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safetypinxtales · 4 months

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Together with you | Azriel

(Lonely with you pt. 2)

summary: heart break sucks. Missing your friend sucks even more. It is mind-blowing what a little open communication can do.

words: 4.1k

warnings: angst with happy ending, terrible communication at parts (sorry), mention of alcohol consumption, fluff, just general misery, neutrally described reader/no reader description, no use of y/n, dumb idiots in love

notes: so this got a lot more angsty than first anticipated, but here it is! Not sure how I feel about it, I like some parts, not so sure about others - feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

part 1

Cold. Your bed was freezing cold. And empty.

Like lying on a frozen slab of stone, utterly alone and undeniably pathetic. Just as alone and pathetic as yesterday, when you woke up on the couch in the living room. No Azriel in sight. Like he wasn’t the one to practically beg you not to leave him alone, and then he went and did that exact thing to you.

It was humiliating. You were humiliated.

And that was why you had avoided him like he was contagious for all of yesterday, burying yourself in paperwork or hiding away in the library. But your plan was far from foolproof, you’d barely made it through yesterday without seeing him, so today had to be different. If being close to you was so shameful he had to sneak away before you had a chance to wake, you would simply remove yourself from the situation and spare yourself some Gods damned dignity.

You had already written to Mor, your excuse of needing to get away from the happily mated couple for a few nights only a half lie. You were in desperate need of a good night’s rest, however that was not the most pressing issue at hand. But there was no need for her to know that. Yet. She would find out eventually, she always did, and you would be stupid to expect otherwise.

Two hours past sunrise should mean that the Valkyrie training would be full and well underway, and thus it would be safe for you to make your escape. You got the things you’d need and made your way up the stairs to one of the smaller balconies overlooking the training ring. You knew you really shouldn’t, because what good would it do? But you had to. Just a quick glance. Quietly you moved towards the railing, scanning the people below.

There he was, a thing of graceful, terrifying beauty. He seemed to be demonstrating a movement with a training sword for some of the priestesses. He moved with such fluidity, wielding the sword in his hand as if it was an extension of himself. He was like death on swift feet. A fallen angel, a dark prince.

He was beautiful.

You must have accidentally made a sound, because his head shot up and his eyes zeroed in on you. Oh Gods. The intensity in his gaze, and the increasing pressure in your chest was too much. He didn’t want you.

You staggered back, one little step and you had winnowed yourself down to the city streets. This was good, you needed to get away. He left you alone. He drew back first. You knew all of this, so why did it hurt such an unreasonable amount?

You rubbed your chest in hopes of getting rid of the tightness that seemed to have moved in there since yesterday morning, and then you set course towards the one stop you had to make before getting to Mor’s.

It had been three days since you arrived at Mor’s apartment with a paper bag filled with the sweetest, sugar-powdered pastries your favourite bakery had to offer. It had taken you both approximately 20 minutes to devour them all, after which you no longer had anything to distract your friend from digging up the truth behind your visit.

You were in love with someone who did not harbour the same feelings towards you. And you desperately needed to get away from him, to save what remained of your heart.

You had cried, drank some wine, and then cried a little more. You went back to the bakery for more pastries the next day, and the cycle repeated.

The crisp, early-spring wind was a menace today as you were on your, now daily, pastry run. You were trying to stop your hair from whipping around like a being possessed, cursing up a storm, when you heard him call your name.

You froze to the spot, like his voice was some primal command. That insufferable tightness in your chest was as present as ever as you forced yourself to put on your brave face and turned towards him.

There he was, jogging towards you, his brow furrowed.

“Hey,” Azriel breathed as he came to a stop in front of you. His shadows swirled out in your direction, but retracted before they had a chance to reach you.

“Hi,” you mumbled back, suddenly finding the cobbled street very interesting.

He cleared his throat and took a step closer. You took one backwards. The cobblestone looks different here than in the alley by the bakery.

“I haven’t seen you in a while… you haven’t been home – at the House, I mean,” he coughed lightly. I wonder if it was made with, like, a different technique? Or maybe the stones are just differently shaped or something?

“Yeah, no, I’ve been staying with Mor for a bit.” It’s definitely mossier on the smaller streets, maybe that’s why? It just shifts the perspecti–

“Angel, please look at me.”

You didn’t want to, Gods you didn’t want to. But alas, you seemed to have no power when it came to Azriel.

Any other day, the worry swimming in those hazel eyes would have melted your heart. Today, it just hurt. “Did I do something? Is that why you… haven’t been around?”

You scoff, “No, you didn’t do anything, Azriel. It’s fine.”

“It’s obviously not fine! I haven’t seen you in days, and now you can barely look at me?” He exclaimed, exasperation clear in his voice. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped, or made you uncomfortable – but I miss my friend,” his hands twitched where they rested at his sides, shadows swirling around him with unease.

“Oh, please,” his brows furrowed further at the dry laugh that escaped you, “Are you being serious, Az? I fell asleep in your arms, after you pleaded with me to stay with you – and then I woke up alone.” His face fell. “How do you think that feels? I mean, you must know how I feel about you!” You cursed yourself for the way your voice quivered, and that damned burning feeling behind your eyes that you were so sick of.

“What– no, I didn’t– what do you–,” he stuttered. He actually stuttered. The spymaster of the Night court couldn’t even come up with an excuse for being an ass.

“Save it. I get it – you were lonely, we’ve all been there,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I have to go.”

You turned back in the direction of Mor’s apartment, pastries be damned. You just had to get away.

Azriel had other plans though. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, the cool wisps of shadows snaking up your forearm. You couldn’t help the way you recoiled from his touch, how it seemed to ignite every nerve in your arm.

“Wait–,”

“NO!” A sob wracked your body. “No, just leave me alone, Az. Can’t you tell that you’re hurting me?” His face twisted in time with your words, and tears pricked your eyes. “Being around you hurts!”

His shadows were whipping violently around him, but he was as still as death itself. Something like dread and confusion were clouding his eyes.

He called after you as you walked away. But he didn’t stop you, nor did he try to follow you. And you didn’t dare look over your shoulder, too scared you might run back and give him the rest of your heart, shattered as it may be. No, instead you carried the shards in your hands, tears rolling down your cheeks, one after the other.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to be okay.

The bedroom door creaked open, and you pulled the duvet further over your head.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Mor said in a sing-song voice. You weren’t sleeping.

“I’m not asleep,” you muttered, huffing loudly at the giggle that escaped her.

“Yeah, well, calling you a crybaby would be insensitive so I went for the next best thing.”

Her comment made the corners of your lips twitch, and you silently cursed her for always knowing how to cheer you up. You had gotten quite comfortable in your misery.

You pulled the covers down and looked over at where she stood. Your chest grew uncomfortably tight when you saw what was in her hands.

“Another one?” You asked and rolled over to face the window. You had forgotten how stubborn he was. Competitive bastard.

“Yes, and they just seem to get bigger and bigger. I like the daffodils in this one though, very spring-esque. The other ones didn’t have any daffodils,” she mused as she walked in and headed towards the far end of the room, most likely towards the dresser. It was the only surface area not currently taken up by a bouquet.

This was the sixth bouquet he’d sent. In three days. He had turned Mor’s guest room into a damn flower shop. Just being in a ten feet proximity of this room would have sent Cassian into a sneezing frenzy.

“Remember that time in Elain’s garden, when you told me daffodils were your mom’s favourite flower? That she called you her little daffodil when she carried you in her womb? They are very beautiful – just like you.

“Yours, Azriel.” Mor read the note before carefully putting it back with the flowers.

Every set of flowers had come with its own handwritten note. He had apologised in the first one, the rest told you he missed you, recalling memories of moments you’d shared. Each one ended with a heartfelt compliment, one that brought tears to your eyes every time, without fail.

Mor let out a slight sigh. “I am fully on your side here, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but… are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? I know you’re hurt, and you have every right to be, but… he’s a good male and he likes you – a lot.”

She’s right. You figured that out two days ago. But your pride was wounded, and your trust had been betrayed, and it stung.

However, somewhere along when the initial pain had started to diminish it had slowly but surely gotten replaced by the agony of missing him. Now you didn’t know what part of the pain came from what, you only knew that it hurt.

But Gods, you really did miss him – more and more by the minute. You missed him in your bones; your best friend, your partner in crime, the male you loved.

“Alright, you don’t have to say anything. I have to visit Rhysand to go over some work though, and I won’t be home until late tonight, probably. There is food and tea in the kitchen, or you can go down to the pub downstairs and ask them to make you something. Just… make sure to go there earlier in the evening to avoid drunken idiots, okay?” You rolled over to look at your friend, who once again proved herself to be way better than you deserved. You nodded.

“Thank you,” you whispered and her lips curved upwards in a soft smile.

“Of course, take care of yourself,” she said, that warm smile still intact as she made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her.

After dragging out your stay in bed a few more minutes, the thought of a warm cup of tea became too enticing to ignore. Chucking on a thick sweater you dragged your feet out of the bedroom.

Once in the kitchen, you put the kettle on the stove and went in search of some tea. Where was the one Mor made you yesterday? The one that felt like drinking a warm, spiced hug – you needed that one right now. You found it in one of the cupboards just in time for the water to start boiling. So you made your cup of tea, drizzled in a little bit of honey, and walked out to the living room. You had just put your tea down and made your way over to the wall of bookshelves to pick out a new story to escape into when there was a knock on the door.

The way your entire body froze, yet seemed to come alive at the same time, signalled you knew who it was. How your body and soul could possibly know it was Azriel on the other side of that door, you weren’t sure. But alas, as you crossed the living room towards the entryway and tugged the front door open, there he was.

He looked tired. His eyes seemed uncharacteristically old, his skin dull and the bags under his eyes were undeniable. Despite this he still managed to look as breath-taking as always.

Those tired eyes met yours, and you swore you felt time stop. He was here. Your Azriel.

Except he wasn’t yours, was he? A truth that only stung worse when your name fell from his lips. But seeing him here, like this… you could live with never having him, you thought. As long as he was in your life, if only as a friend.

That’s why you breathed out a “hi,”, and opened the door wider, a silent invitation to step inside. His shoulders sagged in relief as he stepped over the threshold.

“Hey,” Azriel whispered on a shaky breath, as you closed the door behind him. You stood in silence for a minute, neither of you apparently knowing what to say.

Azriel was the first to break the silence, “so, uh– did you get the…”. Bouquets is what he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to.

“Yeah, yeah I did,” you mumbled, never really meeting his eyes. “Pretty.”

“Yeah? Okay,” you could see him nodding out of the corner of your eye. “Good.”

You raised your gaze to meet his, and your heart clenched. You just wanted things back to the way they were, you wanted your friend back. Because standing here in front of him, not knowing what to say was awful. So you did the only thing you could think of…

“I miss you.” Your voice wavered more than you’d ever care to admit, but there it was – the truth.

Azriel’s shoulders visibly shuddered at your confession. “Oh, angel,” it was your time to shudder. “I’ve missed you too, so much. I’m so sorry,” his eyes glazed over as he continued, “but please believe me when I say that I did not know – about how you felt. And maybe that makes me stupid, and blind, and oblivious–”

“No,” you interrupted him, “you’re not any of those things, Az.” His deprecating words wounded you so deeply, a heavy sadness filling your chest.

“I should have known. I never would have– I wouldn’t have been such a coward if I knew.” You swore you heard the remnants of your heart crack.

“Azzy…” You stepped towards him and reached up to cradle his face in your hands. His own hands flew up to your wrist and you prepared for him to reject your touch.

Only he didn’t.

Instead he gently held your hands in place and leaned into your touch in a manner so tender your breath hitched in your throat. His thumbs swiped across the backs of your wrists.

“I’m sorry, I got all up in my head and I–,” you didn’t let him finish.

“It’s okay Azriel, I forgive you.” His posture straightened a little as you continued, “I’m sorry too.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, and before you could even register it happening, Azriel had pulled you into a hug. He wrapped an arm around your waist, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he held you against his chest. He was so warm, and comfortable, and safe, and one tear became two, became three. All the while, Azriel held you, wings enveloping you in a cocoon as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair.

After what felt like hours, but was merely just minutes, Azriel dropped his wings from around you and as you felt his arms ease their hold on you, you took half a step back. His hand that had cradled the back of your head now cupped your cheek, the other came to rest on your hip.

You dried your tears, ungracefully wiping snot from your nose, and you once again lifted your head in search of those hazel eyes you had grown so in love with. And as your gazes locked – that’s when you felt it.

Like the snap of a bowstring, dead center in the middle of your chest, that glowing, golden thread locked into place – forever connecting your soul with the male across from you.

The impact was so intense you staggered back, knocking into the end table behind you. Your hand flew up to your chest, fingers clutching the fabric of your sweater as you tried to make sense of what just happened.

Azriel is your mate.

Does he know? Does he even want you? A thousand thoughts swarmed your head, but they were all overpowered by one: mate. He was your mate.

Azriel stood, one arm still partially outstretched, eyes wide and brow furrowed. Something like bewilderment filled you to an overwhelming degree, and it took you a moment to realise that the feelings did not belong to you. They were all Azriel, unable to keep his emotions from bleeding across the bond to you.

“You’re my–,” you stuttered.

“Yes,” he breathed in response.

“I– I’m your–”

“Yes,”

“You knew?” His eyes shuttered at your question.

“Yes,”

You had to sit down.

You wobbled over to the couch and dropped down. You didn’t even realise he’d followed you until you felt the seat dip beside you.

He seemed to realise words were not something currently in your possession, and took it upon himself to start to explain.

“You were sleeping, had been for probably an hour at least, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I have–,” he swallowed and his whole body shook as he professed his next words. “I have been in love with you since the moment I saw you. When Rhysand introduced you to everyone and you were trying to sneak glances at all of us, thinking you were being discreet. You weren’t – quite the opposite actually.” You turned your head to look at him. One of those rare smiles decorated his face as he recalled the memory. “I think everyone noticed, but no one said anything. They were all probably as smitten by you as I was. Not only were you so adorable, you were the most divine female I had ever seen. Your eyes shone so brightly, and you radiated such calmness, such security – like every problem that had ever been wasn’t so bad after all. Like everything was always going to be fine, as long as you were around. You looked heavenly. Like an angel.” He whispered the last part and as his eyes met yours you sucked in a breath at the emotion swimming in them.

Angel. His dedicated pet name for you. What he had been calling you, and only you, since that very first day. Not only were you the only person with that specific pet name – you were the only one of Azriel’s friend to even have a pet name, you realised. Sure, he referred to Rhysand and Cassian as his brothers. But you were his angel.

“You love me?” You croaked, fresh tears filling your eyes.

“Yes, I do.” You hiccupped, face twisting as your chest filled to the brim with so many emotions you could not possibly name them all. He took your hands in his, and gave them a light squeeze as he continued, “When we were on that couch I was just… watching you. Holding you. Realising how perfectly you fit in my arms, when you moved. You snuggled deeper into my chest, like being close to me was an instinctual need, and then you sighed, and you smiled in your sleep – and I couldn’t breathe,” he took a deep breath, “that’s when the bond snapped.” You wanted to reach out and smooth out that crease between his eyebrows. Instead you just moved closer to him, pressed yourself into his side, and when he looked down at you, you gave it your best at pushing some of that endless love you held for him down that glittering bond.

A sharp exhale left his parted lips and he gave your still entwined hands another squeeze. When he looked at you his cheeks were tinged with pink, the tips of his ears flushed.

He loved you.

He was your mate and he loved you.

“I was so shocked. Why would it snap now and not earlier?” He shook his head, his eyes not once leaving yours. “Then I started to… doubt myself,” his brows furrowed deeper, “what if you didn’t want me? I didn’t even know if you knew. Knew and… and decided you didn’t want to be with me. The Gods know I don’t deserve you.”

You couldn’t help the broken whimper that escaped you as you listened to this wonderful male voice how lowly he thought of himself.

“Don’t say that Azriel,” you croaked, your voice thick from crying. “I love you so much. I look at you and my heart fills to a point where I genuinely think it might burst,” you coughed out an attempt at a laugh. “You are a good male, and I could not imagine a greater honour than the Mother choosing you as my mate.”

A single tear rolled down Azriel’s cheek at your confession. You untangled your hands from his, instead crawling into his lap. This wonderful male, and he was all yours. The love that filled your chest felt so secure, so safe. Like the warmth of the morning sun. Like the smell of freshly baked bread, and early morning bird song. It felt like the beginning of something great.

You raked your hands through his hair, and as you leaned in to kiss that lone tear away from his jaw, you watched his eyes shutter closed.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, your forehead coming to rest against his, “my mate.”

His hands found your hips and gripped them tightly, and the touch was more than welcomed. If it was up to you to decide, he would never let you go – forever in each other’s embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered once more, breath hot against your lips. “I shouldn’t have–… please don’t leave me again.”

“Never,” you promised, and then, like waves crashing ashore, you leaned in that last bit and pressed your lips to his.

His entire body shook beneath you as he reciprocated the kiss, moulding his lips to yours and you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly right it felt. Like coming home. And as your lips moved together that glowing thread became a wild, real, physical thing between you. His hands gripped you tighter, like you were his lifeline. Pulling you impossibly closer, as if you were the air he needed to breathe. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and your lips parted, letting your tongues meet in the most delicious of ways.

The kiss was claiming, overpowering and you could not help the whine that escaped you as his fingers dug into your sides. A primal growl rattled deep in his throat, alighting every nerve in your body.

This.

You wanted to stay right here, just like this, forever.

You didn’t know how long you actually did stay like that – the two of you seemed to, again, be able to defy the concept of time together. But you were now laying on the couch, Azriel’s heart drumming a steady beat in your ear, a warm, overwhelming comfort overtaking your body.

Slowly, you started to feel yourself drifting off to sleep, and with your head on his chest, his arms around you, the opening and closing of the front door and Mor’s voice that followed, felt so very far away. You almost didn’t apprehend what she said as her voice moved in closer.

“You better not leave her this time,” she ordered, and the rumble of Azriel’s voice, how very safe it made you feel, lulled you deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

Your body was impossibly heavy, the words he mumbled into your hair the last thing you registered before sleep claimed you.

“I won't,” he pressed a kiss to your head, “never again.”

tags: @hnyclover @justdreamstars @historygeekqueen @sharknutz @icey--stars @mel-wcst @alysena2 @lewsnumerounofan

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #lonely with you

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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Here’s a Jason idea for you: imagine a criminal he’s fighting as Red Hood suddenly mentions you, by name, to mess with Jason. Jay would absolutely obliterate the criminal, but that leaves the question of how his enemies know about you… I love the potential for angst/protective Jason 😍 Also, I love your writing so much, it always makes my day to see you on my feed! Thank you for sharing your writings 💞🥰

Tw: blood and violent stuff.

Also thank you for enjoying my stuff! It’s really appreciated and makes me wanna write a lot more in the future. It’s just nice being reminded that people do like the stuff that I put out and not hate it as much as I do when looking back on them.🤣 🦦

A well placed punch to the face landed the criminal flat on his back as he groaned upon impact and was currently struggling to get back up to his feet, only to be pinned by a heavy combat boot weighing down on his chest. Finally Jason had caught up with the drug dealer that had been lurking near children and vulnerable adults alike for the past couple of days, and right where he wanted him too.

‘It’s such a shame that you caught me as fast as you did RedHood because just you came along, I was going to pay one last person a visit before the night was over.’ The criminal smiled, showing off his blood stained teeth in the process, his smile then became a grimace as Jason put more of his weight onto his chest. ‘Well it was a good thing that i came when I did because after tonight, you won’t be selling drugs to anyone anymore, that I can guarantee.’ Jason growled, feeling his blood boil hotter for every second that he didn’t put a bullet in this assholes head.

‘What was their name?’ The criminal trailer off, not heading Jason’s warning and throwing his head back and laughing. ‘Oh right now I remember, it’s Y/n. What a pretty name for an even prettier person.’ Jason froze at the mention of your name, his blood had gone cold but his anger skyrocketed at the insinuation of you being placed in any sort of danger. Whether it be by a drug dealer or otherwise, the same conclusion was to be expected with Jason and that was that he would personally hunt down every last thug, drug dealer and crime lord that ever dared to speak your name.

Jason wordlessly then grabbed the criminal by the collar of his shirt and threw him into a wall with all his strength. Watching on as the scumbag crumpled the floor as he then began to stalk towards him before gradually breaking out into a run and brutally ramming his knee into the criminals head. Jason wasn’t done there though, not by a long shot. He wanted the make the bastard pay for having your name come out of his filthy mouth, he wanted to tear him limb from limb, put him back together again so that he could rip him limb from limb all over again before ever giving him the satisfaction of death.

‘You will never, ever, ever bring anyone to harm ever again! Not while I’m here, not while I’m still breathing and able bodied enough to tear you fuckers to bits!’ Jason hissed pure venom as each of his punches become more and more brutal then the last, his knuckles were going to bruise like hell and hurt like hell too, but the pain and punishment he’d receive would be all worthwhile if it meant keeping you safe and sound. Jason would gladly taken on any punishment anyone could throw at him if it meant you remained unscathed, he’d happily gain more scars on his body if it meant that you could sleep easier at night, Jason always had your best interests in mind whenever he was clearing the streets of Gotham.

He was doing it for you, he was doing it for the kids at Crime Alley, he was doing it so that everyone could have a peace of mind; And he didn’t care about the methods he took to obtaining that.

It wasn’t long until the criminal stopped moving all together, Jason didn’t care that his fists were stained with blood, he just stood up and left the criminal in the alleyway where he was brutally beaten to death and headed home; to you with a heavy mind and a growing pit within his stomach because if a low life scumbag like him knew you by name…then who else did? Black mask? Penguin? Two face? Scarecrow? Carmine Falcone? He didn’t like to think about this one but does Joker know? All these thoughts running through Jason’s head didn’t do him a whole lot of good with his ever growing sense of dread and slight paranoia; He had to get to you and he had to get to you now before anything else happened before the night ended.

‘I’m coming baby, just please still be there when I get home, please don’t let them take you away from me.’ Jason muttered under his breath as he pushed himself forward as he ran from rooftops to rooftop, determined to make it to the apartment before anyone else does because if they did, may god have mercy on their souls because Jason would go to war for you and will violently cut anyone down to size if they were to come between him and you; For nothing got between you and Jason and if they did, Jason would make sure to deal with it before it became more of a problem.

‘Sweetheart? Are you in here?’ Jason called as he slammed the door behind him.

