#and then i had to sit down and thing about the weight of it. i think it sort of broke me that day fishy thank you
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omg jade i heard you asking for hotch reqs and i RAN to your inbox
what about hotch taking care of r after they have a lil baby?? i think if i saw that man hold a new baby id die!!!! he could hole their whole head in the palm of his hand 😭😭😭
Every time you move, your hips and more intimate regions hurt like a hot poker. You probably won’t cry, but you require some tylenol and some sympathy to carry on. “Hotch?” you ask.
Silence. You tip your head back over the armrest to find him. Even upside down, he looks handsome, sitting in the two seater with your little bundle of agony in his arms. Or, arm. The baby rests neatly in the curve of his forearm, his free hand dedicated to the baby’s small back.
“Hotch?”
“Who is she talking to?” Hotch asks your baby gently. You know what he’s doing immediately.
“You get so hung up on the Hotch thing, if you didn’t want to be called Hotch, you shouldn’t have introduced yourself as Hotch.”
You’ve been calling him Hotch for years, you aren’t going to suddenly kick the habit now.
“She was my subordinate,” Hotch tells the baby. “She couldn’t have special treatment, even if she is the prettiest subordinate I ever had. It wouldn’t have been fair.”
“I wouldn’t mind some more tylenol.”
He raises his gaze. You twist into a painful but better suited position to watch him move the baby closer to his collar, his hand covering the entirety of the baby’s small head. Hotch said Jack was a little baby too, but you’d been terrified regardless, and no matter the size, it was too big for you to come out of the ordeal unscathed. Tylenol isn’t so much wanted as required.
“I’ll get it for you,” he promises.
“Thank you, Aaron.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, honey.”
He stands and shifts your tiny baby further into his chest, little snores pressed to his collar. “You okay to take him? I’ll make you some lunch at the same time.”
“I can’t eat.”
“Just chips and a sandwich, honey. You can manage that.”
You open your arms, letting Hotch lower your baby down into your arms and the surrounding nest of blankets. “You need to go see where Jack is,” you say.
“I know,” Hotch says, kissing your cheek quickly. “I’m gonna make his lunch too. I’ll be right back.”
You cuddle your baby to your chest and lean back. Your baby Hotchner is, as previously stated, so tiny, but he’s a nice weight against you, and he sleeps like a champ. You thought easy babies were a myth until now. So far he’s done nothing but sleep and stare at you whenever you talk. You think it’s love, or the surprise of seeing the voices that talked to him nonstop while he was in your belly now out in the open. He does the same to Hotch whenever he’s awake.
You haven’t named him yet. You asked Jack for help, but he’d recommended you name your new baby Mister Awesome, so you’re at a loss for now. It doesn’t matter, though. He’ll have a name eventually. Until then, he’s the baby. And he’s very well loved.
You wish he hadn’t hurt so badly to bring into the world, is all.
Somewhere deeper in the house, Jack tumbles down the stairs, to Hotch's audible horror. “Are you alright? What are you doing, buddy?”
“I’m being quick!”
“Please be careful!” There’s the sound of a kiss. “You sure you’re okay? Yeah? Gonna go and keep Y/N company?”
“Yeah, dad.”
“Okay, thank you. I’m gonna make your lunch now, any requests?”
“Peanut butter. And chips. And pretzels. And orange slices? And–”
“How about I bring you lots of everything, bud?”
“Yes. Please. Hug?”
They must hug, though you can’t see or hear it, as Jack walks into the living room with wildly tousled hair and a smile. He climbs over the back of the couch even though he shouldn’t, dropping onto your feet, a tangle of arms and legs. “Hi, Y/N.”
“Hi baby. You hungry?”
“Dad’s gonna make me a sandwich.”
You reach over to collect his hand in yours, squeezing his fingers gently. You’d thought for sure that having a baby in the house would upset him, if only because his usual routine was disrupted —he’d had to make room for you first, and now suddenly there’s a new baby taking all the attention? it’s not what only kids usually want— but Jack’s an easy kid too. He squeezes your hand back, shimmying up the couch to lean on your leg. It aches, every touch to your lower half a reminder of the pain further inward, but he’s not rough. He climbs further onto your leg and rests his cheek on your shoulder.
“Is this a cuddle?” you murmur.
“Pretty please.”
“No please required.” You frown to yourself, trying to juggle the baby into the opposite arm so you can wrap the one closest to Jack around his shoulders. You manage it poorly. “Dad makes this look so easy.”
“He has longer arms,” Jack says with a shrug. His nose jabs the skin just above your chest. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I won’t. Thank you, babe.”
Jack touches the baby’s back. “He’s sleeping?”
“Yeah. Must be weird getting to sleep all the time and then suddenly being born. At least he’s not crying.”
You and Jack lay with each other for a while, watching the baby snore as you whisper about what Hotch is making for lunch. You wish he’d brought you the tylenol before he started, but he’s got a lot going on. You’re glad he’s the one making lunch (though you can’t be expected to right now, considering). The idea of having to stand there and butter a sub roll sounds like a low level of torture.
“Don’t let me fall asleep holding the baby,” you tell Jack, your eyes drifting closed as Jack snuggles closer to your face.
“I can go get dad.”
“I’m here,” Hotch says swiftly. You drag your face to the side to see him in the doorway, two dinner trays balanced with ease in his hands despite their obvious weight and full glasses on either side. “Don’t fall asleep, I’m coming. Sorry about the wait.”
Hotch puts your trays on the coffee table and scoops the baby from your chest, leaving behind an awfully warm patch of skin.
“Tylenols on the tray,” he says, smiling at you lovingly. “You okay?”
“Fine. Jack’s gonna feed me.”
To his credit, your lovely stepson offers to really feed you, but you’re not so tired now there’s food in front of you. Your stomach groans in want.
Hotch stands looking down at you, baby somehow even smaller looking in his arms. “Need anything else?”
You hold half of your sandwich up to him. “Eat that.”
“I’m fine. My hands are full.”
“I’m not asking, Aaron. Take it.” You force the sandwich on him. “We both know you only need one hand.”
He’s cautious not to rain crumbs down on the baby. You make no such fuss, bread and lettuce falling down into your lap as you eat. Jack can’t stop giggling, “You’re not s’posed to eat like that!”
“Sorry!” you say, “I’m just so hungry!”
“It’s okay,” he says. “Dad will vacuum you.”
Hotch’s mouth is full to bursting, but his nod is vehement. He swallows hard. “I’ll mop you, too.”
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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𝕱𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖔𝖓
Part three of this, but can be read individually:)
Pairing: Alastor x Doe!fem reader
Summary: It’s basically a bunch of snippets of Reader being pregnant (if you would like to read more about it, more scenarios and details, feel free to request!)
Warning: talks of pregnancy(like, a lot), smut, breeding, possessiveness, lactation kink, mentions of birth, etc…
Alastor wasn’t too surprised when a few months after their first mating, her body started changing.
I mean, they were really worked up, all the time. After their first time they stayed in her room and nest for two weeks, barely coming out. Alastor was the one who sent his shadow down to bring them food, a lot of food. He tried to feed her as much as possible.
“You need to eat as much as you can, doe.” He had her favorite pasta, like… a lot of it and he insisted on feeding her himself. So there he was, holding a spoon that was packed with pasta, however she shook her head and pulled away.
“Alastor, I am afraid to gain too much.” Her ears flattened on her head in shame. “What if you won’t find me beautiful? And you won’t want me as your mate anymore…?” Her eyes were rimmed with tears. He gathered her face in his palms, that were as big as her head, he gave her a long kiss on her forehead.
“My darling doe, how could I not find you the most beautiful creature in this world? You’re mine, my mate and my everything. And you are doing the most beautiful things one could do, you’re giving me a little fawn. You’re about to go through pain and discomfort just so we can hold our own in our arms. How could you worry about some extra weight on you?” He knew what calmed her down always, he put her on his lap and leaned her head into his neck, so she could feel his scent more strongly. “You need to nourish your body so you could nourish our baby, your body needs nutrients to produce milk and keep the baby warm.” He rocked her from side to side. That did it. After that, she ate the bigger portions that he gave her.
But, after a bit, it was evident that her weight gain wasn’t due to her eating habits. It was due to the little fawn that was growing inside of her.
Alastor was worried about her, she was not quite herself. She never threw up, but felt nauseous from nearly everything. She also slept whenever and wherever she could. She went to sleep early, woke up late, and still somehow found time to take naps. Husk was actually the one who told Alastor that there could be something up with Y/N. One early afternoon, Husk was cleaning glasses when he saw her out of the corner of his eye, she sat down on the couch with her notebook in hand. He turned away for a second to put the glass back into it’s place, and when he turned back, Y/N was already deeply asleep on the couch.
Alastor was terrified on the inside at first, they finally find each other, only so he could lose her? What if she was sick? He couldn’t bear to see his mate fading away before his very eyes.
All of his worries went away when Y/N got an even bigger appetite for sex than before, they already fucked like rabbits. But now? It didn’t matter where they were or what time it was or what were they doing. No. If his darling wanted to fuck, he would fuck. Luckily, Alastor disliked not having her around the hotel, it was still dangerous for her out there. So, he fucked her on every solid surface in the hotel, with zero shame.
One thing about mates is that after they did their mating, the doe would start picking up certain characteristics from the buck. They noticed the first time when Vaggie pointed it out. Alastor and Charlie were working out plans for the hotel, and of course their partners had to be there for moral support, Vaggie and Y/N were sitting on the cushion in her’s and Charlie’s room, the one that is in front of the huge window. Y/N was staring out the window, completely lost in thought, the other woman snapped her out of her thoughts by gently wrapping her index finger in one of Y/N’s locks.
“This is new, I didn’t know you wanted to dye it, but it suits you.” She smiled, but Y/N looked at her with evident confusion.
“What do you mean?” She tilted her head.
“Your hair?”
“What about it?”
Vaggie only chuckled and led her to Charlie’s vanity, where she held up one strand of Y/N hair, which was… red and with a slight blackish tint at the bottom, along with quite a few locks of her hair.
To the movement, both Alastor and Charlie went to the vanity too.
“Oh. My. GOD!” Charlie shrieked in joy.
“Why, what a pleasant surprise!” He said before noticing that the tip of her ears were also developing a crimson color. He leaned down and started running his finger up and down her ear, causing her to lean into the gentle touch and flatten her ears against her hair.
Weeks went by and the changes became noticeable, Angel Dust immediately planned a brand new wardrobe for her to match the colors of her hair and ears. Even when Alastor had to go into town for business, he always made sure that his Y/N wasn’t alone, it was mostly Angel and Husk who kept her company. It was the situation now, Alastor had to leave for an Overlord meeting, and Y/N was in Angel’s room. He thought it would be a fun activity to have the doe try on his slutty clothes, but she liked it, she felt sexy.
She felt the physical aspects of her change of appearance lately, but she couldn’t make sure.
“Angie, I cannot zip this up! I would hate to ruin it.” She was laughing at herself, she was twirling like a fool, trying to reach for the skirt’s zipper herself, and failing miserably.
Angel pushed himself up from the bed, with a big smile on his face. “Here, let me, that one always gets stuck and I have four arms for a reason!” He tried to make it happen, but something was just in the way. He made her turn around to kneel in front of her, trying to see what was stopping the tiny zipper.
And that is when he saw it…
“HOLY SHIT!” His concentrated eyes changed immediately to surprised ones.
She looked down at him in panic, feeling a sudden pang of guilt, and tears. “What? I ripped it?! I am so so so sor—“
He just stood up laughing and put her in front of the mirror, so she could see herself from the side. She was still feeling sorry about the non existent rip that she didn’t even notice what he was trying to do.
His soft hand came up to her chin, so she could look into his eyes and then he guided her gaze to the mirror. “Y/N, look! There is a reason that the skirt didn’t want to zip up.” His fingers grabbed the bottom of the skirt to pull it lower, revealing her stomach.
Before she even had time to register what was happening, his lower set of arms came up to cup the lower part of her belly, which was slightly swollen.
She was shocked to say the least, but in a happy way. She was still staring at it from the mirror when Angel’s upper arms came to envelop her into a hug.
“Oh, Y/N… You are going to be the best mama, I know it.” After they broke apart from the hug, he lifted one eyebrow. “Sooo… Creepy face fucks good…?”
“…Fuck yeah.” They both started laughing, until Y/N was hit by her pregnancy hormones. One moment she was laughing, she was sobbing the next. Thankfully , Angel stayed with her until Alastor arrived back home. He held her and cried tears of joy with her. He tucked her in with his softest blanket, poor thing needed a nap after shedding so many tears. Fat Nuggets was curled up at her belly, and Angel slept close to her, too. Feeling protective over his best friend who was cooking up something beautiful inside of her.
That explained a lot. Her emotions, her sudden waves of horniness, her constant nausea and tiredness. No wonder all these things were happening to her.
She was expecting a little fawn, her and Alastor’s little fawn. A tiny fruit of their mating.
When Alastor arrived back, he knocked on Angel’s door and the sleepy spider opened it up. He let him in and they both looked at Y/N, who was asleep and cuddling with Fat Nuggets.
“I might just get jealous.” Alastor spoke in a hushed tone, then made her way to her side. He reached under her and gathered her in his arms in bridal style.
After saying farewell to Angel, he took his mate back to their room. He put her in their soft bed and laid beside her, snuggling her into his arms. She woke up when she felt his skin warming hers, this was the perfect opportunity.
“Alastor…?” She whispered, he was looking down at her, admiring his love.
“Hello there, my dear. Had fun with Angel?” He caressed her hair. But she leaned up on her elbows and towered over his side. Her silk nightgown was bigger on her form, so her tiny belly bump wasn’t visible.
“I have something for you…” she smiled, a genuine smile. He chuckled and pushed her strands of hair out of her face, those particular strands were just like his own. It made his primal and possessive self go mad, it was obvious to everyone that she belonged to the radio demon.
He kept looking at her with a love-dazed expression, waiting for her to continue. She pushed the straps of her lacy gown down her shoulders and she started to pull it over her head. “Well, this is certainly a beautiful sight.” His eyes were glued to her boobs.
“I have something better…” She straddled him and kissed him deeply. After a few seconds they were still lost in each other's lips. “I” kiss. “Cannot” kiss. “Wait” kiss. “To fee—“ She pushed her swollen belly into his lower ribs, not harshly, but enough to make him notice. “What is..?” He pulled away and checked her lower stomach, and that was when he saw it.
“My doe…I—“ He palmed her skin, it felt firm, but oh so very soft. His eyes softened and went glassy. His hands could feel the little life inside of her, where their little fawn was nestled into her womb.
He suddenly wrapped her up in his arms and attacked her bump with big smooches. “We did it! You’re carrying our baby, we will have our own baby!”
I think we all know that after Alastor was aware of his doe being pregnant, he practically became her shadow. He followed her everywhere. Helped her with everything, actually… He didn’t help her, he did everything for her.
His protectiveness got on a whole new level. There wasn’t a second of the day when his eyes weren’t on her, or his hands anywhere else but on her skin.
Angel kept his mouth shut, and waited for the two deers to tell everyone the big news, which was a few days after her bump’s appearance. What? They had their own celebrating rounds, multiple of them actually, like… multiple rounds every few hours. They needed each other in their bed and in their arms.
