaks the silence, surprising you.

Your eyes find his and you gaze at each other for a moment. A small nod of appreciation was all you left off before letting your eyelids close and the darkness take over.

♤—————————♤

Kaz was finally done with working for the night, which was slowly turning into the morning. It was really late, and you had been asleep for about an hour on the couch, eyes shut and eyelashes spread over your plum cheeks.

You looked relaxed, pleasantly at peace. It was a sight Kaz couldn't take his eyes off.

Before heading to his room, he noticed that it was getting chillier in the space and that nothing covered your body from it.

There was an old blanket hanging from the end of the couch and he picked it up, placing it on top of you and protecting you from the cold in the air.

He admired you one last time. "Sweet dreams, Y/N/N", he whispers, turning around to leave the room.

"Night, bastard", replied a sleepy voice behind his back. Kaz freezes, slight embarrassment washing over him.

He was now glad he wasn't facing you, because he couldn't contain himself from letting his lips stretch into a wide smile.

#kaz brekker x reader #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker #six of crows #six of crows imagine #freddy carter #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine

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itsjustrosee · 1 month

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hii. i was wondering if you’d be okay with posting boyfriend headcanons? for minho mostly. if not it’s totally fine!!

have a nice day!

yes, I've actually been meaning to write some so yes definitely!

Minho headcanons

Warnings: Sexual inferences and stuff like that ig

(this is for fem!reader btw)

-At first, Alby tried to stop you from dating his best runner. He thought it would distract him, and even though Minho did drift off while on the job thinking of you, you made him even more productive. You made him even more determined to find a way out of the glade for you and for everyone else.

-Alby forbade you and Minho from dating, but of course, you both did it anyway in secret. But straight away, Minho's drastic increase in mood was visible and the runners couldn't help but notice it. After days of prodding and poking Minho, trying to figure out what it was that had him being so nice and lenient, he finally caved and told them how he was dating you. Obviously, the other runners were supportive of it if it meant that Minho was in a good mood all the time, so they all ran to Alby and BEGGED him to let you and Minho date so you no longer had to do it in secret. Alby eventually gave in and allowed it and hasn't had too much of a reason to regret it since.

-Minho was quite the protective man. He cared about you more than life itself and it pained him every day to run into the maze and not be able to look after you in the glade. He always trusted you and never thought you would do anything with anyone else, but he was scared about how some of the other boys in the glade would treat you. That's why he made sure that he got as many of his friends in the glade to look after you until he got back.

-He would always be sure to spend the most time with you as possible as he could when he got back out from the maze. That included him eating dinner with you, showering with you, literally doing anything with you.

-Even though no gladers other than him and Alby are allowed in the maze room he would let you in anyways. You had no idea about how to help him figure out how to solve the maze, but you'd always be there to calm him down once he got frustrated.

-You guys share a hammock with each other because you both always fall asleep quicker when you're next to each other. It also means that whenever either one of you wakes up suddenly bc of a nightmare, the other person is there to calm them down.

-Minho tries his best to not wake you in the mornings when he gets up early to go into the maze and to yk do his job, but since you're such a light sleeper you always end up waking up. You'll end up walking to the maze doors to wave and kiss him goodbye, then head back to bed for a couple hours until you have to go to work.

-Whenever Minho takes a break in the maze with the other runners, while he eats food or drinks water, he always mentions you in conversations. He'll say things like "I wonder what (Y/N)'s up to", and "Do you think she's eating lunch right now too?" Because he's constantly thinking about you and he can't help but ask.

-After the first few times of Minho saying stuff like this, the other runners thought that it was cute that he liked you so much, but now, they just roll their eyes whenever he brings you up and they'll say, "Okay Minho we get it" because after the number of times he talks about you on a day to day basis, yes, they definitely do get it.

-After a certain amount of time in the glade, you've memorized when the maze doors close and open without needing a watch. Because of this, you always head to the maze doors a couple minutes before they're supposed to close to greet Minho right when he steps back into the glade. Whenever he comes back you greet him with the tightest hug known to man because the maze is incredibly dangerous, you know that any day Minho could die in there, which is why it's such a relieving feeling when you see him again.

-Sometimes you guys will go out later at night and just lay on the grass together and talk for however long you both feel like. Minho always makes sure he spends time with you whenever he can, and you both appreciate having these long conversations with each other. Even though sometimes you both just lay on the ground and stay silent, it never feels awkward. Being in each other's presence is enough, and the silence between you can actually feel quite comforting.

-Whenever a new greenie pops up from the box and there's a bonfire, you and Minho make sure to spend all the possible quality time with each other. Sometimes you'll sit on his lap (which never fails to get him a bit flustered), or you'll sit right next to him while his arm is around your shoulder. You've never really been one to drink so you'll often fall asleep on Minho before the night is over, and he'll always leave a little early to carry you back to your hammock.

-You and Minho have come to realize that using each other in certain ways really helps relieve stress. Whether that is by talking and venting to the other person or through being more intimate with each other.

-Minho likes bringing you into the maze room and doing it there because he knows that only he and Alby are allowed in there so he doesn't have to worry about people walking in on you both. He also likes doing it in the showers because being the only girl means that you're the only one allowed to shower during a certain time, and Alby made sure that there would be consequences to whoever tried to intrude on you showering. But that also just happened to make it the perfect time for you and Minho to be in there alone.

-Minho has two different sides to him when you and he are both doing it, which depends on his mood. He's either gentle and kind, or dominant and controlling. Both of them are a total turn-on for you regardless, you're happy to help him in any way you can.

-You love to tease him, and he loves to put you in your place. He always makes sure your needs are met. Even though he loves to please you, you love pleasing him even more, so eventually he gives in and lets you make him feel good. While you're doing it, he always wants to make sure that you know that he loves you, and he loves to praise you.

-Even if he gets more dominant with you, he always makes sure he's never too harsh, and he makes sure that he's never crossing any boundaries. Afterwards, he'll make it clear that he loves you and he'll thank you for letting him take out some of his stress and frustrations with you. He also heavily believes in aftercare so he'll always bring you back to your hammock and because whenever you do it, it's at night, so he'll cuddle you to sleep while you wear his shirt.

Alrighty yallllllllllllllllllll heres another Minho related post. I'm on such a roll omg. By the way I see your guys requests and I'm working on them I promise!! I just have an insane amount of school work I need to do but trust I will get to everything.

anyways, this was so fun to write, thank you for the request!! I hope you liked it

#minho the maze runner #minho tmr x reader #the maze runner #tmr fandom #minho tmr #tmr #tmr fanfic #headcanon #minho headcanons

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always-andromeda · 2 months

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𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1182

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ Once upon a time, Joel Miller was the love of your life. Life, however, got in the way.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ I got to write this piece for @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge. This song is one of my favorites off of Folklore and so I was immediately inspired by the prompt!! I highly recommend taking a look at the rest of the challenge masterlist too and sending the other creators on there some love!! Gorgeous divider by @saradika-graphics!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ smut (minors, do not interact), nipple play, fingering, pet names, reader has no physical description aside from being afab and able-bodied, spans from pre-outbreak to post-outbreak, mentions of guns, bits and pieces of angst, let me know if I need to add anything else!

Your youth was defined by Joel Miller. All of those delicate parts of yourself that you pretended not to see…he stared straight into the eye of the storm and protected the fragility within it. The most important thing about Joel: he was patient. To an almost frustrating degree.

He taught you how to drive with the stick shift in his beat up pickup truck. Afterwards, he showed you how to kiss properly. His hand cupping the back of your neck, he gazed at you through his lashes and asked if it was okay to kiss you. His voice smooth like molasses, you had no choice but to nod before immediately pressing your lips to his.

Even back then, Joel was a working man. His hands were rough with calluses, his mouth was filthy, and he put them both to good use. As he laid you across the bench seat of his truck, somewhere deep in your belly, you believed you could trust him.

You supposed it was exciting for him, showing you how things were done. How a man could really use his hands to tell a woman exactly how he felt. The best Joel’s words could do came in the form of his sweet pet names.

Darlin’. Pretty girl. Baby. Honey.