‘Jason? What’s-‘ you rushed into the room and gasped upon seeing the dried blood on his knuckles and his paling face as though he looked about to pass out where he stood. ‘Oh my god.’ You whispered as you rushed towards Jason who rushed towards you, arms out stretched to grasp your waist while your hands held his face. ‘What happened out there? I thought you said it was a simple mission.’ You said, concerned for Jason as he seemingly let out a sigh of relief and rested his forehead against yours.

‘It was meant to be a simple mission but then…’

‘Then what?’ You asked, stroking his cheeks reassuringly and feeling him melt into your touch like he did every night he came home from a long patrol or mission, but he also did it when he needed to feel you on him after waking up from a nightmare.

‘He said your name chipmunk.’ Jason squeezed his eyes shut as though he was trying to rid himself of the events that happened early on and focus on the feeling of your thumbs caressing his cheeks lovingly instead. ‘He said your name -clear as day I heard him say it- and before I knew it I was wailing on him until he stopped moving…all because he said how he was going to come for you next and I couldn’t…’ Jason paused to regulate his breathing that he hadn’t noticed had become fast and uneven the more his mind lingered on that small detail. ‘I couldn’t let him do that. I won’t let them take you from me. Never.’ He then tightens his grip on your waist as he kept uttering the extent he was willing to go to keep you in his life under his breath, almost as though it were a prayer or a promise, which ever one it was you weren’t quite sure but you let Jason squeeze you against his chest with his strong arms like a stress toy to his hearts desire.

‘It’s okay Jaybirdie. I’m right here, can’t you feel my warmth? Hear my voice? I’m right here baby. So you can squeeze me, hold me, cuddle me as much as you need to feel alright again because I’m not going anywhere with my Jaybird.’ You said loud enough for him to hear over his thoughts, pressing kisses into anywhere that you had access to, whether it be his shoulders, face, neck, forehead, you’d plant several kisses to each of those areas respectively. You may act calm but much like Jason, you too didn’t like the idea of some random criminal knowing your name. The implications of that were endless and it would be enough to put anyone on edge or even over it depending on their mental state, and to put it lightly Jason’s mental state wasn’t the healthiest.

The occasional whimper and sniff that came from him only made your heart hurt even more that you were willing to put aside your own fears about the situation to instead focus on comforting Jason, who must be feeling it ten times worse then you were, but it was the fact that in this moment you were bonded by a shared fear but that fear could be eventually overcame by the pair of you working together. ‘It’s okay baby it’s okay, we’re not going anywhere, they can’t make us because we’re stronger together.’ You spoke into the skin of his cheek as you finished pressed a thousand kisses onto them.

‘Stronger together.’ Jason echoed as he pressed himself further against you to feel you closer to him. ‘We’re stronger together.’ You smiled softly, seeing that you finally go through to him somewhat. However you were more than willing to stand in this position all night if it meant bringing Jason back from the edge within his mind because nothing was more important than having your Jason back.

‘That’s right baby.’ You cooed. ‘We’re stronger together, nothing will tear us apart.’

‘Promise?’ Jason asked looking deep into your eyes, it felt as though he was looking at you rather then through you which has your breath hitching in your throat momentarily.

‘I promise.’

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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anjaelle · 1 year

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Hii I’m in loveeee with your writing I was wondering if you could write a Dave Lizewski x bimbo reader fic?

Oooh this sounds fun. I had to ruminate on this a bit, but I think I got it.

Pairing: College!Dave Lizewski x Bimbo!Reader

Rating: She's tame

Word Count: 1.3K

He was staring again. Every time you turned to look at him, he would quickly avert his eyes to the front of the room. In confusion, you turned to look behind you, only to see the blank wall of the classroom. You looked back at him and found him staring straight ahead like he'd been caught doing something bad.

You pulled your phone out of your bag and opened the front facing camera to check to see if you forgot to properly blend your makeup again. Or maybe you had crumbs on your face.

It didn't look like you had anything on your face. Though you did think you could use a re-up on gloss, and maybe a touch-up on your brows. You accidentally left your makeup bag in your dorm, and you kept losing all of your backup purse makeup, so all you had was a lip balm and school stuff. You supposed that you could use this as an excuse to do a quick drugstore run across the street to pick up another backup makeup kit. But you also felt like you'd be missing out on the sushi buffet in the dining hall if you got there too late. You hadn't had sushi in a long time, it would've been a shame to miss it. Then again you could always order it from that one spot you went to with that one guy. What was his name again? Something with a "F"--

"Hello?" The professor said, addressing you and pulling you out of your thoughts. You raised your brows in surprise, and smiled sweetly.

"Hi!"

Your professor tapped her chin with a beautifully manicured nail and looked you over with a funny look on her face. "Your presentation topic for next week?"

"Oh!" You said, looking down at your notes. "Well, I might talk a little about how hard influencing is and how it's actually harder than a 9-5 job. I'm still deciding. What do you think, professor?"

There were a few whispers in the class as she thought hard on the question. At least that's what you thought she was doing.

"Why don't you workshop that and get back to me tomorrow?" She finally said, turning away from you and moving onto another classmate.

You pouted at yet another presentation subject being shot down and made a note in the margins of your notebook to do just that. You hated going to her office hours, because you felt like you could never really do anything right.

When class let out, you pulled your phone out to text your friends about your change of plans tomorrow, when you felt a gentle touch on your elbow and turned to find Lizewski. Knowing that he was quiet and always a little bit stuttery, you smiled politely and gave him your full attention.

"Hi, how are you?"

"H-Hey," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Uh...I saw that you've been having a bit of a hard time with our media class."

A few people passed by the two of you in the hallway and greeted you but shot a curious look his way.

"It's so bad isn't it?" You frowned, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "I'm literally so great at most Social Media outlets, I don't understand why this is so hard. I mean...it's all the same shit."

He nodded, wide eyed and eager as always, "You're so right."

"And I'm trying really hard, but I just can't get it."

"I can help!" He blurted out. "Only if you want. I mean, you probably don't need my help. But I'd be happy to, if you want."

"You'd help me?" You asked, genuinely touched. "I don't know if I can pay you much, but how much do you want?"

"You don't have to pay me, come on." He dropped his eyes to his sneakers and shifted his weight on his feet, "We've known each other since middle school."

This time your eyes widened in surprise, "We have?"

This time it was his turn to look at you in surprise and confusion, "You went to my Bar Mitzvah."

"I did?" Then you thought about it, "I only remember going to one, and it was this boy named David."

He let out a short laugh and nodded, "Yes, that was me."

"David?! But everyone calls you Lizewski! That's your last name?" He nodded again and you gasped. Your whole world turned upside down. Without thinking you pulled him into a tight hug, "It's so nice to see you again, David! I thought you moved away in high school!"

"No," he said against your shoulder, "I just grew my hair out. And got taller. And you can call me Dave, or David, or Lisewski. Whatever you want."

You pulled away from the hug with a huge grin, and you reached out to readjust his glasses which sat crookedly on his face. Then you looked him over, trying to see the skinny thirteen year old you remembered in the grown man in front of you. You could almost see it. If he cut his hair shorter, and lost about a foot of height, he'd totally look the same. You grasped his shoulders in appreciation.

"Well this is wonderful! I've never had a friend for longer than 3 years before!"

As you walked side by side across campus, you could feel people staring like you had three heads. After the fourth set of eyes on you, you nudged Dave with your elbow.

"Do I have something on my face?" You tilted your head from side to side so he could examine you properly, and he shook his head.

"No, why?"

"People keep staring at me." You frowned, "It's kind of weird."

Dave said nothing at first, but looked around to see the evidence of your suspicion and sighed. "I think it's because you're hanging out with me."

You snorted, "That can't be it. That's so silly."

He kicked a small rock down the footpath and hummed in disagreement, "Is it? I mean...you're you. I'm me. We don't really hang out. I think people are used to seeing you with guys from...Sigma Alpha Epsilon"

You still didn't get it, and you crinkled your nose in disgust at the mention of the name.

"I don't talk to them. They're losers," you shuddered again, "They all have a weird obsession with skulls too. Have you ever seen those skulls with the blue stripe down the middle? They all have them on their trucks. It's so weird."

You watched him raise a single brow as he kicked the rock further down the path, "Are you talking about The Punisher's symbol?"

Before you could ask, he showed you a picture on his phone and you nodded.

"Yeah that's it! What's The Punisher? Is that, like, a band?"

He chuckled, "It's a comic book character and his symbol gets misused a lot. He's a vigilante."

You frowned, thinking of why someone would choose to do something like that. That seemed kind of mean.

"Well can you really see me hanging out with a bunch of guys who like vigilantes?"

For some reason, Dave's step seemed to falter, and he peered at you curiously, "Oh. Are you--do you think vigilantes are bad?"

There was a hint of poorly disguised panic in his voice.

You were confused about why he was confused. The answer was obvious.

"Vigils are a good thing," you said, matter-of-factly. You were surprised that you had to break this down to someone as smart as him. "Sometimes people have vigils for their dead grandmas and their pets, and stuff. Someone who's anti-vigils is obviously not a good person."

Dave gave you a long, strange look and laughed. Like, actually laughed. You didn't understand what was so funny about being pro-vigils. You felt like that wasn't exactly a controversial opinion. Were you on the wrong side of history this whole time? Were vigils actually bad?

"Are they bad for the environment or something? Like, the candles?" You squinted at him. He rushed to ease your worries with an extended hand.

"No! No, it's--vigilantes aren't people who are anti-vigils. They beat up bad people."

Oh.

"What a weird name to have for that," You admitted rolling the word over in your brain. Then you brightened at the memory of something, "Hey there was a guy back home that was like that! Kick-Ass! Do you remember him?"

He said nothing for a moment, but shrugged in response.

"Yeah, kinda."

"All the girls in our grade were obsessed with him," you continued, fishing through your bag for your dorm key. "At first, we thought it was that one weird guy who used to try and sell us coke from the trunk of his car down the street from our school. But one girl said that he saved her dad from getting jumped, and he was apparently, like, young. At least college aged."

"Ha," Dave simply said, "Maybe. I kind of remember people thinking it was someone from our school, though. Someone most people wouldn't even really expect, because it'd be super hard to keep a low profile. Someone who's probably super strong and really cool, even though most people don't know it."

You suddenly giggled, "What if it was that guy Todd Haynes?"

Dave stumbled over his own feet and shot his hand out to steady himself.

"You know who Todd Haynes is?"

"Yeah, I know him. He was in my gym class!"

"He's my best friend, I've known him my whole life. I'm--shocked that you know him." You brightened at the new information.

"I didn't know Todd had friends! You sure are full of surprises today." He stared at you again. For a super long time. You weren't sure what was going on in his brain. You touched your cheek, "Again with the staring. I think you're lying. I definitely have something on my face."

#dave lizewski #dave lizewski x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #jaelle writes

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cowyolks · 29 days

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THE SOUR BITE OF BETRAYAL

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Prompt: He was back, digging up your cold heart and clenching it in his bloodied fist. But scars changed people, morphed them and adapted them. He wasn’t the boy you loved, nor were you the woman he adored.

Words: 3.2 K

Warnings: Graphic Injuries, PTSD & and signs of depression, heavy angst with a light dusting of fluff.

A/n: taking a minute from our regular scheduled program to write for my fav batboy!

Ghouls haunted this city. It was no surprise that Gotham was a city full of anguished souls—spirits that died in such horrible ways that they were betrayed and angry, still haunting the alleyways of the rainy hellscape.

Civilians that lived in Gotham were trapped in iron bars, forever enclosed unless they tore out their ribcages and discarded their bones. Blood tainted the sidewalks, maybe not visible, but the haunting scent of iron never left.

You deserved to be here. In the very darkest pits of Crime Alley, where dealers cackled in the shadows, murderers showed their faces with no shame, and drug and human trafficking were at a high. The area burnt down the remaining tissues of your heart, effectively turning it to ashes as you watched the horrendous crimes.

Once upon a time, you’d stop the horrific crimes. Stop the petty thieves and cold murders with a veil over your head.

You could nearly laugh now; how naive you were. Such a child that thought she could make a difference under the iron fist of a hypocrite. You’d been no younger than twelve when the Batman sent you out in the night, dodging lead bullets and twisted knives. You'd come back to school with purple bruises and aching muscles, something you had to have expertly concealed to avoid complications.

There was a time you thought Bruce Wayne had saved you, but it was never the case. You'd have better luck trying your hand in the dirty streets of Crime Alley where he found you.

The pitter patter of rain brought no comfort to you, the chilled air escaped through the hooded windbreaker you wore, making your skin raise in retaliation. You limped down the sidewalk, your knee aching particularly today, as it usually did when it rained.

Night had already settled in, only streetlights luminating the area, if the bulbs weren't already shot and littered with bullet holes. Most of the sane Gothamites were already at home, locks triple checked and barricaded. You however, hardly cared if you lived or died.

Besides, you were hungry.

On the rare occasion that you did eat, you never had the energy to cook anything, rather settling on walking a couple blocks to a shitty takeout place, the place you frequented many times before the accident. You avoided it for a long time, as the rundown place just haunted your thoughts of him.

Now it served as a reminder that you were human. A metaphorical bandage, that ripped your flesh raw. it was pain to hold the memories of him, but now, you were happy to just feel that pang in your chest as you pulled open the lodged and uneven door.

You sat in the same worn-down booth you always did, the wooden frame showing through the moth-bitten cushions, and questionable stains displaying what was left of the thin material.

With all the robberies recently, the restaurant only served what they were famous for- soup dumplings, so it was no surprise when a little boy, maybe 10, settled a steaming ceramic bowl in front of you before he left back into the kitchen.

Only one other person was inside, likely a homeless man in search of warmth before the owners kicked him out. Your eyes narrowed at him as he wolfed down the dumplings, he didn't seem like too much of a threat.

Your gaze travelled to the window, catching on any bodies moving down the sidewalk, nothing excited you, so you settled for watching the fat raindrops fall down the glass. You carelessly shoved a dumpling in your mouth, wincing at the scalding broth that burnt the back of your throat.

The telltale scraping and groaning of the door signaled another customer had entered the space, just as your eyes travelled to the noise. A tall, hooded figure sat in the booth next to you, way too close for comfort, specifically because the room was nearly empty. You sniffed, taking the time to study the nice sneakers he was wearing, and the hint of blue that patterned the inside lining of his hood.

The stranger made no motion to acknowledge the steaming broth in front of him, instead he tilted his head to you, staring for perhaps too long, until you could make out the crystalline blue of his iris.

Immediately your hackles raised, fingers clutching too tightly to your plastic spoon, nearly breaking it.

"Are you just going to gawk, or are you going to tell me why you're here, Grayson?" Your unamused and careless tone made the man's shoulders sink, but he stood anyway, slipping into the booth across from you, his knee nearly bumping into your bad one.

"How have you been?" He stalled, pushing his hood back so you could see his pretty-boy face. He'd always been handsome, pretty blue eyes and dark hair. The prodigal son- it was enough to make you want to gag.

The dark bags under your eyes and your fatigued appearance spoke for itself, you were miserable. "Peachy." Your sarcasm leaked through, just as you took a petty bite of another dumping, once again burning your throat.

You hadn't seen Dick in almost four years, not that he hasn't tried to contact you. You just wanted out from the whole superhero business, especially after such flawed business. Grayson left a bitter taste in your mouth, reminding you far too much of Batman.

“I stopped by from Blüdhaven, I wanted to see how you were holding up.” He adverted your glare and backtracked, as he always did to avoid tension.

You kicked him in the kneecap from under the table, watching him wince more than he usually did after such a weak hit. Your eyebrow arched in question.

“Did ole Bats get to you too? Kicking you while you’re down like some weak puppy?” Venom dripped off your words as you recalled that time in your life. Dick sighed, but didn’t stir the pot of your internal anguish, not knowing how far it’d be until you erupted.

“No. That’s what I came to talk about. Bruce has been fighting this guy for a week now, he is big on the drug trade, and good. Like stupid good.”

You shrugged, everything was a trade in Gotham. Anything worth more than a dollar was exploitable one way or another. “How is this my problem?”

Dick pursed his lips, obviously growing frustrated with your careless demeanor, he fished into his hoodie pocket, pulling out a paper-clipped folder with a sigh.

You had half the mind just to ignore it, but curiosity burnt at your fingers, urging you to reach for the paperclip and pry it open. You swallowed at the contents, eyes welling slightly in anger and fear— a dangerous combination.

There were newspaper clippings, all zoomed in on a red helmeted figure, brown leather jacket, dark Kevlar armor. Your teeth clenched together, nearly cracking as you zeroed in on the symbolic scarlet of the helmet. How this criminal had taken the time to study who the Joker had been.

The Red Hood.

“Fuck you.” You spat at Dick, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the piece of garbage that reminded you of that clown. How the horrendous criminal had smiled as you beat him down, laughed at your grief of losing Jason. Arkham wasn’t good enough, he needed a bullet in his skull, death was the only answer.

You were about to leave, long ago losing your appetite for your dumplings. Dick grabbed your forearm, stopping you in your tracks.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. He knew Batman’s name, his real one. And he knew yours too.” Grayson gravely warned, you wavered, deciding to sit back in your seat as you glanced at the papers again. This vigilante knew your name? Your personal name, not expired alias?

You sighed, “What all do you know?”

Your keys jangled as you struggled to see the keyhole, feeling around blindly until the metal slid in and you unlocked your thin and flimsy door. You still held onto the folder with a tightened grip, mind running uneasily.

This new vigilante had your warning bells going off, that much you knew.

It was dark and freezing inside your one room apartment, as you couldn’t afford to have the heat on for long periods of time. You relied on a small propane heater that sat on the minuscule countertop space you had next to your mattress.

Electric bills were tight too, resulting in you only turning on lights when necessary and giving just enough time to watch the news. You never liked not knowing what was going on, a habit imprinted in your mind since childhood.

You dropped your bag with a huff, running on autopilot to the small stove countertop that help your electric kettle. You planned on getting no sleep, with the air turning colder, it reminded you more of the weather the day of Jason’s death. Nightmares came easy as did the frost that coated your windows.

You filled the kettle, hoping the cinnamon tea would help calm your nerves and ease the ache within your bones.

Your attention shifted to the remote, turning the television on while waiting for the water to boil. You flicked the power button, the channel already adjusted to Gotham Local News.

Your eyes narrowed in on the headline, skimming the words until a certain name made your blood run cold.

Joker Escaping Arkham: Live

Your fists clenched around your mug, anger boiling in waves as you watched the feed of the clown on top of a security truck, his chilling cackle making your insides swirl in panic and disgust.

You flicked off the channel, immediately going to the loose floorboard in the small apartment, stomping to feel for the hollow echo it released. You could get rid of your alias and stop fighting crime; But, you would always be ready to take down the clown when he escapes again. You made sure as you pulled out the sniper rifle, loaded and readied it to fire straight into his deranged brain.

You’d get justice for Jason, whenever Batman agreed or not.

You slung it over your back before exiting the apartment, not particularly worried about being caught, especially in Crime Alley.

It took you little time to make it to the bridge, feet expertly scaling the rusty rungs and wires until you were basically on top, wind whipping at your face as your eyes narrowed. You crouched low, resting against the metal while you popped the cover off the glossy scope, hoping to find the clown in your sights.

He was easy to find, blue and red sirens basically highlighting him in a showcase. He was alone, signature purple waistcoat blowing as he stood on top of an armored vehicle.

The unmistakeable cackle of his laugh had you seeing red, disgust coating every pore of your body. You barely heard the familiar roar of the Batplane flying straight towards the clown. You had to hurry, before it was too late.

You exhaled, lining up your shot with the steady red laser, making sure the clown saw it before he would die. Your finger hovered over the safety, clicking it off as it returned to the trigger. Just a quick press and it would be over, all those constant traumas and deaths.

A small smirk curled around your lips, until you heard the faint creak of metal from behind you, alerting you to another presence. You whipped around, hairs raised as you caught onto the Red helmet broadcasted all over the news. He was only a foot from you, large boots next to your chin. He was the man who knew your name.

The one who said it now, in a surprised grunt.

“Sorry sweetheart, but he’s mine to kill.”

You anticipated the attack, dropping the rifle as his foot raised slightly off the ground, going for a kick. You raised your hands, protecting your face from your crouched position. Instead, the vigilante extended, kicking your sniper rifle off the ledge, watching it fall into the stopped traffic.

“No!” You growled, eyes widening onwards in despair as the Batplane projected a grapple, picking up the clown you could no longer kill.

The vigilante stalked from the perch, seemingly to forget about you entirely. He crouched, collecting his energy before he jumped from the iron rungs, falling for a moment before latching on possessively to the clown.

You bit your lip as you glared, frustration and grief once again igniting, sadness left to flood as you watched the damn psychopath slip through your fingers again. You wanted to break something, watching as the vigilante flew out of sight.

All you could do was walk back to your apartment, grief once again swallowing you whole.

He hadn’t expected to fight so distracted, his mind keeping him from fully concentrating. He had so much bottled up, emotions and anger, longing to be avenged. He was hurt, hurt that Bruce hadn’t killed the clown that haunted him for five long years. Hurt that his girlfriend, (perhaps, ex-girlfriend now that he died) now lived in the slums of Crime Alley, disowned and alone.

He barely felt his hand through the grief, but looking down, he could see the pearly wetness of bone, blood leaking perhaps too quickly. Smoke and cement caked his revived lungs, making him cough and heave as he made up for the loss of oxygen. He’d fully hoped that Batman would kill for him, only for it to all crumble down when a Batarang lodged against the barrel of the gun, effectively blowing his hand to smithereens.

He left the scene before Batman could find him, wallowing in defeat. How could a father, ever treat their son this way?

There was much to think about, but too little time. He would bleed out, and quickly if he didn’t get medical assistance.

It was about time to pay his girl a visit. When he saw you on top of the bridge, wind whipping against your face, he nearly collapsed, all the anger and mush from the Lazarus pit melting away, instead replaced with a cold ache that made his spilt soul clench.

You’d gone to kill the Joker, something that made his heart swell in gratitude, knowing that at least one person would save him.

It wasn’t a far walk to rickety apartment complex, the area eerily close to where he grew up. The scent of smoke and blood was a constant, but perhaps he was just smelling himself.

When he weakly climbed your fire escape, he heard your voice, rough and growly, just as you had always spoke when angry. He could barely hear through the cracked window, but could make out the hysteria in your voice.

“What do you mean he’s alive?” You choked out, not noticing his hunched figure bleeding outside. You were pacing, fist clenched with the skin taught against your knuckles.

“Where is he?” You growled, pursing your lips and huffing. After a beat of silence, you hung up, no longer entertaining the conversation. You glanced slightly in his direction, doing a double take as you stood straighter, catching onto the tattered remains of the armor he wore.