Charlie couldn’t stop crying at the news, she was so happy, she instantly started ordering a shit ton of books about babies. Vaggie was better at hiding her emotions, but she could not stop the smile that etched itself onto her lips, she instantly occupied herself by sharpening her spear. No fawn will ever be harmed on her watch!
As time went by and the bump was clearly evident, Y/N noticed how much others lingered in her presence. Vaggie was looking out for any danger. Charlie always talked to the baby and touched Y/N’s stomach. Angel couldn’t help but buy everything baby-related that he found cute. “What? It is my duty as Uncle Dust to make sure the fawn is a fashion icon from day one.” He said one day when he knocked on the deers shared room, with all of his hands full with shopping bags. Sir Pentious and Cherri were always lingering with Vaggie, their main priorities were protection. Pentious also made his egg bois baby-proof every surface.
They went to Cannibal town to pay a visit to one of Alastor’s dearest friends, Rosie. Y/N was wearing a dress that was tight around her boobs, but flowy at her belly. They made their way to her shop and it was so heartwarming to see the cannibal woman’s smile light up at the sight of them. She instantly ushered the crowd away to take a closer look.
“Oh Alastor! I don’t see you for a few weeks and you bring such a beautiful young lady to me?” Rosie caressed the doe’s cheeks with her manicured fingers. “I’m Rosie, and, oh… My, my. What a beauty you are! I see you two have grown quite accustomed to each other.” She noticed their similar features. Rosie suddenly opened her arms to envelop Y/N in a hug. “Come, come, darl—“ Of course, there was the bump. Her mouth dropped open and her fingers shot up to her lips. (Imagine her facial expressions in the Overlord meeting scenes here haha) “Oh, my darling. Congratulations!” Her hands were immediately all over her tummy. She ushered the pair to sit down., especially Y/N. “Sit down, dearie, you must be exhausted. Carrying that belly all the time.”
They talked and talked. Then Alastor revealed the reason for their visit.
“Rosie, me and my darling talked. And we decided that we would be honored if you could help Y/N deliver our fawn.” Rosie had helped many women through births, so Alastor knew that Y/N and the baby would be in the best possible hands. Who would have guessed that a cannibal could be the perfect midwife?
“I would be the one honored. Of course, I’ll help!” She wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist to cup her tummy, while leaning closer to her. “We will get that baby out in no time!” After Rosie explaining everything she could about bringing a baby into the world.
If Alastor really couldn’t be around, it was Husk who was around Y/N. One time, Alastor had to discuss business with Carmilla and at the same time a very pregnant Y/N demanded a walk. So, Husk went with her, but not before he made her a sugary non-alcoholic drink that could keep up her energy. On the walk, Husk had one of his wings around her, shielding her and the precious belly from any harm. To say that he was surprised would be an understatement, especially when he felt a little kick against his wing at her belly, it made him get more attached to that little hellspawn. Of course he had a pocket full of his weapon like cards. You know, just in case.
Alastor knew that he was truly in love with his sweet mate, who was carrying his baby under her heart wherever she went. His favorite part of everyday was the hours before they went to sleep. They went back to their room every late afternoon, which consisted of her getting fluffed into the best silky pillows he could find, and him laying his head on her belly. Nothing calmed him down more than feeling his doe’s skin on his cheek and hearing the little movements of his baby.
Y/N was excited and nervous as fuck at the same time. Alastor noticed it, of course. When they went to sleep, his ears perked up to the sound of her constant tossing and turning. He gathered her face into his hands. “What’s wrong, little doe? Anything hurt? Is the fawn kicking up a storm again?” He smiled gently at her.
“What if something happens during the birth?”
He kissed her face, there wasn’t an inch of her skin that his lips haven’t touched..
“Everything will be okay, my doe. You are strong, I know that you are. You will push through it, and you will recover.” She pulled away and sat up on her knees.
“You don’t understand, Alastor. I don’t care about myself. The baby is who I’m worried about, it is all I can think about.” She was getting herself worked up, while Alastor started to bite back a smirk. She didn’t notice the change of her form. “But one thing I know… I would f̸͔̘͚͉̀͗̍̾́͜u̷͇̞̦̻̮͆̈́͐͛̓c̷̮̥̙͇͗̋̃͘͠ͅḱ̷̟͍͎͔̖͗͋̐́ǐ̵̡̙̼̼̻̈́̍͝n̵̜͖̠̰͎̊͋͊̋͛g̴̦̥̜̜͍͂͂̀̀̔ ̷̤̖͕̬̹͆̈́̐̏d̷̡̧̺̦͕̾̓̃́̅ì̵̙̼̖̯̈͒͐̽ͅé̴̱͎͇̫̝̂́̈́͊ ̴͉̩̜̼̞̏́̽̍͝f̷̭͓̬̘̠̓̔͗́̀ǫ̵̖̤̬̭̾́̀̒͝r̷͎̤̬̦̞̎́̓͆̚ ̸̹͍̭̖͚̄̄̈́̏̄ȍ̷̱͔͉̠̲̆͛̀̿ȗ̸̡͍̮͍̞̀̋̈͂r̶̛̘͍̟̜̮͒̎̑̈́ ̶̜͕̼̝̓̾͊͛͘ͅf̴̨̤͙̰͇͋̓̿̐̕ȁ̸͔̹̯̲̗̅̉͂̽ẘ̸̥͙͔̠͎̊͗̓̚n̵̡̯͎̝͓̽͊̒̉̀.̸̱͓̺͍̔̑̑̿̏ͅ”
Her voice went static, like his does. Her limbs became longer and her eyes went red. Even with her demonic form, her belly still poked out. He sat up and grabbed her face, suddenly pulling her into a passionate kiss. She instantly went back to her proper form, kissing him with nearly twice as much passion. She straddled his lap, already grinding against his hard on, while his claws ripped her nightgown. “God, you make me fucking crazy.” He said while she grabbed a hold of his pajama button up and ripped it apart, sending buttons to fly everywhere. By the time his mind had acknowledged it, she was already taking out his leaking hard cock out of his underwear.
His sharp teeth kept on nibbling all around her neck. “Not a bad form, my doe, becoming too much like your mate?”
She chuckled. “Yeah, but I don’t think it really bothers you, does it?” Her hands wrapped around his erection, feeling how hard he got from the sight of her, and lining it up with her entrance.
“Oh—How could it bother me? My mate, forming into a demon before my eyes, with a big belly. Don’t worry, you looked so very sexy… I just want to…” He grabbed a hold of her wider hips and pulled her down onto his cock. “Fuck you so hard that I knock you up again.. You look so amazing, I can finally grip you properly.” His nails nearly broke the skin on her hips.
She was riding him as if her life was depending on it, swirling her hips and bouncing up and down. He started pounding up into her, meeting her thrusts, feeling the deepest parts of her. He noticed her nipples beginning to lactate, so he latched his lips onto her, sucking harshly. She was surprised when he did that, but moaned with a deep voice. It was so intimate, it also made him fuck up into her way harder than before.
“You’re so beautiful. So gorgeous.” He felt her orgasming around him, so he filled her up with his seed. She fell against his chest, heaving and tired.
He started caressing her back. “Good girl. You’re so good to me… Taking care of me so nicely, while holding our fawn within your womb.” He leaned his head on the top of hers, enjoying the way her soft ears made his skin tingle.
“You’re going to be the best mother, my love.”
Still no fawn! Don’t worry, there will be more, I just went overboard and I felt like Reader giving birth in this would have made it too long:)
Taglist: @jyoongim @lovingyeet @adamwarlockislife-blog @that-dumb-bitch @midorichoco @alastorswifeee @littlekacchan @sugurubabe @captainfia @alastorssimp @iheartalastor @speedycoffeedelight @1o-o
#alastor#alastor fanfic#alastor fanfiction#alastor fluff#alastor smut#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x you#alastor x oc#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader
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The 1%
It had been such a thrill, finding that the scouts had picked him; those same experts who had signed up the likes of Harley Hawkinson and Carl Williams. Did they really see the same potential in Nicko as they had done in those superstar football players? It all felt so surreal as he got off the plane to Oklahoma and entered the training facility.
Nicko knew it wouldn’t be easy to prove himself. He looked around the large sports hall, filled with over one hundred large, athletic college guys, all hoping for the same dream of a professional sports contract: to play the game that they loved and get paid handsomely for it.
“As you all know, the modern game of football is dominated by guys who are more muscular than we have ever seen before,” an older guy explained to them from the staging area during this first welcome meeting. “In the last three years, we have seen the average weight of a professional football player increase by 30lbs. And that number looks set to continue to increase.”
Looking around at the other guys, Nicko couldn’t help but understand why he was saying this. Sure, the guys around him were full of talent. How else would they have got here otherwise? But put them on a field with the professionals out there these days, and they would get trampled down in seconds. They all knew it. None of them had the muscle and the bulk that was needed to survive in a big league game.
“Our training scheme and medical support can give you that last hope of achieving your dreams,” the man on stage went on; selling the scheme which each of them had already signed up for. They all knew this was their only real shot at success. These days, no professional football player got anywhere without the experimental drugs offered in places like this; not that anyone would ever admit it outside of these walls. “So, my advice to you is, train hard and work with us… Now I’m going to hand you over to someone you will all be very familiar with. We’re so proud of him and delighted that he has given up his time to be with us today. Boys, please may I introduce you to… the one and only… Carl Williams!” he beamed, as the large room of excited college athletes roared into life.
An enormous, hulking mass of man began strutting from the door and onto the stage. He lifted his arm up, accepting all the applause and smiling from ear to ear. Every muscle on his body was pumped and full. Even his forearms looked incredibly developed. Nicko could hardly believe his eyes! His biggest celebrity crush, right here in the same room with him! Carl was known for playing rough and dirty on the field and, in Nicko’s wildest fantasies, he was much the same in the bedroom. Not to mention the fact that, in terms of celebrity bulges, Carl was off the charts. Every gay site he visited had picked up on the fact Carl was packing something absolutely enormous between those giant thighs.
The man didn’t speak to them for long, but soon had everyone up on their feet, chanting his name. He stuck around too, and was there that evening as they sat down to their first meal together.
“They say he has some sort of sixth sense about which guys will go on to do well here,” Nicko’s new friend, Steve, whispered to him; both of them looking with jealousy at the six young guys who had been invited to sit on Carl’s table.
Nicko shook his head sceptically. “Nah, they’re just the loud ones who know how to sell themselves,” he scoffed, having met a couple of them and deciding that they were not the type of guys he would want to hang around with here; so pumped full of arrogance and self-importance. “We’ve just got to train hard, that’s all.”
Steve exhaled and raised his eyebrows. “I wish that was true,” he mumbled. “But we both know the only thing that sets this training academy apart from the rest is the drugs they use. You can train as hard as you like, but if the drugs disagree with you, that’s the end of the line. Career over.”
Nicko rubbed the spot where he’d had his first injection earlier that day; straight into the muscle at the top of his right butt cheek. ‘Please work!’ he thought silently. There was nothing more he wanted in life than to be up on that top table with Carl Williams.
During the first three weeks, some guys started to stand out remarkably well. Shoulders began to widen, whilst larger glutes and thighs made the training sessions more intense and physical than ever before. Nicko could see the changes in his roommate, Steve, each time he came out of the shower: his biceps bulging and his pecs pumped.
As for Nicko, he had seen only minor changes in his muscle mass, and he was yet to make any impression on the trainers. But as certain guys began to bulk faster, hit harder and dominate on the field, it became more and more of a challenge to stand out, or even stay on your feet.
Egos were beginning to run riot at the camp. Those guys who had quickly responded to the treatments began to strut about with more confidence and ownership of the place than any of them had expected. The larger guys hung out with each other more, sitting together at meal times and excluding those they obviously found inferior.
“Don’t worry,” Steve whispered to him as it was obvious that everything was getting to Nicko. “You’ll respond more to the drugs soon. You’ve just got to focus on the training. That’s the important part.”
Nicko nodded, knowing that Steve didn’t believe a word of what he was saying. In two weeks, they were making their first eliminations, and Steve knew he was heading straight home.
During the assessment, Steve very quickly got a sense of how badly it was going. He was weighed, prodded and poked to within an inch of his life; seeing the same grim faces on the medical professionals all around him. In the end, he was simply sent to a small room and told to wait there for someone to come and speak to him. The afternoon training session was to begin in thirty minutes, but no-one was in a rush to ensure he would make it. The reason for that was obvious: he wasn’t coming back.
It was no shock to Nicko that he was in this position. The last week in particular had been especially hard. He’d been thrown around by the larger guys in training, beginning to understand how the nerds must have felt back in high school. At twenty-one years old, Nicko was in a place that was little better than a kindergarten playground.
Without warning, and making Nicko jump with surprise, the door suddenly opened and an enormous muscular man entered. It took a couple of seconds for Nicko to focus and recognise the person who was now filling the tiny room they were in, but when he did, he shot to his feet and held his arm out, desperate to shake the guy’s hand. “Carl Williams!” he blasted. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Carl looked across at him with a smirk; his eyes travelling up and down Nicko’s body as he reached out his hand for him to shake. “So you’re Nicko, huh?” he asked, as if trying to hold back a laugh.
Nicko nodded, hardly believing that this meeting was even happening. Carl was even more insanely huge and attractive up close like this.
“Sit down, Nicko,” Carl ordered, grabbing a chair himself. “I need to break something to you.”
“I’m being kicked out, aren’t I?” Nicko shot back, not wanting to draw this out and ruin his one-on-one time with his biggest celebrity crush.
“Oh, of course you are,” Carl chuckled, seeming surprised that Nicko had only just figured it out. “But one of the boys told me you had a bit of a crush on me, so I thought I would come in here to soften the blow.”
Carl gazed at Nicko with a sly grin on his face. He knew that he had embarrassed him and he was enjoying the period of time when Nicko was squirming and desperately thinking of how to respond.
“Um, so… how come I’m going home?” he asked, trying to fill the cringing silence.
“Because you’ve not responded to the drugs the same as everyone else,” Carl shot back, looking at him as though he was stupid for not being able to see that for himself.
“But there are a few guys who aren’t packing on muscle all that fast either,” Nicko protested.
“Oh, you’re right about that,” Carl nodded. “But you’ve not gained any muscle mass at all,” he stated harshly. “In fact, you’re part of the less than 1% who actually lose muscle mass on this treatment.”
“That’s not true,” Nicko protested. “I have gained weight since I’ve been here.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Carl laughed. “You’ve only gained fat since you started.” He pointed at the slight paunch that always popped out whenever Nicko was on a bulking diet. “All the guys can see that. I hear they’ve been giving you a rough time this week? The medical team spotted a nice collection of bruises on your body this morning.”
“Not too bad,” Nicko lied, not wanting to look pathetic in front of his idol.
Carl simply laughed as if he knew differently. “Sure, sure,” he nodded patronisingly. “Those guys are just learning; being on a football team is like being part of a pack of wolves. So when you see a little piggy on the field with you, you’ve got to go for them.”
Nicko’s eyes bulged at Carl’s rudeness. But the professional athlete simply smiled at him, as if daring him to call him out on his comments. Then, when Nicko kept quiet, the big man nodded in approval.