Each of them wrapped up in his velvety tone and delivered specially for you. Sure, he spoiled you, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

On your twenty-first birthday, he was there for your first drink. He slowly nursed his beer, making sure to keep a level head as you danced around the bar. No matter how hard you attempted to throw yourself at him, he kept his hands to himself. And as soon as you started to get sleepy he drove you home and tucked you in before passing out on your living room couch.

The morning after he was teaching you even more. How to handle a hangover. How Joel sounded rasping, “Happy birthday, honey,” against the column of your throat. How to come with just his hands on your tits.

The trick was a nice, slow buildup. He’d pinch and pull at a nipple before leaning down to press kisses to it. You’d gasp as his teeth grazed your skin ever so slightly and a laugh would rumble through his own chest. Your cunt wept so badly it ached. Still, Joel refused to pay it any mind. Not until he had you whimpering and writhing beneath him.

Even as he was breaking your heart, it was slow; it was painful.

When he told you that he’d gotten another girl pregnant, you almost didn’t believe it. Sure he teased you, but this was a step too far. That was the first time you caught him deliberately averting your gaze. The second you detected that shame, you wanted to scream at him.

You’d never known him to be shy around other girls. But you’d also never known him to be so careless. That pristine picture you had of him was gone in an instant.

The second it was said, you retreated. Or you were discarded. You’d never been able to remember who was the last one to call the other only to be met with an answering machine. You suppose it didn’t really matter anymore.

Years passed and soon those memories turned into mementoes of an entirely different world overnight.

There have been many lovers since then; none as kind as he had been once upon a time. Then again, if Joel was still alive, he was most likely just as rough around the edges as any of the men you’d been with. In fact, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him once since those days. You felt his calluses on every man’s hands, his thick fingers filling you, his stubble prickling your neck. Those men taught you many new things. The first being that patience wasn’t owed to anyone in a world where you could wake up dead. The second? Perhaps you didn’t want patience anymore.

After all, what had patience ever given you? When the world fell apart you got fuck all from simply waiting around for something to happen. You’d rather be torn apart by a clicker than get herded into a QZ where you’d scrounge for rations.

The first chance you got, you claimed a spot in a nomadic group. You did what you had to in order to prove your worth. The first time you shot a gun, as the smell of gunpowder filled your nostrils, you thought of Joel again. Tried to imagine him at your shoulder, chuckling and then muttering under his breath, “Dadgum, girl. Not bad.”

Every single time you managed to take out one of those infected, you heard that smooth voice of his. It was equal parts frustrating and…comforting. Frustrating in that he had managed to linger this long. But also frustrating in the sense that that version of him no longer existed, if it ever did to begin with. It was like you’d never really left behind him, his honeyed words, his skilled hands, or his goddamn pickup. Joel Miller just…had a way of hanging over you.

Jackson was a welcome reprieve from that cloud of grief. You were stubborn to the charms of that commune. You’d trusted more promising things before and been burned.

Those years really flew by. Old wounds finally began to close. With each passing kindness, it became easier to live again. For once home felt like a place you could tangibly hold instead of some far off fantasy.

You were so content that by the time Tommy showed up one spring, you only saw it as a blessing. He was alive, goddamnit. It didn’t matter that his dark eyes were damn near the same shade as his brother’s. And it didn’t matter that the twang of Texas still lingered on his tongue. You simply told yourself what you’d been telling yourself for years.

Joel was just a man. A man who thought that because you were young, he had some sort of claim over your heart. His heart had never belonged to you. More importantly, yours hadn’t belonged to him. He made his mark and you’d paid your dues in heartache. That was all.

Which is why it felt all the more haunting when he showed up on your porch.

A little over three decades later and Joel’s right there in the flesh. Even with the town buzzing about his arrival, you suppressed any notion that he’d pay you a visit. But now he steps forward into the porch light and through the fog of his breath in the cold air, you catch how much he’s changed. He’s almost nothing like you remember. Silver dappled stubble, pursed lips, forehead wrinkling as he furrows his brow.

The expression falls as soon as he sees you. The crinkles by his eyes relax as his gaze softens. Just like it used to so long ago.

Yet you swear he hasn’t changed a lick when he finally speaks.

“Hey there, darlin’.”

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfic #the last of us hbo fanfic

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signedkoko · 5 months

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Ello there Koko! Welcome back! 💙 I'd like to request Sir Pentious with a reader who's basically his little evil henchman/sidekick. I don't see much writing for the bastard but I honestly love him so I'd love to see more! It could be platonic or romantic, either way is good!

Anything At All [Platonic]

In which you are Pentious' assistant, and hes been requested to help the V's. Genderneutral Reader.

Song - The Party Line by Belle and Sebastian

Everyone could use an assistant, especially the overlords of hell, because they had all kinds of important things to do. Menial tasks requiring trust should be left to someone who can act as the right-hand man. Or at least, that was what Pentious always told himself.

None of the other overlords really had a sidekick, assistant, or whatever you choose to call them; they were all servants.

Loyalty was the first thing you had to achieve when finding an assistant, but who could ever be loyal? Everyone down here had something they'd give it all up for. Thus, Pentious was constantly ridiculed for choosing to trust someone who could easily overthrow him given the right opportunity.

What they didn't consider was that you'd give up everything and anything for him, but they didn't need to know that.

Most of what you did was surveillance. While Pentious much preferred to bury himself in strange inventions with grandiose ideals, you handled all the real work that might actually get him the title he so desired. While he trampled on his own reputation, you fixed it and elevated your own.

Pentious was known, but mostly because it was next to yours. Even so, you hated the spotlight because it took it away from him. Pentious was like a mascot; he was perfect at being in the public eye and had the confidence of a lion, except without claws or teeth. It was all so unlike you, so you would rather support him.

Besides, it was at least a little amusing to watch your friend go all out, despite not having all that much to back him up. He was always especially hostile to Alastor, to the point where you knew not to be anywhere near him since it always ended so badly.

It was another cleanup day, and after being totaled by the radio demon, Pentious was as antsy as ever to restore his ship to its prior glory.

" Pentious? Do you ever think about moving on from him? " You'd always make sure to ask after their scuffles, hoping the answer would change.

" Of courssse not! That would be admitting defeat! "

You sighed, a small laugh hidden in the veiled disappointment. It was still nice to see that he was so optimistic.

Pentious is extremely smart when it comes to weapons, engineering, and the sciences—he was anything and everything but street smart.

You'd prepared a meal for the two of you to share, asking questions that would help you navigate the next plan, and so you had an idea of what you'd need to round up. You loved hearing his next idea—what the new gun would be, how he figured he could defeat one of the strongest overlords of hell, and so on.

Unfortunately, your lunch was interrupted by your phone ringing, which you pulled up to see—the very face of technology himself. Before you could answer, the call started anyway.

" Tch. "

" Heyyy this is Sir whateveryoucallhim's assistant, right? Yeah, nice to meet you. Listen. I have to talk to Pentious. " You couldn't even get a word in before Pentious lept forward, stealing your phone from you and pushing you away.

" Its finally happening! Wait outside!! " Pentious urged you to the door, though the moment you were out, you pressed your ear to the door, trying to catch the conversation.

" Yess of course! It was a sssplendid idea speaking to the likes of I! I'll be on it straight away! " You figured the call ended because there was no more speaking.

When he opened the door, you almost fell forward, catching yourself so as not to make it seem like you'd been trying to listen in. Not like it mattered, because in a moment, Pentious was sharing every detail of the conversation with the excitement of a kid who got unlimited candy.

" Infiltrating the Hazbin Hotel? I don't know... It sounds like he just wants you to do his dirty work. Besides, doesn't Alastor work there? Won't he kick you out or catch on? "

" Come now; we cannot wassste any time! " He hadn't listened to a word you said; he was already on his way to set course for the hotel.

As worried as you were, maybe the hotel would be kind to Pentious. If all went to hell, you could only hope the princess would have mercy on him.

At the very least, you urged him to wait a day so you could prepare to come along with him and suggested he leave his technology on the ship so as not to alert anyone in the hotel that he may be hostile.