Your eyes swelled, just as all of his breathing caught in his throat. You had just seen a ghost— But Jason knew he was alive, simply based on the fire that erupted inside him. Not even the freezing Gotham winds could chill the fever of his beating heart, waiting and waiting to press against your own.

He wondered if you still thought of him as much as he thought of you? He wondered if you still smelt like honeysuckle? He wondered how you received that scar that slashed through your face, lip to ear? He wondered why you favored your left leg as you hesitantly made your way to the sliding glass, hand pressed against the handle.

He was hit with a blast of warm air, a shield from the wind, and a promise of something he could not yet guess.

“Jason?” Your voice seemed so small, not like the girl he used to know. Maybe you had died with him.

“Hey baby.” He whispered, hoarse and full of an emotion he couldn’t pinpoint. Was it grief? Regret? Adoration?

He stepped into the home, dripping blood onto the cracked tiles. You’d glanced down at him, immediately straightening and retreating. He watched as you pulled out a red kit from under the measly kitchen sink, settling it against the counter.

“Sit, please.” You addressed. Jason moved, sliding onto the barstool as he studied your features. Cold, broken eyes stared back for a moment, before fixating on his bloodied fingers. You didn’t look surprised to see him reanimated, which made him come to the conclusion that it was Bruce who had just spoken to you. Yet, the steady shake in your hands made him realized you weren’t quite prepared to have been this close so early.

You were a stranger, as was he.

He’d barely felt the disinfectant you placed on his wounds over his broken heart. It was just like when he was a boy, how you’d patch him up, always volunteering so he wouldn’t have to hear Alfred’s lectures.

It was the same, yet so different.

As he watched you work, he glanced closer at your features, studying the scar upon your lip closer, visualizing the sharp shape of a bat. A Batarang.

It wasn’t hard to guess how you got it, based on the rifle you had almost shot the Joker with. You’d been trying to avenge him, and Bruce would rather almost kill you than defy his code. Nausea rose up his throat.

You finished the bandages, glancing up to catch onto the frightening green of his irises.

“I don’t know what to say.” You muttered. His breathing stopped, just as he brought his good hand up, gliding it slowly to the soft skin of your neck, feeling the steady thrum of a pulse. He felt you swallow against his palm.

He knew there was no good thing to say. Nor bad. Perhaps at some point he’d be able to tell you what happened, to fix the scars that settled over you both.

For now he was okay with feeling the steady rhythm of your pulse, to know you were okay. Different, yet the same.

“What… what do we do?” You spoke again, scared and pinned like a trapped animal, backed into the corner but not afraid to strike.

“I don’t know.” He murmured truthfully. Taking a moments peace just to replay your voice in his head. Final able to remember the sound he had mourned.

“Will you hold me?” You asked brokenly, as if you had crossed a boundary.

Jason let a small smile grace his lips, extending his arms outwards to bring you closer. You fell into his chest, wet drops of tears falling from your eyes, just as his own watered. You molded together, warm and comforting. He traced your spine with his fingers, closing in his eyes and breathing in honeysuckle.

He sighed, knowing that at least one thing had stayed the same.

Perhaps the two of you could heal together, patching wounds and crumbling walls. But for now, he was content with holding you against him, a chaste kiss placed on top of your head.

#dc #Jason Todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #Batman

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alldoll3dup · 4 months

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໑୧﹒★﹒Veneer crushing on you - one-shot ᰍ﹒∿

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - You are an artist well known for your impeccable works and Veneer really appreciates your work, perhaps even too much (the troll thing didn't happen here)

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 - Trolls

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - GN!Reader, fluff

- Well it all started when Veneer was bored scrolling through Instagram

- Until something caught his attention, it was a painting, very well done by the way, so he decided to do a little stalking on the page

- As time passed, Veneer began to like the paintings of the famous Y/N more and more he admired his work

- As he really wanted to meet you, but couldn't appear at public events because of fans and paparazzis, he had the idea of hiring you to do art for him

- His sister Velvet, on the other hand, thought it was an unnecessary waste of money

- When you were going out on the street you were stopped by one of Veneer's advisors who gave you an offer you couldn't refuse, it was A LOT of money for just one painting and of course you accepted

- Then he gave you the time and place, was it the Velvet and Veneer brothers' mansion? You were perplexed, you didn't know how but you got noticed by your favorite stars you couldn't miss the chance to impress them (especially Veneer)

- You showed up at the agreed place and time and you saw Veneer waiting for you there, you were emotional, but maintained your posture you were just there to paint after all

- When Veneer sees you he immediately smiles and greets you in a way you didn't expect

"Oh my god, you are Y/N in the flesh! I was so looking forward to meeting you up close" - you immediately felt a blush on your cheeks as Veneer shook your hand gently

"I think I was the one who should say this, you're a super pop star and I'm honored to finally meet you" - Veneer practically melted, did you follow his work? It could only be a dream

"D-Do you follow the music i do?" - you laugh a little confused

"Of course! Your songs inspire me, I thought it was obvious" - you see Veneer become totally embarrassed and blushed

"I am inspired by your arts to make music" - you look like two fools exchanging shy glances and silly smiles and Velvet appears looking at you with a certain contempt

"UHHH Get a room lovebirds ew" - she screams loudly as Veneer turns even redder taking you to another place

"Y/N, I'm sorry about Vel, she doesn't know what she's saying" - he says covering his face in shame

"It's okay, I think I'd better start painting now, since that's why I came here, what do you want me to paint?" - you give a small smile, arranging the materials

"I want you to paint me and you together holding hands in the most beautiful place you can imagine" - you nod awkwardly starting the painting while Veneer watches while you doing it

- After a while you finally finish the painting, you and Veneer together in a sunset on the beach, a painting so detailed that it is impressive

- Veneer smiles with the painting in his hands and he hangs it on the wall, turning his attention to you

"You know... we could uh... do this in real life, what do you think?" - he says a little unsure thinking you would refuse him, scratching his head lightly trying not to be so anxious

"Of course! I would love to Veneer" - you say with a slight smile and Veneer hugs you excitedly, already thinking about the thousands of things you will do together

- After some time getting to know each other better and becoming friends, you actually go to the beach together recreating the painting of you two at sunset on the beach

- But with something more, Veneer puts his hand on yours and with his free hand he gently holds your face giving you a little kiss that left you blushing so with a smile on his face he asks you

"Do you want to date me Y/N?"

▐ Hello yall! Hope you liked this little one-shot of this silly lovely guy, if you got any requests send it ♡

▐ Sorry if there are any grammatical errors love you guys ^^

#trolls x reader #veneer trolls #trolls veneer #veneer x reader #velvet and veneer #oneshot #cringe culture is dead #trolls band together #trolls #gn reader

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cherryheartssblog · 2 months

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SECRET ADMIRER

Summary: Y/N’s family is a wealthy family, her parents snub up their noses to a lot of people. When throwing a party, Y/N soon figured out she has a secret admirer, that her parents would never approve of.

Warnings: 18+, smut, wealthy family!, higher class neighborhood families!, country clubs!, fake business!, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is in forties), drinking!, readers curves are mentioned!, daddy kink! daddy issues, slight! mommy issues!, rough sex, reader is in college!, readers parents are snobs!, spanking!, pet names (sweetheart, my girl, etc.), daddy kink!, choking!, dirty talk!, domjoel!, joel calls reader slut!, public sex!(kind of), talks of spoiled reader!, mentions of divorce!, Joel has no kids!, cursing!, little angst!, rich! Joel, praise kink!, crying!,body shaming (if you squint), readers parents are assholes!, mentions of sugar daddies!, reader is girly!, reader wears dresses and girly clothing!, parents do not like Joel!, doggy style! (beside a mirror)- just wait, and not fully edited.

A/N: I have only wrote a Joel miller one shot once. So I’m trying again, a little bit more deeper. I do hope you enjoy! PLEASE tell me if I missed any warnings/ need to add them nicely! I’m trying to get better with them! THANK you so much and I’m so thankful for you all💝😭!!

Could this be any more depressing?

Y/N sunglasses perched atop her nose. Her tennis skirt, adorned with a matching polo, tastefully covered her mid-thigh, Out from the patio, her father's buddies could be seen sipping their beers and playing golf at her parents' exclusive country club.

Y/N and her mother were seated at a comfortable distance from the patio of the country club, accompanied by their friends. They were indulging in a delightful brunch and sipping on mimosas to enhance their experience. The clinking of glasses and laughter filled the air as they chatted away, oblivious to their surroundings.

Oh, this was depressing.

Y/N sat at the dinner table, pushing her food around her plate with her fork. Her sunglasses covered her eyes, but now and then, she couldn't resist stealing a glance at the man sitting across from her. He was a frequent visitor to their home and a country club member. He is always ready with a kind word and a helping hand to Y/N. However, Y/N knew that her father despised him. Whenever they were back home, her father would rant about the man who lived just a few houses down the street. Y/N couldn't help but wonder when her father's hatred had begun and what he saw in the man that she couldn't.

Joel fucking Miller.

He was older than her, and maybe she was drawn to that. He was a beautiful older male, and she could not help but take a second glance when he moved in a couple of years ago. Y/N was at home for college for the summer, and this older man came by in an older truck after being invited to a barbecue that her parents still could not shut up about to this day.

If he has money, he needs a better car.

No wonder his wife left him.

Y/N's parents were not always kind to him. However, once they discovered he was a skilled mechanic with a successful business in town and their precious white Cadillac was not running, they started to warm up to him, even if it wasn't genuine. Y/N's parents were known to be fake and gossip behind people's backs. Despite their rocky relationship, Y/N loved her parents because they gave her everything she wanted. She was spoiled and had a large room upstairs in their house, as well as her room at the country club.

Y/N parents were having their wedding anniversary celebration. Her mother had meticulously planned an elegant and formal party, which was exactly what she had envisioned. Y/N's father, on the other hand, would have preferred to keep it simple. However, he knew how much this occasion meant to his wife, so he agreed to follow her plans. Y/N was well aware that her father would have done the same for her if she had played the perfect daughter role, just like her mother expected her to.

Y/N’s trance was broken, her eyes shifting from the attractive older male in a darker polo with shorts. Why does this man look good in shorts? Y/N tried to maintain a smile with her mother, her eyes being covered with shades. “Are you going to eat, dear?” Her mother picked up fruit, her mothers friends eyes shifted to her. Her mothers three closest friends, were worse than her mom to say the least.

Maybe they rubbed off on her.

Y/N’s mother's attitude could switch with any of them in any moment. The younger woman’s reddened face was luckily covered, pushing her shades up. “Yes, Mother, just not too hungry this morning.” Y/N was not lying, and she could not get an appetite. Her mind was wandering, and her eyes could not move from Joel.

He swung his golf club repeatedly, practicing his hit while Y/N’s father played his shot. From what Y/N could see of the game, Joel was at least beating her father. Y/N wondered if her father was jealous of this man; maybe that's where his hatred came from. She could have swore his eyes would move to her stares, maybe gawking at her. Y/N knew she was too far away where he would notice her stares, but she could still see his perfect features.

His hair was longer, curler. Joel had his own pair of shades, grabbing another beer from the cooler on the golf cart. Y/N’s eyes would shift back and forth to her plate, slowly saying the food on her plate.

“Don't wanna overeat, love,” one of her mother's friends opened up, “Still have to fit in that dress in a couple of days.” She playfully sent a wink to Y/N while the four of them giggled right in front of her. Y/N shifted uncomfortably; she fought the water behind her eyes that wanted to escape. Her mother even shrugged it off with a laugh, giving Y/N a few fruit pieces.

“Here sweetie, eat fruit.”

Y/N could only nod, desperately wanting to leave the table. She came home for the summer, she hoped this summer would be better than the rest. She might have been better off going with her friends on their beach trip. But Joel could be an escape for her.

He was an escape, but Y/N wanted more. She knew she needed more, she craved more. When Joel moved in a couple years ago, becoming a member of the country club he took a liking in to woman. She was different than her parents, she seemed like sweet angel. Joel had been lonely for awhile, being married to his work ratber than looking for love.

Joel couldn't shake off the regret that had been gnawing at him ever since his ex-wife left him. Deep down, he knew it was because he didn't give her the attention she deserved. He had taken her love for granted, assuming that she would always be there for him. But as things turned out, she had reached her breaking point and left him.

From that day on, Joel promised he would never make the same mistake again. He was determined to treat his next partner like a queen, giving her all the attention and love she deserved. And then he met Y/N.

At first, he couldn't believe someone as young and beautiful as her would be interested in him. But as they got to know each other better, Joel realized that Y/N maybe shared the same interest in him. He saw in her the perfect partner he had been searching for, and he was ready to give his all to her.

Y/N finally managed to excuse herself from the table and went to the bathroom. She quickly pulled her shades up and tucked them into her hair, hoping her eyes didn't betray her emotions. Despite her efforts to keep it together, tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. She couldn't help feeling foolish for letting her guard down and allowing herself to be hurt. The urge to cry was so overwhelming that she had to bite her lip to keep from breaking down completely.

The woman's bathroom was luckily empty; she locked it behind her, covering her face instantly. No tears fell; she just kept breathing in and out. Y/N considered going to her room; she did not want her mother's friends to win. She went over to the tall mirrors; lights shined behind them.

In the mirror, Y/N saw a few mascara smears cleaning her face a bit. Having her purse in hand, she grabbed for makeup powder to cover up any spots she may have made. Gathering herself together, she got back out of the bathroom in the lobby. Y/N closed up her purse, bumping straight into a taller figure. Feeling hands gripping her, she made eye contact with no other than Joel.

His eyes sparked, meeting hers; Y/N gasped, feeling his grip tighten on her arms. “Woah, hun.” Joel drawled, a smile plastering his face, “I was just thinkin’ of ya.” His hands moving from her, Y/N blushed, trying to gather herself. Her own eyes could not move from his; she gave him a warm smile.

“Thinkin’ of little ole’ me?” Y/N teased, perking up a little bit. Joel's eyes shifted up her bare legs to the pink polo with two buttons open, exposing her chest. She looked so perfect; Joel knew he would worship her body if he ever could have her. His mouth parted, his smirk growing, watching the younger woman bite her lip. Y/N’s teeth dug deeper into her lips than could draw blood, not caring about the eyes that could be on them.

“Oh, any man would be crazy not to think of you, sugar.” Joel’s southern accent drawled out, sending shivers down Y/N’s spine. He was making her speechless and trying to maintain her confidence, gazing around her to see if any eyes moved their way.

“Are you trying to flirt with me, Mr. Miller?” Y/N’s curiosity rose; her father's voice broke Joel and her time.

Y/N's father chuckled warmly as he stood beside his daughter. The man's eyes followed Joel's movements, but he soon shook it off and turned to meet his daughter's gaze. "There's my angel," he said affectionately. "Your mother is looking for you, and she invited you on the shopping trip." Y/N smiled gracefully and exchanged some words with her father. Joel observed her curiously, noticing how her eyes sparkled as she talked to her dad. However, when Y/N's father walked away, Joel's demeanor changed. He grabbed her roughly and pulled her back to him, causing Y/N's stomach to drop as she saw his previously lighter eyes grow darker.

Y/N’s father is too far to notice back out to the open patio of Joel's hands on his daughter. Y/N gasped out, her knees bending down keeping her from falling. Joel’s grip was strong and he would not let Y/N fall.

“What you been cryin’ about?”

How the hell did he know?

Y/N's jaw dropped in disbelief, eagerly awaiting her response. His eyebrow lifted in anticipation, while his eyes narrowed in a curious 'hm' when she remained silent. Without saying a word, he motioned for her to follow him outside, leaving her stunned. Her breathing was increased, and tension still filled the air for her.

Joel was one of her father's enemies. And she wanted to fuck him, and she wanted more than just that. Joel kept giving her the same vibe as well. Y/N wanted the older male, all her thoughts and dreams consumed by him.

He is just a friend.

Y/N tried to tell herself that.

The dress was unbelievably tight, keeping modesty for the occasion; the dress was long, hugging Y/N’s curves. Y/N spent her time trying to escape from her parent's friends, listening to them gossip all about each other.

Y/N let out a deep groan of frustration and signaled the bartender for another drink at the open bar. The overly formal ambiance and the sound of the classical music made her feel nauseous and uneasy. She had lost track of her parents and had not seen them since the speeches a couple of hours ago. As the bartender began to make her drink, she watched intently, observing each step of the process with intense focus.

Y/N savored the salty taste of the olive before gulping down the drink like a parched desert traveler. Sitting alone at the bar, she contemplated leaving early to indulge in the tub and cozy up in bed. The alcohol was starting to kick in, and the bartender slid a napkin towards her.

The bartender, an older woman with a friendly smile, approached Y/N with a small slip of paper. "A man told me to give this to you and buy you a drink as well," she said, gesturing towards the note. Y/N's curiosity was piqued as she took the slip of paper, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she read the few words scrawled on it. "Seems like you got a secret admirer," the bartender remarked with a chuckle, noticing Y/N's puzzled expression.

meet me upstairs @ 11.

Y/N's mind wandered briefly, “I'll make you that other drink, dear.” The older woman took her glass, chucking momentarily, “Seems like a good one to me.” Y/N smiled, holding the napkin, waiting for the drink this mysterious man bought for her. Her eyes scanned around her, her thoughts making her blush.

She hoped and leaned towards it being Joel, but she had not even seen him at the party. Maybe he decided not to come? I mean he did not owe her to come, Joel barley liked her parents. Y/N glanced down at her watch, in been couple hours since the party had started.

10:42PM

Y/N's heart raced as she contemplated whether or not to meet the mysterious man waiting for her upstairs. The exclusive parties had strict security measures in place, but she was confident that she could slip past unnoticed. Only she and her parents had unrestricted access to the upper floors, yet this stranger had somehow found a way to reach her. The thrill of the unknown pulsed through her veins as she considered the possibilities.

11:01PM

Y/N walked anxiously down the hallway, having convinced the security to leave her alone by pretending to retreat to her bedroom. She paced back and forth, biting her nails as she waited for someone to emerge from around the corner. Eventually, she heard footsteps growing closer and stopped, anticipating the stranger's arrival.

The anticipation built up inside her as the footsteps drew closer. Y/N's eyes were glued to the man dressed in all black, with a crisp white shirt tucked into his tight pants. Even before locking eyes with him, Y/N knew exactly who it was. He leaned against the wall with a lit cigarette hanging off his lips, his free hand casually tucked into his pocket. He observed the young woman standing before him, and the air was charged with excitement and tension.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Y/N faked her confidence; her mother always said, ‘Fake it til you make it.’ The woman's eyes scanned over him. She felt like she could undress him with her eyes. The cigarette on his lips made him hotter in that suit he wore. She never thought she'd see Joel Miller wear a suit. But, God did he look good in that suit. Y/N eyes met back up with his, puffing out smoke.

“Y’know, we have a no smoking rule.” Y/N teased, walking closer to him. Joel stayed in place, not moving an inch, letting her draw closer to him. When meeting up with him, she grabbed the cigarette from his mouth. Standing on her tiptoes to reach his height, he smirked, watching down at her. Y/N brought it to her lips, slightly puffing, blowing a small cloud. Joel’s face twitched, his hands wrapped around her throat, pushing her against the wall behind her.

“You just broke one of the rules,” Joel growled, the tension angering him more. His nose pressed against her cheek, his hand gripping her throat. Y/N whimpered; her eyes stayed closed, listening to his voice. “I've broken a lot of rules, Joel,” Y/N admitted; she breathed out, fighting the grip he had around her throat. Joel still pressed against her, and Y/N felt his member grow pressed against her, “Guess you'll have to punish me.”

Joel groaned out, grabbing her face and forcing Y/N to look at him. Her cheeks squished underneath his rough hands. Y/N felt her underwear grow wet, her thighs wanting to rub together. She craved this older man for so long, Y/N moaned out, melted underneath his touch. “Where's your room, baby?” Y/N’s legs could go weak by his words, and she could only point. He was quick to have her off the floor, wrapped around him, pushing her into her room, slamming her against the door that slammed it shut.

His kiss was rough and hungry against her lips.

Joel’s cock strained against his already tight pants as he stood amazed by her. Trailing kisses down her exposed chest, his hands sneaking up her dress. He swallowed as Y/N held on to the door behind her. Y/N arched her back, moaning out, digging her hands into his hair. Her hands messed up his hair, and the mirror attached to the door was becoming stained with fingerprints.

“Didn’t think you’d be into an old man like me,” he said with a chuckle. Joel pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, making her gasp. He moved them to the nearest wall, having them perfectly angled to the mirror that he just had her pressed against. Y/N unbuttoned his shirt. His hands unzipped to move her dress off of her.

“You're not old, Joel,” Y/N assured him, sending him a surge of confidence, “Besides, I like older guys.” Joel chuckled at her comment, turning her back to face him. Her face pressed against the wall; she glanced up at the mirror.

She looked rough.

Her hair was a mess, and her cheeks were stained red. Y/N dress was now on her bedroom floor, Joel fighting with his belt and with his other free hand using it to have it wrapped around her throat. Pressing her against his own body, she moaned out, feeling his bare, warm body. Y/N pushed back on him, feeling his tip tease her entrance.

His laugh was dark; Joel gripped her chin, turning her to make herself look in the mirror once more. “Look at how pretty you are,” Joel murmured, his southern accent thicker as he thrust into her without warning. Y/N felt herself stretch open, watching them in the mirror beside them as she gripped the wall she was against.

“You’re just daddy’s slut aren’t you.” Joel gripped her throat tighter, which turned her on even more. He slapped her ass, causing her to whimper out, “Better be quiet; don't want your family to figure out how much of a slut you are.”

Y/N’s breaths were heavy, his free fingers strumming over the swollen bump of her clit, pulling moans from her throat. A smirk grew on his face at her desperate expression. His breathing matched hers as his thrusts got sloppier. Y/N’s body was tense, her hands falling behind him, pulling on his curls. “Relax, sweetheart.” Joel’s big hand slid up and down her curved spine.

Their bodies became sweaty, sticking together Y/N could feel herself get closer as he sped up on her clit. She could hardly breathe, she had never taken a cock this big, but she was too impatient to wait for him to stretch her out on his fingers. Y/N was whining and moaning as his hands clenched against her throat, keeping her looking in the mirror.

“You're mine; I'll be whatever you want me to be, baby,” Joel groaned, moaning out in pleasure himself, “Hell, I'll be your sugar daddy.” Y/N felt sweat drip down her forehead, letting out a laugh croaking out with a moan behind it. Her hand rested on his shoulders, feeling that familiar feeling grows in her stomach.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Joel said, his voice muffled as his mouth pressed against her neck. Each thrust coaxed a gasp from her; she had her nails digging into the fabric of the wall. Y/N’s vision was blurry from the overwhelming tears brimming her eyes. “Come around, my cock,” Joel commanded, his words making everything intensify.