“I like you,” Carl grinned wickedly. “You’ve got the right attitude and you don’t live too far from where I play, do you?” he asked, having clearly studied Nicko’s notes before coming in. “I’d love to grab a few beers with you sometime in the coming months.”
Nicko nodded his head frantically.
“Good,” Carl smiled, reaching his large hand out to stroke Nicko’s thigh. “Play your cards right and I might even let you suck me off,” he teased, before standing and heading straight out of the room.
Despite the daring, unbelievably hot fantasy Carl had dangled in front of Nicko’s nose: home still beckoned. He had lost. The dream of sporting success and insane riches was now over.
With a mediocre college degree, Nicko settled into an equally mediocre office job, close to home so that he could move back in with his parents. He’d suffered from a great sense of failure after the training scheme had gone so badly. No one wanted to be the first one sent home; he hadn’t even had a chance to say even a quick goodbye to his friends. He’d got himself into quite the slump, finding that no matter what he did, he simply couldn’t shake off the little arching paunch he had developed in Oklahoma. In fact, despite all his careful eating and gym work, it actually seemed to be increasing in size more than anything.
The same could be said for the rest of his body, with Nicko’s underwear pinching uncomfortably as his tight glutes began to pack on some extra, softening mass. Was he really developing love handles at this age, even after all this exercise? It just didn’t seem physically possible. His date, the weekend before, had even called him out on his extra pounds. Perhaps he had even been right to do so; his profile pictures really were a little out of date these days. It meant that when he got the call from someone on Carl Williams’ staff, trying to set up a date for their beers, Nicko went immediately into panic mode. There was nothing in his closet that was suitable for drinks with a football superstar; at least, nothing that fitted!
“Well, well, well…” Carl smirked as Nicko entered the very private VIP room at the back of the noisy, exclusive club in the city. The enormous 335lb football player looked sexier than ever, all dressed up as he was for a night out. “Let me get a look at you,” he demanded, ruthlessly kicking away the table in front of him with his feet and making space for Nicko.
Having travelled for an hour to get here and arguing with the security outside for twenty minutes that he was a guest of Carl’s, Nicko wanted nothing more than to just sit and have a drink. However, when Carl clicked his fingers and pointed again to where he was being summoned, Nicko only did as he was told.
Immediately, Carl reached forwards, slapping one hand on Nicko’s larger butt and the other on the furthest extent that his paunch was now sticking out. He smiled, bouncing both lightly and seeming to appreciate the new width across the middle of Nicko’s body. “Look at you!” he growled with disgust. “You wouldn't last two minutes on the football field now. My boys would rip you to pieces!”
“I’m trying this new diet…” Nicko began explaining, not knowing what else to say.
Carl winced and shook his head impatiently. “Shh! I don’t want to hear about shit like that.” He leaned right back, then tapped his outstretched thigh, silently telling Nicko to sit on it.
Again, Nicko did as he was old, unable to comprehend that he was getting so close to his football idol. He heard Carl growl in appreciation as Nicko’s torso slipped so easily into his reach. Then, without a word, he began unbuttoning Nicko’s shirt from the very top.
“Wait!” Nicko jumped. “Don’t people come in here?”
“Yes,” Carl replied, unperturbed as he reached the fourth button down.
“What if someone comes in and sees me like this?”
“Then they will see…” Carl smiled, finally reaching the end of the buttons and now splaying the shirt material to the sides, “...THIS!”
Nicko tensed as his fleshy torso was revealed to the one person he had been carefully dressing to conceal it from.
“Fuck!” Carl blasted. “Even the tits are coming in!” he laughed loudly, reaching up and bouncing one of Nicko’s nipples.
Nicko got up, feeling embarrassed. He felt Carl’s strong hand clasp the back of his pants and pull him back over his knee so that Nicko actually fell into the space on the couch beside the football superstar. From there, the enormous man seemed to envelope him, his arm over his body and his face so deliciously close.
“Don’t be shy,” Carl whispered teasingly. “This happens to all the boys at the training camp eventually. Well…” he grinned, raising his arm to show off his incredible bicep, “...almost all.”
“Weight gain?” Nicko asked, feeling his stomach rolling over his belt as he sat, half on his back, with the enormous athlete looming over him.
Carl nodded. “A fat belly, jiggly tits, a giant, doughy butt… you know how it goes,” he laughed; his lips devastatingly near. “But the one percent, well, that boy is always very special.”
Niko nodded, remembering Carl referring to the muscle stimulant medication having an opposite outcome for one percent of the people who used it. Which, in Nicko’s group, had been him. “I’m special?” he asked, aroused by all this attention he was getting.
“Very much so,” Carl grinned, rubbing Nicko’s cheek with an outstretched finger. “The one percent packs on fat faster than anyone else. In less than a year, he can go from a chiselled athlete to a full grown superchub!”
“That can’t be true,” Nicko replied. “They’d never allow something like that.”
“And yet…” Carl laughed, grabbing the roll of fat hanging over Nicko’s belt: his point made. “You really have no concept of how much money there is to be made in football, do you? How vital things like this are for the economy? Fatties like you are just… collateral damage… a necessary evil on the way to creating superstars like me.”
“How do I stop this?” Niko asked, watching the athlete getting up and unbuckling his pants.
“Sucking on this should help,” Carl lied, pulling his monstrously large erection out and slapping it into the palm of his hand. It was even bigger than Nicko had ever imagined, gazing at pictures and videos of the guy’s bulge over the years
Overcome with lust, Nicko slipped his mouth over as much of it as he could, just as he was directed. Everything that had happened since entering this room had been like a dream. Whatever weird things were happening in his life right now, here he was, pleasuring a football champion!
“Oh, yeah! That’s good!” Carl moaned. “Yes! Work that tongue, One Percent! Take as much of me in as you can!”
In those moments, Nicko did not care what was happening to him. He was the luckiest guy in the world, feeling ecstatic as he brought the enormous man to a full climax, simply by using his mouth.
Clearly impressed, a sweaty Carl buckled his belt back up and sat himself down again. “Keep that up and you’ll go far with me,” he sighed in appreciation.
As Carl fixed his clothing, Nicko tried to do the same, beginning to refasten his shirt buttons. However, Carl was still having none of it; placing his large hand very decidedly over Nicko’s and saying ‘no’ in a very strict manner; as if training a puppy.
“Have you ever thought about moving to the city?” Carl asked next.
Nicko shook his head. “I couldn’t afford it. Plus, I don’t know anyone here.”
“Good. That means you wouldn’t go wandering,” Carl shot back bluntly. “I can get you somewhere by next weekend. You can live there, and then you’re close by for me to pop in whenever I want. I keep a few guys that way.”
“Why would you do that for me?” Nicko asked, confused by what he felt were a rush of mixed messages.
“At a game, the front row seats are always the best,” Carl simply replied, leaning across once more and flicking the fat roll that fell over Nicko’s belt. “And this is a show I have no intention of missing…”
It was a couple of months later. Nicko stood at the large picture window of his apartment, still unable to comprehend the amazing view he had over the cityscape. Fully furnished and decorated by professional interior designers, Nicko was living a life he could have only ever imagined in his very wildest of dreams. He was even paid a salary each month and had new bank accounts set up entirely by Carl’s people. And all it took was the signing of several non-disclosure agreements from the athlete’s numerous lawyers.
“It’s time to put that pizza down, Fat Boy!” Carl called out, striding in unannounced, as usual.
Nicko chuckled. He hadn’t been eating any pizza, although you would never have guessed that from looking at him. Upon Carl’s insistence, he wore only his underwear around the apartment, catching glimpses of his increasingly lardy reflection in the many, many mirrors that Carl had insisted was part of the interior design.
“Jeez! Look at you!” Carl laughed, undressing himself at the door, as he always did, and watching as his secret project came waddling into view. He pulled his erection out and stipped even his boxers, standing there as the perfect masculine specimen. “Your tits just won’t quit growing, will they?” he laughed. “And look at this fat butt!” he marvelled, dropping Nicko’s underwear and slapping the oversized glutes which had been filling up at a faster rate since Carl had been sending over take-out most nights. Nicko could tell from the way that Carl was handling them, exactly how the big man wanted to fuck him that evening.
The big mirror in the hallway was always Carl’s favourite spot. He could bend Nicko over the sturdy little desk and watch their reflections as he powerfully bombarded his boy’s chubby’s rear with blow after blow.
“You played well last night,” Nicko offered afterwards as a naked Carl lounged on his sofa for a rest afterwards..
“Yeah, yeah,” Carl sighed, rolling his eyes. He had people blowing smoke up his ass all day long. This wasn’t what he kept Nicko for.
“I felt so proud, I decided to finish all those doughnuts you sent me,” he explained, hoping to please his lover.
“Good,” Carl nodded. “It’s about time you stopped resisting the ways I’m trying to help you fatten faster.” He beckoned Nicko closer, just as the chubby boy had hoped. “So, tell me, how did it make you feel, eating all that for me?”
Still fully loaded and, as yet, unsatisfied, Nicko gasped in excitement as he felt Carl’s hand moving onto his thigh, ready to pleasure him if only he said the right things. “It felt incredible,” he replied, exaggerating. “It made me want to eat even more food and please you so much more,” he continued, feeling his erection having a gentle stroke; so subtle and yet so precise.
“Go on,” Carl demanded, not letting Nicko stop. “Tell me more.”
Nicko gasped, always climaxing pathetically quickly whenever Carl was the one touching him. “It made me so excited to get heavier for you…” he offered.
“Oh, no. That’s not the right word now, is it?” Carl sighed with disappointment. “You’re not just getting heavier, are you? Tell me what’s really happening, One Percent.”
Nicko gave another gasp of arousal, his jaw slackening as the pleasure built. “I’m getting fatter for you,” he replied diligently.
“What else?” Carl demanded again, having found a small crack in Nicko’s defences and prizing it open in any way that he could.
“I’m getting lazier. I don’t exercise. And I eat like a pig,” Nicko whispered, just as he had been trained.
“You are a pig,” Carl shot back at him, spiking Nicko’s arousal even more. The shock he felt over the word was now gone, given how many times Carl had whispered it into his ear whenever he came. Now the word had become a key for unlocking Nicko’s arousal.
Nicko nodded, gazing submissively into the big man’s eyes. His breathing was heavy and his entire body twitched as the orgasm built.
“Piggy, Piggy, Piggy!” Carl sang teasingly, forcing Nicko’s hardess to erupt explosively yet again.
“My goodness! What on earth have you been eating?” asked Nicko’s mother a few weeks later as he called home for a quick visit.
Nicko could feel his face flushing. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to conceal his stout gut that had quickly formed and dominated his torso. It was all his family wanted to talk about, demanding explanations from Nicko about exactly what he was doing to gain so much weight so quickly. Didn’t he have any regard for his health? His appearance? His ability to find someone nice to settle down with? Just what was this city life doing to him?
“She’s only thinking of you, Son,” Nicko’s dad offered later that afternoon, as the pair retreated into the TV room to watch the football.
“I know, I know,” Nicko huffed, trying to concentrate on the game to see how Carl was playing. Then he winced as Carl went in for a big tackle, destroying the opposition.
“Ouch!” Nicko’s dad hooted. “He’s a nasty piece of work, that Carl Williams! Look at him getting up like nothing’s happened. That poor guy will be out for weeks after that tackle.”
“So?,” Nicko replied defensively. “It wasn’t an illegal tackle. He’s not broken any rules.”
“No, just another guy’s shoulder by the looks of things. Third one this season by my count.”
They both watched the screen as Carl strutted about on the pitch, waiting for the medical team to finish up so that play could resume. Nicko knew the football player well enough to know when he was trying to suppress a proud smile.
“A man that big has no place on the football field,” Nicko’s dad continued. “Look at him! His arms are bigger than my thighs! The game has gone ridiculous!”
But Nicko definitely was watching, feeling blood pumping into his groin. He rubbed his fat tummy, just as Carl would have, suddenly knowing that he wanted to gorge himself stupid on fast food on the way home.
“I weighed myself this morning,” Nicko explained, lying on his front, naked on the bed after a particularly boisterous session with Carl. “Three hundred and forty one pounds,” he smiled, rolling a little and grabbing a wedge of belly fat.
“You have to start eating more then, won’t you?” Carl replied, unimpressed. “You’re only just a little heavier than me.”
Nicko laughed. Whilst the fact was true, his and Carl’s bodies were complete polar opposites in terms of composition.
“I mean it,” Carl stated seriously. “Three fifty by next weekend. Make it happen.”
“Am I the fattest of the guys you keep?” Nicko asked, knowing how Carl supported lots of secret lovers all over the city.
“Not even close!” Carl laughed.
“Do you think I could be, one day?”
Carl looked at him seriously, studying his face in a way that he did not usually. Then his answer, when it came, was actually a lot more considered than anything else that usually came out his mouth. “Why? Do you want to be?”
The feeling of having Carl’s attention was a drug that Nicko could never wean himself off. “For you,” he smiled, “I’d do anything.”
With Nicko’s new enthusiasm and commitment, he felt himself rising up the ranks in Carl’s mind. The athlete came over a lot more and took a very active interest in ensuring that Nicko continued to grow as he’d promised he would. One such perk was having free seats to any of Carl’s games; often getting himself on camera as he gorged on corn dogs in the stands.
“Steve?” Nicko asked as he recognised the man standing by the rest rooms after the game. “How’re you doing, buddy? I can’t believe I’m bumping into you!”
The young man Nicko had met and made friends with in the training camp failed to recognise him until Nicko introduced himself once more. His jaw dropped and he spluttered and mumbled his way through the conversation, clearly not quite believing that they had once been roommates a little over one year ago.
“How did the training camp work out for you in the end?” Nicko asked. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to anyone.”
“Yeah, we got used to that,” Steve nodded. “We’d see guys at breakfast and then… gone. Kicked out. I got down to the final thirty or so. But it got so toxic in the end,” he grumbled, reeling off the names of the guys both he and Nicko had despised: the ones who were now making names for themselves in the professional game. “In the end, I was quite happy to leave.”
Nicko looked down to Steve’s body, noticing a stout little stomach under his pumped pecs.
Steve noticed him looking and he sucked in hids stomach slightly, clearly feeling a little awkward. “I’ve been trying to keep up the training,” he rambled on, clearly used to making excuses for his appearance. “It’s just hard to balance now I’m working full time as well.”
“It’s much easier when you give into it,” Nicko smiled knowingly.
“Yeah, well…” Steve smiled awkwardly. “I’m not quite ready for that.”
Nicko wondered whether he should tell his old friend that the weight gain wasn’t going to stop; that just like him, Steve was heading on a path to enormous obesity as a result of their time in the training camp. However, he resisted, giving his old friend the goodbye hug he had never been allowed at the camp, and watching the guy’s meaty, round glutes and stubborn love handles as he walked back to his girlfriend who was now out of the restrooms. If only she knew the body her boyfriend would soon inhabit: another victim of his own lust for sporting success.
It was only now that Nicko realised just how involved Carl had been from the beginning, having invested millions in the training camp they had attended, and reaping fifty times as much in return. It was what he loved most in the entire world; never missing a single event day they held, and personally seeing to it that more and more naive college boys were signed up each year.