While most may not recognize you, Alastor certainly would, so you were sure to leave any and all weapons back at home. Just in case, right?

While you dressed more cleanly in softer and more welcoming clothes, Pentious didn't change a thing despite your protests. He waltzed right up to the door with no care and was immediately greeted by the princess's significant other shoving a spear in his face.

Stepping forward, you caught the edge of her spear and moved it up, just barely missing Pentious's face. You smiled in warning.

" Sorry for him; he is just so excited to stay at your hotel. As am I. " You looked down at Pentious, signaling for him to get up.

Thankfully, Charlie was quick to grab him and drag him on in, which you followed behind, nervously shuffling past the girl who'd just tried to kill Pentious.

Unfortunately, another wall blocked you, as the one and only pornstar Angeldust was quick to shove the wannabe overlord out the door and into you.

" Wait wait wait, are we really letting the guy who tried to kill us six hours ago in? And who the fuck are you? " The spider was extremely tall and still managed to tower over Pentious by a fraction.

You opted to stay silent, amused at how Pentious managed to pull himself through this one. Even so, the team did seem interested in your appearance; they'd never seen Pentious with anyone before.

For a moment, Charlie turned to look at Vaggie, and seconds later, the woman seemed to slouch in defeat.

" Whatever, not like hes harmless with or without the way machine. " Pentious pouted at her words, and you chuckled.

" Ooooh yes, yes, yes! Thank you so much! Right this way, you two, it is so exciting to have our first official guests!! " She seemed a lot more focused on Pentious as she pulled him through the corridors, showing off every aspect of the hotel. In a way, she reminded you a lot of Pentious.

You could already tell Pentious was going to be easily distracted from his mission, though before you could remind him, a stark static filled the air.

" Oh! Alastor! Our property manager: You've met our newest guests, Sir Pentious, and-- "

" Ah yes! Hell's best underground assistant, it is such a pleasure. " Alastor took your hand into both of his, shaking it with a tilted glance." Oh! And the one who ruined my coat! I definitely remember you now. "

Still flabbergasted by the radio demons approach to you, you were frozen in place, Pentious anxiously shifting when Alastor's tone shifted between the two of you.

"Best assistant? You flatter me. " You tried to take the attention back, looking to the princess for some kind of relief.

" This seems like a, uhm- perfect opportunity for a lesson on apologizing! "

Author's Note - This is a fic exchange with @sillypenguincats ! You can read their Alastor x Reader here. Thank you for requesting, working with me, and being so kind 🖤

Word Count - 1,243

#koko writez #koko collabz #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #sir pentious x reader #sir pentious

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devildom-moss · 4 months

Note

How about MC returning the favour and giving roses to the others?

Okay, so I thought it would get a little boring if I did roses all over again, so I picked different types of flowers for each character. I hope that's okay and that you'll like what I came up with. (part of me wanted to add pictures of each flower but I don't know... so I didn't.) This took a long time. I will eventually get to the brothers, but it'll be a bit.

Flowers for Them (the others)

Kind of a part. 2 for the Roses for You series (links here)

(Suggestive for all except Luke)

Word Count: +6,100 longest post yet?

Diavolo

red freesia

“The Young Master should be finishing up his work shortly,” Barbatos spoke as he escorted you to Diavolo’s bedroom, eyeing the vase of flowers in your arms. He chuckled and teasingly added, “I suppose I should make myself scarce for the night.”

You could tell from the mischief in his tone that he was insinuating your gift would charm Diavolo straight to bed – which wasn’t necessarily your intention. With a soft huff, you teased back, “You pervert.”

“If so, I’m in good company – My Lord, for instance.” Barbatos smirked at you, following your movements as you set the vase on Diavolo’s coffee table. “He’ll love them. It’s a lovely pick.”

With that, Barbatos left you alone in Diavolo’s room, waiting. Your fingertips gently ran over the length of bright red blossoms that sprang up from the stem like an offshoot of a branch, with the largest flower sprouting at the bend. As the minutes passed, the sweet, heady, citrus aroma of red freesias – the most potent variety – filled the room. It was that distinct scent that welcomed Diavolo as he returned to his bedroom, to you.

Diavolo’s lips parted in hesitation before a smile graced his face with a chuckle. “Barbatos told me I had a present waiting for me in my room. I wasn’t expecting two gifts.”

“Two?” You knew what he was hinting at, but you wanted him to say it.

“Such beautiful flowers, and you.” Diavolo made his way to the couch where you were sitting, tossing his jacket over the arm of it. He tilted your chin up and brought his lips to yours with a softness befitting a delicate petal. When he pulled back, his eyes were pleading for something he could not speak of – a need that escaped detection in his mind after a long day of work. All he knew was that it involved you. “What have I done to earn this thoughtful gesture?”

“You didn’t need to do anything to earn them, but I suppose I wanted to return the gesture – when you gave flowers to me.”

Affection swelled in Diavolo’s chest, and he pulled you up into his arms so that you might feel his heart pounding for you. His eyes fell to the flowers on the table. He was no expert, but he was nearly certain that you had procured them from the human world – which only delighted him more. Red was typically a romantic color for flowers, but he was eager to know more, to make you say it.

Diavolo released you from his grasp and asked, “what type of flowers are these? Can I assume you picked them for a specific reason?”

“They’re called freesias, and yes, you can,” you admitted with a grin. “They usually carry a meaning of friendship, thoughtfulness, and trust; but the red ones, in particular, symbolize love, passion, admiration, and appreciation. There is also an association with strength and perseverance. When I think about you – you’re so dedicated to your goals. You have so many obligations, and you show so much courage, rising to meet those challenges. I want you to know how much I admire you, and I’ll be by your side, loving you through everything to come.”

Diavolo’s eyes were wide, stunned into silence. He couldn’t find the words to thank you. Instead, he kissed you with the urgency of a man on the verge of tears – who would burst if he didn’t express his love for you that instant. He gently pushed you down onto his couch and began to sneak his fingers beneath your clothes.

“Diavolo,” you muttered his name sweetly.

“Shh, just let me unwrap my other present,” Diavolo hushed you affectionately, peppering your neck with tender kisses. Barbatos was right.

Barbatos

pale purple and pink aster

“A little demon told me I would find a handsome butler baking in the kitchen,” you announced your presence with a sultry affection that caused Barbatos to freeze up ever so slightly. He turned from his spot at the counter, still holding a piping bag in his hands. His cheeks were slightly pink, but you were generous enough to consider it a symptom of his proximity to the oven. “You don’t mind that I showed up unannounced, do you? I won’t stay long if you’re busy.”

“Not at all,” Barbatos laughed and set the piping bag down. “I’m delighted to see you. May I be so bold as to assume you came here just to see me?”

“You may – in fact, you should – because I did.” You kept the bouquet of flowers tucked behind your back as you took a few steps closer.

“What are you hiding?” Barbatos tilted his head with a joyous curiosity. “I’ll have no secrets kept from me in my kitchen. If there are secrets, I’d rather they be between us.”

You couldn’t ignore the seductive hint in his tone, but you gathered yourself to instruct him, “close your eyes.”

“That’s not a new one, but we haven’t tried that in this particular room yet.” Barbatos followed your command. You knew he was turning up the charm to distract from the fact that you had flustered him by showing up today. He was overcorrecting to maintain his composure.

“Stop flirting; I’m trying to be sweet here.” You sighed and thrust the flowers out towards him. The light floral scent – previously masked by the cookies he had baked – finally hit him. Before you could give him the okay, Barbatos furrowed his brows and opened his eyes.

“Did you get me flowers?” His words were filtered through a grin. You nodded. Of course, he had expected as much, but the heat rushed to his cheeks at your confirmation. It had been a long while since he received flowers, and getting flowers from Luke and Diavolo – as sweet and precious as it was – elicited an entirely different feeling than the one that filled him now. Although there were traces of affection and gratitude in all three cases, only you could make his blood rush. He studied the flowers you held out for him, noting the combination of both blue-ish purple and pink blossoms, before slowly bringing his hands up to the bouquet, cupping over yours gently. “And where, my dear, did you get human world flowers – asters, I believe?”