“Oh god, Daddy,” she gasped, shaking head to toe. “Joel, I’m—yes, yes, yes-.” Joel was not far behind her, her eyes watching him cum inside her. Joel's lips drug down her cheek, releasing his load into her.

Tears stained her cheeks as he turned her to face him, wiping them away. “That's the only time you need to cry, my girl.” Joel kissed the top of her forehead, clearly out of breath, still holding her up. Her legs were like jello getting over to her bed, cuddling beside Joel underneath the thick sheets.

“My parents would kill you if they figured this out.” Y/N laughed out, which warmed his chest as she laid there. His arms wrapped around her, running his fingers through her hair, sharing a laugh.

“Be glad I don't kill your parents for makin’ you cry like that.” Y/N knew Joel knew that day she had cried. She locked eyes with him briefly, and he tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Y/N still rested on his chest, her nails gently rubbing up and down.

“Guess I got my Secret admirer to take care of me.”

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #smutjoelmiller #joelmillerxreadersmut #joelmillerfanficsmut #pedro pascal as joel miller #joelsmutseries #joelsmutau

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readychilledwine · 5 months

Note

Can I please request a fic where Cassian falls for a teacher at Nyx’s school?

Hot for Teacher

Summary - For Cassian, meeting his son's teacher was love at first sight.

Warnings - single parenting, kids

A/n - my mom is a teacher and was all too excited for a cute drabble about a teacher reader with a Cassian, her favorite batboy.

Cassian sighed heavily as his son and Nyx ripped him through the streets of Velaris. They were speaking so quickly to each other about their new teacher. About what she'd have planned for today, about if she'd have snacks and treats.

It had been 7 long years since Nesta left him and Atticus to run off with Eris. He should have seen it coming and been more prepared, but the ache still lingered and stung. His mate, gone to Autumn, for a position of power, just like he knew she wanted. Like she had lied to him about wanting.

He smiled apologetically as the boys swayed him through the crowd, eyes locked on where Azriel stood with his daughter, kissing her forehead gently in goodbye. "Uncle Az!" Nyx yelled, running to him quickly. "Don't you feel like Miss Y/n would be a good girl friend for Uncle Cass?"

Azriel was slightly taken back by the question, and by the way his daughter's eyes instantly lit up and she began to nod eagerly. "I think that's up to Cassian, bud."

Liliana shook her head. "Nope. Up to us." She grabbed Cassian's pinky in her tiny hand, running towards the door as her bright red curls bounced and danced in the sunlight.

At the tops of the steps, Cassian locked his eyes on am incredibly gorgeous female. Her curled hair was to her shoulders in waves. She was wearing a tight black shirt with leggings and a black blouse. A bug smile graced her face as she greeted each child with their own secret handshake.

"Lili!" Even her voice was melodic, making cassian almost fall down the steps. "Who's your friend?"

Cassian felt Lili nudge him. "I'm Cassian," he held his hand to her.

"Ah! Atticus' dad," her eyes were sparkling as the little illyrian appeared behind him. "I was wondering if I'd ever meet you!" She took his hand, gently shaking it before going to greet Lili and Atticus. "He's a dream." Azriel watched you two interact, playing the moment openly for Rhys as Nyx ran to you, getting his own greeting.

That's how it started.

Cassian began dropping the kids off alone almost every day, ensuring he could spend sometime with you. That time turned into dinners alone. Nights spent in his bed when Atticus would be in Autumn for a weekend with Nesta.

Soon, those dinners turned into you meeting him and Atticus in public, slowly adapting the young illyrian to the big change.

You were currently on an ice cream date with them, using a napkin to wipe Atticus' chunky cheek. "Thank you, Mommy." You and Cassian froze, causing the little guy to look up. "What? Don't act like you don't want to be my mommy. I know I'm your favorite."

You couldn't help but to smile at him, kissing his nose in silent confirmation. "I'm just daddy's girl friend, bud. Not mommy."

"Not mommy yet."

Cassian was still quiet, hand tight on his ice cream sundae. The ring box in his pocket was heavy as he shot Atticus a little look of warning.

But he couldn't shame him, couldn't lie to him.

You weren't his mommy.

Not yet at least.

#acotar #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #cassian x yn #cassian x you #daddy!cassian x reader

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lolahasmoxie · 4 months

Text

NYE (J.T.)

Sooooooo...

@powderblueblood and her 200 Cigarettes prompts.......yes.

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x reader

WARNINGS: fluff, emotions

PROMPTS:

"You need to find someone that likes you the way you are."

"And who would possibly like me the way I am?"

"Those clothes and my clothes would look good on my floor."

"He said what?"

Jamie followed you to the bar at Ola's. The restaurant closed early and is now hosting the Richmond New Year's Eve party. You poured yourself a shot of whiskey and downed it without flinching as you told Jamie about your date.

"He said, and I quote, "You're nice and all, but I could do better," and then I left the party."

"What a complete fucking prick!" Jamie said; you simply shrugged your shoulders as you grabbed a flute of champagne from a server.

"At least he was upfront. Saved us both the trouble." Jamie can see the mask you're putting up; it's not the first time he's seen you do it. Never let them see you hurt your own personal motto. He wants to kill this guy.

"C'mon, forget that dumbass. Come join us at the table; the boys will be happy to see you." You glance over at the tables and see the boys with their respective dates. The passing of intimate kisses and touches makes your heart yearn for something that, at this point, you're not sure you'll ever have. It's too much.

"I'm just gonna be a wet blanket," you say with a shrug, and Jamie can see your eyes become glossy. "I'll text you when I'm home. Happy New Year, Jamie." You give his hand a quick squeeze, and then, before he can say anything, you're gone.

"Where's she going?" Keeley asks, and Jamie turns, his mind still trying to process what happened. The fact that one moment you were standing in front of him looking so fucking pretty, and then you were gone.

"She just left; her date at that party went really bad."

"Shame," Keeley hums as she sips her champagne. "I have a question, though."

"What?"

"Why the fuck are you still here instead of chasing after her?"

"Why would I do that?" Jamie straightens up, putting up his own mask as he tries to pretend that he hasn't been pining for you since returning to Richmond.

"Because even a blind man can see you're desperately in love with her, the poor girl," Roy interjects as he stands beside Keeley. "Question is, when the fuck are you gonna grow a pair and fucking do something about it?"

Jamie stares at them both for a second before he turns and runs full speed out of the restaurant.

You have yet to get far. Your flat is pretty close to the restaurant, so instead of trying to flag down a cab, you opted to enjoy the brisk winter air. The streets were pretty busy, and you tried to keep the tears at bay as you passed happy couples and groups of friends on their way to ring in the new year.

The sound of shoes running on the pavement sent your heart racing, and you reached for your keys as they got closer. You hear someone call your name and turn around, shocked to see Jamie running to catch up with you.

"Jamie, why are you following me?"

"I had to tell you something, and it couldn't wait." His gray eyes look into yours, but he remains silent. You sigh before gently interrupting him.

"Look, I just wanna go home. I'll see you on Tuesday." You turn around, and Jamie is again watching you walk away from him. He can hear Keeley and Roy yelling at him in his head, and he takes a deep breath. He's not going to let this moment pass him by. He can't stomach starting a new year without telling you how he feels.

You hear the footsteps again, and you say a "hey" when you feel Jamie pull you by the arm to look at him.

"You're not the problem."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Not just tonight, but every bloke who's made you feel like you aren't the most amazing person on the planet, they're the problem. Not you." Your jaw has dropped, and you know you're looking at him like a deer in the headlights.

You can't help but scoff. "If I'm not the problem, pray tell me, how do I fix it? Tell me the solution, Jamie."

"You need to find someone that likes you the way you are." You scoff again. You hold Jamie's gaze as you step closer to him. You hope he can't see how ready you are to crying.

"And who would possibly like me the way I am?" Your voice wavers, and Jamie feels his heartbreak at your admission. Your gaze drops to your shoes, and Jamie takes a tentative step forward.

His hand gently lifts your chin, and you wait for him to speak. It isn't until he raises his eyebrows, your mouth drawing into an O, that what he's saying dawns on you.

"You?"

"Yeah, silly girl." He says with a light chuckle. His thumb wipes away an errant tear before he cups your face with his large, warm hands. You reach out for the lapels on his jacket, holding tight as

"But, you're Jamie Tartt. I'm just..."

"Fantastic and kind. You were nice to me even when I was being the worst asshole on the planet. Not to mention that you're absolutely stunning. Pretttiest girl I've ever seen."

"Jamie,"

"I'll be good to you. And even though I'm probably gonna fuck up now and again, I promise it won't ever be intentional. There's more, but I just really wanna fucking kiss you right now."

You blush at Jamie’s words and when you see his gaze dip to your lips. You had wondered many times what kissing Jamie would feel like. You had thought about it at work while chatting with Keeley and Rebecca and kissing unremarkable men. Nothing you had conjured in your head could hold a candle to the real thing.

His full lips are pillowy and soft, and he holds you firm and secure. He moans when your tongue traces the seam of his lips, your hands pulling him in closer to you as onlookers pass by with knowing giggles.

When Jamie finally pulls back for air, his breath catches at the sight of you. Swollen lips and the far-off dreamy look of someone who's been snogged properly, he doesn't know who to thank for the vision in front of him.

"Back to Ola's?"

"My place?"

You both stop after interrupting each other. You both chuckle, but it takes Jamie a second before he realizes what you asked him.

"Your place, you sure?" You give him a cat-like grin, your hands still on his lapels.

"I don't really wanna go back with the boys, do you?" Jamie shakes his head, to hell with the boys. Fuck em. His mouth makes an O shape when you pull him closer by the lapels and lean to whisper in his ear.

"Good, because those clothes and my clothes would look good on my floor." You kiss his nose softly, and Jamie rewards you with a beaming smile. "Then tomorrow, you can buy us breakfast."

Jamie could cry when he hears you say tomorrow. "I'll buy you breakfast every day for the rest of our lives if you'll let me. Now," He takes your hands in his. "I'm gonna do something that I've been wanting to do for too damn long."

"And what's that?" The look Jamie gives you is nothing less than sin incarnate. A hungry predator eyeing up its prey. There's no hiding your gasp when he leans in to whisper in your ear.

"I really hope you don't have plans tomorrow, love, because I plan on making sure your neighbors know exactly who I am. Now, why don't you lead the way?"

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n

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ichcor · 6 months

Text

synopsis: hot july night, nanami kento's birthday, reader and the birthday boy accidentally got drunk, and the night got steamy

tags: nanami kento x fem/afab!reader, consumption of alcohol, pp riding, reader is a mess, kento is a mess, not proofread

"One more shot should be fine. I don't even feel tipsy at all." you said, and oh, how wrong you were. The drunknen numbness creeped its way into your head like a rush when you finally decided to stand up, your hand immediately searching for something to hold into - which in this case was your coworker and friend's muscular shoulder. "Sorry, give me a second."

"Take your time." he said, his flushed cheeks turned to you as his golden eyes watched you with a slight worry until you found your balance with a deep sigh. He also stood up, ignoring the feeling of the alcohol turning his mind into haze as he buttoned in his suit. "I cannot let you go home all by yourself in this state."

"What state?" you slurred. " 'M fine"

"Mhm" he hummed, watching you walk towards the door of the crowded bar in, what you thought was a straight line, but that could not have been further from the truth. His calloused fingers found the curve of your hip before he helped you out on the door, and his hold stayed on you as you both got hit by the humid, early July air of the night.

"But it's your birthday." you said in protest one more time when he told you he would call a taxi for the two of you and he would accompany you all the way to your home. Suddenly, a stench of guilt grabbed at your heart for making him waste his time and money on you.

"Exactly. That's why I don't want to spend the night worrying whether you got home safe or not." He mumbled as the hand that held you before gently caressed your back before he completely began to focus on calling that taxi while he tried his best to sound as sober as possible. Your drunken gaze lingered on him without shame; noticed the tendons of his forearm flexing under his suit as he tugged at his tie that he no doubt found too tight as the summer air made him sweat. Then why not take off the suit? You thought, before realizing that his other arm was full with your coat and bag that you would've definitely left at the bar if it weren't for him.

"Kento..." you whispered and waited until his eyes left his phone screen and looked at you. "You're so... good to me."

This made him stare at you in silence for such a while that you felt your cheeks flush from the embarrassment, although you had not seen any malice in the golden hue of his eyes. On the contrary, it appeared as if he slipped into another drunken stage while he took in every bit of detail of your face. He finally said, "There's no reason not to. I thoroughly enjoy your company."

There was a softness on his features you had never seen before; the yellow light of the street warm in his dark pupils, his golden hair partially messy from the humid air, the fullness of his lips curving into a light simper. When he closed the distance between you two, your heart fluttered in hopes you get to taste his smile against your own lips, but to your calamity, he merely guided you into the backseat of the car you didn't even notice arriving.

The noise of the lively city got silenced as the car door closed. The AC and the coldness of the window against your temple made you feel a tad better, chased away the weak feeling nausea you had lingering in the back of your throat. You instinctively grab Kento's hand, which had been resting between the two of you, when you feel the slumber dull the city lights and your eyelashes began to feel heavy. His other reached for your cheek as he moved closer to you, gently leading your weary head to rest on the muscle of his shoulder as his temple rested against the soft of your hair.

The smell of your own perfume caressing your nostrils was the next thing you remembered. Your back laying against your bed, one of your arms covering your eyes from the bright bedroom light as someone was struggling with the buckle of your heels at your ankle. Suddenly self-aware, you jumped a little. Your figure completely jolted up to the middle of your bed, nearly kicking away the face you finally recognized as Kento's.

"I only wanted to take your shoes off before leaving you to rest. Apologies." he said, holding his hands up.

"No, it's not that... I..." you struggled with your words, already feeling tomorrow's headache of hungover creeping in. "I just didn't know you know my address and everything."

"Shoko was kind enough to tell me the address, and the keys to your apartment were right in your coat." he explained, and you already knew Shoko was either going to bomb you with numerous questions about Kento taking you home or she was going to pretend like nothing happened which would've made you spill everything all by yourself like a river streaming down on the mountainside.

"May I?" Kento asked, glancing at your shoes before you nodded in approval. You watched his hands take it off you with gentle precision, realizing that his struggle with the buckle was merely because he did not want to wake you, although you could see it in his eyes that now you were the more sober one. Your naked foot rested against the warmth of his thigh as he got rid of your other shoe for you, his blond hair completely down against his sweaty forehead as his meaty fingers held your ankle as if it was made of glass. Your heart began to relentlessly pound against your ribcage when your toes felt the width of the head of his shaft, so he keeps it on the left, you thought and warmth began to swell in between your thighs.

"Kento," you breathed.

"Hm?"

"I want you."

It felt like eternity as his gaze lifted up to meet your eyes, his body frozen as you could see him calculate whether this was a good idea or the worst mistake he could ever make. Before he could even voice an answer, his body betrayed him as his pants began to grow tight, and the fabric became wet with his precum against your foot.

He could count seven reasons why he wanted to devour right at that instant, and he counted three why he should have never even been in your room, but all calculations evaporated when you suddenly pulled him by his shirt to collapse his lips against yours. His nape was wet with sweat against your arm as you hugged him, your tongue parting his mouth to deepen your kiss that makes him hum. You heard a curse between his grunts as he rolled up your dress, and your panty-clad wetness grinded against his bulge as your legs trapped him by his waist.

Leaving the kiss, a sigh left you when you felt his breath hot against the soft crook of your neck while you unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his belt for him. His hands traveled from the thickness of your ass, to the curve of your hips to the suppleness of your breasts to the soft features of your face; he explored every nook and crany of you with his fingers, fondled you at the spots that made you breathless with pleasure. He was so good to you, as if you were the greatest treasure he could've ever touched.

"Let me ride you." you nearly moaned as his naked dick flicked against your still clad bud of clit. Releasing him from the prison of your legs, he said thank you with a peck on your lips before his weight fell against your bed next to you. He let you remove his clothes for him, his pale cheeks red under his brown gaze that never left your sight and he returned the smile you gave him when you were both finally naked with you on top of him, your palms against the muscles of his bust.

His cock twitched with excitement when a drop of your arousal landed on his skin. Gods, he didn't even eat you out and you were so wet and eager for him. His hands found your hips when you lifted yourself above him, one of your hands holding the thickness of his dick up against your entrance. Kento's mouth stayed agape as he watched your pussy swallow the entirety of his shaft, your spongy walls teasing him at all the right spots.

When you began to rock your hips, he fell apart; his fingers holding onto you for dear life, sweat dotting his furrowed brows as he let his groans mindlessly leave his open lips. When you kissed him, he welcomed you with fervor; his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair as his other hand grabbed the flesh of your butt to keep you in place as he pounded into you from under.

"Fuck, you're so good, too good." he admitted as the rhythm of his thrusts became hazy. "Such a good girl making me cum so fast." The nickname made you moan against his skin while you felt the tip of his dick harden inside you. His dirty mouth sent shivers of pleasure down your spine, his deep voice sending you over the edge as you let yourself fall down against his entire length, your fingers playing with your clit as the flux of cum filled your insides up.

"Well, happy birthday, I suppose," you said, half laughing as his cock still twitched inside you and the musclebound man laid under you with his sweaty chest moving rapidly with his tired breathing. A chuckle left him when he finally managed to open his eyes, his vision still blurry from the alcohol and the orgasm, but he found the curve of your precious smile more endearing and sweet than any birthday cake.

"It is the happiest of birthdays, indeed."

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami kento #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #shikari writes

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ultralightpoe · 10 months

Text

Hits Different - Tangerine

Authors Note : Heya! I am so glad I finally got all the songs filled and am so ready for the event!

MIDNIGHTS EVENT HERE

Word Count: 3433

Warnings: none I think

Enjoy!

I washed my hands of us at the club

You made a mess of me

I pictured you with other girls in love

Then threw up on the street

Like waiting for a bus that never shows

You just start walkin' on

They say that if it's right, you know

Each bar plays our song

Nothing has ever felt so wrong

Nothing really registered properly at the moment, the only thing you knew was your palms were digging into the grass below you as your best friend cursed behind you, holding your hair back as you puked in the shitty college town park you had stumbled into.

If this had been a normal outing the roles would have reversed and it would have been you holding her own hair back with a sober attitude she wouldn’t be able to recognize, too wasted to know that you were fuming, but for once in your terribly long friendship it had been you that took far too many shots. This time it had been you that had to be dragged away from some random guy with a wedding ring tan.

Tan…..oh Tan.

Just at the memory of the nickname you feel the need to vomit again, tears stinging your eyes as your best friend giggles behind you, obviously not concerned for the mental breakdown you were currently having.

“Do you think he has a new girlfriend?” You slur out, knees wobbly as she helps you up, leaning down to snatch the weapons off your feet so you can walk across the grass with her. She leads you to a public hose, or at least she hopes it’s public as she turns it on.

“Definitely babe.”

“I don’t get it! This never happens to me!” By this you mean being left behind.

It was no secret amongst your friend group that you were a flight risk when it came to relationships, always leaving before you got attached but just late enough that your significant other had already said the three words. You had never said the three words back….ever…..well until him.

“Just forget him babe,” She sighs out, grabbing your hands gently. “You keep waiting for him to call, and it’s been three weeks. He’s not calling back.”

“But I told him I loved him.” You hiccup, flinching as the cold hits your hands.

She doesn’t respond and in your drunken stupor you can’t help but feel like a massive burden, so you shake your head with tears and whine out “I’ll stop talking about him, I swear.”

“It hurts right now, I know that. But soon enough you are gonna wash your hands clean of the whole thing.” She smiles, and you think about that for a moment before nodding and scrubbing your own hands under the water.

From tonight on you won’t get Tangerine the satisfaction.

You are washing yourself clean of him entirely.

But little did you know the entire time you were washing your hands you were humming yours and tans song, the whole reason you began to have the mental breakdown at the bar in the first place. Your best friend doesn’t point it out, she owes you that much.

How many times had you wiped her mascara and bought her ice cream after being dumped? This was an easy act to return.

Oh my, love is a lie

Shit my friends say to get me by

It hits different

It hits different this time

Catastrophic blues

Movin' on was always easy for me to do

It hits different

It hits different 'cause it's you

('Cause it's you)

You were proud to say that you weren’t the one that brought him up during the weekly sunday brunch three days later, only to be immediately shamed by the way you head snapped at attention when your friend said his name.

“Any news?”

Your best friend shakes her head from beside you, pouring more bottomless mimosas for you as you try to muster up an answer, really just anything to explain what had happened there but the truth was you had no clue yourself.

“No, and honestly I have been running through all our last conversations to figure out what went wrong, was I too clingy? Did I scare him off?” You explain, watching all the girls lean forward in their seats. “And it’s so weird because I said I love you and he said it back. I don’t know-”

“I think you just panicked because of our teasing.” You best friend lies, batting her eyelashes at you.

“Yeah! Girl I don’t think you really loved him, you were probably just in overdrive to prove us wrong. You are so lucky he left when he did.”

“He probably has a wife.”

“With kids.”

“That live in a nice suburban home-” You rush away from the table, sick of all the images they were giving you. They were obviously looking for reasons for you to feel better but none of it was helping because you knew you loved him.

He had been your first l word.

And it had been wasted.

I used to switch out these Kens, I'd just ghost

Rip the Band-Aid off and skip town like an asshole outlaw

Freedom felt like summer then on the coast

Now the sun burns my heart and the sand hurts my feelings

And I never don't cry (no, I never don't cry) at the bar

Yeah, my sadness is contagious (my sadness is contagious)

I slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car

I stopped receiving invitations

A year ago you had been covered in a sweet scented sun balm, topless at the beach and tanning under the nice heat of the day as whatever lover you had at the time ran to get you both something to drink. You were holding your sunglasses in one hand and a book in the other, facedown on the poolside chair when two feet emerged in your vision. Two feet that you had not recognized.

You had picked your head up slowly, blinking to clear the sunspots in your vision as the stranger came into view, brown hair tousled and gold chain glinting in the light. There was a pinkish tint to his shoulders and chest, and he smirks as you trace your eyes over his figure.

“Can I help you?” You keep your voice sultry, eyelashes batting up at him as a slow smile spreads across his face.

“I was hoping you’d be so lovely and share some of that sunblock with me,” His accent is thick as he squats down to be at the same level as you, eyes filled with something close to adoration that has your heart spiraling. “As you can see love, I’m burnin away here.”