“You’re such a good pig these days,” Carl grinned, watching Nicko nibbling on the specially made giant doughnuts that fitted perfectly around Carl’s thick erection. “Just seeing you without your clothes on now… you’re so disgustingly obese, and yet… look at you eat!”
Nicko nibbled and licked the remaining bits up quickly and sat up so that Carl could touch and jiggle his enormous body, laughing as the waves of pure fat travelled in such interesting ways through his entire body.
“How about we get you somewhere nicer to live than this dump?” he asked, scorning as he looked around the plush, luxury apartment. “Somewhere a lot more superchub friendly.”
Nicko nodded, happy to live wherever Carl thought was best. As he had grown, the wage that was deposited into his account each month had been increasing more and more. Carl had always been great at incentives. In a couple more months, he would even be able to buy his own place, should he so wish.
“I’m looking for somewhere very exclusive for my original piggy to live in,” Carl explained, bouncing up and pushing Nicko onto his back on the bed. “I’d like it to be somewhere for you both to live together,” he smiled, picking up another cream filled doughnut and pushing it into Nicko’s submissive mouth.
Chewing quickly and swallowing as much as he could, Nicko nodded with interest. “This is the guy you first went on the training course with? Your fattest boy so far?”
“You wait until you see him!” Carl grinned excitedly. “Mountains and mountains of pure blubber!” he chuckled, stuffing yet another doughnut into Nicko’s mouth and watching as the greedy boy swallowed it down for him “But he’s not always obedient, like you. He still tries to push against my rules on occasion,” he sneered in irritation. “The pig’s almost one hundred pounds heavier than you are,” Carl explained, having never actually given Nicko any insight into the differences between him and the other fatties he kept. “Yet, he still thinks he can defy me at times.”
Nicko looked up at the gorgeous, hulking monster above him. “Don’t worry. I’ll sort him out for you,” he stated with certainty.
Carl threw his head back and laughed. “My disgusting fatty is setting himself a mission, is he?” he mocked. “Well, you do that then, One Percent,” he nodded approvingly. “Turn him into a good piggy, just like you.”
Nicko smiled, delighted to be trusted with such a task. He rolled over, feeling Carl’s large hand smacking an entire palmful of lubricant into his crack. Then he pulled his heavy, fat-filled glutes wide apart to demonstrate that he was ready to be fucked again. Nicko didn’t know exactly when he had stopped caring about anything else in his life; devoting himself entirely to Carl’s wants and needs. He knew that the guy was wicked and manipulative; throwing his money around and flaunting his good looks to get whatever he wanted. He knew as well that the guy could get bored of him and drop him in a flash. But whilst he was here, basking in the limelight, he would enjoy every second of it.
He would be the very best piggy.
#gainerstory#gayfeeder#gayfeedee#gainerfic#gainerstories#gainer fic#gainer story#gainer stories#gainer fiction#gay feedee
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Hello, congratulations on your milestone! 🎉
May I have (for the mix-and-match 😚) Dr.Ratio and the word-concept "bathtub"? 🫢
Take your time! ❤️❤️
this one was fun to write too (as per usual with ratio) i've written for dr ratio so much in the last two weeks i think i am becoming him.... Im slowly morphing into veritas ratio please save me... THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING this was lovely :3
my 1k event!
—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—
“No way. You take bubble baths with a rubber duck?”
Veritas freezes for no longer than a millisecond before whipping his head around to see you in the doorway of the bathroom. He’d been relaxing just moments ago, sinking into the hot water with his eyes closed, and yes there was a rubber duck in the bath with him but that was not by choice. It just happened to be there when he ran the bath, and he opens his mouth to argue but is quickly cut off by your endless rambling.
“Anyways, I came to wash your hair. One of your assistants told me you just left in the middle of your usual work hours, and I thought, ‘wow, how odd, the Ratio I know would never do that!’ And then I thought, what better way to cheer my dear friend up than keep him company and wash his hair! It did look a little greasy today.”
“I am not your dear friend,” he argues mockingly, but the bite in his voice falls short when you circle around the bath and set down your paraphernalia on the tiles next to you (a microfiber hair towel, shampoo, conditioner, some miscellaneous hair foams and sprays that he really does not trust you with). “You are the most insufferable person I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Get out of my bathroom.”
“This is our bathroom now, Ratio. We’re a community, you and me.”
“It’s ‘you and I.’”
“Exactly! You and I, a community. You’re getting the hang of it now.”
Veritas sighs, surrendering any potential of a relaxing evening to your whims. This is, unfortunately, how it usually goes, and he has yet to make a real effort to stop it. A voice in the back of his head taunts him because at his core, he has zero desire to stop it at all.
“Come on,” you keep babbling, threading your fingers roughly through his already-damp hair. It’s not a pleasant sensation at all, and he winces and holds back a pained yelp. “It’s kind of like going to a spa, or whatever. I’m trying to pamper you. Be grateful!”
“There’s nothing to be grateful about when you’re trying to scalp me,” he could push your hands away easily, bat you off and make you leave. Instead, though, he gives you a minute to tame your inelegant movements into something gentler. He hears the sound of a bottle uncapping, and then your hands are back on his scalp, lathering honey-scented shampoo into the layers of his hair.
“Is this better?” you ask cheekily, tracing circles in his hair, digging your fingertips in and scratching just a little bit, hard enough to feel it but light enough that it’s still soothing. Veritas sighs through his nose, deep and heavy and sinking back into the water. There’s no mocking retorts, no quips, no sarcastic tone, just the even cycle of his breathing and the rhythm of his heartbeat thudding in his ears. If he tries hard enough, focuses enough, he can hear yours too, but it makes his stomach twist with an uncomfortable, unnameable feeling.
In your bundle of things that you brought, there’s an empty plastic cup, and you use it to scoop water from the tub and rinse the foam from his hair. Veritas feels wholly exposed, for obvious reasons among others, and the urge to kick you out still sits heavy in his chest. Right next to it is a warmth, though, something holding his sensibility hostage, something that finds this more comforting than it would be if he’d sat in the bath until the water went cold, all alone, without your hands washing his hair clean of oil and grime and the weight of his research.
You break him of his reverie, but the sudden sound of your voice isn’t as intrusive as he anticipated. “You know, you should start using this oil thing for your hair, I got it from one of my coworkers,” by now, his hair is completely rid of any remaining shampoo, and your hands are rubbing a thin layer of conditioner into the ends of each strand, “and it’s supposed to help your hair grow. I think you’d look great with long hair, Veritas, don’t you agree?”
“What, do you think about that often?” It’s supposed to be something snarky, something to shut you down before you dig too deep, but you never catch the hint—it’s your best and worst quality.
“Maybe,” you admit, heft in your words, a density that needs to be cut open and examined. He’s good at that—good at looking and prying, but he’s the worst if he’s next to you. You’re nowhere near as thorough of a researcher as him, but he thinks (with a sense of embarrassment) that when the subject is him, you’re the most qualified person around. “Wouldn’t it be nice? With your hair all down to your shoulders, maybe. And if you really think it’s a hassle to take care of, I’ll just do it for you.”
He’s perfectly capable of taking care of his own hair, thank you very much, but the idea of having you wash it for him, brush out the tangles in it every other day is appealing to a starving man like Veritas. He aches, and the skin at the nape of his neck itches.
“You’re saying nonsense,” he says, and he can feel the way his brow has tightened and he instinctively goes to chew at the dead skin on his lips. “My hair is perfectly fine the way it is.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” you respond, “just giving you options.” Your hands finally leave his hair, and suddenly the water in the bathtub feels frigid and icy, and Veritas represses a shiver. “Your hair is squeaky clean. Now, get out of the bathroom! It’s my turn to hang out with the rubber duck.”
“Would you—?!” Veritas turns to glare at you, but the impish grin on your face makes him falter. You’re incorrigible. “The duck isn’t mine! And you have your own bathroom. Stop invading my space.”
“Sigh,” you say aloud, because you’re corny and theatrics are written into every part of your personality. “Oh, grandest Ratio, I really did think we were friends, but you wound me so deeply! All this time has meant nothing to you! All this new shampoo that I bought just for you, gone to waste…”
“For gods’ sake,” he mutters, reaching for a set of pajamas that you’d so conveniently taken from his own dressers and brought with you while on your mission to wash his hair. “Turn around so I can get dressed and then you can use the bathroom. So annoying.”
“Not annoying enough to kick me out, though,” you say, and you’re completely right, and Veritas will admit that one day, but certainly not today.
—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—
gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin @hanyi-writes
#nora hits 1k#veritas ratio x reader#dr ratio x reader#ratio x reader#dr. ratio x reader#hsr x reader#honkai x reader#honkai star rail x reader#veritas x reader#oh veritas my beautiful annoying obnoxious scholarly man
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Playground Love
ೀ older!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader
Tags: hurt/comfort, age gap (unspecified but reader is an adult), a lot of self doubt, talks about mommy and daddy issues, pet names (angel, princess, sweetheart).
W/C: 1.0k
A/N: studying? who is that? Anyways, this was supposed to be a cute ‘sitting on his lap would fix me’ but I got hit by existential crisis at 2am so angst.
"Wow, dating an older guy? That's so sophisticated!"
“Are you sure about this? Don’t you think there’s a reason why no one his age is dating him?”
"You get to date someone older? That's not fair! All I get are immature guys my age."
"Darling, I know you're an adult now, but dating someone significantly older... it just worries me. Are you sure you're on the same page?"
I love him.
At every reaction, you find yourself repeating the same phrase in your mind. It was a simple truth that anchored you amidst the swirl of opinions and doubts. Every concern, every envy—you faced them all with the same unwavering declaration.
But do you really love him?
The question lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on the certainty you had clung to so desperately. You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that perhaps you were merely caught up in the allure of dating someone older, mistaking infatuation for love. Or was it that you longed for attention from an older guy who could fill the void your absent father left?
You craved the paternal presence you had been denied, and in him, you found echoes of the guidance and affection you had longed for.
"Dating someone older? Isn't that a bit... strange?"
"Why? Age is just a number, right?"
"Yeah, but... do you really think you're at the same stage in life?"
Oh, how naively optimistic you were.
Perhaps you have been too quick to dismiss your loved one’s concerns, too eager to embrace the illusion of love in the arms of someone—his arms—who offered the fleeting promise of stability and security.
“But he makes me feel loved and safe,”
“Does he?”
Was your love truly built to withstand the test of time, or was it merely a fleeting illusion, destined to crumble beneath the weight of your differences?
“Darling, can we talk for a moment?”
“Sure, Ma. What’s on your mind?”
"Well, I couldn't help but notice... you seem quite taken with this new guy you're seeing."
"Oh, you mean Leon? Yeah, we've been spending some time together."
"He's... older, isn't he?"
"Um, yeah, he is."
"I see... darling, I just want to make sure you're being careful. Dating someone older can bring its own set of challenges."
"I know, Ma. But he's different. He understands me in a way no one else does."
"I'm sure he does, dear…but promise me you'll take things slow and really get to know him before things get too serious."
"I promise, Mama.”
You've broken many promises with your mama, but why did this one hurt? Is it because you partially blame her for shaping you the way you are? Is it because she married your father? Maybe she would have lived a happier life if it weren't for him, if only.
But you thanked her, both her and him, for the lesson learned, for the wisdom imparted, for the love that had always been there, and for helping you recognise the kind of partner to avoid.
You stood before the polished wooden door of Leon’s home office, your hand hovering in uncertainty over the ornate doorknob. Each second felt like an eternity as you battled with the torrent of doubts and fears that raged within you.
You needed him, wanted him to hold you, and tell you that everything would be fine.
But what if he couldn’t understand your doubts? What if your confession shattered the fragile illusion of your love?
With a steady breath, you pushed aside your apprehensions and grasped the doorknob, steeling yourself for the conversation that lay ahead.
“What’s up, sweetheart?” His voice, gruff yet soft and reassuring, always managed to send shivers down your spine, freezing you in place. You couldn’t find the words to speak, and your throat suddenly dried.
Sensing your hesitation, he beckoned you closer with a gentle smile. You could see the experiences he went through, the complexities of adulthood etched into the lines that creased his weathered face.
“Come here, angel. Sit on my lap while I work.”
You obeyed, crossing the threshold into his office, your feet padding on the wooden floor as you made your way to him. Settling onto his lap, your linen dress pooled around you, the fabric soft against your skin. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you close, his rough touch sent warmth flooding through your veins.
You inhaled his scent, a mixture of citrus and wood, with a hint of something familiar: whisky. You thought he quit. Ready to question him, you opened your mouth, but he stopped you before you could question him.
“Don’t worry your pretty head, princess. I only drank a glass, I promised. I’m just a bit stressed.”
“Mm, okay,” you replied, pushing aside your concerns for the moment as you melted into the warmth of his embrace.
You found solace in the familiar embrace of Leon's arms, the weight of your doubts momentarily forgotten as you leaned into his chest, burying your face against him. A few of his buttons were undone, allowing the soft hairs on his chest to brush against your face.
"Is everything alright, angel?" Leon's voice, soft and concerned, pulled you back to the present moment.
"Yeah, everything's fine. I just want to stay like this, with you," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.
His arms tightened around you, drawing you closer, as if he could sense the hesitation in your voice. "Me too, princess. Me too," his stubble pricked your forehead as he murmured against them.
Oh, how weak you were. His voice and touch alone melted you into a puddle, and all your problems seemed to vanish in his embrace. Your mama wouldn’t be happy with how you turned out; she wished that you would never let a man make you weak like she was.
Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into his embrace, letting go of the weight of your doubts and worries. In this moment, all that mattered was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.
Perhaps one day, when the time was right, you would find the courage to open up to him about your inner struggles. Until then, you cherished this moment, clawing in the warmth of his love.
Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, Leon whispered softly, "I love you, angel.”
“I love you, too, Leon, always,” you replied. The words were a vow of unwavering devotion and love…was it really?
All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does, and that is his.
- Oscar Wilde
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy fluff#resident evil 6 leon#death island leon#infinite darkness leon#damnation leon#vendetta leon#dividers by fairytopea#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚
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Was on tiktok and I found the funniest thing! The audio is called -4things a man does when he starts to lose feelings- but with jason x reader?
i didn't know if you wanted it to be angtsy or fluffy so I kind of just went with the flow
Detached
Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader
trigger warning(s): hurt no comfort
a/n: this was left in my inbox for a little too long... but I'm back and ready to start writing again!!
You and Jason have been drifting apart lately.
You don't know if you were just imagining it, but there definitely was a bridge between you two. An uncrossable gap. An empty feeling.
"Baby, I'm home." You closed the door of your shared apartment. Unlike the times that seemed so long ago, no eager boyfriend was waiting for you at the front door. No sweet, soft, kisses on your temple, his chocolate voice insisting on taking your bags for you.
Now, he was just sitting on the couch, reading his book. He didn't even look up when you walked past him, just giving a muttered 'hello'. Your heart sank as you observed Jason's distant demeanor. It wasn't just today; it had been building up for weeks. The warmth that once enveloped your relationship seemed to have dissipated into the cool, icy air of indifference. What was going on?
After a shower, you made your way to the living room, taking a seat at the furthest side of the couch from Jason, nervously fidgeting with your hands. The tension in the air was so thick you could hardly breathe in it. "Um, Jay?" You mumbled nervously.
"Yeah?" Came an indifferent reply.