“Sorcerer’s – well, apprentice’s – secret,” you teased, pulling your hands back. “How did you know what they were?”

“Oh, please don’t tell me Solomon was involved in their procurement.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Wonderful. That would ruin the mood,” Barbatos flashed you a smile – almost threatening with its undertones of envy. “And as for how I know that: the Royal library is vast. We have a good number of books on human world horticulture. But perhaps you could give me a brief floriography lesson.”

“You don’t know?” A part of you was shocked – as it often seemed that Barbatos knew everything.

“I could fathom a guess, but it would be far less accurate than hearing the words directly from your lips.” Barbatos held the bouquet in one hand, using his free hand to pull you closer by the waist. He leaned into your ear and whispered, “Now, please enlighten me.”

“Asters are associated with traits that remind me of you: patience, elegance, and wisdom. The purple asters represent that wisdom – as well as your grace, nobility, and mysterious beauty. The pink ones are for your sensitivity and kindness. You’re always serving others and thinking about them, and you’re so sweet to me. Of course, pink is also a symbol of love – lest you forget how much I adore you.”

“Oh my.” Barbatos lowered his eyes, flushing a pale pink. “You’re too kind, MC.”

“You asked me to enlighten you.” You pressed your lips sweetly, albeit momentarily, to his. “Now you know.”

“Close your eyes,” Barbatos whispered. Feeling you owed him the same trust, you shut your eyes. “Now, open your mouth.”

Again, you did as he asked, only for him to bring one of his bite-sized, fresh-baked cookies up to your mouth. A delightful sweetness flooded your tongue. His fingers grazed your lips and lingered, waiting for you to swallow before swiping his thumb across you.

“It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, my dear. I’m afraid that will have to be a suitable reward for your kindness until I’m done here. Then, I’ll repay you properly.”

Luke

pink and yellow hibiscus

It had been raining in the Devildom for five full days, with another three days of rain ahead in the forecast. The slow shift from a gentle pitter-patter to a heavy pounding on the RAD windowpanes played in the background of each class you attended. This would be fine, if not for the fact that Luke’s gloomy face was haunting your mind. He had been sulking since the third day of rain. Even a happy, sweet little angel like Luke can’t keep his sunny disposition forever. He clearly missed going outside without the threat of damp clothes and discomfort. You had to do something – he was practically your adopted son.

“Luke,” you caught his attention at the end of class, “are you free tomorrow?"

“Yeah,” he admitted sadly, “there’s not much I can do in this weather.”

“Great! What do you say we have a picnic?”

“What? We can’t sit outside and eat when it’s raining like this! We’ll get sick. Besides, I think the parks are starting to flood.” Luke groaned quietly.

“Let’s have an indoor picnic, then. We could prepare some snacks together, lay a blanket down in the living room or maybe make a blanket fort, and play some games. What do you think?”

“That sounds like so much fun!” Luke perked up immediately – the first genuine smile he had had all day gracing his sweet face.

“I’ll meet you at Purgatory Hall at noon tomorrow, okay? I’ll pick up some fruit and ingredients for sandwiches or something – just let me know if there’s anything you’re craving.”

“Let me think about it after I check the pantry at Purgatory Hall, okay?”

“Of course.”

“I’m so excited!” Luke’s grin widened as dozens of snacking options crossed his mind.

Luke contacted you later that day with a short list of ingredients to make grilled cheese sandwiches and a few fruits – including an array of berries. You stopped by the market, which was pleasantly quiet, on your way over to grab everything, placing the grocery items in a large picnic basket you decided to bring along. Inside that basket was also a pitcher of cold brewed sweet hibiscus tea you prepared the night before and a bouquet of human world flowers you had magically crafted. You didn’t have time to pop up to the human world and purchase them, and you were certain you couldn’t obtain them at a florist here, so hopefully these would do.

Luke greeted you eagerly at the door and ushered you towards the kitchen. He had a bright smile on his face, and you were certain this was the closest thing to sunshine as the Devildom would ever know. You spotted a loaf of fluffy-looking bread on the counter, and Luke confessed happily, “I baked some milk bread before you came over, and we have a variety of delicious jams and spreads to go with it. We also have all the ingredients to bake cookies later if you’re up for it.”

“That sounds wonderful, Luke. You’re so sweet.” You began to pull the ingredients out of the basket, careful to keep the bouquet tucked away. “I have a surprise for you. Have you ever tried hibiscus iced tea? It’s made from human world flowers.”

“I don’t think so.” With that, you pulled the pitcher out of the basket, revealing a bright red liquid. Luke was enamored. “It looks so pretty! Can we try it right now? I’ll get some glasses and ice.”

Luke’s smiling face as he took his first sip told you everything you needed to know. He loved it.

The two of you set up your blanket fort – complete with multiple comfy pillows – in the living room before preparing your grilled cheese sandwiches and a platter of fruit, spreads, and the bread Luke made earlier. Luke brought a few games into the fort while you brought the tea and the basket. With everything in place, you were ready.

“Actually, Luke, I have one more surprise for you.” You reached into the basket and pulled out the bouquet: a mix of hibiscus flowers – some a bright yellow and others a soft pink. Luckily, it was still in pristine condition.

“For me? These are the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen!” Luke brought his hands up to his mouth. “What are they?”

“These are hibiscus. I couldn’t get them from the human world, so I had to recreate them with magic, but I wanted you to have them,” you admitted, handing the bouquet over so he could inspect them further. “The pink ones symbolize friendship and platonic love while the yellow ones mean joy, happiness, and sunshine – which I felt like you needed more of recently.”

Luke’s smile faltered briefly before resolving itself. He hugged the flowers close to him. “Thank you. You’re right, I think I did need this. If you ever want to become an angel, I think you’d make a great one.”

Simeon

(Original game lesson 76 spoilers)

red and white variegated tulip

Simeon wouldn’t tell you how he had convinced everyone to let the two of you go on a weekend trip to the human world together – and he had no plans to, either. Perhaps the others felt bad about Simeon losing his angel’s blessing; if anyone could cleverly use guilt to get his way, it would be Simeon. Then again, who knew what tactics Simeon had in that mind of his – what he could stoop to. He was a human now, and that offered him an excuse to be devious; there was no need to feign innocence when he wasn’t held to an angel’s standard. Simeon would do a lot for you, and perhaps it was best that you were not made aware of every detail of his schemes.

Still, he had gone through the trouble of planning everything. The first day was delightful; Simeon led you through a beautiful town, packing as many fun activities into your time together as he could. He even booked a nice hotel room beforehand that “incidentally” only had one bed. You wanted to thank him somehow.

So, you forced yourself to wake up early, crawling out of bed quietly to avoid disturbing Simeon. During your previous outing, you noticed a flower market, along with several bakeries and cafés. It wasn’t much, but breakfast and flowers seemed like a good start to show him your gratitude. Besides, this was a rare opportunity to spoil him a bit.

It was still early by the time you returned to your hotel room – flowers, coffee, and an assortment of pastries in hand. Luckily, Simeon was still peacefully asleep. You worked quickly, rearranging the flowers in a nice vase that you were fortunate enough to find at the market and plating the pastries. Some – a huffy, grumpy old demon, for example – would probably frown at your use of magic to summon up some decent serveware, but with Solomon as your teacher, you figured you had every right to use magic frivolously. You had just finished up by the time Simeon began to stir, letting out the softest little moan.

The sweet combination of smells filled his senses – although he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. It could have been a café nearby for all he knew. Simeon stretched his arms out to the empty side of the bed, and upon feeling your absence, he decided to open one eye and investigate.

“Morning,” you greeted him.

“Why did you get out of bed?” He sat up with a yawn.

“I wanted to thank you, so, ta-da.” You brought a tray to the bed and set it next to him. Simeon’s eyes, still adjusting to the morning light, looked over the hot coffee, pastries, and a vase of red and white variegated tulips. A smile slowly formed on his lips.

“Just how long did you leave me alone in bed?” Simeon chuckled. “Thank you, MC. This is so sweet.”