“I do apologize for that, the sun can be quite the enemy…” You smile, reaching down to grab it, moving to hand it to him. His eyebrows shoot up and he feigns a look of shock for a moment before one of fake hurt.

“You can’t expect me to do it, lovey. You see I can’t reach my own fucking back…”

“How dare I!” You gasp, playing along and trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, how fucking dare ya.” His toothy grin pulls a matching smile from you and he turns slowly to let you rub the balm onto his back, and you cast nervous glances around for the date that had brought you to the resort.

“Don’t worry about him right now, yeah love? Your Kenny doll won’t mind us having some fun.” If you knew his secrets you’d have known that Tangerine had handled the man in the restroom, scaring him off so he could make a move. But you would never be allowed to see any of that.

Oh my, love is a lie

Shit my friends say to get me by

It hits different

It hits different this time

Catastrophic blues

Movin' on was always easy for me to do

It hits different

It hits different 'cause it's you

('Cause it's you)

“What was that fucks name again?” Tan laughed, reaching to pinch your ass as you pass him to grab the popcorn for your movie night.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Mmmhmm, my lil’ fucking heartbreaker.” He grunts out, pressing his body against yours and kissing at your neck drawing a giggle from you.

“We’re never gonna watch the movie if you can’t control yourself, and you were the one that begged for this movie night rather than a night-”

“I know I know.” He sighs, allowing himself one more kiss before moving to the living room to set up. It takes you a couple more minutes to grab the tray of snacks, and when you finally shuffle out to the living room you find a huge fort made out of pillows and blankets with your boyfriend nowhere in sight.

“Tan?” You call, setting the tray down and leaning to check in the fort for him only to find it empty. The lights of the tv are your only source of light so you don’t see the figure behind you until it’s too late and he snatches you by the waist and spins you around in the air.

A laugh pulls from you as he yells out a battle cry and throws you both into the fort where all the pillows were laid out.

After a couple minutes of laughter you catch your breath and play with his hair as he leans over your outstretched body, his own pressed against yours and his fingers trailing love touches up your side as he stares at you.

“I love you, you know that?” You blurt, watching a smile crack across his face.

“I love you too.”

You ended up never watching the movie, choosing to stay in the fort and admire each others bodies in a way you had never done before, panting and moaning under the faint blue light the tv sent through the sheets of the fort.

I find the artifacts, cried over a hat

Cursed the space that I needed

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense

Why the wound is still bleedin'

You were the one that I loved

Don't need another metaphor, it's simple enough

A wrinkle in time like the crease by your eyes

Except you woke up alone in the fort, covered in blankets that you did not remember grabbing, and the tv had been turned off.

He must have been late for work and you simply overslept, it was a rational answer you gave yourself because normally Tan would wake you up before he left. Or maybe there had been an emergency with his baby brother.

There were many reasons he could be gone so you simply sent him a good morning text and moved on with your day, telling yourself you would take the fort down later.

But then the goodmorning text turned into a question about dinner that had gone unanswered, and late at night you sat at the dining table with pizza shoved in your face as you anxiously messaged him asking if he was okay.

You imagined all the men that you had used for trips and money laughing at you right now, a heavy sense of irony and then you shook your head and reminded yourself that it’s only been a day, this wasn’t a ghosting situation…..

Except it had been, and by the second week you had sent him so many messages that you were sure he finally blocked you when the messages started ready ‘not delivered’.

An embarrassed sob had clawed up your throat at that, furiously wiping your eyes and chugging the glass of wine you had poured before moving to pick up the fort.

If anyone had been confused by the sobbing girl in the laundry room of the apartments at 2 am they never said it and you were slightly thankful for that as you washed the sheets from the fort.

It was time to move on, you were better than this.

You ghosted people, not the other way around.

This is why they shouldn't kill off the main guy

Dreams of your hair and your stare and sense of belief

In the good in the world, you once believed in me

And I felt you and I held you for a while

Bet I could still melt your world

Argumentative, antithetical dream girl

You hadn’t realized that getting dumped was this hard to get over though. Sure you had cheered your friends up from it but you had never felt it yourself, this was a different world to you. You cried when you threw the photos away, and you cried when you packed up anything he left in a box to donate to goodwill.

He plagued your every waking thought, the image of his eyes and the sound of his voice filling your thoughts whenever you allowed yourself to relax so you spent most your time cleaning or working to distract yourself.

A little over a year with him, and this is what it came to?

Your best friend tried convincing you to be angry which led to you puking in a clubbing dress in the middle of a park. And the girls brunch had left you just a little more miserable when the conversation had turned to the engagement party of one of your close friends, and by the time you crawled home you ended up in a ball on the carpet of the living room floor, closing your eyes for a quick nap to shut the world out for a bit.

You didn’t need him, fuck you had traveled the world before him, you could just go back to that.

I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway

Is that your key in the door?

Is it okay? Is it you?

Or have they come to take me away?

To take me away

Going back to dating after a year of a relationship had been rocky, and your first date back had led to you cheering up your date as he talked about his own ex, and by the time you packed him into an uber that night you felt a bit better about yourself. You weren’t over your ex, but so what? No one else was either?

And any anxiety you had about dating had gone out the window at that, because you had realized you had the perfect weapon in your hands.

So you cracked out your best and sexiest dresses and by week 12 of no contact with Tan you began spending your nights putting on the performance of your life.

You would sniffle, and you would bat your eyelashes as you talked about how heartbroken you were, the men would be hooked at the sad doe eyes and you would spend the meal talking about how nice and kind they were, then when the check came you would put the nail in the coffin with the tiny tears on how they were so much better than your ex.

But they weren’t, they were free meals and free wine that you enjoyed toying with. Because no one had ever pulled your heartstrings the way Tan had, and no one had been able to break your heart the way he had. You were sure you would never give anyone else the chance.

So you followed your own routine after that, when the man of the night would lead you to the sidewalk and call an uber thinking he was about to get laid, you would start crying and then crying would turn to blubbering as you talked about how amazing they were.

Nothing scared a guy off faster than clinginess, this you knew well.

They are always scared off at the blubbering mess of sobs, putting you in an uber and paying for your ride home, desperate for you to stop crying.

There had been one uber driver that had picked you up 3 times, and always laughed when you stopped crying the second the poor fool was out of sight. You shared your gum with her and she promised to mention you in a novel she was writing, you told her to make you iconic.

And then you would be dropped off, where you would sit, slightly tipsy, in your very lonely apartment.

Some nights you would trick yourself into thinking you heard Tans key in the door…. You never did and the pitch of excitement you got always ended in a pained feeling so you began to listen to headphones rather than silence.

Oh my, love is a lie

Shit my friends say to get me by

It hits different (it hits different)

It hits different this time

Catastrophic blues

Movin' on was always easy for me to do

It hits different (it hits different)

It hits different 'cause it's you

Your date tonight had chosen a really good restaurant tonight, and not only that he had actually been pretty funny. So when you left the restaurant stuffed and laughing you nearly forgot your performance, but he seemed like he didn’t expect anything as he kissed your cheek to call you a ride, telling him to call you when you crawled in before shutting the door softly and you felt a small smile spread across your face.

“That one seemed sweet.” Niama comments, watching you through the rearview mirror of the uber. You smile even more and pull out the dessert you ordered.

“I got this for ya.” You hand it to her and she laughs.

“And if it hadn’t been me?”

“I would have gone home and eaten it myself. It was a win win idea.”

When she drops you off that night she gives you her number and tells you that she demands an amazing interview for her book, and as you walk up the steps to your apartment you are left with a giddy feeling from a good night.

Maybe that’s why you didn’t notice it at first. Too busy laughing to yourself to notice the familiar smell of mint on the doorstep, or the fact that your door was unlocked.

But the second you enter it’s clear something is off.

The lights are on, and you know for a fact that you had turned them off before you left. The kitchen was cleaner then you left it and the smell of mint filled your lungs.

Everything was right and yet it was so so wrong.

You find yourself frozen in the doorway, one hand clenching the doorknob as the other tightens into a fist at the center of your jacket, doing your best to wake yourself up from whatever dream this was.

“Y/n?” He calls, the same familiar accent that had talked you to sleep nearly every night for a year. And then he is there, limping harshly as he comes around the corner.

His entire face is covered in blisters and bruises, a cast on his left arm.

He watches you in the doorway, and you blink back at him struggling to find something to say….anything, a single word would be fine.

“H…..Hey lovey.”

Oh, my, love is a lie

Shit my friends say to get me by

'Cause it's you

Catastrophic blues

Movin' on was always easy for me to do

It hits different (yeah)

Hits different 'cause it's you

His normal cockiness was gone, and you can see the fear in his eyes in an instant, as he looks you up and down.

“You……look stunning.”

“You look like hell.”

He nods, taking his unbroken hand up to wipe his tears before he clears his throat and stands straighter. “I think it’s time to explain.”

You nod, moving to shut the door and you stand there just a second more before flinging across the room where he stood, careful of his injuries when you pull him into a bone crushing hug.

He groans in pain and you pull yourself back quickly but his unbroken hand is fisted in the back of your coat to keep you close as he catches his breath.

“Sorry love,” He grunts, pressing his forehead to yours. “I got shot.”

“IthoughtIscaredyouawayand- I’m sorry…. You got shot?” A small smile spreads across his face as he watches you.

“You think you scared me away by sayin’ I love ya?” He chuckles, his hand sliding up your side until it’s woven in your hair. “Cause I’m worried about what I’m about to tell ya will scare you off.”

Don't forget to request a character and a song from the album Sour by Olivia Rodrigo for the next event!

And check out the midnights masterlist at the top of this post for more taylor swift fun!

#tangerine bullet train smut #tangerine x reader #tangerine angst #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #tangerine #lemon and tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train movie #bullet train smut #bullet train #taylor swift #taylor swift midnights #midnights album #aaron taylor johnson

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scekrex · 28 days

Note

It's my first time asking a prompt to ANYONE, and I'm horrible at english so if the prompt is bad you can ignore.

So Adam is visiting earth one day in human form(because Sera let him for once) and as Adams roaming around the city (He can do whatever you want on earth) he sees the reader and he's like "Holy shit... He's hot." So Adam flirts with the Reader and the Readers like "Wtf?" But he just goes along with it. But soon Adam has to go back up to heaven and he feels really sad, so he like kisses (ig?) the reader and the reader again goes "WTF??? but Okay? He's cute, I like him."

So like, a few years later, Adam is strolling around Heaven when he sees reader again, and he's in complete disbelief that the hot guy from earth is in heaven. So Adam goes up to him, and is so excited because he's never felt like that meeting somebody, except for Eve and Lillith, Adam than helps the reader around heaven and stuff like that, and than maybe like a time skip where one of them proposes to the other? Idk.

It's shitty, I know. But I absoulutly love your writing :)

Shush bitch it's not shitty and it was so fun to write!! So here ya gooo xoxo/p

Love at first sight, I still believe

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

This was supposed to be a quick thing, down to earth, get the shit heaven didn’t offer, leave.

Adam wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of walking around on earth, it felt dirty, impure. Sinners and Winners both roamed on earth and safety was never guaranteed and yet he came down there once a year when his creation day neared to get some of the food he liked so much that heaven refused to hold in store for him - like seriously, he was allowed to eat rips but some alcohol and chicken burgers were too much to ask for? Apparently.

He was just walking through the streets to get to the store he always visited as you came into his view. You were wearing some comfortable clothes, your hair all messy from a busy, stressful day at work and all you craved was your favorite drink. The angel in human disguise was interested immediately and therefore quick to catch up to you. “What’s a fucking pretty boy like you doin’ here,” the cocky smirk on Adams lips was huge and his confidence was on a level too high to even comprehend. You simply looked up at the tall man you’ve never seen before and raised an eyebrow at him. Adam was leaning against one of the shelves, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tilted upwards which made himself seem even bigger than he already was. His human disguise came with a normal height, yet he was still taller than most of the other earthlings, looking over their heads with a height of 6 '5 feet. “Can I help ya, man?” was your casual response as you weren’t quite sure what exactly it was the stranger wanted. Adam craved his wings, he wanted to wrap them around you to pull you in but humans had no wings so as long as he was roaming on earth neither did he - it was a shame honestly. But his charm would work even without the golden feathers. “Oh fuck yeah you can, babes.” When the pet name left his lips you straightened your back and shot him a questionable look. “See, I’ve been looking for a pretty boy like you and your fucking ass seems to perfectly fit my type.” And he meant it because even though you were human just like all the others and for what Adam knew you could be the most horrible one of them all, you had a vibe. A vibe that told him you weren’t like the sinners, you weren’t like the other angels either. It was something about you that pulled him in, enchanted him even. And while your looks definitely played into it, it wasn’t fully because of them. There was something else, something he had no idea how to explain nor did he have a name for it. And if someone were to ask how to describe you in one word, Adam would have responded with ‘divine’.

You rolled your eyes at the attempts of the handsome stranger to flirt with you - the confidence he seemed to have was impressive, you gave him that, but over all? Way too much. He should try and play it smoother, less like he just wants to get in your pants and more honest - unless getting in your pants was his goal, then he met the wrong person by hitting on you though. Not that he would have known. “What’s next? You wanna ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven?” At that the taller brunette snorted and shook his head, “Oh fuck no babes, I come from up there and I ain’t ever seen a dude quite as sexy as you there. And I’ve been there ever since the start of humanity.” That made you furrow your eyebrows at him, “What, you wanna tell me you’re Adam?” And for a second Adam thought he had slipped up, that he had just revealed who he really was and that Sera would come for his ass once he’s back in heaven. But then he led the conversation in a different direction by shrugging his shoulders and responding casually, “Well, that’s what my fam calls me, you however can simply call me Dickmaster, shawty.” You simply rolled your eyes at that, dickmaster? Was this dude serious? Apparently he was. Because his eyes were full of confidence and his body language looked quite proud.

You wanted to put that confidence of his to a test though, so you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to your height, a cocky yet lazy grin met his surprised expression as you spoke, “That so? Is that what your girlies call ya?” Adam, who had not expected you to react that way, was absolutely overwhelmed, yet he craved you even more for pulling a stunt like that. Confidence made you look even sexier. But no answer left his lips, the first man was a little too stunned to speak so all he did was staring at you. “What happened to the confidence of yours, dickmaster?” The people around you were staring at you, curious eyes were watching closely as you two did, what you did. But you really couldn’t care, not when the man flirting with you was quite handsome, probably the most beautiful dude you’d find in this shitty town. The brunette in front of you continued to just watch you, his brain was not able to answer you at all, not when he was able to feel your breath on his face. “Think I can reboot ya brain with a kiss?” you cockily asked, because while kissing him seemed tempting, consent was important. When Adam gave you a small nod - that was literally all his body was capable of - you were quick to connect your lips to his. And despite how much shit this dude had been talking, his lips were surprisingly soft and he wasn’t a bad kisser either - the exact opposite was the case if you were being honest. But his ego was huge already, there was no need to tell him.

The years had passed but the memory of him meeting you on earth for the first time felt still fresh, like it had just happened a couple hours ago. Adam was walking the streets to his favorite guitar store to buy a new set of strings when he spotted a familiar face. A face he should have already forgotten about but yet couldn't get out of his head at all. Your face.

What in God’s mighty name were you doing in heaven? Had you been as pure as Adam had thought you were? Were you as divine as you had looked?

Your eyes met his and you frowned at him, Adam had already completely forgotten about the fact that he was wearing his mask and even if you would still remember his human disguise, there was simply no way you would be able to recognize him with his exterminator mask on. Adam however walked over to you, confidence filled his body as always when he casually wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You flinched away from his touch immediately, removed his arm from your body and took a step back to create a certain distance between you and him. “You wanna tell me I’m that forgettable?” the first man asked and for a moment you were convinced there was a flash of hurt in those glowing yellow eyes that were on display for you to see. “I’m pretty sure I don’t fucking know you,” and while you the familiar sounding voice from somewhere, you weren’t sure if it was just your mind playing tricks on you or if you actually ever met somebody with that voice. It had only been a couple days since your soul had arrived in heaven after all. “Fucking excuse me?” the man next to you exclaimed, his hand moved to cover the center of his chest in a dramatic way which caused your frown to deepen. “You wanna tell me you forgot about the fucking Adam?” And suddenly everything fell into place and the memories came back to you. Adam, that’s who that voice of the stranger next to you belonged to. But the dude didn’t look the part, not even in the slightest. That’s when the first man seemed to remember his mask - he was quick to take the thing off and shoot you a lazy smile, “How about that, you fucking remember me now?” Your eyes locked with his and you saw the same cockiness reflecting in those golden orbs that the brown ones had held when you had met Adam for the first time. He looked different, not in a negative way at all. And suddenly everything fell into place in your head, he hadn’t been joking when he had told you he was the Adam because he literally seemed to be the Adam. The first man.

The brunette seemed to notice that you caught onto it, that you had just wrapped your beautiful mind around the fact that he was in fact the first human oh did the realization look good in your eyes - that caused his grin to widen, “Knew you couldn’t forget a man as handsome as me.” You were the one that was too stunned to speak this time because was the first man really flirting with you? Yet another winner, just one out of all the others? You were really nothing special - especially compared to him. But yet he seemed to be interested in you - fuck he had ben ever since had first seen you. “Why-” you wanted to ask him why he didn’t tell you, why he was interested in you, why you. But Adam’s finger which the first man pressed against your lips shushed you. “We got time babes. Let’s start at the fucking beginning.”

When someone would’ve told you a couple thousand years ago that one day you’d end up in heaven you would’ve called bullshit on that - not because you had been a bad person but rather because you didn’t fully believe it was possible to end up in heaven. And if that same person would’ve also told you that you’d be dating Adam in your afterlife? Fuck you weren’t sure how you would’ve reacted. But there you were, at a rock concert with your boyfriend Adam. In Heaven. And on top of it was your relationship with Adam, the most healthy relationship you’ve ever had in all of your existence.

The both of you had been dating for a good two thousand years, sure you had your ups and downs, but that was normal, that was the case with every relationship. But you and Adam had managed to solve the problems, well to be fair Lute had helped with some of the harder things, but you had made it. So when the singer started to shout the lyrics of the song you and Adam had claimed at yours and Adam dropped to his knee, you choked on your breath for a moment.

The brunette pulled out a small box that was covered in golden velvet, opened it with skilled fingers and extended the hand he was holding it in towards you. No words were spoken, not that you would’ve understood each other over the fucking loud music and screaming crowd anyways. But you were quick to join him on his knees, pulled him into a hug and buried your face in his neck.

Yes.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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darkwolf989 · 1 month

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Outside the Office Part Fifteen

Hi All! Maybe a trigger warning for Valentino being himself and Hell being Hell?

Enjoy and as always feedback is appreciated!!

When I woke up, my cheek was pressed firmly against the middle of his chest. Every inch of me tingled, and I pressed deeper into him as the fire in my belly restored itself. Under me, he stirred and let out a yawn.

“Good morning, my princessa. How do you feel?” He asked sleepily as he ran his hand down my back.

“Energized and refreshed, Ready for round two.” I said eagerly. I rolled over and pushed myself on top of him. I sank my hips against him. Under the sheet that separated us, I felt his cock harden. He sat up, any sleepness he had left vanished as he sprung to life. He interlaced his fingers with mine and before I could blink, I was pinned under him, blankets kicked aside.

“Ready for round two, hm?” He growled as he kissed down my neck.

Enthralled by the feeling of him against me, I almost missed the surge of power that pulsed through the room. I missed covering myself with a blanket by seconds. Lucifer stood at the base of our bed, his arms crossed. The warm feeling of shame and embarrassment spread through me. He didn’t look surprised at our position, but he certainly didn’t look thrilled either. Valentino yanked the blanket over the two of us and I opened my mouth to tell Lucifer exactly where to go.

Lucifer cut me off before I could say a word. “Whatever kinky shit you two are doing needs to wait, I need to see all four of you in the living room, now!” He snarled. “And by that I mean, get dressed in the next thirty seconds or someone will die. Literally.”

With that he vanished. Valentino and I exchanged looks and quickly got ourselves dressed.

“You know, someday, I’m going to be powerful enough to just drop into his fucking bedroom,” I grumbled.

Valentino laughed and took my hand in his. Together we walked out to the living room where a sleepy looking Vox and Velvette also sat on the couch. Lucifer paced back and forth in the front of the room. He looked up when we entered.

“Took you long enough. You’re going to want to sit for this. Vox, could you put it up on the screen for us?” Lucifer asked.

Vox yawned and with a zap of electricity the screen lit up. Video footage of carnage and chaos, demons screaming as winged angel’s in masks descended upon the city, slashing everything that crossed their paths. Across the streets, bodies lay in heaps, crimson washing the streets.

“This is footage from last night. As you can see, my negotiation with the angels didn’t exactly go as planned. They came down last night, at midnight, in droves and slaughtered everything in their sight for approximately four hours before ascending back to heaven. At my last count, eight hundred and sixty three demons perished.”

A horrified silence washed over us as we watched the scenes taken from the camera systems set up throughout hell. Men, women, children- anyone on the street was free for the pickings, slaughtered without thought purely for angelic delight.

“Pause. Right there.” Lucifer snapped.

Another zap of electricity froze a face on the screen. I sat up straighter and stood up, red energy collecting at my fingertips. I knew that face.

“Fucking Adam,” I snarled. “That son of a bitch!” Around me, energy pulsed. Lucifer stepped closer to me and took both my hands in his.

“Stop. Control yourself, or all you’ll do is destroy this lovely building. A building that kept you safe last night. Take a breath and sit down,” he pushed me back next to as he let go of my hands. He shot Valentino a look. “You. Keep her calm before she inadvertently causes me a host of inconveniences.”

“Settle, mi amore. I’m upset too, but nothing you do at this moment will fix this,” he said gently. “Logic, and emotion combined equal control. Remember?”

I took a deep breath and slowly, the energy at my fingertips began to fizz out.

Lucifer nodded in approval. “Good. Now, onto the next point. If we want to stop this, we need to figure something out fast, and Reader, you’re our best shot. Tell me everything you know about this Adam character. From what I could tell, he was their leader last night.”

Oh where to begin? Adam, or as he called himself, “the original dick” was our Creator's first attempt at making a male specimen. When Eve took a bite of the apple of knowledge, offered to her by Lucifer, it caused them both to fall. Adamn, by default, ascended into heaven, free of sin because he never learned what sin was. He was the only being in that loophole. In addition, he was the leader of the group in heaven that rallied hard for the new order, and although I wasn’t sure, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had been the one who put the final knife into my father. He was a rotten, sexist, egotistical asshole who hit on me more than once and when I turned him down hard he told everyone in heaven that I put out for him. The wildfire that rumor caused was nothing short of a nightmare, and it took more than one invasive test to prove he was a lying rat. Of course, even when I was proven innocent, people still whispered.