"Are we...still on for tomorrow? We are supposed to go for a picnic at the park tomorrow." There was a spark of hope in your voice. Maybe this was what you and Jason needed to fix things. Perhaps you were just imagining things. Maybe-
"I can't, I got that case to work on with Bruce."
You froze. "But Jason, you said-"
"I know, and I'm sorry, baby," There's no feeling now when he says the word. That word used to come with affection and tender love, now, his voice was just robotic. "You know I can't hold this case up any longer."
Your heart sank further as Jason's response echoed in your mind. It was yet another missed opportunity to spend quality time together, another sign of the growing distance between you. You struggled to find the right words, the ones that could somehow bridge the gap that seemed to widen with each passing day.
"I understand," you replied, trying to keep the disappointment from seeping into your voice. "Work is important. More important than me, I guess." You muttered the last part under your breath.
But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling of hurt and disappointment. It wasn't just about missing the picnic; it was about the underlying issue that had been festering between you two. The lack of communication, and the growing sense of disconnect — they were all symptoms of a much deeper problem.
Jason glanced at you briefly before returning his attention to his book, the distance between you feeling more pronounced than ever. You wanted to reach out, to break through the walls that had been set up between you, but you didn't know where to begin.
After a moment of silence, you gathered your courage and spoke again. "Jason, can we talk?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.
He looked up, his expression guarded. "About what?"
"About us," you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest. "I-I feel like we've been drifting apart lately, and I don't want to lose what we have."
For a moment, Jason's facade wavered, a flicker of vulnerability shining through his stoic exterior. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a mask of indifference.
"There's nothing to talk about," he said curtly, his tone final.
You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of his words crushing any hope you had left. You realized then that the bridge between you two wasn't just uncrossable — it had crumbled beneath the weight of unspoken words and unresolved issues.
"Oh, okay." That was all that you said.
As the silence stretched between you, you couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end, if the distance that had grown between you was now too vast to overcome. "I-I'm heading to bed," You announced, not waiting for a reply as you practically ran to your shared bedroom and closed the door, feeling Jason's eyes on you as you retreated.
What had gone wrong? Where had the love and affection that once filled your days disappeared to? The questions swirled in your mind, taunting you with their lack of answers.
As the hours passed, sleep eluded you, your thoughts consumed by the uncertainty of the future. Could you salvage what was left of your relationship, or was it too late to mend the broken pieces?
The sound of footsteps outside the bedroom door snapped you out of your reverie, and you tensed, unsure of what to expect. Was Jason coming to talk, to offer reassurance and comfort? Or was he retreating further into his own world, leaving you to navigate the storm alone?
The door creaked open, and you held your breath, waiting for his presence to fill the room. But instead of Jason, there was only silence, punctuated by the hollow echo of your own heartbeat.
"Jay?"
"It's me," came his reply. He pushed through the door, sliding underneath the covers in his place on the bed.
Silence ensued.
"Do you...want to talk about it?" You quietly asked.
"Not right now, please," Jason sighed, turning away from you. As he stayed awake beside you, you can't help but think that you have really lost him.
#killxz#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#red hood x reader#batman#jason todd#batboys#jason todd angst#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#red hood
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exclusively yours - sdv harvey x reader!
-> synopsis: harvey realizes some things about himself and one of those is that he can't stand it when other people look at what's his.
-> warning: NSFW MDNI MDNI MDNI SMUT! jealous harvey mhm. a touch of dom harvey what can i say. slight shane slander nothing too mean. a bit wordy. you've been warned.
-> a/n: i hope you all enjoy! i wrote this whenever i had time free over the course of a week when i should be doing homework.
there's a rare fire in his eyes that night at the stardrop saloon. he's not sure what it is that he's feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he knows for certain that he doesn't like the way shane's eyes rake over your flower dance dress that you had been wearing since this morning when you danced with the doctor, and not shane.
he's reminding himself of the ring on your finger, the farm that you live in together, the bouquets you've gifted him, the necklace that took ages to procure because the weather had to be just right. and yet, none of that is easing the jealousy threatening to bubble up over the surface.
the lust in shane's gaze becomes even more apparent as the crowd dwindles. he's talking to you and harvey can barely make out the words coming out of his mouth, but then there's a touch to your elbow that was well-timed to come after a joke you just made, and now harvey is striding over, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulders to stare at shane.
"what was so funny?" he asks and the interested inflection in his tone is entirely fake. "i know my wife has such a keen sense of humor, doesn't she?" you don't miss the emphasis he puts on 'wife.'
shane's grown awkward now, and he shifts hsi weight from one foot to the next. he's been caught and there's nothing much he can do to salvage this situation. "yeah, uh, she just made a joke about summer. nothing serious. sorry," he stumbles out.
"mhm, yeah. so, we'll see you around?" harvey says which effectively ends the conversation and forces shane back into the booth he was originally sitting down in. with a breath of relaxation, he turns to you with a different kind of fire in his eyes. one that makes you shiver with palpable excitement. "ready to go home?"
you nod and his hand moves from your shoulder down to the small of your back to give you just a slight push away from prying eyes and out the door of the saloon.
neither of you speak on the way home and it feels like even the nature around you is holding its breath in anticipation of what will happen when the door to your farmhouse swings open. the farmhouse becomes visible in the distance and there's a sudden weakness in your legs. subconciously, both you and harvey pick up speed until you find yourself speed-walking to the front door.
he wastes no time in pulling keys from his pocket and unlocking the door and, ever the gentleman, letting you go in first.
once he shuts the door behind him, his hand immediately finds the small of your back again and you feel your body inch closer to the bedroom. anticipation grows and grows until your back is leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom and harvey's stature is looming over yours.
this is new, this is unexplored, this is uncharted territory. harvey had never once been anything other than unadulterated sweetness in the bedroom. he cared about your pleasure, your comfort, and your enjoyment more than anything. but now there was something calling to him to give into this urge building in the pit of his stomach.
harvey's hand crawls from its position by his side, up the curves of your stomach, then stops at the base of your head. a soft gesture tilts your chin upwards so you're looking directly into his brown eyes. you feel small underneath his intense gaze, but it's certainly not a bad feeling.
"you know," he begins with a breath, "i've never considered myself a jealous person." you bite your lip in anticipation, feeling warmth grow from your core and radiate outwards. "but...the way shane was looking at you tonight...i think we just need a small reminder about who you belong with."
there was so much intensity behind his words despite them coming out in a soft drawl. you could have buckled right there on the doorframe but his body was caging you in so that there was no way you'd fall.
with a breath and a swallow, your hand travels from your side to his waist. "then remind me," you tease.
harvey's eyes darken and something about this excited you to no end. his strong hands bring you close to his chest and his lips hurriedly meet yours. they intertwine in a mess, teeth clashing, tongues bumping, but it sets your entire body alight. with ease, harvey inches you away from the doorframe and to the bed where you fall down onto the soft mattress. the white dress on your body falls around your waist, revealing the underwear you had on.
then, harvey growled. like truly, really growled as if something had took over him in these few seconds. he had been suppressing this urge to be with you intensely for fear of hurting you or embarrassing himself. but he's spurred on by your moans and the heat he feels radiating from between your legs.
after making out so roughly that your lips are left feeling numb, harvey's hands travel down your body, stopping at the hem of your underwear. with a strong tug, he pulls you to the edge of the bed and sits on his knees in front of you. he'd regret placing so much pressure on his aging knees in the morning, but that didn't matter now. what mattered now was making you cum to the point that you are unable to think of another man but him.
without much warning, harvey's mouth met your core. you threw your head back to the bed, letting out a moan that made you glad you lived so far from any other person. he was like a man possessed, seeking some salvation in the wetness growing and growing in between your legs.
he pulled away, but not for long as his fingers gripped the hem of your underwear and slid them down your thighs, calfs, and off your feet. for a second, he sat on his knees, marveling at your pleasure and whispered, "you must really like this, huh?"
his voice was laced with lust and darkness. before you could even respond, his mouth met your middle again and every part of your body lurched forward, in awe of the pleasure he was giving you. there was a coil in the pit of your stomach that was growing, wounding around itself, tightening with every stroke of harvey's tongue against you.
"harv! fuck!" you managed to choke out. you could feel his lips tilt upward in a smile, and just when you thought there was no possible way it could get better than this, his finger teased at your hole before plunging in. harvey's anatomical knowledge guided his finger upward, curling up to the spot that sends you reeling.
his name was a prayer on your lips as that coil tightened till the point you think it might snap. you could no longer hold it when harvey added in a second finger, curling both upwards and creating a pressure that pulled the coil till it all fell apart. you were a mess, hair sprawled on the comforter, dress halfway up your body, wetness dripping from harvey's fingers.
he leans back on his knees, eyes blown wide with lust. his lips glisten and his carefully groomed hair and mustache are destroyed. he's breathing heavily, but he didn't stop his frenzy there. with rushed movements, he tugs off his tie, his button down, his undershirt till there was nothing adorning his body.
"need this off," he mumbles, pulling at the hem of your dress. you come out of your daze to rise up and slide the dress off your body. "jesus...," he whispers. he rises from his spot on the floor and gestures for you to scoot up to the bed. slowly, his body comes over yours and once again you become caged in his grip and his scent. "do i tell you that you're beautiful enough? because if i don't i need some sense slapped into me."
heat floods in your cheeks at his words. harvey, ever the kind gentleman, was a whole other person entirely. for a second, you wonder if you could tease more possessiveness out of him. he was already delirious with pleasure. what could a little more hurt?
"i'm glad you think so too, dr. harvey. shane really thinks i'm the best looking person in this whole town," you say with a smirk tilting your lips upward.
that fire reignites in his eyes again. in seconds, his hands come to your wrists and you feel pinned against the bed. his chest is rising and falling with intensity.
"if i hear another man's name on your lips tonight, you're getting it," he threatens.
and, because you can, you push him further. "shane. alex. sam. sebastian. lew-"
in a renewed sense of dominance, harvey clamps his hand over your mouth, effectively cutting you off. "i don't think you'll be able to talk when i'm done with you," he says, voice just slightly above a whisper.
"prove it," you whisper back.
harvey smiles with something sinister lurking beneath the service. he stands from the bed, eyes never leaving yours and tugs off his belt, then his pants. with no flourish, his length comes out, irresistibly hard from the night's activities. he climbs back on top of you, settling his center in front of yours. he's barely touching your core but it's sending you arching upwards.
"i don't think shane could manage making you feel this good, you know?" he teases your entrance. "i mean, if you'd like to try, go ahead, but you'll come back to me crying because he can't make you cum like this." slowly, he slides himself in. you let out an unearthly moan that is met with his own grunts. "you're all mine. no one else's." he fully enters you then, hitting as far back as he could manage.
he drags himself out, then slowly enters back in. it's torturous. horrible. so awfully frustrating.
"please, harv. more!" you beg. he kept up his slow pace, barely budging. "need you more." you sound just as pathetic as you feel.
"can shane make you feel this good?" he asks.
so that's what he wanted from you. "no!" you plead.
"are you all mine, then?"
"yes, all yours!"
"exclusively mine?"
"exclusively yours!"
at those final words, harvey fucks into you again with a quicker, rougher pace. this was what you needed more than air. your hands fly to his arms where your nails dig into the skin there. he would wake up with marks that remind him of the night, but maybe that was your purpose in doing so.
harvey is stretching you out in the most perfect of ways and the closeness of his body to yours sends shivers all over you. his hands are desperately clinging to every part of your exposed skin and his chest rises quickly in attempts to catch his breath. nothing could stop him from his actions right now. all he can focus on is the way you feel so tight around him, the way you're moaning his name, and the way he has to hold in his orgasm until you've came all over him.
which isn't too far away. it's building with every deep, powerful thrust he makes. he's hitting spots inside of you that he hadn't before. it's blissful, filthy, and perfect. in the middle of your ecstacy, you make a note to draw out harvey's jealous side more.
"fuck," he grunts out. it's so strange to hear such filthy language coming from your husband who balked any time you said swear words. "you're so fucking tight for me, huh?"
his dirty words pull out a loud moan from you which seemed to spur harvey on even further. his thrusts lost their rhythm and his breath became rapid. he was close and so were you. with urgent moves, you wrap your legs around his waist which sends his length inside of you as deep as it can go. your eyes meet with a silent agreement.
your moans mingle together, filling the room with lewd noises. your name is repeated over and over again until the moment you both feel that release toppling over the edge, filling your bodies head to toe with pure bliss. his body doesn't still, but instead he returns to the slow pace he began with, pumping his cum deep inside you.
after some breaths and stilled movements, he pulls out with a slick noise and falls to your side. his arms open up in a silent request for you to lay on his chest and you oblige. the bed is destroyed, your bodies are sweaty, and there's certainly something leaking out of you onto the sheets. but sheets can be washed, beds can be made, and showers can be had.
all that matters is that you were exclusively his, and shane could never make you feel like that.
#stardew valley x reader#harvey one shot#stardew valley#stardew valley fanfic#harvey#harvey x reader#harvey imagine#sdv harvey#sdv harvey smut#stardew valley smut#harvey smut
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The Baby Dream
Summary: You tend to have "the baby dream" every once in a while, but you never really mentioned it to your boyfriend Marc let alone had a conversation about having a baby with him in general. You tell him about the one you just had this time.
Warnings: not really anything real to warn about other than the reader's character feels a little sad when they find out that their baby was only something in their dream. Implied afab reader and implied that they breastfeed their baby.
Author’s Snip: I have a mix of baby fever and recently had a baby dream of my own so I decided to use that as a prompt.
I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.
Word Count: 618
Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction (you too can join my tag list, just ask)
The sound of a small soft grunt and whine wakes you right up. The morning sun breaches through the bedroom curtains and gives the room a soft lighting that makes the room visible without burning your still sleepy eyes. You look around for a bit, finding Marc still asleep and snoring softly. You sit up in bed and find the source of the noise, seeing a crib in the corner of the room along the wall.
Oh, looks like Mel's awake. Who's Mel? You and Marc's baby daughter of course!
You get up, careful not to wake Marc since he dealt with her waking up and crying in the middle of the night. Walking over to her crib, you look down and see her look back at you with her cute little eyes. They look just like the boys', all big and doe-like.
You scoop her up and out of her crib and cradle her in your arms. You feel her weight in your arms along with her squirming slightly to get comfortable.
"Good morning," you softly coo, "How'd you sleep? Huh?" you ask her. Of course, she can't answer, but judging that she didn't wake up crying like she usually does when she's had trouble sleeping, she slept just fine. Mel's tiny hands grip your pajama shirt. "I see we want breakfast now," you comment in response to her grabbing.
You walk back to the bed so that you can be comfortable while you feed her, but when you're supposed feel yourself sit, you wake up.
The room looks just the same, say for the fact that Marc is in the act of getting up out of bed this time. "Oh shit, sorry, hun. Did I wake you up?" Marc asks. You shake your head and carefully sit up and look towards the corner where Mel's crib was, but there's nothing there. No crib or baby...
Right. You don't have a baby together. It was just another baby dream that you have occasionally. You feel a bit of weight in your chest at the fact that you and Marc's baby girl wasn't real. Even though she only existed in your dream for a moment it felt so real. Like you actually had her and took care of her.