“You deserve it.” You brushed his hair aside to kiss his forehead. “Did you know that variegated tulips mean beautiful eyes? They’re ideal for giving to someone you admire – although admire isn’t nearly strong enough to describe my feelings for you.”

Simeon’s face warmed, and he nervously took a sip of his coffee to calm his desires. The drink was perfect, as if you had thought about him in every detail. It only made his heart race more. He set the cup down. “Tell me more.”

“About the flowers – or are you asking me to praise you more?” you teased.

“Either sounds nice. Just kidding, you can tell me about the flowers.” Simeon was quick to retreat from asking for praise.

“The flowers first, then. Well, the florist – farmer? The person selling the flowers told me that these are called Grand Perfection Tulips. They start out a light yellow and turn white as they mature, but the red streaks stay the same vibrant color throughout. I wanted to get the mature ones because I wanted to convey the meaning of both red and white tulips. Red tulips are probably easy to guess the meaning of, right? They represent love, devotion, sacrifice, and lust.” Your voice dropped at the last word, and Simeon nearly choked on the pastry he had bitten into. You continued, “But white symbolizes purity and new beginnings. They’re also used to tell someone ‘I’m sorry.’”

Simeon caught the shame in your voice and stared at you, confused. “What do you have to apologize for?”

“It’s at least partially my fault that you’re a human now.” Your heart sat heavy in your chest and the weight of your words anchored Simeon to the bed. “You sacrificed a lot, and now you’re living this new life, and it’s not fair that you were punished for protecting the people you care about. All I can do is tell you that I’m sorry, and I love you, and thank you.”

“No.” Simeon’s voice was unusually stern – as was the look on his face. He moved the tray onto the bedside dresser and pat his lap. “Sit on the bed with me.”

You took a seat at the edge of the bed, but Simeon shook his head and grabbed your hand, pulling it to his side.

“Closer,” he insisted. You took the hint and climbed over his lap. He stared at you affectionately, his fingers dancing up your sides. “Better. Now, listen closely: I don’t blame you. Even if I had to fall as far as becoming a demon, I would – and I’d do it just for your sake. You don’t have to apologize for the actions I chose to take.”

“But –”

“Don’t feel bad, or I’ll be tempted to take advantage of you and be greedy,” Simeon admitted. “I’ll ask you to stay by my side forever and love me more.”

“I can do that,” you whispered, trying to digest your guilt.

“Then don’t say you’re sorry. I’m okay with living as a human alongside you. Now,” Simeon gently rolled over with you in his arms until he was on top of you, “while I appreciate your precious gesture of breakfast in bed, I have something different in mind. Can I?”

Solomon

black poinsettia (Devildom) and red poinsettia (human realm)

You were finding it hard to focus on Solomon’s lessons. Between his lingering gazes, the sly way his body pressed to yours as he glanced over your work, and the anticipation of the surprise you had planned for him, you could barely maintain your composure.

“What’s on your mind, my sweet apprentice?” Solomon picked up on your tension. “Am I distracting you?”

“Not exactly.” Solomon pouted slightly at your response and clapped his book shut in his hands. “I’ve been working on a new spell in secret. I think I’ve got it now. Can I show you?”

Solomon burst out in melodic laughter. “How studious of you. Of course. Show me what you’ve got.”

You had practiced this nearly a dozen times before in preparation; you could do this. All you had to do was take a deep breath and concentrate your magic into your hands. With a flourish, you summoned a large bouquet of black and red poinsettias and held them out for Solomon. Bowing slightly, you added, “for my adorable teacher.”

Solomon’s cheeks flushed pink, but by the time you looked up to gauge his reaction, Solomon’s surprise had melted into a tender smile. He chuckled and reached over the bouquet to pat your head. “That’s certainly something. Good job.”

“I chose these flowers specifically for you.”

“Oh?” A faint pink glow reappeared on Solomon’s cheeks. He wasn’t certain you had put any thought behind the flowers you summoned; knowing that they were chosen with intent warmed his face and made his heart ache. Suddenly, he recalled the bouquet of black and red roses he had given you. Barbatos had once told Solomon that black poinsettias – native to the Devildom – had a special meaning for couples, but despite poinsettias being his birth month flower, Solomon didn’t know much about their symbolism. The question on his lips fell out shyly, “What do they mean?”

“Black poinsettias represent the bond between two people. Red poinsettias are associated with cheer, rebirth, and good wishes – but, more importantly, with love, passion, and strength. I think that reflects our bond, don’t you?” You smiled at him softly. “And there’s something else: I wanted to combine flowers from the Devildom and the human world. It’s because Diavolo decided to try to bring the human realm and the Devildom together that I was able to meet you, and I’ll always be grateful and happy about the new life I have here – with you.”

“My adorable apprentice, you’ve outdone yourself,” Solomon praised you. He took the bouquet in one hand, removing it from the space between you, and pulled you close until your noses nearly touched. He dropped his voice to a seductive whisper, “I’ve never witnessed such a powerful seduction spell.”

“It wasn’t a seduction spell.”

“Then why am I so enamored with you right now? I can hardly contain myself.” Solomon crashed his lips against yours with overwhelming neediness. The kiss grew heated quickly, and you were both left panting by the time he pulled away. “Let’s conclude your studies early today. I think I need to spend the rest of the night studying you, instead.”

Thirteen

pink spider lily

“Thanks again for treating me today – you really didn’t have to.” You squeezed Thirteen’s hand as you walked together towards her cave.

“Well, you deserved a little reward for agreeing to meet me at Café Lament. It was a last-minute invitation, and I’m just happy you were able to join me. I think their new dark hell mocha pudding parfait tasted better because I got to eat it with you.” She bumped her shoulder against yours casually. A faint vanilla scent hit you; how did someone so involved with death smell this good?

“I didn’t expect them to top it with bufo eggs. I liked it, though.”

“Right?”

Part of the reason you had so readily agreed to accompany Thirteen – other than wanting to spend time with her – was because it gave you the opportunity to surprise her. As someone so often involved with setting up traps and tricking people, you figured she’d appreciate an unexpected present. All you had to do was get her out of her room for a bit.

Just before your date – when you knew she had already left – you used a bit of magic to leave flowers on Thirteen’s bedside table. She was far enough away to not sense your magical delivery, too, so by the time she arrived home, a small present would be waiting for her. Of course, you could have summoned them while she was at RAD, but you wanted to see her reaction, and there was a good chance Thirteen would invite you back home with her after your date. Besides, leaving school with her was likely to draw the attention of at least one of the brothers, and neither of you would have any peace if that occurred.

As Thirteen led you to her bedroom, anticipation grew in the pit of your stomach. You were excited to see the look on her face. When she opened her door, the faint remnants of your magic lingered, but her focus was concentrated on you. She dragged you into her room, walking backwards until you both crossed the threshold. Thirteen let go of your hands, wrapped her arms around your neck, and kissed you tenderly. Lips still locked on yours, she shut the door behind you and pressed your back gently against it. Your hands landed on her hips. A soft sigh left her as she pulled away.

“I was looking forward to that,” she admitted. The light floral scent and your magic finally got through to her, and Thirteen turned in your hands. She was startled by the appearance of a vase of pink spider lilies next to her bed. Her brows furrowed and she looked back at you, a smile fighting its way through her attempt to find the right words. “Did you – when? What?”

“I did,” you started, coolly. “Right before our date, and they’re pink spider lilies – or resurrection lilies.”

“They’re beautiful, but are you trying to be funny, giving a reaper something called resurrection lilies?"

“No, of course not. While it’s true that the most common color for resurrection lilies is red; and they symbolize death, corpses, and blood; the pink ones don’t have those same associations. I don’t think of death when I think of you – not usually, anyway. The pink flowers represent beauty, love, passion, and desire.” You brought a hand up to caress her cheek. “And you, my love, are so beautiful and passionate. I love being around you – and I love you.”

“Well, how can I get upset over such a precious explanation?” Thirteen chuckled through her smile and left a soft kiss on your cheek. “What if you weren’t here when I found such a lovely gift?”