I wondered what they would think of me sleeping with Valentino?

I relayed this information as concisely and accurately as I could, sparing no detail. When I shared his personal attack towards me, Valentino sat up straighter, and his hand took mine. Silence again fell over our group.

“Heaven is fucked up,” Valentino said finally. “That might be true, but they have power we don’t. At least, at the moment. That could change, and that’s where you come in. Reader…” Lucifer said. He looked me in the eye. “I need you to

start forming soul contracts. I need you to collect as many souls as you possibly can between now and their next visit. As a fallen angel alone, I don’t have the power to beat them but you being half demon hold the key.”

“How do you know this?”

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Honestly? I don’t. It’s my best guess based on eons of knowledge. And it’s our only shot, otherwise I am out of ideas. The angels know they have the upper hand when it comes to power.”

“Wait, Lucifer. You said they would come again. Do you know when that is? Did you and heaven come to any sort of agreement, or….”

Lucifer looked pained. “Six months. I bought us six months in between exterminations. And on that day, they can come and kill as many demons across as many rings as they desire within the span of four hours. I tried, my reader. But I would not give them the one thing they wanted.”

I felt my anger grow. “What could possibly be more important than saving your own people?”

His expression changed for the briefest of moments. “You.”

Our eyes met.

“Send me your contract for review once it’s written.”

And with that he vanished.

I looked at the three of them. Despite the panic I felt, they looked relatively calm.

“Alrightly then I guess we’ll get you started collecting souls tonight,” Vox said nonchalantly. He yawned as he stood up and made his way into the kitchen. “I got here first so I’m making breakfast! What do you want?”

“Pancakes. Bacon. Coffee.” Velvette answered.

“You got it!” Vox called back.

From the living room, I could hear the sounds of pots and pans banging around. Inside, I felt sick. How could I possibly be hungry after watching the carnage on television? How could they possibly be so calm?

“Nothing we do or say is going to change the past,” Velvette answered when I expressed my frustration. “And not eating won’t fix anything.”

I considered her point but couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t right. Either way, sitting here wasn’t going to help either. The need to move overcame me and I stood up, pacing behind the couch.

Valentino watched me silently, a displeased expression on his face.

“I have a question.” I asked after a few minutes of his eyes watching me. “How many souls can I collect in a day?”

Valentino stood up and wordlessly moved himself to the table, spinning his chair so that he was looking at me. “There is technically no limit. But in taking ownership, you bind yourself to that soul and the promises you make. And doing so, especially the first few times, can be physically and emotionally exhausting. So I would limit yourself to one or two. We usually don’t do more than ten a night, right Vox? Vel? Any input?”

Velvette shrugged. “I’d rather go out every night and give myself time in between. That lets me make sure I’m carrying out the terms of the contract as I agreed, and ensure they are as well.”

“And I’d rather go out a few times a week and come back with a couple of souls each time,” Vox called from the kitchen. “Traveling is a pain in the ass. I just want to get it done all at once.”

“You won’t be alone either, reader. I will guide you, Valenitno said gently, “If of course, you decide to do what Lucifer has asked.”

That was the question. As much as Lucifer had posed it as a requirement, at the end of the day the decision to collect souls was my own choice. Maybe a few months ago I would have scoffed at the idea and taken what I perceived to be the moral high road. But knowing what I know now, and in light of the amount of deaths that would take place if I didn’t, I could swallow the uncomfortableness of owning a soul if it meant a better outcome all around.

“I will, I don’t see a better option and well…Velvette has shown me that offering a contract is the lesser of the two evils. Speaking of, do you have a contract I could use? Or well, anything I could offer them? Because let’s be honest, even with Lucifer being who he is, I’ve got nothing to provide for them.”

“You do…have things, mi amore. And talent,” Valentino said slowly. “Granted, it's more military based…what if we contracted these souls to be trained as you were- to battle for hell when needed?”

“Doesn’t Lucifer have his own army of demons?” I asked.

Even from the kitchen, I could hear Vox let out a snort as he answered. “I mean, yeah. Sort of. But he only calls on it to handle things like riots and keep his citizens in line. It isn’t organized, like I assume the angels are.” He walked out of the kitchen and stood behind the couch where

Velvette sat. “What if we created a dual contract? One that required them to spend a day or two each week training with you, and required them to be called on to fight any battles that may arise? We can house any souls you acquire and take care of them- that isn’t an issue. We can also add in something about how during their off days they will be required to work for one of us. The language on this might be tricky, but since Lucifer is looking it over I’m sure it will be ironclad and ensure that you are in no way, shape or form held accountable.” He leaned over and pecked Velvette on the top of the head before he returned to the kitchen.

“That feels a little tricky,” I said slowly, picking up the pace ever so slightly. “And more than a little dishonest. Shouldn’t they know what they’re signing up for? The whole consent argument?”

“I mean, mi amore, is it better to let them choose the fate of the sins? Or offer them a safe landing? At heart, what they do here doesn’t really matter. It’s more important to provide a better outcome for them where you can. And you can always say no,” Valentino replied. “The consent argument- I believe you’re referring to what my job entails- comes into play in a paragraph stating that we will come to a verbal agreement regarding their participation in my business. A verbal agreement that can be altered between the two parties as necessary.” He paused. “That isn’t the exact language of course, but the general idea. This way if I have an employee who requires an…unexpected rest period, we can verbally agree together on that, so no one breaks the contract.”

I considered it. They had a point, and as long as I was being upfront and honest with the souls I interacted with, and offered them the better of the two choices, I was still doing the right thing.

“Come on you guys, enough of this discussion. I’ll write something up and send it to Lucifer later today. Once he approves it, we can go from there- but for now, breakfast is hot. Come eat.” Vox said as he carried two big platters to the table.

I filled up my plate with pancakes and bacon and settled myself back on the couch. Velvette, ever so quick to change the channel, put on one of our mutually agreed upon shows. Valentino reached over and squeezed my hand gently, a silent reminder that he was there. I gave him a smile and set my fork down, leaning over a pressing a sticky maple syrup kiss on his lips.

When breakfast finished, Valentino and I made our way back to his room.

“Do you need to work today?” I asked as I sat on his bed. “If so, that's fine, I’ll go down and help Vox write the contracts.”

“I do, princessa,” he stripped his pajamas off and walked over to me and bent down, pressing his lips to mine. “But first, let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?”

Ah fuck. The red hot feeling of desire bubbled up in me as he slowly undid the buttons on my pajamas.

“God damn it, Valentino,” I groaned as he took his time with each unhook.

“Oh, mi amore. Are you eager?” he asked teasingly. He bent over and in the span of a kiss, my shirt was undone and my pants tossed aside.

“Eager is an understatement,” I said as I wrapped my arm around his neck. “I want you. Inside me. Now.”

A grin spread across my face as he pushed himself on top of me. “As you wish, my princessa.”

Two hours, one hot shower where I discovered the use for that tiled bench, and a visit to Velvette later, I walked into Valentino’s studio and took my place beside him.

“Ah, welcome mi amore,” he said softly, reaching over and squeezing my hand before turning his attention back to his work. “Angel! Where the fuck are you?”

I watched as Angel Dust strutted out of his dressing room and took his place on stage. Valentino looked at me apologetically, and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. By the time he turned his attention back to the stage his expression had hardened, and the cruelness Valentino kept hidden from me showed itself in full form. Roughly, he stood up and strode across the room. He grabbed Angel and pushed him into the chair before leaning down and pressing his lips against Angel’s.

As much as I knew Valentino didn’t want to, the entire thing turned my stomach. and instead, chose to look away and focused my attention instead on the employees that scurried around as quickly as they could. Finally, I heard the click of Valentino’s boots come closer and I gave the scene my attention once more. I watched as he lifted Angel Dust up onto the chair, Angel’s eyes red from a mix of the pleasure and the high. Valentino took his seat, observing carefully as the demons tied Angel upright.

“And…Action.”

I watched as yet another violent scene unfolded, wincing with each slap and shout of pleasure that came from Angel. Not soon enough, Valentino called cut and sent the film to editing.

“Come, princessa. Lunch time.” He stood up and stretched.

Both on and off the stage, demons scurried around moving set pieces. Angel himself stood up and offered me a toothy smile before he disappeared back behind the door to his dressing room.

“I don’t think I will ever get used to the…cruelty.” I said once Valentino and I were safely in his office. I perched myself up on his desk and picked through the options housekeeping had brought in for lunch.

“Part of my job is to provide satisfaction for those who require a certain type of emotion or imagery in order to feel pleasure,” Valentino said patiently. “You cannot judge anyone based on their needs. As long as no actual harm is done, and consent is appropriately acquired, there is no harm in allowing fantasy to come to life on the screen.”

“I guess,” I said slowly, “but it's just so different from what we do.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve officially had sex twice in your life. We haven’t even explored other ways to make things fun, let alone all of the other…options your body has for me. You might find you like some of these kinks.” He reached over and chose a sandwich. He kissed me on the forehead and took his seat behind the desk. “So quit judging and choose something to eat, or I’ll make you.”

“Yes, Daddy..” I responded teasingly. Instantly, the vision of my father popped into my head and an icky feeling flooded through my body. I involuntarily made a face. “Okay, that one isn’t for me.”

“First of all, you’re not engaging in that kink in the correct context. And it’s fine if it isn’t for you, but you still don’t get to judge those who do enjoy that kink,” he replied. “Especially not in my studio. Understood?”

“Yes Valentino,” I rolled my eyes and reached over, picking up the container of pasta salad. “Do you have a fork?”

He opened his desk drawer and rummaged around a bit before handing one to me. “Here,” he looked at my lunch choice with disapproval. “You can’t just eat carbs. You have to have some sort of protein too.”

“You know what I read online? Cum is an excellent source of protein.” I answered nonchalantly as I unwrapped the plastic utensil covering.

His face went red and he coughed before he broke into a laugh. “Princessa. Where did you find time to read up on that?”

“I had plenty of time over the past few weeks. I learned a lot,” I leaned forward to kiss him and set my lunch aside.

His lips met mine and he sat back. “Oh? Like what, mi amore? Do share your studies with me.” He pointed to the open container of pasta salad, “and eat while you do. I’m on a time limit here and therefore so are you.”

I groaned. “Valentino. I am trying to be sexy.”

“You do that effortlessly, my princessa. And as much as I would love to tame that dirty mouth of yours right this very second, you’re just going to have to wait until we get home. Now eat, before I make you.”

“Oh? And how are you going to make me?”

He was on his feet and before I could react, he had me off the desk and against the wall, his body pressed against mine and one hand ever so lightly touched my throat.

“V-val?” My voice cracked as I looked into his eyes. The sharpness I had seen earlier shone through.

“You asked,” he breathed sharply into my ear. “And I’m answering. Now are you going to eat, or do I need to make you?”

Was it fear that flooded through me, or desire? In the moment, I couldn’t tell. It made me sick in the studio to watch him treat his employee’s like this but when it was me? Part of me was turned on in a way I could have never expected. But another part, a slightly larger part of me felt afraid, genuinely afraid that he would hurt me. I felt myself tremble.

“I-I’ll eat. I’m s-sorry.” I choked out after a few moments.

His expression softened, “that’s my girl.” He kissed my cheek and removed his hand from my throat. He watched me carefully for a moment before he pulled me into his arms and kissed me gently. “Mi amore, did I frighten you?”

“Yes and no?” I answered as honestly as I could as I tried to sort through my feelings on what just happened. “Some stupid part of me thought that was sexy.”

He kissed my forehead. “No part of you is stupid, my love. I proved my point- again. You cannot judge someone on what they like- especially if you don’t have any experience in the matter.” He lifted me up and popped me back up on the desk. He handed me my now unwrapped fork and the open container. “Now eat, before I make good on my promise.”

“You would never actually…hurt me though, would you?” I asked hesitantly. That would be the deciding factor- his dominance was sexy, but to be hurt by him was another thing entirely. I took a bite of my lunch and waited for him to answer.

He shook his head vehemently. “No. Mi amore, no. I would not. There are other ways to…convince you to follow my directions without inflicting punitive pain.” He took a bite and chewed thoroughly and then swallowed. “Though if that did turn you on- even a little- we should decide on a safeword now. So if we do get a little rough in the moment, we both have a clear cut way to stop if things get to be too much.”

I gave him a quizzical look. “What is a safe word?”

He grinned. “Ah. Something my little researcher hasn’t discovered on her own? The idea is simple- if you say a key word while we are in the bedroom, I stop. Instantly and without hesitation. The safeword in my studio is Parakeet. Anytime one of my employees utters that word, everything that happens on set stops instantly and the employee is let out of any restraints they may be in.” He paused and opened a bottle of water. He took a sip before continuing. “That’s also why I keep a doctor on staff at all times. Sometimes, accidents and emergencies happen. In house treatment prevents embarrassment and long term injuries. Which in the long run, saves me money.”

“But why wouldn’t you just stop when I tell you to stop?” I asked. “Isn’t that basic consent and respect?”

He shook his head. “Not always. Some people like to feel as though they are being overpowered. And for them, continuing to engage in the act despite begging the other to stop is a pleasure in and of itself. A safeword is something that has nothing to do with the situation and is unlikely to come up in a typical dialogue. It clearly communicates that one revokes consent and the other is to stop immediately. To avoid any confusion, I avoid using our safework in any of my scripts so there is never any mistake. Any ideas for ours, my princessa?”

“I…no. Honestly, no idea, none.” I took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Not a clue.”

He grinned. “So talk it out with me. The goal is to bring attention to the fact that something isn’t right- and kill the mood, or the vibe. However you want to describe the heat of the moment. Some people use a stop light system of sorts- yelling yellow for getting close to needing to stop and red for actually revoking consent. Think about something that if you said- or even if I said- would stop you in your tracks. And of course, something that you would be comfortable shouting.”

I looked at him blankly and hesitated as an idea slowly formed. “How about the word safe? Cause you make me feel safe…”

He smiled. “Safe. A little generic, but I like it.” He leaned forward and kissed me gently. “If you ever feel uneasy, unsure or want to stop- just say the word “safe” baby girl. And I promise to stop right away. And the same goes for me.”

“I can’t imagine you ever needing a safe word,” I said, tossing my now empty container in the trashcan next to his desk.

He laughed, “I have some hard limits. We all do.” He stood up and tossed his own wrapper in the garbage. “Come on, I need to get back to work.”

I jumped off the desk and followed him out. I took my place beside him once again. The clock on the wall ticked three o’clock, and as much as Valentino was invested in his work, I had the distinct feeling that the next few hours would drag by.

#the vees #valentino x reader #valentino x wife #vox x reader #valentino x you #hazbin fluff #valentino #hazbin hotel #the vees x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin x reader #x reader

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mollymauk-teafleak · 1 month

Text

but I'm more than a need

So. What happened was @minky-for-short told me about her idea for a painter Husk/model Angel AU and things spiralled from there. Enjoy!

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of drug use, alcoholism, mentions of sexual abuse

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3 if you enjoyed!

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Angel Dust had expected this to be easy. Wasn’t it his job to be stared at?

When Valentino had told him his schedule was being cleared of clients two days a week for a ‘special assignment’, his tone had been sickeningly magnanimous, like he expected his star performer to fall to his knees and shower him with thanks at the prospect. And Angel would, if he didn’t know better.

Being taken off the roster did mean a break from an otherwise endless parade of men with bad breath and bruising hands, reeking of the alcohol they’d needed to overcome their shame at wanting to fuck another man, a break from being so buzzed that he’d disconnect entirely from it all, not noticing how they’d hurt him until he came crashing down. But at least that was the devil he knew, intimately enough to know the taste of its tongue in his mouth.

Time away from the brothel usually meant that Valentino had something much worse in mind.

So when Angel finally arrived at the address on the card, after trekking across what felt like ten fucking blocks from the spot Valentino had him kicked out of the car, and saw it was an abandoned looking brownstone on a shady street corner, he wasn’t surprised. That part of him that never learned to sit down, shut up and accept his shitty life told him to turn and walk away.

But whatever was in that house, Valentino would be worse. So he’d gone up, knocked on the door and was thoroughly surprised when a paint streaked, grouchy man appeared, blinking like he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks and growling that Angel was late, did that asshole pimp not know that paint fucking dries?

And Husker hadn’t stopped surprising him since.

Angel still rolled his eyes at it. Of course Valentino wanted a fucking portrait of his favourite whore, the creep was probably going to hang it in his bedroom. It was so like him, wallpapering this old money aesthetic over the newly minted wealth he’d gained selling other people’s flesh. Angel wouldn’t even mind that Valentino had made a small fortune pimping him out, or how he spent it, if he didn’t treat him so cruelly. He’d signed on willingly, at first, believing the sugared words and promises of finally being free to fuck how he wanted without shame, of being able to drown the nightmares left over from the war in as many drugs as his body could take. But those promises had dissolved away to nothing on his tongue, leaving his teeth rotted and his nerves shot worse than ever.

And now Angel’s pain would be immortalized in oils and hung in a gilded frame.

But at least it would be a proper break. And it would be easy, all he had to do was stand there looking gorgeous, pinned under the gaze of an older man who never had a bottle far from his hand. No different from his usual job except he got to keep his head clear and his clothes on, if the costume Valentino wanted him painted in had enough fabric to count as clothes.

And it was easy. But not for the reasons he expected.

There was really only one reason actually and his name was Husker, Husk for short, an odd name but he hadn’t given Angel any other. At first he’d thought it was a good fit, the painter was grizzled, surly, his eyes hard and his tongue sharp, with hands that shook unless they held a brush or a bottle. He was a hell of a far cry from the rich businessmen and upper class bankers who paid for Angel’s time, who tried to impress him with gifts that Val would take and sweet words that didn’t soften their hands any, but apparently his paintings had once sold for thousands.

Angel couldn’t possibly comment at first, the cramped little studio space had oddly bare walls, but when he’d gotten glimpses of his portrait, he realized just how great Husk must have been back in his day. In nothing more than rough sketches, he was making something almost beautiful out of Valentino’s slightly nauseating ideas.

Which did beg the question, if Angel Dust was finding this so easy, why was Husk finding it so hard?

“You’re moving again, Legs.”

“Am I fuck…” Angel retorted with a grin, which of course meant he was, in fact, moving.

“Hey, you want this to look like shit, it’s no skin off my nose,” Husk looked at him over the edge of his glasses, “I got no reputation to maintain.”

“Good look trying to get this to look like shit,” Angel lifted an eyebrow, brushing his hands down the vaguely Grecian drape of silk that was preserving no modesty. The freckles dusting his skin covered more.

“Don’t underestimate how much I can fuck something up, kid,” Husk grunted, transfering his pencil to the corner of his mouth, picking up an ink brush instead, “I’ve had a lifetime of experience.”

Angel couldn’t help another grin, even as he tried to stay still. That was one of the things he liked about Husk. He didn’t try to be perfect, he didn’t hide his rough edges.

The way his arm muscles flexed as he drew, looking unfairly sexy now he’d pushed his sleeves to his elbows, Angel liked that too.

“Next question,” Husk whipped the brush back and forth across the sheaf of paper on his easel, “Think it was your turn, kid.”

Angel blinked, realizing how long he’d been quiet before Husk spoke. It was so easy for his mind to wander here, with the comforting smells of paint and paper, the soothing whisper of sleek bristles on canvas, the warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. And more than anything, the feeling of safety, knowing that quiet here really just meant quiet, come by honestly, not just waiting for the next blow. He’d been embarrassed the first time he’d dozed off in Husk’s studio, his body jumping at the chance for some real rest and shutting down without asking Angel to give the order.

But after the fourth time of waking up on the battered sofa in the corner with a musty but cozy blanket over him, Angel had found it in him to stop caring.

But he didn’t want to sleep now. Because as much as he wanted to pretend otherwise, he and Husk were on borrowed time, he was at the edge of this peaceful eye in the storm he lived in.

The portrait was almost finished, colors starting to appear at Husk’s elbow as the first draft took shape. Soon Angel wouldn’t be needed in the studio anymore, he’d go back to the stage, back to the brothel, back to living under Valentino’s thumb. And Husk would go back to…well, nothing, by the look of his bare, dusty life. The thought made Angel’s heart ache.

He pushed the thought away, refusing to chew on it. But he wouldn’t sleep away the rest of their time together, either.

“What kind of music do you like?” he eventually asked.

Husk chuckled at that, seeming to let his hands create independently, flying across the paper while the rest of him moved at a lower tempo, “Easy, jazz. I used to play when I was younger, actually. There was a club not too far from where I lived, I’d sneak out and go all the time. A guy there taught me, pretty sure just to keep me away from the bar. Looked old for my age back then…and now.”

“Shut up,” Angel perked up interestedly, “What did you play?”

“That’s two questions now,” Husk reminded him, smirking but he answered all the same, “Sax. Was a fun time but I ain’t cut out for being in a band, don’t play nice with others. Realized I was better at making art for the eyes rather than the ears.”

“Makes sense though,” Angel hummed, adjusting the angle of his arm as the silk started to slide, “You paint the way jazz sounds.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he blushed, realizing how dumb it sounded, like he didn’t know shit about art or music. Which he didn’t, but something about Husk knowing that made his face burn.

But Husk’s eyes brightened, his wry mouth turned up in a genuine smile, “No one’s ever put it quite like that. But thanks.”

Angel had to roll his eyes at himself, just a little. He’d thought crushes were from a time he hadn’t known any better, another thing his hard life had calcified until he couldn’t make it work anymore, that real, genuine attraction had gone the way of imaginary friends and daydreams. But Husk had cracked right through to that giddy, naive part of Angel, he’d let it stretch and unfurl itself and fly. You could argue it was the part that had gotten him into so much trouble but, in Husk’s studio, it didn’t feel dangerous. It was fun again, simple, pleasant. So he let himself stare, he let himself get butterflies, he let himself blush and laugh and embarrass himself. It wouldn’t last, it wouldn’t mean anything but Angel had never been one for saying no to temporary pleasures. Especially ones that made him act like a damn fool.

“You can ask me two questions,” he hummed with one of his best flirtatious smiles, “Seeing as I snuck an extra one.”

This had been their game for the last month and change. Husk had said he couldn’t paint a stranger, if he was going to put him on canvas then he needed to know him. The thought had got Angel’s back up so Husk had promised it would be an even exchange. He’d ask a question, Angel would answer it and then they’d trade. He’d even said that they didn’t have to be truthful answers, he’d understand enough from whatever lies the younger man chose to tell.