You realize that you're starting to tear up and shake off the feeling. "Sorry, I just had a dream," you explain. "Do you want to talk about it?" Marc gently asks. You take a moment and then a breath. "We had a baby," you say, "That was it. We had a baby together and I woke up to her waking up and I held her for a bit before I actually woke up." you explain further. "It's a normal thing. I have dreams where I have a baby from time to time." you mention.
Marc just look at you for a second. You look towards him to see what has him so quiet. He has that look on his face when he's thinking about something and trying to choose his words. You let him do his thinking before he finally speaks. "Do... you want a baby?" he asks.
"Yes?" you say, unsure yourself. "I don't know. It's sort of a hormone thing, like baby fever," you say. "We've never really had that talk before, I know. So I don't know if you want to have kids," you mention. "Okay, but do you want to have kids someday?" Marc rephrases his question. "Yeah. I'd like to have a family with you someday when we're ready." you answer.
Marc nods. "Yeah..." he says, "I think that would be a good conversation to have sometime soon." he adds with a slight smile.
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11. up from the dust, inconceivable love
Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Chapter Summary: Ellie learns the truth. Your family gains a member.
Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.
Chapter Warnings: pregnancy related things, angst, hurt & comfort and no comfort?, self worth issues, canon violence, anger, child birth, spoilers for TLOU 2 (we’re entering the timeline that starts to burrow things for part 2 of the game)
Notes: huge thank you to my constants, my rocks @ramblers-lets-get-ramblinand @janaispunk for beta reading and letting me yell and scream and break their hearts.
If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader! The final part is out now!
Words: 5352
Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist
“What do you think of Peace?” You ask, propped up in bed, hand over your swollen stomach. You’ve gained more weight this time, probably because you’re not in the throes of grief.
“I mean, I’m a fan. I hope everyone is.” Joel says, trimming his facial hair with the bathroom door wide open.
You bite your lip, admiring the expanse of his bare back. If getting out of bed wasn’t an event, you would be behind him right now, kissing his shoulders.
“No, as a name for a girl,” you say. Joel turns around looking at you like he’s contemplating checking you into a psychiatric ward if those still existed. “A middle name, not a first name.”
Joel sets his trimmers down, leaning in the doorway shirtless. “And what would her first name be?”
“Willow.”
Joel furrows his brow stepping into your bedroom, your shared bedroom. “Darlin, I know we live in a commune, but we’re not hippies.”
“You bring me wildflowers and we walk barefoot through the fields. I wouldn’t be so sure.” You can’t help but laugh. Joel cracks a smile. “Do you have suggestions then?”
“Thought about naming Sarah- Katherine.”
You make a face. You know one too many Kates and Katies even in Jackson.
“It’s not a bad name,” Joel chuckles.
“Neither is Willow.”
“Is this your way of telling me you’re a hippie?”
“Would you leave if I said yes?”
Joel shrugs “I don’t know, but I knocked you up so I guess I have to stay.” He crawls into the bed. His head is level with your stomach as he watches for movement.
You roll your eyes. “How romantic.”
He grins up at you and then his eyes are back on your belly. He rests a hand at the top, staring, waiting in wonderment. Neither of you can believe this is all real. Your baby moves around all the time, kicking your bladder and lungs, signifying life. A life you did not think would make it.
You thread your fingers through Joel’s soft brown hair. The outline of a foot appears and then disappears. Joel’s eyes sparkle and he kisses the same spot. He’s soft and gentle. In these moments, all your anxieties are carried away like leaves on an autumn breeze. This is your peace.
“What other names did you have picked out for Carter?”
You bite your lip. “We didn’t have any other boys' names.”
“And if he’d been a girl?” He’s still enthralled with your stomach as if there’s been an enchantment cast over it.
“Sarah.”
His head snaps up.
“Tommy and I talked about her a lot when I was pregnant. She was on my mind… being a part of Sarah’s life made me realize I wanted a family… even in this world where I had no right to do so.”
You keep playing with his hair. His eyes go glassy making you wonder what memory is playing behind his eyes. You stay like that until Joel is ready to talk. Eventually, he sits up, clearing his throat. His lips touch yours.
“What about Willa?”
You tilt your head to the side. You don’t really see how it’s any different than Willow, but you’re not going to bring that up. “I like it.”
“And Miles for a boy.” His smile returns. He doesn’t tell you that he’s positive you’re having a girl.
“Miles is an old man's name!”
“Good, then he’ll grow to be an old man.”
You take in a sharp breath. It’s just an offhand comment, but it carries so much weight. It’s a stark reminder of the heaviness of the world, and the twinge of guilt you feel bringing another child into it.
Joel takes your hand, kissing your palm. You see it in his eyes too. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’tve-”
“It’s okay.” Your fingers comb through his hair. He leans into your touch. His grays are more noticeable than they were a year ago, but the brown still outnumbers them.
“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” he asks.
“I don’t know… I- I haven’t really let myself think about it until today.” It's true. The fact of the matter is you’re within a month of your due date. You and Joel are so close to welcoming this baby into the world and are wildly unprepared.
“We’re getting close… We need a crib.”
“The one I used for Carter is in the attic.”
“I can bring it down in the morning.”
“I need to get some baby clothes. I traded all of Carter’s.”
“Looks like we have a bunch of work to do, Mama,” Joel smiles, kissing your forehead. He still hasn't told you about the swaddles and onesies tucked in the back of his drawer, but it seems you’re finally ready for them.
You cock your head to the side, contemplating the nickname. There’s a mix of emotions with it. You’re already a mother. Joel is a father, but this is a life you’re bringing in together. It’s uncharted territory for both of you. Sarah’s mom was out the door before she was six months old. Neither of you have done this part with a partner before.
A sharp knock on the front door pulls your mind from its wandering. Joel’s brow furrows, rolling out of the bed. People don’t knock on your door often. They usually barrel right in, unless it’s bad. Your stomach drops.
Joel is out of the bedroom, shrugging on a shirt. Dina’s voice calls through your home. “Hello?” She sounds worried, desperate.
You swing your legs over the side of the bed. It takes more time to stand these days. If you try too quickly, your head rushes making you feel dizzy.
“Dina? What’s wrong?” Joel’s at the bottom of the stairs now, but his voice carries. You have to stop at the top of the stairs to catch your breath.
“Ellie is gone.”
You freeze, grabbing the railing for stability. “What?”
Joel turns around, worry etched in his face. “Where did she go?”
“I don’t know. She mentioned something about the Fireflies and a hospital, but she wouldn’t talk to me.” You make out the flicker of hurt in Dina’s face. Those two tell each other everything, or most things. You’re not sure Ellie has told her about her immunity. You all keep that one pretty close to your chests.
“Shit,” Joel mumbles. He glances between you at his back and the front door in front of him. You see the push and pull. He needs to go after her. He needs to be here for you.
His eyes settle on you. Your hand settles on top of your swollen belly. He’s looking for permission. You want to give it, but what if he’s needed here before he gets back.
“She’s been off lately. I don’t know why. She won’t talk to me.” Dina seems to sense the silent conversation going on. “I can go after her, but-“
“No, I need to go.” Joel swings back toward the teenager, both hands placed on his hips. You try to bite back the panic rising inside you. He’ll be fine. They’ll both be fine. “Do you know when she left?”
“Probably sometime before the sun came up. Shimmer isn’t in the stable.”
Joel lets out a ragged sigh, hands running over his face. You try to keep the tears away, your hormones making it difficult.
“Will you let Maria know I’m going after her? I need to pack.”
Dina nods, her eyes flickering up to you before she’s gone in a flash of dark curls. Joel turns around, hand resting on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. You swallow and walk back into the bedroom.
It’s silent at first, nothing but the sounds of draws opening and closing and the soft slaps of his leather saddle bags. You sit in silence at the edge of your bed, chewing on your lip as you watch him. Ellie needs him. It echoes on repeat in your brain.
“I can probably catch her. We’ll be back in two weeks if I don’t.”
You stare down at your ever growing belly. You could easily be pregnant when he returns, but what if you’re not? You’re fairly certain you’ll have this baby sooner rather than later, but Ellie needs him too.
“Why does she want to go back to Salt Lake?”
Joel freezes for a second, like he’s contemplating his answer. It sets an uneasy feeling in your bones. “I don’t know. Maybe she thinks some of the Fireflies are still there? That this whole cure business is still an option?”
You nod, thoughts drifting to her face when you looked at her blood a couple months ago. She looked desperate. You hadn’t seen her like that before. It was almost unnerving, like the need to be needed by humanity had returned tenfold. It made you wonder if you’d been there for her enough these past few months.
“I have to go after her.”
There’s a desperation you don’t quite recognize in Joel’s eyes, sending a thread of dread through your body. Is he leaving something out? Not telling you something? You nod, biting your lip. “I know.”
He lays his hand on your bump, fingers stretching out over it. “We’ve got time.”
You nod. “Hurry back, and be safe, okay?”
Joel kisses your forehead. “Always.”
He rides out thirty minutes later.
You try to stay busy while they’re gone, cleaning the clinic and the house thrice over as the nesting and anxiety sets in. You ask Tommy to get the crib out of the attic as you prep the corner of your bedroom for the baby, wiping it free from the dust and cobwebs.
Maria hosts a small get together for you pulling together some semblance of a baby shower, something you hadn’t had with Carter. It's nice, but you feel like they skirt around the questions nagging in their brains. Where did Ellie and Joel go? Will they be back in time? You don’t have answers. You have the same fucking question. Will they be back?
The braxton hicks kick up, so much so you think you’re in labor ten days after Joel rides out. The fear that courses through your body is so paralyzing that you just lay in bed. Your body tenses with the memory’s of Carter’s labor. It’s not the physical pain of it, but the emotional rollercoaster you went through, alone. You’re not supposed to do this alone this time.
Then, the contractions stop with no explanation and you fall into a restless sleep. You miss Joel, his warmth and comfort. His unspoken love that fills the room. You’re becoming more comfortable with the idea of it.
You miss Ellie too, worried about what she’s going through. Providing it’s still vacant, Salt Lake won’t hold any answer for her. What lengths will she go to? How many miles will she travel in search of answers you believe don’t exist? How will she handle reality?
You see the differences in Carter too. In his mind, Ellie and Joel have always been here. Two weeks without them feels like a lifetime to him, and to you.
On day twelve, your front door flies open as you come down the stairs. Ellie bursts through looking frantic and frazzled. Her short cropped hair sticks up in certain places. Dirt smudges her forehead. You’re too relieved to see her to worry about her appearance. If anything, it’s expected after two weeks of travel, but your relief is short lived.
“Did you know?” She yells. The door stays wide open behind her, rage flaming in her eyes.
“What?”
“Did you know?”
“Know what?” You step toward her, reaching out, but she backs away like a wild animal.
“He killed them! All of them!”
“Killed who? Ellie, take a deep breath.”
“Joel! He killed the fireflies! They had a cure!”
Your breath catches. It’s not that Joel has killed people. You know about the years he spent as a raider. You know the cost of surviving in this world, but this isn’t the story you have been told about Salt Lake. When you asked him why she would go back, he lied. He knew. Knew the story hadn’t lined up in Ellie’s mind.
“So he lied to you too!”
“Ellie!” Joel is stern as his frame fills your doorway.
She spins around, the week of silence she spent next to him on the road back, wrath bubbling over and focused on him. “Tell her! Tell her, Joel!” She steps toward him. “Tell her what you did!” She shoves against his shoulders.
“Ellie…” He repeats her name, softer this time.
“Don’t do that!” She turns back to you, tears streaming down her cheeks. “They were going to make a cure from me, and you stopped them! You slaughtered them!”
“They were going to kill you!”
Your eyes widen, and it makes sense. Why Joel hasn’t talked about it. Why he needed to go after her. Why Ellie feels so useless. She’d been promised the cure. He’d taken that from her with a facade of an excuse.
“You should have let them!” Ellie screams until she pushes past him, rushing out of your house.
Joel lets out a sigh, defeat evident across his features. You can’t even enjoy their homecoming, their safety, your head spinning too much.
Joel shuts the door behind him, stepping closer like he’s expecting an embrace, but you step back, a mother’s anger building in your bones. He looks surprised. “Sweetheart…”
“You lied to her.”
“I protected her.” Joel’s eyes narrow. He’s tired and irritable. Neither of you expected a fight to ensue the moment he got home. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“You’ve watched her struggle with this for years!”
“They were going to kill her!”
“Have you listened to anything she’s said?”
You almost don’t recognize the Joel in front of you. He looks like a shell of the assured, warm man you know. You wonder if this is the version of Joel Tommy used to speak of. The one Joel has told you about during those late night chats when you spilled the depths of yourselves to each other, or you thought you had. The one who floated through his days, barely living.
“I couldn’t lose her!”
“Except you did!”
Joel straightens, shoulders setting in denial. “She’s alive! That’s what matters.”
“You’re missing the point!”
“You’re saying I should have let them go ahead with it! Let them cut open her head for a cure you don’t believe is possible!”
Fire blazes in Joel's eyes. You see it. There’s no rationalizing with him about this. In his eyes, there were no choices to be made. He did the only thing. It doesn’t matter what else he has to sacrifice, she’s alive and that’s all that matters. “That’s not-”
He scoffs, cutting you off. You see the pain and hurt ripple through his body, causing him to step back from you. “Sure sounds like it.”
“Joel!”
“Don’t.” He yanks the front door open. “I can’t be here right now.”
He disappears across the threshold in the blink of an eye leaving you with a mountain to process and a growing tension across your stomach.
Joel knows he’s in the wrong. He knows he shouldn’t have lied to Ellie, held the truth from you. He’s a grown man, of course he knows what’s right and wrong, but that admittance doesn’t do anything to calm him. He needs to get out. Out of the house. Out of the walls into the open. It doesn’t matter that he just came from two weeks out there.
He sneaks over the wall with more ease than he should be able. Instantly, he feels the tightening in his chest begin to ease. He paces the outside of the wall like a caged animal, the series of events reeling through his mind. He doesn’t realize how much he’s been pushing it back since they left Salt Lake. Her words, her pleas, over and over. She’d given him every opportunity to tell her the truth and he kept the lie going.
There was no cure. The words he’d utter to her after they found that couple, one dead the other infected while out on patrol.
He’d almost told her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lose her. Couldn’t risk it.
His pacing becomes more frantic as he remembers the fear he felt at the thought of losing Ellie, the fear that pushed him into wiping away every firefly that crossed his path. The same fear that put lies in his mouth before he had time to think, that kept him from telling her the truth. He knew this would happen one day, but hadn’t been enough. He’d kept it from everyone, including you.
Tell me, she had pleaded with him, begged him and he still felt the pull to replace his lie with another.
She’d had to poke and prod to get the words from his mouth. Had to threaten to leave before she got the truth. That hurt almost as much as the fallout. Everyone thought he was a better man than he actually was. Ellie, you, himself, but when it came down to it. He failed that test. Good men don’t make someone threaten to leave to get the truth.
I’ll go back, but we’re done.
Joel wears a path in the fresh grass beneath his feet, letting the spring chill take over when the sun sets, leaving him in darkness. Ellie had kept her word. He’d never heard her stay quiet for so long. The loss had begun to settle in with her riding next to him.