“I had a feeling you’d want to take me home with you – and if you didn’t, I would have told you about the flowers over the phone.”

“You’re a confident one, aren’t you?”

“Nah, I just know you like me.”

“Okay, smarty-pants.” Thirteen rolled her eyes playfully. “Then tell me this: what am I going to do now that I have you in my room?”

“I think we’re going to take this to the bed.”

“Such a smart human. No wonder I love you.”

Raphael

lavender

Raphael: I’m almost done mending your sweater. You can pick it up tomorrow if you want. I embroidered flowers along the hem of your sleeves where it tore. It will suit you, so I hope you like it.

Raphael offered to mend your sweater after he saw how upset you were over it tearing – especially since it had caught on a shelf while you were out shopping with him. He had been offering to do more sewing specifically for you recently, which made him all the more comfortable asking you to take off your clothes the second you got back to his room. You knew what he meant, but sometimes his straightforward approach flustered you. If it had been anyone else, you had no doubt that there would have been more sexual undertones. Although perhaps if Raphael wasn’t so concerned about your disappointment at ripping your sleeve, he might have thought to add another meaning to his words. But alas, he was solely focused on mending an item you clearly cherished.

You appreciated the gesture, and you knew you would only adore the sweatshirt more now that he had helped to fix it. Raphael could be quite sweet when you gave him the opportunity – and, if you weren’t mistaken, he seemed to have only become kinder after coming to the Devildom. You weren’t certain how much he would appreciate the gesture, but you wanted to get him flowers.

The following morning, before you left for Purgatory Hall, you read over the spell you had found in a book Satan was nice enough to lend you. All you needed were a few herbs, your magic, and a Devildom equivalent of the human world flower you wanted to recreate. You stopped by a florist – one Raphael had taken you to before – to get the last ingredient for your spell.

The demon working the shop looked up from the counter, a wicked recognition in his eyes. “Aye, if it ain’t the little human again. Been a while. Your angel cut ya loose? Or maybe you got a taste for demons now, hm?”

“Have we met?”

“Why I –” he huffed, releasing his anger, “y’know, I guess we didn’t get a chance to meet last time, cuteness. I’m Stolas, and you are?”

You gave the aggressively friendly demon your name. “I’m sorry, but I’m in a bit of a rush today. I have to go see ‘my angel’ soon. Do you happen to have any acid lavender in stock?”

“Shame,” he sighed. “But yes. Right over there.”

Stolas motioned towards an aisle with his head, and your eyes followed. There was a small selection next to some filler plants – what you assumed constituted Devildom “greenery.” You picked out a pretty, fragrant bunch and returned to the counter with your wallet in hand. “How much for this one?”

“Tell ya what, you show that sweet little face ‘round here more often an’ I’ll letcha have ‘em for free.” Stolas leaned over the counter and gave you a wink.

“I’d feel better if I paid. You’re running a business, after all.”

“For you, 100 Grimm.” He wrapped your flowers up nicely and handed them back to you. “See ya ‘round, MC. Tell your little angel I said hi, would ya?”

You nodded, with no intention of following through on that. On your walk to Purgatory Hall, you performed the spell, and by the time you arrived, you had a bouquet of human realm lavender in your hands.

Raphael was the one to greet you at the door, and you quickly hid the bouquet behind your back. He smiled at you softly. “Oh good, you’re here. Come with me.”

Raphael led you to his room. Now that you were alone, you pulled out the bouquet and presented it to him. His back was still turned as he walked to his desk and makeshift crafting table.

“Uhm, Raph, I hope you don’t mind, but I got you some flowers,” you admitted, still holding out the bouquet. He turned around immediately, surprise evident on his face. Your sweater was folded neatly in his hands.

“Me? What for?”

“To thank you. I’m really grateful – not just for the sweater, but for everything.”

Raphael inspected the flowers in your hand, slightly confused. They looked familiar, but not quite like any plant he had known. The color was off. Acid lavender was a deeper, darker shade of purple – almost black – while its counterpart in the celestial realm was a pastel blue. However, the pleasant aroma was quite similar. “Is this human lavender?”

“Yes. Although I had to use magic to get this from acid lavender. I think lavender suits you.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because lavender is associated with purity, silence, and calmness. It represents personal growth, and,” you paused, inching closer to him, “it’s a symbol of love and devotion.”

Raphael made no efforts to hide his smile. He unfolded your sweater to reveal leaves embroidered with pastel blue lavender flowers. “What a pleasant coincidence.”

Your lips parted in astonishment. Not only was it a coincidence, but Raphael had done a beautiful job repairing your clothes. He handed you the sweater and took the bouquet in his hands. The only ones who had ever given him flowers were Luke and Michael – and the latter case usually annoyed him more than it delighted him.

“Thank you, Raph. This is lovely.” You clutched the sweater close to your chest. Raphael shook his head, setting the lavender down carefully on the nearby table.

“I don’t know if these flowers suit me. They smell nice, and I appreciate them, but if you’re going to be so nice to me,” Raphael paused to pull you in, flush against his body, “neither of us are going to be pure or silent. . . just teasing.”

You waited for him to let go, indicating that he was, indeed, teasing, but his grip remained firm. “Are you?”

“Would you like me to tease you?”

He was impossible.

Mephistopheles

red wallflower

You knocked politely on the door to the RAD Newspaper Club room. It was getting late and the only students you had run into were those who had stayed behind after club activities to chat or do who-knows-what. Mephisto, shouted from the other side of the door. “Come in but make it quick.”

“Serun told me you were going to be here late.” You walked in and set the overly sweet pastry you had bought on Mephisto’s desk, still hiding a bouquet of flowers behind your back. “I figured some sugar might perk you up.”

“Oh, MC, I thought you might be a club member.” He added that to strike his comment about making it quick from the record. If it was you, he didn’t mind a bit of company. Mephisto glanced up at your face quickly before returning his gaze to the stack of articles he needed to edit. “First, why would Serun tell you if I’m staying late? And second, was that last part supposed to be a euphemism? Should I push my chair back?”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “They told me because it’s apparent that I’ve taken an unfortunate liking to you, and someone has to keep an eye on you.”

“Then the sugar?” Mephisto questioned you, flipping the page. You laughed again, which bothered him. “What?”

You pushed the pastry closer to him until it entered his line of sight. The soft “oh” from his lips made you chuckle. “Oh, you are so cute when you’re serious.”

“Get out,” Mephisto scoffed to distract from his warm cheeks and his desire to smile.

“Aw, are you grumpy? I’ll leave, but I have a gift for you first. Look up from your work for one minute, please?” You sweetened your tone to entice him further, but you couldn’t miss the exaggerated roll of his eyes. He set his pen down and gave you his full attention. “Good boy.”

“I will bite – I mean fight you.” Mephisto’s heart raced.

That exasperated look on his face melted as you pulled out a bouquet of deep red wallflowers in a smooth black vase and set them on his desk – out of the way of his paperwork. It wasn’t easy obtaining them, but you wanted to do something nice for Mephisto beyond your usual small gifts and kind words. He chewed on his lower lip to hide the threat of a smile.

“What are these for?” he asked.

“I wanted you to feel loved,” you confessed.

Mephisto let out a soft, affectionate groan. “I don’t recognize these flowers. What are they?”

“They’re from the human world – wallflowers. They represent faithfulness in adversity, and resilience. Red ones, specifically, signify love. It makes me think of you. I really admire your unwavering loyalty to Diavolo – I mean, you’re here now, this late, because you want to support him. I want to give you my loyalty, too – romantically.”

“I –” Mephisto took a second to gather his words. “I’m going to be another hour or two here tonight. You should take a nap on the couch while I finish up. I’ll take you home when I’m done.”

“I’d much rather stay up with you, but if you’re busy, I can go home now,” you offered, slightly disappointed. There was a silver lining, at least. “I’ll see you tomorrow, anyway.”

“Oh, you misunderstood. I’m taking you home with me. And I want you to get some rest because I’ll be keeping you awake all night.” He smirked and got out of his seat to usher you towards the couch. Mephisto laid you down sweetly, smoothing his hand over your hair before walking back to his desk. He cleared his throat, trying to force his feelings up to the surface. “And MC, thank you. I – I haven’t felt this cherished in a while. I love you, too.”