And they’d started as lies, the standard sanitized version of his past Angel gave to any johns that wanted to fake like they’d taken him on some grand romantic date, rather than paid to fuck him in the tackily decorated back rooms of a downtown bordello. But, without even really noticing, he’d grown comfortable with Husk and the truth started slipping in. Now Husk knew more about him than anyone else left in the city and, Angel suspected, he knew just as much about the older guy. He could taste lies, thanks to his profession, and as far as his tongue could tell, Husk had given him nothing but truth, bitter as it was.

“Always one to push it, aren’t you, Legs?” Husk chuckled, switching to a different brush, taking a pull from the bottle of amber liquid before continuing to paint. How he knew the difference between that and the water he cleaned his brushes in, without even glancing at them, Angel had no idea.

“You know it, sweetie,” Angel purred, recognising the color Husk picked up as the color of his own eyes, “Ain’t a proper game if you don’t try and bend the rules.”

Husk shook his head in amusement, choosing his questions without a pause, like he already knew which ones he needed to ask to make the next brushstroke perfect, “What was your biggest fear when you were a kid?”

“Before I turned thirteen? Spiders,” Angel wrinkled his nose, though there was an odd fondness to the nostalgic fear, “Nona’s apartment was full of them, I used to be frightened they’d crawl on my face when I slept. But she loves them, even named them all, the mad old bat.”

“And after?” Husk’s brush hesitated and changed direction at the last moment.

Angel gave a dry laugh, “Father finding out I was a pansy.”

Husk made a sympathetic noise but there was no pity in it, another point in Angel’s book. He sat back suddenly, frowning, “Come tell me what you think of this.”

Already? It hit Angel like a blow to the chest, enough that he staggered as he stepped off the little platform he posed on, enough that his mask almost cracked, “From your tone, I’m guessing you’re not happy?”

Husk gave a grunt, “Not me who needs to be happy with it…”

“Well it ain’t me either, baby, it’s Val,” Angel let the fabric fall, shrugged on a robe and came around to the other side of the easel. The sudden shock of color and movement on the other side of such a plain, gray nothing hit better than some highs he’d had.

Angel didn’t know how to talk about art. He’d seen plenty of it when he was shipped out in France but he’d had other things on his mind then, it had all just been set dressing in this brand new world of dizzying highs and terrifying lows.

So when he saw Husk’s work, he didn’t know how to describe the way it made him feel, he just felt it, in a rush like a wave that took him off his feet. It was the way he took moments in time and fixed them to the paper, turned them into something Angel could actually touch if he wanted, and made them so beautiful in the process. For someone who had so many gaps in his memory, parts of his life eaten away by drugs and pain and terror, it may as well have been magic.

The painting was gorgeous, that wasn’t the problem. It was just a gorgeous painting of a vindictive, controlling pimp’s sex fantasy.

When he first started working on this particular commission, Husk had asked Angel if he was really okay with what his boss had requested, showing him the list of demands with a knowing air, the older man fully aware of what answer was true and what answer he would get. And Angel hadn’t surprised him, glancing over what Valentino wanted and saying that whatever he’d asked for, Husk had better deliver. That’s how Angel had kept most of his teeth.

From the way Husk’s eyes had tightened, he hadn’t found the joke very funny.

But Angel knew what he’d see when he looked at the paper but an image in his own mind and something realized in ink and paint, brought to life by Husk’s clever hands, were two very different things. The Angel on the page was much truer to his name, he was angelic, pale skin glowing, freckles scattered across his skin like flecks of gold, eyes bright and blue and innocent behind flaxen hair. But he was a fallen angel, chains securing his hands to some part of the background that Husk would draw in later but, even without it, they looked inescapable, raw chafe marks in a wincing carmine visible below their cuffs. And the fabric looked somehow even less, like a rough hand was in the process of tearing it away to leave him naked and flushed. And there wasn’t a single scar on that perfect, porcelain skin.

It wasn’t him. It was the role he was supposed to play for Valentino, the fantasy he was forced into. And seeing it in front of his eyes, he could almost feel the weight of those chains on his own wrists and, fuck, they hurt.

“It’s exactly what he wants,” Angel said truthfully, making himself smile at Husk, “You’ve done a great job.”

But the older man’s frown just deepened, etching the lines around his eyes and mouth more firmly. Angel realized then that he wasn’t looking at the painting, he was only looking at him.

“It’s shit.”

The sudden sound of the paper tearing away from the pad made Angel flinch but he couldn’t deny there was some catharsis in seeing it crumpled in Husk’s surprisingly strong fist.

But he was the one who had to fight for his own misery, “Husk, no, it’s good! It’s really good, Val will love it.”

“You don’t,” Husk pitched the failed painting into the dented old furnace he’d light whenever he noticed Angel shivering.

Angel opened his mouth but no words came out. It wasn’t so easy to lie to Husk as it was to lie to everyone else in his life.

“That isn’t the point,” he finally managed, “Husk, honey, if you take any longer with this, he’s gonna start getting mad.”

Like it wasn’t already too late.

He’d seen it in Valentino’s gaze every time he left the club for Husk’s studio, the building jealousy, the brewing sense of danger that Angel was so depressingly familiar with. They were meant to have been done inside a week but that week had rolled on and on, Husk getting to this point in the process, the moment where he should have let Angel go, and then starting over three times now. Every painting had been gorgeous, it had been lecherous, it had been exactly what Valentino wanted, and each one had ended up in the furnace as soon as Husk had seen Angel’s reaction.

And if his boss’s simmering fury had just been directed at him, he wouldn’t have minded, the daydream was worth it. It was what he’d said about Husk that worried him.

“It should be the point and I’ll fucking well tell him so,” Husk reached for the bottle again, draining it in one swallow that left his voice a smoky growl, “Valentino can get as mad as he wants, I ain’t scared of that up jumped pimp.”

Panic tasted bitter on Angel’s tongue and sharpened his words, “You should be. If you don’t realize how dangerous he is, you need to learn fast, Husker, because I’ll be damned if I let you get hurt because you stuck up for me. I’m not worth it.”

Husk’s eyes darkened, his voice softening, “You really believe that, kid?”

Angel realized he’d said more than he’d meant to, feeling more naked than he had when there was only a swathe of fabric between him and Husk’s gaze.

“I have to,” he said eventually, voice trembling ever so slightly, “There ain’t another way through.”

Husk looked like he was going to say something, like there were some words pulling at the tip of his tongue, desperate to fly. But suddenly the fight went out of him, shoulders slumping, the words becoming a low groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I need another drink,” he muttered, “Gimme a second…”

He went into the back room of the studio that served as his living space, that rickety, sagging bed and chipped wardrobe and lopsided bookcase apparently holding all he owned in the world. But Angel knew there were several bottles of whiskey under the bed, enough that he didn’t need to ask whether Husk had served in the war too. Only a soldier needed that much poison to hand.

Selfish tears threatened to choke him the moment he was alone. He’d done the right thing, he knew he had, but it still hurt like a bitch. He let himself have a moment to almost cry about it before scrubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his robe and moving to the furnace. He’d fish out the draft, he’d tell Husk to use that painting and he’d be done with this. The daydream had been nice but it needed to end, before someone other than Angel himself got hurt. He could see that now.

There were several balls of crumpled sketchbook paper in the furnace’s grating, he couldn’t remember which one he needed. He came up with a handful of them, as well as an annoying smear of soot on his fingers, pulling a face of irritation as he unrolled one at random.

And felt his heart stop in his chest. It was a drawing of him but it wasn’t the one he was looking for.

It was a quick, hurried drawing, like Husk had done it on impulse, something to keep his hands steady or to keep them off the bottle for just a little longer. Angel wasn’t dramatically posed, dressed up in silk, he didn’t look alluring or otherworldly, it was just a sketchy of him from the neck up. He was doing that grin he tried not to do because it made his nose turn up and his teeth look huge but the way it was drawn here, it looked…adorable. Natural.

He looked so happy.

It was dizzying, seeing the way somebody else could look at his flaw and find beauty in it. Not Valentino’s warped, fake idea of it but real, actual, honest. Angel didn’t think he’d known the difference before looking at this drawing.

He knew what he should do. He should drop the sketch back in the furnace, pretend he’d never seen it. He should light it up himself, let that version of himself blacken and curl and become nothing, go back to Valentino and the devil he knew.

But his hands weren’t connected to his brain, reaching for more balls of paper the way he reached for the next pill or line of white powder, the next bad idea that would be sweet in the moment then do him more harm than good.

Some pages just had one drawing, some had a few. The sketch of him asleep on the couch was full body but around it were isolated hands, eyes, a smile, every inch of him noticed and practiced until it was perfect. Angel was smiling, he was lost in thought, he was yawning hugely, he was guarded and wary, he was alight with playful mischief. He could match the expressions with memories of the last few weeks, stories he’d told Husk or bad jokes he’d made. Things he’d said and done so offhandedly but apparently they’d mattered enough for Husk to commit them to pencil and paper.

Finally, after pages and pages of careful studies of himself, he found the draft painting done for Valentino. Seeing them side by side, it was heartbreakingly obvious, like he held night in one hand and day in the other. How he looked to someone who wanted him and how he looked to someone who loved him. Who he had to be and who he wanted to be. Angel Dust and Anthony.

Angel didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late.

“I’m sorry, kid, I shouldn’t have stormed off like that, I…Angel?”

He felt his stomach drop, whipping around, arms already drawn to his chest in defense and eyes screwed tightly shut, “I didn’t mean to look, it was an accident, I’m sorry.”

But the blow he’d learned to expect never landed. There was no anger, no explosion, just a long pause where the only sound was the city outside the windows shifting into evening, oblivious to the two of them.

“Angel…fuck, I’m sorry.”

Surprise made him open his eyes, Husk just leaning in the doorway, slumped like a man too tired to fight anymore.

“I never wanted to put you in this position,” his voice was rough, heavy, in a way that had nothing to do with the drink, “I swear, those sketches…they were just be trying to get this fucking lunacy out of my system, I was never gonna act on it. I don’t want to be just another deluded old idiot leering at you like he’d got any damn right to.”

“Husker…” Angel breathed, unsure what to do, holding onto the pages of sketches like he was afraid someone would take them away.

“I just…it’s been so long since I talked with anyone, since anyone wanted to hear what I had to say,” Husk ducked his eyes, wincing, “I shouldn’t have let you in, I should have known better but you’re so…” he shook his head like there weren’t even words but it was there on the page, “I’m an old fool, Angel. That’s all. I’m sorry, I understand if you want to leave.”

Angel felt the weight of the choice. Again, that hard learned fear was pulling at him, telling him what he should do, what was safe, what was smart. Telling him that he didn’t deserve it. But for the first time in his life, he was able to drown that voice out, his grip on the pages, on his hope, tightening.

“I don’t want to leave,” he murmured, taking a step closer to Husk.

The older man’s eyes widened, looking like he didn’t know whether to believe what he’d just heard, “What?”

“I want you,” Angel said it again, feeling the truth in it now, feeling it steel himself.

He put the sketches to one side, resting his hands on Husk’s chest, letting himself have what he knew now he’d wanted for so long. Maybe even longer than he’d known Husk.

“Angel,” Husk’s own hands responded, settling on his hips like nervous birds, “You have a right to know, when your boss came to hire me, he…he offered me you. For a discount he said I could…have you while I worked. And I didn’t take it, I never would but I just…I need to know that this is what you want, not something you feel like you have to do just because I got a stupid crush on you.”

The news didn’t surprise Angel in the slightest, Val had used him as sugar on top of deals plenty of times before. What did surprise him was Husk’s mouth twisting in disgust at the idea, the restraint holding him back until he heard Angel’s answer. What surprised him was finding himself in the arms of a truly honest man.

“Baby,” he smiled, as big as he wanted to, not caring how it looked, “Believe me, I know what a bad idea this is. I know what I’m risking, I know what I’m asking you to risk. But I’m here anyway, ain’t I? So I know how much I want this, how much I've been wanting you since I walked through your door.”

Apparently that was all Husk needed to hear. His hold on Angel became certain, pulling him that last inch closer until their bodies pressed together, “Then I’m yours, baby. For however long we got.”

The moment their lips met, Angel knew the answer was not long enough. He knew in an instant that he’d never get tired of the way Husk kissed him, of that taste of second hand whiskey and those strong arms around him, feeling safer than anything had for a long damn time. He didn’t hurry, he didn’t want to press forward into the next thing, he just reveled in kissing Angel like if it stopped right there, it would still be enough. Angel found himself nearly climbing Husk, gasping and whimpering in between hurried breaths, nearly screaming when the older man shifted and pressed his leg up between Angel’s.

“Fuck me,” he moaned desperately, needing Husk more than he needed air, so much he as burning with it.

“You got the kit for that?” Husk’s voice had become a growl, something Angel felt as much as he heard.

“I’m taking the fact that you have to ask as a professional insult,” Angel smirked, only the promise of having this man inside him able to make himself let go.

He scrambled for the bag he’d left in the corner along with his clothes, Husk dropping back on the sofa to wait, warm golden eyes never leaving him. With that gaze pricking pleasantly across his skin, Angel shed his robe, stepping out of the pool of pink silk and coming back to Husk wearing only a lopsided grin.

“Fuck, look at you, baby…” his hands were as reverant as his gaze, both stroking down Angel’s narrow body, drinking in every freckle and angle and scar with as much adoration as he settled in the older man’s lap.

“Now you,” Angel tugged impatiently at Husk’s suspenders, “It’s my turn to stare.”

“Ain’t gonna be half as pretty,” Husk warned, the skin on his cheeks darkening a little but he didn’t resist as Angel yanked down the collar of his shirt and pulled open buttons, kicking off his shoes and shoving down his trousers.

Under the slightly bedraggled clothing, Husk had scars of his own. Everything about him seemed designed to contrast Angel, dark skin where he was pale, strong where he was wiry, thick black hair across his chest and down between his legs where Angel just had a dusting of gold down, the curve of a beer gut where drugs had left Angel nearly concave.

He wasn’t pretty. He was fucking gorgeous. Angel had to drag a fist across his lips to check he wasn’t drooling.

Husk’s blush only deepend but now he was grinning rather than looking anxious, “You have weird tastes, baby.”

“Guys who are nice to me? I know, I’m a hopeless degenerate,” Angel cackled, before pressing the small jar into his hand, “I want you to do it…”

“My pleasure,” Husk rolled his hips, letting Angel feel the press of his erection against him, beaming when it made him tremble and whimper hungrily.

Even slick with Vaseline, Husk’s fingers were fucking big. Angel found himself squealing like a fucking rookie when his hole finally opened for him after a few coaxing strokes, burying his face against the curve of his neck as he pressed inside. But Husk knew his business and in a moment it was bliss and nothing else, making Angel cling to him so fiercely that there would be an impression of the other man’s dog tags on his chest when he pulled away.

When Husk curled his fingers against that sweet spot inside him, the pleasure took on an edge of panic, almost too much between that blinding pressure and his cock trapped between the warmth of their stomachs, the pre he was spilling like a fountain making it slick and hot.

“Gonna…fuck, Husk, I can’t hold it…” he gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“You say that like it’s not the aim, baby…” Husk purred smokily, tongue tracing the curve of his ear.

“Not like this,” Angel begged, voice strangled as it had to shoulder past gasps and moans and pleas, “On your cock. Need to feel you, wanna make you feel good too…”

The arms around him became soothing, like he was being rocked, Husk shifting to give him what he wanted, “You do, baby. You do. You’re doing so good.”

Those words set his nerves alight as much as the fingers crooked inside him until Angel almost sobbed, “Please…”

“I got you,” the loss of the fingers was heartbreaking until he felt Husk’s cock press against his entrance, thick and hard and hot enough to burn, “Breathe, baby, you’re so tight, you gotta let me in…”

Those strong hands slid down to Angel’s hips, holding tight so he couldn’t force himself back and take him, damn the pain. It was slow, careful, but the reward was all the sweeter for it, Angel’s eyes nearly rolling back as he sat on Husk’s dick, feeling so full he didn’t know how he wasn’t unraveling completely.

“Fuck…” Husk’s voice cracked, a hand sliding up to tangle in Angel’s hair, the other draping around his hips to keep him close.

“As good as you imagined?” Angel panted, nuzzling at his shoulder.

“Better…”

Husk rolled his hips like the sweetest music was playing in his head, purposeful, rhythmic, wanting Angel to feel every inch. At first Angel couldn’t even scream, everything in him utterly surrendered, every cell in his body devoted to chasing after that feeling. But he soon realized he didn’t need to, Husk would give it to him and give it gladly, as sure as the tide. He fucked into him slow but the pace built gradually, leaving Angel free to moan and shriek and beg. He couldn’t let Husk mark him, as much as he wanted it, but he could sink his teeth into him, sucking hard until he’d have something to look at in the morning and feel less lonely.

Angel knew how to read people’s bodies, he knew they were about to fall. Husk throbbed deep inside him, his own cock was stiff as a board and trembling between their bodies. He wanted to beg Husk to hold on, to wait, just a few seconds more because even those would be sweeter than anything he’d ever get again. But he might as well have wished for the moon.

So Angel did what he’d always done and took a hand in his own destruction.

He moved his hips faster, grinding down hard on Husk’s dick and whispered in his ear, “Come for me, baby.”

Husk did, with a yowl like a cat in heat. Angel was a second behind, painting both of their chests and crying out his lover’s name, letting his voice shatter on it. They were both left ruined, gasping, only held together by the other’s arms around them.

It was a long time before Angel trusted himself to speak, morning back to rest his forehead on Husk’s, “Will you draw me? Like this?”

Husk’s smile was warmth itself, “I’ll do my damndest, baby.”

It came out beautiful. Of course it did.

Afterwards, when their lovemaking was just an ache in his hips and a slick feeling between his legs, Angel sat back in Husk’s arms and looked at the sketch like he was trying to etch it onto his brain. The pencil version of himself wore Husk’s shirt rather than his own, eyes heavy lidded, his smile crooked and blissfully tired, happier than Angel had thought his own face would ever look.

Even if the moment had ended for them, he’d always have this. He had this proof that someone had loved him.

“Can I keep it?” his voice was raw and shaky, “And some of the others?” In case I come to my senses and never see you again.

Husk kissed the side of his head, squeezed his hand gently, like he’d heard the words left unsaid, “They’re yours. But I’ll draw you better ones if you like? Ones that didn’t spend a few days in the furnace?”

Angel smiled up at him, seeing that some of the soot from his fingers had smudged on Husk’s cheek, “I think these are perfect the way they are.”

“Then they’re a good likeness,” Husk murmured, pressing the next kiss to his lips.

Angel leaned into it, letting himself have another temporary pleasure, letting himself have a moment to not think about anything but Husk. What he’d do tomorrow, fuck, what he’d do in the next moment, he had no idea. But he wouldn’t think about it now.

“It is stunning, isn’t it, Angel? Who’d have thought the old drunk had some talent left clinging to him…”

Valentino’s voice was full of smug satisfaction and smoke, faintly red billows of it hissing from between his teeth and scratching at Angel’s nose. He didn’t flinch, he’d grown used to it over the years.

“It’s exactly what you asked for,” he hummed in what would sound like agreement, looking up at the painting now slotted cozily into its new home on the wall of Valentino’s office.

The frame was a tacky travesty, of course, gilded and overblown but he supposed the image inside was as well. Husk had delivered exactly what he’d been asked, once Angel had convinced him to. It was exactly like the draft piece that nearly ended up in the flames, just more polished and done in rich, sumptuous oils, his wanton blush more rich, his eyes shining brighter, his pose more tempting. Valentino was nearly salivating looking at it.

“You’ve never looked more tempting, my dear,” he crowded Angel closer, voice almost warm though his hands were like vices on his shoulders, “In fact, I can think of no better advertisement for our little club, you’ll have the deviants of the city flocking to our doors just for a glimpse of this…and then they’ll pay through the nose for the real thing.”

“Yes, Valentino,” Angel hummed, not taking his eyes off the painting.

“I believe I’ll take Mr Husker up on his kind offer, now I know his talent hasn’t faded along with everything else. A few pieces like these in the hallway, my profits could triple…and with the discount he mentioned, well, I don’t know what you showed him or shook in front of him but the old fool’s half in love with you. Very nice work, baby…”

Angel shrugged, gaze still fixed on the painting, “Just a generous guy, I guess.”

“Don’t make me laugh, sweetling, you’re not good at it,” Valentino said curtly, “I want you on stage in ten. With how much time you’ll be spending in that studio, you’ll have to make it up to me. Double shifts for the rest of the week and I don’t want to hear you bitching.”

Angel flinched a little but he didn’t take his eyes off Husk’s painting, not even when the office door closed with a slam designed to put him on edge, “You won’t…”

Of course Valentino hadn’t noticed it. But it was the first thing he’d seen as soon as he’d stepped into the office after Val had called him in so he could gloat over it. Husk hadn’t let him see the final piece, just reassuring him that it was finished and that his boss would be happy with it. And now Angel knew why.

Valentino didn’t look past the eyes, the beckoning gaze, the perfect body begging to be ruined. But Husk did. And that's why one of the chains in the links that bound the painted version of Angel was cracked. Almost all the way through, about to break entirely, if he just pulled hard enough. Valentino saw him chained but in Husk’s painting, Angel saw himself fighting and, against all the odds, about to win.

It was a nice dream.

Angel turned away from the painting, thinking about where this had begun. It was supposed to be easy. It should have been easy, it was Angel Dust’s job to be stared at.

But this was the first time he felt like he’d been seen.

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #husker #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #husk #painter husk au #please reblog and comment!

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wanduhhh · 2 years

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Don’t Be So Cocky 18+

Wanda/Reader (one shot)

Summary: teasing Wanda the night before a neighbourhood barbecue was not in your best interests. Wanda has no shame.

Tw: smutty smut smut, mommy wanda, strap on, wanda being a cocky little shit, poor reader being a dumb baby x (my not proofread words that I wrote after a terrible sleep)

Thank you @moonlightkiara37 for the delicious prompt 😌🤌🏼 and for forcing me to write something after about 10 years.

Also now that I’m not shadow banned- my requests are open 💋

——————————————————————

Every time you took a bite of the cookie in your hand, it was like everyone in the room stopped to look at you as you crunched. Your cheeks were bright red, so far in your anxiety filled mind that you couldn’t register the fact that there was only one person in the room with their eyes fixed on you.

Wanda Maximoff stood at the other side of the garden, dozens of people separating the two of you; yet her eyes burned into the side of your head. You tried and failed to ignore her, getting so flustered that you dropped the last bite of your cookie onto the artificial grass. You could basically hear her laughing at your pout.