Joel’s muscles ache from two weeks out on the road. He misses you and Carter. He hasn’t even touched you yet. Will you let him?
Getting over the wall from the outside proves more difficult than it had the first time. Which is a good thing, but had Joel feeling every one of his 59 years. Embarrassment creeps over his cheeks with each step toward your home. The one he shares with you, but he feels like a guest as he climbs the steps. He doesn’t catch a glimpse of you or Carter or anyone else through the windows.
The house is silent when he enters, no signs of life except for the faint buzzing of light bulbs. His brow furrows. You wouldn’t have left the lights on if you weren’t home. Then a faint sound comes from upstairs, movement at the very least. He follows it, placing his hand on the closed bedroom door before cracking it open.
Soft groans come from behind the cracked bathroom door followed by a whispered curse. Maria's voice follows. Joel’s throat drops into his stomach. His boots echo off the wood floor as he crosses the room. “Sweetheart?” he calls, staying on his side of the door. “Is everything alright?”
“Joel? Get in here,” you groan out.
It sends some reassurance through him to hear you so clearly before he swings the door open. His eyes go wide at the sight of you in the tub, sweat staining your skin as Maria kneels next to you. “Shit, are you?”
“Make yourself useful and hold my hand.”
He nods, kneeling beside you. Maria stands, grabbing a few instruments from the bathroom sink, she gives Joel a look that lets him know you’re near the end of labor. Your baby will be here in minutes. It sends a rush through him. “I’m sorry, Darlin.”
You grab onto his hand tightly. It’s wet from the bathwater sloshing around you as you fight to get comfortable. It’s a useless pursuit, but it doesn’t keep you from trying. “Can we do the apologizing later? I’m kinda busy at the moment.”
“Yes,” Joel takes a deep breath, his heart pounding in his ears. He squares his shoulders next to you, giving an air of assurance you know he doesn’t have. “I’m here for whatever you need.”
“I think you missed most of it.”
“Not that you’ve had much to miss,” Maria says, stern. She pissed at him, which is more than fair given everything. You’d had some time to explain what happened. “We tried to find you. Her labor progressed pretty quick.”
“Speaking of which-” You let out a gasp, face twisting in pain. “I think the baby is crowning.”
“She must be in a hurry,” Joel says.
“She?”
“Just a hunch.” Joel smiles, kissing your head.
For the next few minutes, the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Your fight never happened because there’s only one thing on your minds, bringing your baby into the world. The world goes silent again, but not in a bad way. A way that makes you feel at peace, Joel’s warm hand in yours. It doesn’t take long until she announces her arrival with a fiery scream once Maria pulls her out of the water.
You hold her close, tears of relief gathering in your eyes. Joel leans in, his forehead pressed to your temple, arms wrapping around you and your daughter as she pulls air into her lungs.
“You did great, Sweetheart.” He whispers into your hair as he kisses your cheek, cupping your daughter’s head. “She’s beautiful.”
Your eyes flicker between him and your newborn. It’s the moment you’ve been envisioning for months, the one you thought you’d get with Gabe when Carter was born. A little piece of you mends. Your child soothes against your skin.
After you’re both cleaned up, Joel helps you into bed, then settles beside you. She sleeps in your arms, tiny fist clenched around one of Joel’s fingers still curled up in your softest bath towel. You brush her cheek softly.
“I believe we decided on Willa Peace?”
“Did we?” You tilt your head to the side, a grin verging on your lips. “I thought we weren’t hippies.”
Joel shrugs, tracing your shoulders. “I had a lot of time to think about it the past couple of weeks.”
“Joel…”
Dirt still traces over his face. He hasn’t had time to clean off since he got back. You catch the faint smell of sweat on his clothes and skin. “I know.”
“I would have done the same thing to save her. You know what I think about cures.” You keep your gaze on your child. It only reminds you what you brought her into. “You lied to her over and over when she needed the truth.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“I wish you would’ve told me.”
“I know.”
“This only works if we’re open with each other.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.” You bite your lip. “I’m going to need some time with this one.”
Joel nods, arm wrapping around you. “I know.”
You lean into him, enjoying the quietness that surrounds the three of you.
“Willa Peace Miller,” You smile. “Has a nice ring to it.”
“Yeah.” Joel hums beside you. “Can’t believe she’s actually here.”
“And we’re both okay.”
He nods, and neither of you can tear your eyes away from the precious little being in your arms. You hang on every rise and fall of her chest, everything micro movements, the soft flutter of her eyes that never quite open. It all feels so fragile, so sacred.
You remember similar moments with Carter. When the grief and the world got too loud, you would lay on the floor or bed with him on your chest asleep. The weight of his small body was a tether that kept you from flying away.
Even in this moment, as your heart inexplicitly expands, you feel that thread of fear winding itself through your body. Another person to love and protect. Another person to keep from the jaws of the world. Another person you can’t bear to lose.
“You know,” you say, pulling Joel’s attention. “If you were ever gonna pull those baby clothes and blankets out of your drawer, now would be the time.”
His brow furrows and then eases with realization. “How long have you known they were there?”
You let out a soft chuckle. “I washed them the next time you went out on patrol. I wasn’t going to leave those filthy things in your drawer.”
“You were going through my things, I see.”
“Next time don’t try to hide something in your drawer from the person who washes your clothes.”
Joel laughs, easing out of the bed to fetch the items from the drawer. “Got it, I’ll be sneakier next time.”
“Can you get the onesie with the yellow flowers?” You bite back a smile. He doesn’t know how you often pulled the drawer open and just gazed upon the items. It helped you visualize it all even when the fear threatened to take over. Another child, and here she was. You’d been most drawn to the little yellow flowers.
Joel laughs, grabbing the onsie and the swaddle with little yellow flowers to match. You’re gentle with her as you work the small article of clothing over her tiny body. It’s a bit baggy, but you can’t complain. It just means she can wear it for longer. She sleeps through all the jostling as if she’s fully absorbed her middle name.
She’s settled back into your arms when a soft tap echoes on your door. “Mommy?” Carter’s voice comes through muffled.
“You can come in.”
The door flies open as your son bursts through the door, grin spread wide on his face. Ellie stands behind him, looking like the space might envelope her.
“Aunt Maria said I have a baby sister.”
“You want to meet her?” you ask.
Carter nods eagerly, dashing toward your bed. Joel catches him before he can jump onto the bed beside you and potentially on you.
“Daddy!” Carter’s eyes go wide. He hasn’t seen Joel in almost two weeks.
Joel laughs, arms tightening around the boy. “Hey, bud.”
Your eyes meet Ellie’s. Her eyes are red, bags deep underneath. You motion her next to you. She hesitates before sliding onto the bed beside you. She’s timid, keeping to the edge, eyes flicking over you and Willa.
“You can get closer.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I never got to hug you earlier.”
She looks down, eyes scanning over your comforter like she’s reliving her homecoming. Once she’s close enough, your arm slips around her shoulders, tugging her close. She nuzzles into your side like a child seeking comfort. “You’re alright?” she asks.
“Yeah… we both are.” You say, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“But I’m still sorry you’re going through this.”
Ellie seems to sink into your further, eyes pinned to Willa. She doesn’t answer you. She doesn’t look at Joel as he sinks next to you with Carter, but you feel her tense when he does.
“What’s her name?” Ellie asks.
“Willa,” you reply.
“Baby Willa.” Carter grins proudly.
And the five of you sit there together in silence. You try to push it out of your head that it’s the last time you all might be together for a while. Even now, you feel the underlying anger rolling through Ellie’s body. This is a wound that’s been festering. It’s going to take time to heal.
Eventually, Ellie slips from your side without a word to leave. She’s barely out the door when Joel goes after her.
“Ellie,” Joel says, catching her on the front porch.
Her head whips around, expression set in stone. “I’m here for them, not you.” She keeps her voice low to not be overheard by nosy neighbors. “They’re my family. Do you understand?”
Joel’s apology catches in his throat. He’s been apologizing the whole way back from Salt Lake. He knows there’s nothing he can say to rush this process. He made a decision, and these are his consequences. “Yeah… I got it.”
“Good.”
She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else.
The bed is empty next to you, the sheets cool to the touch. Your eyes blink open. Cool moonlight shines through the window. You glance at the bathroom door. No light shines through the crease. Joel’s name is on your lips, interrupted by his voice.
“Do you like the butterflies?”
You turn to your side. Joel sits next to the crib, talking to Willa. She’s awake, moonlight reflecting off her big eyes. She’s content and still.
“Your big sister liked butterflies. When they come out in the summertime, I feel her around me.”
She stares at Joel, mesmerized by his voice. Your eyes float upward to the mobile Joel made. He hadn’t explained it to you, but you already knew. Sarah had pinned them all throughout their Austin home. You keep one stuck to the window above the kitchen sink. There’s one tucked in his nightstand drawer.
“I think she sent you to me.” He lets it sit there, contemplating the weight and depth of what he said. “I think she sent you to me, your momma, Ellie, I suppose she’s your big sister too, Carter. All of you.
“Her name was Sarah. She would have loved you.” He chuckles. “She used to ask me for a baby brother or sister. I didn’t know your momma yet… Well, I guess I did, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.”
You stifle a laugh unsuccessfully. Joel’s eyes lock on yours. He smiles, shooting you a wink. He looks younger under the moonlight, more at ease. The creases in his skin are less apparent.
“Your momma, she’s quite a bit younger than me.” The smile stays pinned to his face. “It’s not so creepy now- least that’s what she tells me- but it would’ve been then, and I was a decent fella back before the world went to shit. Besides, between you and me.” He leans closer to Willa’s ear, but his eyes are still on you. “Your momma had a pretty big crush on me back then.”
You groan, heat flushing your cheeks. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it is. You chuck his pillow at him. Joel catches it, laughing. It’s the kind that sits deep in one’s chest and bubbles up with the purest kind of joy. You can’t help but smile.
He slowly stands, grunting as he does. You hear the familiar pop of his joints. He leans into the crib. You notice Willa’s eyes have fallen shut. “I love you, my little wildflower.” He kisses her cheek before falling back into bed next to you.
His arm wraps around your waist. Pulling you close, he steals a kiss on your forehead. “I’m getting too old to sit on the floor like that.”
“You’re getting too old to have a newborn, yet here we are.” Your fingers run through his hair.
“Still can’t believe she’s here… you’re both healthy.”
“Neither can I.” You glance back at the crib. She’s just a few days old and already, you can’t imagine life without her.
Tears well at the corner of your eyes. Your heart has grown so much. You thought you couldn’t open it to more people, yet here you are. The you of 4 years ago would be too terrified of losing this life to give it a chance, the price of pain too high. Yet here you are, embracing it, taking that risk, because this is living, and the love and belonging far outweigh the potential for pain even as it grows with every passing day. You fell into the trap,and it’s a crowded one, but it’s a happy one.
Joel kisses your cheek. “You should get some sleep before she wakes up hungry.”
“Mmm,” you hum as his hands move soothingly over your back. “Someone not named Willa woke me up.”
Joel chuckles. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”
But even now you feel your eyelids getting heavier.
“Did you mean what you said?”
“About?”
You let your eyes fall shut as Joel massages out a knot in your back. You lean into it. “About Sarah sending us to you.”
“I did.” He kisses your forehead.
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Lover, You Should've Come Over
(word count: 1.432) (angst, comfort)
Sitting alone in the dim room, Kurapika finds himself consumed by a painful wave of regret. His hands curl into fists at his sides, fingernails digging dents into his skin as he thinks about (Y/N). A beautiful woman with sharp eyes that saw right through him.
"I pushed her away," He mutters to himself, the extent of his actions weighing on him heavily, "I was so concerned about dragging her down with me... I didn't consider what it would do to her."
The memories of their past together begin to seep into his mind like venom spreading its poison throughout an unsuspecting body. Their laughter echoing through empty halls, the way she'd playfully tugged on a lock of his blonde hair whenever they sparred together. Each memory brings forth another flood of bitter sorrow that gnaws at the edges of Kurapika's already damaged heart.
"She deserved better," He whispers hoarsely against the icy silence that wraps around him, "And I... I couldn't give it to her."
The taste of regret is sour on his tongue, but nothing stings more than remembering how (Y/N) had looked at him when he walked away, pure understanding reflected in those knowing eyes. A silent acceptance that cut deeper than any blade.
"(Y/N)," Kurapika breathes out, the name slipping from his lips like a prayer.
His gaze focuses on the empty space before him as if he could summon her back with just his longing.
"I'm sorry. I should've stayed," He murmurs quietly into the stillness of the room, shame lacing every word, "I miss you..."
A strained sigh escapes Kurapika's lips, his eyes dull and filled with sorrow, "If only I could see her again..." His voice trails off into a broken whisper, the words hanging stubbornly in the stagnant air surrounding him.
He would give anything to see those bright eyes again, to see her smiling at him so tenderly, to feel the warmth of her skin against his own. The pain plaguing him seems unending, spiraling deeper within his chest with every passing second.
His hand instinctively moves towards where he imagines (Y/N) might be sitting if she were here, an empty gesture aimed at filling a void he himself had created. He misses everything about her, her stubbornness, her recklessness...
But most importantly, how understanding she was, even when things didn't make sense.
"I'll do whatever it takes," Kurapika declares quietly as if making a vow to himself, "I just want another chance."
The blonde-haired man's hand hovers over his phone, a deep sigh leaving his lips. He contemplates calling her, the weight of his decision making his heart pound louder in his chest. His fingers itch to dial her number, a series of digits he had memorized by heart.
The screen glows softly in the dim room, casting an eerie light onto Kurapika's face as he scrolls through his contacts until (Y/N)'s name comes into view. Her contact picture is one they'd taken together during happier times, both of them smiling so brightly that their joy seems almost tangible.
His thumb hovers over her name for what feels like an eternity, every second amplifying the heavy silence encompassing him. The fear gripping at him feels strong and suffocating. What if she doesn't answer? Worse yet... What if she does?
"(Y/N)..." He says under his breath, steeling himself before finally pressing down on her contact information.
As he brings the phone up to his ear, Kurapika bites down hard on his lip. He can taste the metallic tang of blood dripping into his mouth but he barely registers it. All he can focus on is the rhythmic beating of a dial tone, a stark contrast to his erratic heartbeat.
His grip tightens around the device as every passing second becomes a harsh reminder of how much time had been wasted, how many words were left unsaid, and how many actions were done out of fear instead of love. His breath hitches when after several agonizing moments, her voicemail greeting plays.
But even just hearing her recorded voice gives him a brief sense of reprieve, grounding him back to reality from where regret and pain drag him deep within its clutches. It isn't enough though. He needs more than just echoes of her voice trapped in a digital recording.
Hearing the beep indicating it's time to leave a message, Kurapika takes in a deep breath before speaking. His voice quivers slightly, but he presses on, "(Y/N)... It's me, Kurapika."
He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing.
"I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now but... I miss you."
The words taste bitter on his tongue, an admission of guilt and longing wrapped together.
There's another tension-filled pause before he finally lets out what had been gnawing at him all night long, "Please come over. I need to see you..."
With that final plea hanging heavily in between them, even if she isn't there physically, he ends the call. His phone drops back onto his lap as he leans back into his chair, letting out a sigh full of uncertainty and vulnerability.