This was a bad idea, he thought. How was he going to concentrate when your precious sleeping face was right across the room? Once you fell asleep, he was determined to get a picture – or ten.

(If there's no link, that character is coming soon-ish)

A/N: Happy (possibly be-lated) Valentine's Day. I hope even though it's late, this one fills y'all with love. If you're single or something, then you automatically have my love now (unless you don't want it). Also, we are never going to talk about how long I spent on this, okay? Okay.

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xylomane · 1 year

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𝙎𝙤... 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚...

Ft. Diluc Ragnvindr Context: You're bored after he left for work and he called you somewhere at night to ask if you want anything from the malls since he just so happened to stop by one. Teasingly and craving for naught, you ask him to buy you a lingerie. You wonder just what kind he'll pick. Does he even know those...?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Ｄｉｌｕｃ

"Huh? what's wrong? It's just a lingerie, you're the one with a problem not me." You say nonchalantly through the phone. "B-but listen, okay? I'm not good at this and even if I am-" You dropped the call, not even motivated to listen to anymore of his stammers. He's cute but still. It's been fifteen minutes since you requested him for a lingerie and he's still not convinced to agree? How will you know his favorites now?You can't wait another day. You needed to know his preferences.

Diluc knew to himself that he really didn't mean to disappoint. He just... never saw himself suitable for these kinds of things. He is a gentleman of course, with a name and a status to protect. He can't just show up in a lingerie store and attract some attention, his sex life would be questioned if somebody were to recognize him. (Diluc is famously known as the son of the founder of the most successful wine company in the entire world)

Diluc, knowing himself as a pleaser, didn't want to disappoint you any further so he sends you a text to assure you that he'll make it happen: "I'm sorry darling, I promise I'll get you one. I hope it is to your liking." The moment he hits the 'send' button, he rubs his face and sighs.

Diluc goes straight back inside his black car to drive to one of his most trusted tailors. He has given them many commisions regarding clothing before, and they always come out stunning. He let himself relax over the cushioned seat of his car, picturing whatever kind of reaction you'll have on your face until he arrived at the pavement before the tailor's building.

Diluc tried. He really did. He declined the offer for a designer because he wanted the lingerie designed only by him. If he were to still get a designer for it, it might take a day or two before it gets finished. Plus... it's a little... embarrassing. Diluc gets uneasy just by thinking about it.

Diluc needed it done by midnight and it's currently 10:00pm. He knew he needed to hurry but now that he himself, being known to always have a phrase ready on any occasion, had been explaining for about half an hour to a tailor that felt like he was suddenly speaking gibberish, there's no doubt that the chances of making the lingerie might be delayed.

Finally, the tailor sighed at him, exasperated with all the mind work to understand his stammers. She simply told him, "Paper and pencil. Show me when ready." And she hands him two objects that made Diluc's confidence stutter.

Diluc stares at the paper and he feels his cheeks burn with shame. It felt like his confidence just depleted. He knows full well she's just as stressed as he is because, hearing himself, the conversation did not make any sense. But was it really that bad...? Where the tailor even needed visual aid FROM HIM because he sucked at explaining what he wanted? Diluc isn't one to drown himself in shame anymore, so to save face for himself, he actually got to work.

The tailor had been observing the young man behind the rims of her eyeglasses and goodness- she can tell this man is holding back. At some point, as she stuck different pins on a gown of her own design, she contemplated whether she'd rather ask him what he would like to see on a woman in bed or why he wants to see that on a woman in bed. In the end, she waves the thoughts way. None of her business.

Diluc started drawing, straps and laces here and there... rose patterns? Not bad. Is the crotch area too thin? He asks himself then resorts to erasing the entire sketch of the bottom garment away. Is the fabric transparent? Diluc's eyebrows point down. But... that's a little too... he felt his hands reach to cuddle his length, goodness how is he supposed to-

Diluc really wanted something, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable so he kept holding himself back and doubting each design. Even when Diluc's head spiraled with ideas, he didn't know which one of these ideas intrigue you the most.

At this point, Diluc doesn't really know where to begin with anymore, his tried everything and it's almost been an hour. He didn't want to delay the lingerie any longer so he just followed his heart in the process. Ok... ribbons. Ribbons? Is that too weird on a lingerie? Surely not. Red lace ribbons? There? Yes, his mind liked those. Attached on what color though? Maybe something baby pink or peach. He needed them in two pieces of course.

Finally, he folded the paper unequally to four, stuffed it in his pocket, and then reached for the tailor to whom he finally said the design to. He didn't hold himself back this time and openly told her of how he wanted the lingerie to look. He wasn't planning to show it, but ended up showing it anyway.

"Good thing you got it done..." The tailor told him, letting out a sigh of relief as she placed measurements on a mannequin. "You sure have grown Master Diluc."

Diluc froze at that phrase. She's not lying nor is she wrong. All Diluc really wanted to feel was the lust in the look of you... breedable and inexperienced before him but of course he can't say that so he realized that after all these thoughts, he cannot talk back. He can't. Like, really. It made him feel so awkward that he had to think of an excuse to get out of the establishment. "I'll wait by the car." He excuses, "Just call me when it's ready. Make sure it's done before midnight." And they assure him that it is to be done quickly for the fabrics have already been chosen for the lingerie.

The tailor throws him one last curious stare behind her eyeglasses and then brings her hand to sew and get back to work while musing the unexpected request. (Last Christmas, Diluc asked the tailor to make a dress for you so she already knows your size)

When Diluc got into his car, he brought both his gloved hands to his face. What. A. Night. He didn't know it was THAT hard to think of a lingerie for you. All those thinking of how you would look on those or how it might terrify you really took a toll on him. He can't disappoint you. He mustn't.

Five minutes of breathing exercises and he would soon realize how less embarassing it actually is. Now that he thinks about it, you probably asked him to buy you a lingerie to see what he wants... if that's the case... then he didn't regret his final design. So long as the lingerie compliments your body and keeps you confident in bed he can just-

Diluc felt himself slightly aroused on his seat. He needed to get home. He opened his phone screen and it greets him with the current time: 11:17pm. Suddenly, there was a knock on his car window. Fortunately, it was the tailor's assistant, telling him to go see the finished product inside. He follows the man towards the establishment and when he does see it, he calmly accepts it.

Diluc got home at around 11:40pm and you were already laying asleep on the bed. Laughingly though, your fingers are way too close to your undergarments and Diluc can't help but muster a chuckle upon seeing you so innocently sleeping after maybe, pleasuring yourself. When he wakes you up, you realize you had accidentally fallen asleep after-

You tried to explain to him, throwing lies upon another lie, until Diluc shows you the custom-made lingerie he prepared for you. Your face burned red as he threw them on your hands. "Wear it." He tells you, "See for yourself." His voice is slightly gruff and yet it is calm and soft. You put it on inside the bathroom and... it had you speechless. The theme is cute but so... revealing. Is Diluc really... into this? The good boy, easily flustered, reserved Diluc you know? Shyly and awkwardly, you walk out of the bathroom.

"Everything is see through..." You mumble and Diluc trails his lips just on your neck to whisper, "You asked for my preferences, didn't you?" His voice was rough with warm heavy breaths tickling your skin. His hands reach to touch the back of your waist and pull you closer.

That night, Diluc was rough but aftercare was still done on both of you. (am legit blushing like a slut here lmfaooo)

Kazuha ver. here

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc imagines #genshin impact diluc #diluc x fem!reader #diluc headcanons #diluc au #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n

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istoleyoursk1n · 4 months

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How would the companions react to a Tiefling!Tav who, after the first meeting with everyone's favorite cambion, reveals that Raphael is their father?

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a Tiefling!Tav who’s actually the child of Raphael

(Note that their kind of written in a way where in this is how I think they might initially react to such a confession. If you want one where the Tav don't associate themselves at all with Raphael or even despises their father then do tell me cause they’d have an entirely different reaction.)