A neighbourhood barbecue in the plastic suburbs was enough to have anyone scratching at the back of their neck, but that coupled with having an affair in a street where everyone knows what you had for breakfast; bone crushing anxiety.

Wanda Maximoff had tiptoed her way into your daily routine, casually coming by with homemade pies and cupcakes that she just happened to have made way too many of. From daily coffee dates to eventual wine nights together; the two of you were inseparable.

There was one issue though, quite a substantial one at that. You were both married, in fact the reason you could have so many wine nights where the two of you wound up a little too close, was because your husbands’ happened to be very good friends.

The amount of golfing trips they went on together seemed too good to be true. One time you had thought about it too much, with your head buried under Wanda’s skirt getting so distracted wondering whether or not Wanda set up those trips just to get you to herself. Your tongue had been swirling aimlessly around her clit for what felt like hours before she snapped, grabbing you by the hair so she could look into your glazed eyes. “Are you too dumb to fuck me properly, do I have to do everything myself?”

You lay your questions to rest and got straight back to work, she came in your mouth within 2 minutes, but slapped the smug look right off of your face.

Despite Wanda’s obvious success at getting rid of your husbands’ whenever she wanted, it seemed it had not worked for the barbecue. That or she wanted the excitement of them being present. She was a little dramatic that way.

She had gotten pretty good at acting like the best of friends in front of other people, you on the other hand were hopeless. A stuttering mess if she so much as told you she liked the dress you were wearing. And who could blame you when the last time she said that to you in that dress, you had been bent over the dining room table with her fingers inside you.

Your inability to act casual with her was worsened by the previous night. Wanda had been missing you, telling you how much she wanted to see you wet for her over the phone. Husband in bed asleep just to her left. She had broken your resolve down and before you knew it, you were sending her videos of you trying and failing to make yourself come. A whining mess in your own guest room, as your husband snored away next door.

Wanda had mocked you for not being able to finish yourself off, claiming how badly you needed her and how you were just a “dumb little baby who can’t do anything without mommy’s help”. She was right of course, but the disappointment of not being able to come had you in a petulant mood. You had text her back saying you were thinking about asking your husband for help, and then went to sleep and ignored the incessant vibrations coming from your phone.

You knew you would regret it, and regret it you did. Wanda had come to the barbecue in red slacks and a sheer black blouse, black heels that were a little too high for a casual get together. No one else batted an eye at her attire, but you had come to know Wanda to only wear slacks when she had a surprise with your name on it.

It seemed impatience had gotten the better of the redhead and she marched towards you, whispering into your ear to meet her in the bathroom in 5. You knew not to push her further, so you got there 4 minutes later.

She was leaning against the sink, legs spread and arms crossed as she watched you fumble to lock the door, eyes cast downward.

She tutted at your guilty posture and moved towards you to grab your face in one of her hands. Fingers squishing your cheeks together and forcing your eyes to meet hers.

“Not so cocky now are you baby? What’s the matter, can’t look at mommy after you’ve been bad hmm?” You fixed her with your best doe eyes, hoping to dilute some of her rage.

But it did nothing as she grabbed you by the throat and forced you to your knees. Your arms dangled at your sides, not daring to touch without her permission. “Go on slut, I’m sure you know exactly what to do; what with all your experience“. You were eating your words from last night when you pulled at her slacks and eyed up the size of the strap she had chosen.

Way bigger than anything she had given you before, your eyes watered at the sight of it. Throat closing up involuntarily. “Mommy I- it’s. I don’t think I can” she looked at you with a condescending pout, hand raking through your hair. “Don’t worry baby, I think you can” chuckling lightly at your worried face before pulling you forward by the hair.

You tried to ease the strap into your mouth, widening your lips to accommodate it- but Wanda was not in a patient mood. Pushing your head down further until you were gagging around the silicone, spit dribbling down your chin. “Fuck see, I know what you can take. I know exactly what you need bunny, better than anyone else”.

Her words had you mewling, nuzzling closer to the base the more you thought about her stretching you open. She fucked your mouth for a few more minutes and you listened intently to her laboured breaths, knowing she was getting closer with every press against her clit.

Just as you heard the telltale sounds of her orgasm approaching, she pulled you off with a pop. Groaning as she watched the spit pool around your mouth. “Up” she ordered, but it was pointless as she had already grabbed you by your underarms anyway. Swivelling around and lifting you to rest on the sink.

You winced as your bare ass touched the cold porcelain, but it was nothing compared to your gasp as she thrust the strap inside you in one motion. Gritting your teeth, nails digging into her shoulders as you attempted to adjust to the size. She allowed you a second, meeting your eyes to silently check in with you.

At your first slight nod, she started pounding into you at an unforgiving pace. Your head bouncing off the mirror behind you every time she slammed back inside you.

“Such a good little slut, not so cocky today are you baby?” She grunted into your ear. You could feel the jealousy pulsing through her, punctuated by the bruising force she was using to fuck you. “Who do you belong to hmm?” She breathed into your ear, gripping the lobe between her teeth and biting down when you failed to reply. “You- fuck. Only you mommy”.

“That’s right, no one else can make you come like this. No one else is allowed to touch you like this, right bunny?” You agreed with her with babbles of “yes mommy” in between deep moans. You were so so close, more than making up for your frustrating night, the feel of Wanda had you intoxicated.

Completely oblivious to the sounds you were making, it was enough to make any one of your nosy neighbours come to investigate the relentless banging noises. But as fate would have it, the one nosy neighbour that decided to check; was your own husband.

Naivety and his own ego had him imagining you in distress, needing a brave man to come and save you. He pushed open the door to the bathroom; the creak had you realising that your earlier fumbling was fruitless. “Honey are you- oh my god. Wanda?” Your head snapped round to see his wide eyed face. Cheeks flush with a cocktail of rage and embarrassment. You were at a loss for words.

Unluckily for both of you, Wanda had it covered. Not stopping her thrusts for a mere second, she flipped her hair over to the side and met your husband’s eyes. “Oh hi Ted, y/n will be done in a minute” she fixed him a wink and looked back over to you; cockiness oozing from her.

You closed your eyes and accepted your fate.

#wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #fanfiction #wanda smut #wanda x y/n #fanfics #mcu fic #wanda mcu #wanda maximoff x reader

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 month

Text

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Two.

Ask and ye shall recieve, besties! Thrilled at how well-received the first chapter was, thank you all so much for your feedback :)

Previous chapters - One

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,445

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

The sound of a garbage can hitting the sidewalk from the street below with a clatter was what roused Emily from her long, deep sleep the morning after, coming to and not immediately realising where she was. Until she smelled him on the sheets.

While his scent lingered, the man himself was nowhere to be found, but he had left her a note. A note and a stack of cash.

‘I have business to deal with, I’ll be back later. Go buy yourself some clothes and whatever else you need. Two of my guys, Angelo and Donny will be waiting for you downstairs. They’ll look after you.’

His writing was elegant and loopy, very fine penmanship, she thought, placing the note down and getting out of bed, remaking it neatly. Picking up the crisp stack of bills, her eyes bulged. All fifties. Twenty of them.

“A grand?” she gasped, her mouth dropping open. He’d left her a thousand dollars, like it was small change!

Placing the money back down again, she ventured to the bathroom, the only part of the apartment that was walled off from the rest. Looking at herself in the mirror, she could count it as a small mercy that Joey rarely touched her face, she supposed, always wanting to keep her pretty, as he once worded it after a beating. His body shot punches were a different matter. The soreness lingering over her ribs and stomach attested that, although she doubted anything was broken.

Her eye was tinged with the violet and shadowy green of bruising, but gladly not swollen, the same to the side of her mouth and both cheekbones. It wasn’t ideal as visages went, to have her looks marred like that, Emily always taking pride in her appearance. Looking on at her reflection, a few tears of relief pooled her eyes, realising that the wounds he’d inflicted upon her were all that was left of the scumbag that was Joey Calabrese.

Once she was washed and refreshed, she dressed in the other clean shirt left for her, pulling on the grey coat he’d also placed with it, thinking what a mess she looked. A sullied face, no shoes, no underwear (hers were still hanging to dry after she’d washed them in the sink the night before) and wearing men’s clothes that buried her.

And she was about to go out in public? The utter shame of it.

Emily quickly realised that she didn’t have a whole lot of choice in the matter, though, so all she could do was go with it. What made nerves pool in her belly more was the fact that she now had to place her faith in somebody who wasn’t Luca, two somebody’s in fact. Her trust in their boss was only tentative at best, after all.

Was she really being taken to purchase clothes, or was something else more nefarious about to befall her? What if he’d struck a deal with Gino for her return? The words lamb and slaughter came rapidly to mind. Realising she was panicking and so far, Luca had shown no real signs of deception, she took a breath at the top of the stairs before padding down, swinging the door open and turning right.

Two very large men turned in their seats at the bar, wide smiles greeting her. “Hey, sleepy head. I’m Angelo, this is Donny. The boss told us to take you out someplace nice for clothes. My wife tells me that new place Barney’s is the best, so we’re takin’ you over to Manhattan. You ready, toots?”

He received an elbow and an eye roll from his cohort. “Can’t just be callin’ her toots like you know her, man,” he admonished lightly, extending his hand. “Miss Mortensen, a pleasure. I’m Donny, anythin’ you want, just ask, alright?” She shook his hand, Donny bringing it to his lips to place a little kiss upon her dainty fingers.

“Oh, look at this guy over here,” Angelo chirped, “Mr Smooth, amirite?”

“Screw you, pal. Gotta treat the ladies with respect, eh? Plus, she’s the boss's gal and I ain’t lookin’ to get clipped for my yap, know what I’m sayin’?”

They were a pair, she had to admit, set at ease by their little back and forth banter. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, too. I’m not Luca’s girl, though.”

Angelo lifted his chin with a little grunt. “Wearin’ his clothes, came from his apartment, he told us to look after you and treat you nice. Yeah, you the boss’s gal, toots.”

“Enough with the toots, already! This guy and his lip,” Donny chuckled, offering his arm to Emily. “Let’s go, huh?”

Her giggles peppered the air, taking the arm of the younger man, Angelo ambling along behind them. “See? Even left us his best car to take you out in. If you ain’t his gal then trust me, the big man is definitely sweet on ya, wanting you taken out in the Rolls.”

“Woah,” she gasped, seeing the shiny, black Silver Ghost parked at the curb, a car of esteemed value and luxury. “Oh my god, it’s beautiful.”

“Ain’t it, though?” Donny spoke, opening the door for her and gesturing in. “Drives like a dream, too.”

The men mostly talked between themselves for the duration of the journey, asking her a few questions here and there along the way. Truly there wasn’t much more they could converse with her about, for what did two mobsters and a naive twenty-three-year-old woman truly have in common? Not a whole lot.

“So, the big man says you’re a sunshine state gal,” Angelo broached, looking at her in the rear-view mirror. “What part ya from?”

“San Francisco,” she replied.

“Get outta here, I gotta cousin from my wife’s side who lives out there!” he laughed warmly. “Hey, how about those Giants, huh? We whooped ‘em big style this year!”

“Oh, I don’t really follow baseball. I take it you’re a Yankees fan?”

“Until my dying breath, toots!”

The demeanour of the men set her at ease, even more so when they entered Manhattan, a place she had only been to once before. The buildings loomed huge overhead, Emily looking out of the window with curiosity filled eyes, Donny nudging Angelo and jerking his head back with a smile at her wonder.

“Oh, it’s so fancy,” she exclaimed, looking up at the department store once they’d parked up and alighted the car, her gaze then falling down to her bare feet. Discomfort tingled through her chest and down her legs. “And I have to go in there like this.”

“Eh, don’t you stress about it, you hear?” Angelo spoke, offering his arm. “You gonna get all fixed up even prettier than you are, I tell ya. Let’s go.”

Donny swung the doors open, following them into the hustle and bustle of the store, Emily feeling like such a fish out of water as she gazed around. It was all so indulgent, so luxurious, and there she was, a poor girl from San Francisco, barefoot and makeup free, with her roots showing and her face all marked up.

It didn’t take long for her appearance to draw stares. From clientele to staff alike. One particular woman working within the ladies' clothing section was absolutely not shy in looking her up and down several times, Emily dropping her head in embarrassment, letting her pale waves cover her face.

Oh, no. That would not do.

“Hey you, with the twisted-up mouth like a dog’s asshole,” Angelo began, clicking his fingers at the woman and pointing before him, pulling out a fat wad of bills from his pocket. “We got a lotta dough to spend in here, and it’s your job to make Miss Mortensen happy while she’s goin’ about it. So, set your face straight and hop to it.”

Her eyes bulged at being handed a fifty, the woman fixing her face in a wide, friendly smile that had not existed prior to knowing that the well-dressed men and the poor looking, barefooted scrap who accompanied them were, in fact, likely the wealthiest people in the store. Maybe the girl was of some kind of European aristocracy, she wondered? Perhaps a little eccentric, hence the men’s clothes and bare feet?

“Certainly, sir,” she nodded, turning to Emily with a smile. “Good morning, Miss Mortensen. My name is Ivy, and it would be my pleasure to show you some of our garments. What are we in the market for today?”

“Everything, four times over,” Donny spoke, winking at Emily when she smiled up at him. “Go on, you go enjoy yourself. We’ll be right here, darlin’.” She was a little reluctant to move away from them, Donny remembering Luca specifically stating to treat her with care and never leave her alone, even for a second, watching her relax when he stepped forward and accompanied her as she began browsing the clothing.

Dresses, blouses, skirts, pants, shoes, underwear, stockings, cardigans, shawls, purses and hats were all perused and gathered, Emily having a wail of a time trying everything on and playing model for her approving audience.

“Beautiful, stunning, get in black, too!” Angelo enthused as she twirled in a deep red fringed dress, he and Donny clapping. She presumed them to be merely humouring her, of course thinking she was the boss’s girl, no matter how much she corrected them to the contrary. The two mafioso’s were genuinely having a good time with their young companion, though, watching this girl who looked like she’d never had two pennies to rub together suddenly catapulted into a world of splendour.

“You need a fur too, toots. Here, feel this. Mink. Gorgeous, ain’t it? I got one for my wife last week. I swear, she’d sleep in the thing!” Angelo spoke, approaching with a gorgeous, pale grey coat. Emily placed her arms in, pulling it over her shoulders, turning to look at herself in the mirror.

How was this her life?

“How much is it?” she asked the assistant.

“Two hundred and thirty dollars, Miss Mortensen.”

She’d been adding it up in her head, her running total for the items she’d already chosen. God, it cost even more than all of them put together. Turning to Angelo, she bit her lip nervously. “Do I take it?”

“Of course, ya take it! How much did your man give ya?”

“A grand,” she confirmed, the burly man laughing softly.

“Well, he gave me an extra G on top of that, should you go too wild. Told me to make sure you had a good time, so let’s see to gettin’ you a chinchilla too. You’ll need different ones for different outfits, amirite? I know you dames like that.”

She had a thousand, and Angelo had a backup thousand. Good god, her head was spinning. The chinchilla coat was tried on, Emily falling in love with it, choosing an outfit to wear right away and going to dress while the assistant took her purchases to the sales desk and rang everything up. All in all, it came to seven hundred and twenty dollars.

She felt faint.

A trip to the cosmetics department, and she’d spent almost another hundred on high end makeup, perfume, face creams, necessities for her hair, etcetera. No matter how much the guys encouraged her, she still felt guilty, knowing it wasn’t her money and she hadn’t done a thing to earn it.

“Yeah, you did,” Donny spoke after she had voiced that thought to him, his arms laden with bags as they left the store. “You saved the boss’s life by tellin’ him about what was under his car.”

She supposed if that was the way Luca expressed his gratitude, she could live with it. Still, she would have settled for a place to stay for the night and only that all the same. Afterwards, she was whisked across the city to a beautiful Italian restaurant for lunch, Emily feeling much more confident about her appearance after applying some makeup on the ride over.

“Well, toots,” Angelo began at the doors, taking her hand and kissing it. “We had a real good time with you, but this is where we leave ya. Don’t worry about your things, we’ll get it all back to Brooklyn.”

“See ya, darlin’.” Donny spoke, offering her the same before they turned and left, Emily quite confused as the Maitre'd approached.

“Miss Mortensen, your table is ready. Please follow me.”

Were they really leaving her to dine in the city alone? How on earth would she get back to Brooklyn? She didn’t even know Luca’s address! All her thoughts swirled as her heart began to hammer, being led through the grand looking restaurant, Emily looking up and feeling her worries melt in an instant.

“Well, don’t you scrub up beautiful, huh?” Luca spoke, rising to his feet and taking her hand, kissing it softly. “You have a good time with the guys?”

“I did, thank you,” she spoke, suddenly feeling a little shy. “Thank you so much, too, for leaving me the cash. I have change, here.”

At watching her delve a hand into her pocket, he shook his head, touching a hand to her arm. ��No, doll. That’s your money, not mine.” God, she was just so adorable. No other woman he’d ever encountered would think to be that courteous as to try and return the cash she hadn’t spent to him. The man pulled in roughly two million a year, and here was this sweet little flower, trying to give him change.

“How has your morning been so far?” she asked courteously, Luca taking the bottle of carbonated water from the table and pouring a glass for her. It still aggrieved him, that he couldn’t enjoy a good bottle of wine while in a restaurant. Fuck the Volstead Act.

“Busy, mainly. It’s how I like it, though. Profitable, too.” Translation; he’d personally visited a man who was proving to be a growing pain in his ass regarding his rum running operations, and duly shot him in the face for his behaviour. He’d then called upon another who owed him money, and broken a finger for every week he’d been late to pay him. Four fingers had ended up bent out of shape, Luca walking away with his money plus a hefty late payment fee.

It was good being king.

It hit him then, realising that it had been a long, long time since anybody had asked him how his day had gone. It was so simple, yet so profound that she had the courtesy to genuinely inquire. The whores he fucked never did, obviously. His ex-wife seldom had, that was for sure. He rested his chin in a clasp between his thumb and forefingers as he viewed her inquisitively, Emily just about able to see the smile beginning to grow from beneath his hand.

“What?” she asked, feeling uncomfortable to be caught in a gaze so focused. “Do I have something on my face?”

He closed his eyes, laughing softly through his nose. Fucking adorable, and it killed him. “No, baby. I just can’t remember the last time I met a woman like you.”

“I saw the girls in your joint last night,” she began, shrugging a little, “You must meet pretty girls all time. I mean, not that I think I’m exceptionally pretty or anything.”

Leaning forward suddenly, he covered her hand with his. “True, doll. I do meet pretty gals all the damned time. But that ain’t what I meant.” That bold, evergreen gaze of his fixed upon her so strongly, her heart skipped, Emily swallowing hard. Being fixed with a gaze of such intensity, she didn’t know whether to be nervous or excited, so settled for an equal measure of both. “You’re not like other women.”

Shyness crept over her, her cheeks colouring as she bit her lip, the tattooed hand resting atop hers gently squeezing. “How can you know that? You barely know me.”

“True.” His eyebrows fluttered slightly, leaning back again as he removed the toothpick from between his teeth, pointing right at her with a narrow-eyed gaze. “Says a whole lot about you that I can, though, don’t it?”

The conflict within her ran so rampant, for a few moments she felt a little queasy, shrinking into the collar of her fur coat more, the chinchilla pelt soft against her cheeks, cheeks that prickled cerise, wishing she could hide how her emotions betrayed her feeble attempt to remain passive.

She needn’t have felt bad. Nobody was a match for Luca Changretta once he’d set himself to unravel them.

“Oh, and by the way,” he began, standing, adjusting his suit a little before touching a hand to her shoulder as he leaned down. “You are exceptionally pretty. Excuse me a moment.”

He walked away grinning, leaving here there practically boiling under her collar. “Rack ‘em up and knock ‘em down.” he muttered smugly, trying to ignore the tight pull of protest against his scheming arrogance when it jabbed him in the chest. The voice telling him his desire to know more about who she was as well as what she knew could pipe the hell down, too. As could his heartbeat.

Fuck.

After using the restroom, he returned to the table to find a waiter hovering, looking at him nervously. Fear or awe; they were usually the top two reactions invoked by his presence.

“Rib eye, rare. Emily, have whatever you want.”

Lifting up the menu, she quickly scanned the dishes, thinning her lips as she tried to make a decision rapidly, so as not to hold the waiter up. None of it was familiar to her. “What would you recommend?” she asked coyly, looking up at the young man with the crisp, white notepad in his hand.

“The chicken piccata is our special today, miss. An exceptionally excellent dish.”

She nodded, handing over the menu. “One of those, please.”

“Certainly.”

She let her coat fall from her shoulders, deciding she felt comfortable enough not to hide in it and pulling her arms out, letting it drape over the back of the chair. The dress she wore was beautiful, Luca noted, realising that no matter how humble and poor her beginnings were, she had very good taste. He also very much enjoyed the way the black lace hugged her tiny frame.

God, she was so little. Five feet two, if that. He’d be scared of breaking her, if he ever got her underneath him, pressed her to his bed, let his hands and mouth wander over her...

“Do you come here regularly?”

Her question shattered the glass that housed his impure, lustful thoughts, Luca reaching for his water and taking a sip. “I used to all the time, but not so much recently. Don’t wanna run into my ex, but I know for fact she’s in Florida with the kids right now.”

She had wondered over his marital status, noticing that his apartment didn’t contain a drop of anything that could be constituted as a female presence. “Oh, sorry that you guys broke up,” she spoke out of courtesy, not really knowing how else to reply.

He sniffed, rolling the toothpick in his mouth over his lower lip with his tongue. “Don’t be, I’m not.”

“Didn’t end well, huh?”

“Nah. It’s probably mostly my fault, but yeah. Eighteen years over, because neither of us cared enough to save it. What about you? Any exes out there with burned bridges?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. She had to laugh, because little did he know but her involvement with men was so limited, it was fair to say she was severely stunted where relationships were concerned. Twenty-three and still a virgin by choice. Pathetic, really, she thought. Women her age were usually married with children, and she was still trying to find her way, but failing.

He was giving her that look again, Emily feeling like she wanted to crawl under the table and hide from the intensity of his stare. Gathering herself a little, she quickly found something to take her mind of her sexual inadequacy. “So, these tattoos,” she began, tapping the number six atop his hand. “Do they hurt? How many do you have?”

He couldn’t help himself. “Not much, it's a bit like a cat scratch. As for how many, maybe I’ll show you one day.”

Her insides were reduced to smouldered ashes when he winked again, Luca watching her blush and drop her gaze. He truly couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed having the upper hand so much.

And the arrogant fool still told himself that this was all it was.

#luca changreta fanfiction #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x ofc #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta fic #nobody's girl #luca and emily

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