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Let’s get this straight, Shadowheart’s a Sharran, Gale is a ticking time bomb, Wyll has ties with a literal devil, and by the gods- you're a damn child of one! Are there any other secrets I should know about in this bloody party?!”

Genuinely shocked at first but perhaps he should have seen it coming knowing that everyone in their weirdo batch always seems to be hiding some dark secret.

Would have probably assumed that you must have the same demonic abilities as your father! Why exhaust everyone when you exist? Can't you just ‘mAgiC’ the enemies away?

No, it doesn't work like that? Well shit.

Truth be told, he isn't actually bothered by it. As long as you are on his side and you aren't planning on burning him to a crisp then why should he care that your father’s Raphael?

Just as long as you aren't as obnoxiously theatrical as the damn bastard. His patience is always being tested each time that damn devil talks in rhymes.

Perhaps he may even ask for your assistance rather than Raphael’s in regards to his scars as he’d trust you over that man any day.

He doesn't even have to make some sketchy deal with you. You’re just a kind enough soul to offer your aid despite how darkened your heart may or may not be.

Though truly, he would never judge you for being affiliated with such a man. Whether you want to associate yourself with your father or not is entirely up to you, he’d support you either way.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“You?! The child of Raphael?! Why, I never thought such a histrionic fiend would even consider having an offspring. No offense to you, of course. Besides, I’m certain you’re better than that conniving devil if I do say so myself.”

Utterly baffled.

He knew that Tiefling’s had ancestral origins leading all the way to devils but he never thought that it was inherently possible for a tiefling in this day and age to be a child of one!

Good luck because this man now has hundreds of different questions, half of which you probably don't know the answer too either.

Though he will be a tad bit skeptical of you for a while, especially if he doesn't know you all too well. Being associated with the devil is a big deal and who knows what type of cunning scheme you may be plotting.

Soon enough, his own growing curiosity will overtake his skepticism. He’d rather understand and learn more about you then completely shun you away.

“How did you come to be?” or “What are the various powers you have inherited?” are some of the many questions he’d be throwing at you. Note that some anatomical questions may grow a tad bit awkward if you don't tell him.

He’d grow far more enamored by you the more he gets to learn about you and devil culture as darkening as such knowledge could be. Suddenly he has one person who could tell him all about the hells!

He’d have a newfound understanding of devils and people of your kind, his heart no longer caring any form of judgment towards you as long as you prove to be kind at heart.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“By balduran’s bones, you’re a devil?! One of them?! I should have seen this sooner. All this time I’ve been traveling with one of their children?! And to think I’ve let my blade go unsheathed around you.”

Unfortunately, the most distrustful one amongst the party the moment he finds out.

He's already having such a hard time with Mizora on his shoulder, what more if another devil joins the damn party? But to be fair, he’s been proven wrong time and time again.

Even so, you can tell that he's been avoiding you. Keeping his distance as he tries to process such information.

He doesn't even know how he can bring himself to trust you after what he's been through. He doesn't want to find himself being used as nothing more than a devil’s dog once more.

But after what happened to Karlach and soon enough his own transformation, he slowly begins to open himself up again. Albeit he is still quite wary.

It’ll start with him first asking others about you, trying to get a gist of whether or not you seem like a trustworthy person before finally confronting you with both a proper conversation and surprisingly an apology.

The world seems to be changing around him and if either of you is ever going to overcome this whole tadpole mess together then he should be able to place his past mindset aside in favor of forging stronger bonds.

Besides, who better than to help him overcome his own mild dysphoria with his new-found devil traits than a half-devil themselves?

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“He’s your dad?! Fucking hell, out of all the damned people that could have been your pops it just had to be that bloody bastard. Please tell me if you’re not like that pompous motherfucker? I like you too much to hate you.”

She’s surprised and confused. It's honestly just a mess for her.

She wants to distrust you for being the child of a devil seeing as she's been tormented by them for such a long time but at the same time- you’re a friend.

She can't just cast aside everything you two built up together despite knowing this information.

Yet still, it's hard for her. Every time she sees you, she’ll think about those dreadful moments she’s spent in Avernus, fighting in the front lines of the blood wars against her will.

But she needs to be the bigger person. She can't immediately associate you with those heartless fiends who forced her to do terrible things. If anything she wants to believe you aren't like that at all.

She’ll give you a chance despite her reluctance, doing her damn best to not shun you despite how your mere presence does trigger some things for her.

Regardless, she moves on from her weariness soon enough in favor of treating you like an actual friend. A friend whom she wishes to make happy memories with.

Perhaps both of you are just misunderstood in your own ways, and if that's the case then she’d be more than willing to support you and cheer you on whenever the hell she can.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“And just when I thought this ‘unique’ little group of ours couldn't get more interesting. The child of a devil? I can't help but wonder what more you could be hiding. After all, apparently, this entire camp is known for locking away such sensitive little secrets.”

Startled but intrigued.

It seems that everyone in this damnable group has some sort of hidden secret. Though, she wouldn't have expected this.

You can tell she's weary around you now but she hardly brings it up. Why would she when the very words she speaks could be used against her?

She's already having a hard time trusting people, what more if the person she was slowly beginning to trust was in fact the child of a devil?

It's like starting all the way back at square one again, except at least you both know some information about each other.

She’d be trying to balance out the both good and bad about you in her head. Thinking of that one time you saved her but also the fact that you may just be doing that to manipulate her later on.

Her mind is utterly in shambles right now but perhaps remaining distant and reserved won't get you both anywhere. Even she can understand that she’d rather see you as an asset than a disturbance.

I’d like to believe that in the end, she does eventually move past her distrust against you. Especially after everything you've done for her. She welcomes your demonic origins with a smile and even teases you about it a little by asking to make a deal or two.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Chk. I will not be so foolish again to ever give an ounce of my time to your kind. You should have fled whilst you had the chance less you truly wish for my blade to dig right into your flesh.”

She just flat-out doesn't trust you. She even says it to your face.

She hardly even knew much about Tiefling's but knowing that you're a child of a devil? Now she just has more of a reason to not put her faith in you.

Probably even suggested eradicating you before you turned your back on everyone.

From what knowledge she has gathered, she sees devils as condescending, evil, manipulative, and cunning in both words and actions. She could only assume that such traits would pass on to their offspring.

It would take a lot for her to ever trust you again after that, if she even trusted you to begin with. She hasn't slept easy since.

Perhaps she even went to Karlach for assistance as to how one could possibly kill a child of a devil but surprisingly enough, Karlach wasn't on board with it.

If you can prove yourself once again to be worthy of her respect and trust, then she’ll finally begin to treat you with reverence.

Being more than what devils were made out to be and rising up as a far more honorable warrior than most would be just enough to finally get her back on your good side.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“That was quite the surprise. The child of Raphael himself in our midst and yet you appear to be no more than another one of the tiefling refugees. I truly hope that you aren't as sinister as most devils tend to be. I’d hate to see such a vibrant flower wilt from its own corruption.”

He’d be just as startled as the rest but he’s lived too long to start judging people by their origins.

He hasn't quite met someone, particularly of your kind (being that of a devil’s child.) but perhaps he has encountered people similar to such.

His weariness would hardly last seeing as he’d rather understand you as a person before immediately jumping to conclusions.

Besides, he doubts he’d be foolish enough to be led on by a devil, especially with the amount of experience he has. He’ll put his morality above his skepticism but know that once you show the few signs of true betrayal then he will act accordingly.

Nevertheless, he's actually the one who's trying to get others to understand you, even vouching for you at times when others are against you.

Who you are related to by blood should not define who you truly are as a person, devil or not. It's simply up to you to decide whether or not you want to be associated with such a diabolical lineage.

Regardless, he’d do his best not the judge you. He’ll see you as just another Tiefling more so than the child of a literal devil.

If the looming reminder of being the child of such a devil ever haunts you or disturbs you too badly, he’d always be there to be a shoulder to lean on. You’ll always be accepted by him.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 headcanon #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 wyll #bg3 karlach #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae’zel #bg3 halsin #astarion #wyll #gale #karlach #shadowheart #lae’zel #halsin

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