She may not come... But at least now she knows how desperate he is without her.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Kurapika had begun to lose hope. The silence is deafening and doubt claws at his insides with a vengeance. He spends the passing hours aimlessly pacing around his apartment, trying to distract himself from constantly glancing towards his phone.
When he hears a subtle knock echo through the room, the Kurta freezes in place, heart pounding fiercely against his ribcage as he makes way to the door.
Dread and anticipation swirls within him as he gently pulls open the door, revealing (Y/N) standing there under dimly lit hallway lights, her silhouette creating shadows that dance across her features.
For a moment, it seems as if time itself has stopped, everything silent except for their shallow breaths mixing together in sync before he finally releases an audible sigh of relief.
"Kurapika?" Her voice is filled with surprise, and before she can utter another word, he has already thrown his arms around her. His grip is tight, a desperate hold born out of fear that if he lets go even slightly, she'll disappear.
He buries his face into the crook of her neck, every inch of him attempting to memorize her, the way she feels against him, the faint scent of her hair mixing with the outside air lingering on her clothes.
A shaky breath escapes him as he tries to gain control over his racing heart, albeit in vain, because now that she's here within his reach again... He doesn't want to let go.
"Kurapika?" She echoes and the sound of her voice, so close and filled with concern, causes something warm to bloom in his chest. As she returns his embrace and begins to rub soothing circles on his back, he feels a few of the knots in his stomach start to unravel.
"You sounded... Unwell in your voicemail. Are you okay?" Her words resound through him, genuine worry laced into each syllable.
"I..." He swallows hard as he draws back just enough to look at her, meeting those beautiful eyes that hold nothing but sincerity, "I've been better," It isn't a lie but it doesn't feel like the whole truth either.
"I can tell," She replies quietly.
He lets out another trembling breath before tightening his hold around her again, not ready yet to fully face what's been haunting him for so long without having her close.
For now, he wants to linger in her arms. Holding onto her as if she's his lifeline, Kurapika allows himself to sink deeper into her embrace, her comforting warmth seeping through the fabric of his clothes and into his cold existence.
He presses his face further into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent deeply, "Just let me hold you for a bit longer," He murmurs against her flesh, hoping she'll understand just how much he needs this right now.
"Okay, I'm not going anywhere," She whispers against his ear, the softness of her voice flowing into him and further calming his anxious thoughts.
Kurapika's heart constricts at her promise, gratitude washing over him in waves. He tightens his hold on her further, as if conveying all the unspoken emotions through this one gesture.
He doesn't know how long they stood there in silence, time seeming to lose its grip on him as he simply allows himself to exist within this comforting bubble with her by his side... And for once, it feels okay to let down the walls around him even if it is just for a little while.
This feels like home to him, something he thought he had lost forever.
#hxh#hunter x hunter#hxh x reader#romance#hunter x hunter x reader#writing#kurapika#kurapika x reader#kurapika oneshot#idk if this is any good lol#tried to be poetic
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3 months and counting
[modern au! scaramouche x gn! reader]
cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, hints at suicide, probably unhealthy coping methods idk
The taste of bitter coffee and overly sweetened scent of dandelion tea lingered, lingered for a little longer than he liked.
Wilted flowers lay by a small vase of fresh ones. The pile of dead flowers seemed to grow bigger with each passing day.
The house was dim, with the only source of light being a weakly lit candle surrounded by empty dishes and untouched cutlery on the dining table. For a place that had felt so big not too long ago, it suddenly seemed to be so small.
Scaramouche hummed quietly to himself as he gently dusted at the debris that clung onto the picture frames. His touch was delicate as his fingers brush against the cold glass. The tune he has been singing echoed off the walls, traveling down the silent hallway.
How long has it been? He wonders.
Three days? A week? Two weeks? Scaramouche had long lost count.
Once he was sure that the picture frame was clean, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. In this empty house, the only thing that stood out most was the wall of what Scaramouche called ‘memories’. Golden frames surrounded photos of all kind, taken by you and hung by him.
He misses you.
On most days, Scaramouche would stay huddle in what once was a shared bedroom, buried deep beneath the blankets, scrolling through past messages. Dark circles heavily marked his under eyes, a stark contrast to his porcelain pale skin.
For the first month, he was a utter mess. Unable to process the tragic news of your sudden death.
It had just felt like yesterday, when the two of you were just out on a date, laughing and giggling.
The world was mocking him, taunting and laughing, watching the hallow shell of the man he once was as he stood there alone in the cemetery. Flowers previously placed by your grave was removed and tossed away, replaced by a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers.
The night you were buried under the willow tree, was the only night he had ever worked up the courage to sit by your grave, and wallow in the despair.
“I miss you,” the three words etched into his mind, quietly spoken into the empty void.
What about the plans you’ve made with him? The promises of a happy ending, a beautiful future.
Gone… all gone, far too soon.
“Will we get a cat too?” your voice was eager, full of hope.
Scaramouche smiled and pressed a small kiss to your temple. “Whatever you want.”
You giggled. “Let’s get a black cat then. I can see the resemblance between you and them.”
“Hey,” he whined.
You beamed up at him. “I love you.”
How he wished time could’ve stopped right there and then, allowing that precious moment to last for an eternity.
“I love you too.”
God, it was so fucking unfair. Why did you have to be the one to die?
It could’ve been anyone else, but you just had to be there at the wrong time.
He slumped down on the empty couch, cushions and throw blankets sitting in the same spot as before. Scaramouche didn’t dare touch anything. He was scared— terrified that if he even so as much move anything a centimeter away, he’ll lose the remaining parts of you that he had so desperately been trying to cling onto.
Scaramouche had already lost you once, he couldn’t lose you for a second time.
The soft golden glow of the ceiling lights flickered in and out for a brief moment, a sign that the electrical bill was long overdue. It was fortunate enough that the landlord took pity upon him and gave Scaramouche an extension to pay his bills.
3 months.
It’s been three whole months since the accident. Three months since he’s shut himself off from the outside world. Three months he spend crying and grieving, fantasizing scenarios of you and him. He knows it’ll never come true, but he can only hope.
Head barely above water, the bits of hope he has is all that’s supporting his weight, preventing him from drowning. Yet as the clock moves, he finds himself sinking lower and lower.
Two hollow knocks to his door startled him out of his trancelike state. “Who,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
When the answer was delivered with another two knocks, he spoke louder. “What.”
“Scaramouche,” the muffled voice of Childe floated through the thick wood. “Open the door.”
He scowled, body already moving before his mind had even processed Childe’s words. The door cracked open with a soft creak, a silver of the sunlight spilling into the dark house. Scaramouche squeezed his eyes closed, momentarily blinded by the light. It’s been so long since he’s seen the sun.
Childe’s shadow stepped in and blocked out the light. He gave Scaramouche a tired smile. “Archons you look like shit.”
Scaramouche said nothing and kept his silent gaze on him.
The ginger sighed. “I was hoping you’d come visit… them, with us.”
There were no names mentioned, yet Scaramouche almost instantly knew who Childe was referring to. He felt his body tense up.
“Look, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but we all miss them, and you too, ‘mouche… you haven’t talked with any of us in three month now.”
Guilt gnawed at his heart, eating away yet another piece.
He hadn’t meant to neglect his friends. None of the things he was doing was intentional.
“… I’m sorry,” he whispered, lowering his gaze, unable to keep eye contact with Childe. He fear that if he continued, tears would begin to formulate, and there’d be nothing to stop them from flowing.
“Mind if I come in?” Childe’s voice softened.
Scaramouche felt tears prickling at his eyes. Childe placed one hand on his shoulder, gently giving a pat— and that was what finally broke him. The water droplets fell uncontrollably, rolling down his cheeks. A pitiful sight to behold.
Childe pulled him into a hug and remained quiet. There wasn’t much he could say to comfort Scaramouche’s pain. Everyone was still grieving, him included.
His quiet sniffles slowly died down. Just this one time, he thought to himself, wiping away at a tear. It’s the least he can do.
“Let me get my things,” Scaramouche’s voice was hoarse. A pain-like expression was scrawled across his features as he pulled away from Childe and step back into the shadows of his home.
There wasn’t much he needed to do to get ready. He’d given up on life the moment he was given the news that you didn’t make it. Why he had been fighting for so long, he didn’t understand.
He threw on a simple black cardigan, it was a handmade gift from you to him. In your words, it took you a week and a half to make it— “i hope you’ll like it,” you said sheepishly.
Of course he’ll love it. Cherish it even till death.
He took in a deep breath and went to look for Childe. The medications stored in his pockets jangled against the hard plastic with each step he took.
The last strands of hope snapped, and he sunk. Bubbles floating to the surface as his darkened silhouette slowly disappeared under the void of water.
Tonight, he decided. Tonight, he’ll be able to see you again.
The lights sputtered out as Scaramouche flipped the switch. With the last bits of power it has, the lights illuminated the series of letter sprawled across the glass coffee table— each one address to someone dear to him.
Then it all went dark.
✩ ·┆ masterlist
notes—
— this was fun to write
© acaaai-t — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate
#[💫] acaaai-t#astronetwrk#genshin impact#genshin#genshin angst#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin scaramouche x reader#genshin impact scaramouche#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche
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💀 Callsign: Motionless 💀
🖤COD! CHRIS CERULLI X READER ONESHOT🖤
You were the new recruit they brought on to assist TF141, and your first week with everyone was supposed to be a guaranteed breeze. There's just one problem: you and the Lieutenant they assigned to train you don't exactly get along...
• fluff; language; slight angst
You hated him.
You'd only been with your task force for the short span of one week, and already, you despised him, with every fibre of your being.
Sure, you were the newest recruit, which meant you still had a lot to learn, but if you were being perfectly honest, Lieutenant Cerulli's teaching methods were a bit... harsh? Grating, unorthodox, even?
"Again."
Ugh, speak of the devil, and he shall appear, right?
Cerulli's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his tone firm and demanding.
You gritted your teeth, sneaking a sideways glare at him out of the corner of your eye. You hated the way he stood there watching you, brown eyes narrowed, him and his perfect tactical vest with the stupid little patch that had his callsign embroidered on it in fancy white letters, 'MOTIONLESS'.
Fuck him and his perfect stupid eyebrows and piercings and ink, and his perfect voice that could simultaneously melt your insides as well as cut you down to the bone.
Your hands curled into fists as you stood up, digging the toe of one of your boots into the protective mat on the floor. The two of you had been at it for hours now it seemed, the private training gym the only witness to the grueling torture Lieutenant Cerulli had been putting you through.
"I don't see why we have to keep doing this, it's-" you began to protest.
"-an important fucking life skill you need to learn. Now quit whining and go," Cerulli cut in sharply. You huffed in irritation, shooting a glare in his direction before charging towards him, your leg up and ready to drop kick him-
And just like the previous twelve times you'd tried, you were down on the mat in an instant, your wrists pinned beneath his, one of his legs keeping both of yours pinned to the mat.
Letting out a frustrated growl, you went to tug your wrists free from his grip, making an attempt to shove him away from you, but Cerulli wouldn't budge.
"No. You're gonna sit here and tell me what went wrong this time," he said with a shake of his head, before helping you sit up.
You avoided his gaze, instead keeping your eyes fixed on the dark blue mat beneath you. "Too slow," you muttered. "No," came Cerulli's instant reply.
Gritting your teeth, you finally let your eyes meet his, both of you staring at each other through narrowed eyes.
"I don't fucking know-"
"Your form is fucking pathetic, you're distributing your weight in all the wrong places, and your attitude fucking stinks," Cerulli snapped.
That was it, you were done.
Pulling yourself into a standing position, you glared down at him. "I'm done," you spat.
His jaw clenching, Cerulli stood up as well, the height difference between the two of you just a little bit intimidating.
"You're done when I say you're done!" he hissed. Your hands curled into fists at your sides again, but you stood your ground, staring him down, refusing to be the first to break eye contact.
You were starting to see why everyone had a rather unpopular opinion about Lieutenant Cerulli. The man was impossible to work with, his teaching methods harsh, his demeanor cold and unforgiving.
On impulse, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind, the two words easily slipping off the tip of your tongue.
"Fuck. You."
A muscle in Cerulli's jaw twitched, his eyes narrowing, the irises seeming to darken.
For the briefest of seconds, you wondered if perhaps you'd gone just a bit too far, until he slowly ran one inked hand through his dyed purple hair, his gaze growing cold.
"Get out. We're fucking done. As of tomorrow, you're no longer my problem," he hissed, pointing towards the doors to the gym.
Good fucking riddance, right?
With an irritated glance in his direction, you abruptly turned on your heel, not bothering to look back as you stormed out of the gym, letting the doors slam shut behind you.
Well.
Today's practice could have gone a lot better. No, fuck that, today's practice should have gone a lot better.
After you had left in a huff, Chris had stayed behind, wanting to give himself some time to calm down.
It wasn't that he was mad at you, persay.
It was more so the fact that you had given up so fucking easily, hadn't even tried to give it your all.
Not even a day after you had been introduced to the team, it had been determined that he himself, the one they called 'Motionless', would be in charge of overseeing your training, tasked with the job of shaping you into something more than just a rookie, something better, a valuable asset to their task force.
And it had gone well for the first couple of days. Or at least, he thought it had.
Up until today, that is.
The two of you had been here in the private training gym since 10am, working on turning you from the shiny new recruit into a powerhouse of a cadet. The only problem? You were stubborn as hell, insistent on doing things your way, even though time and effort had shown your methods to be flawed.
He was only trying to do his fucking job, after all. The same job he'd done countless times before, with nearly every new recruit that came into their squad bay.
So why did this particular job affect him this badly?
Why did you affect him this badly...?
It wasn't like he was asking you to move mountains for him, no. He simply wanted someone he could be proud of, someone who could easily defend themselves if their team was down for the count, someone who he wouldn't have to hear had died in action, or been taken hostage, or god knows what.
The mere thought had Chris grimacing in distaste as he sighed, heading for the gym doors. He only wanted you to be able to defend yourself, that was all. The world could be an unkind place sometimes...
"He's arrogant, and cold, and a complete dick."
One corner of your mouth tugged itself up in a brief snarl as you sat there at the table in the mess hall, conversing with some of your fellow team members.
The smallest one, the one you've heard people call Vinny, spoke up, shifting slightly in his seat across from you. "He's not that bad, you just gotta figure him out. Pretty easy to get along with after that," he shrugged.
Easy for him to say, he and the three other people sitting here already had it in good with Lieutenant Cerulli. Upon you pointing this out, Vinny shrugged again, an unbothered look on his face.
"That's because we've been here longer. Give it some time," his teammate cut in, blue eyes finding yours with a wink. You sighed, your gaze dropping from his to settle on the little patch fixed to his tactical vest, the word 'HORROR' embroidered in a neat white font.
That's the other thing that bothered you about Cerulli's teaching methods. Everyone else had a callsign they went by, except for the new recruits who came in. Everybody here at the table had one, 'HORROR', 'SACHETTI', 'SKIEZ', even one with the more normal callsign of simply 'JUSTIN'.
Everybody had a designated name, a sign of place here, a sign that they were acknowledged, respected, valid. But you'd come to discover that here, as a part of this team and this base, titles didn't come easily. You had to fucking earn them.
Every new recruit before you had earned theirs, they had fought and trained to claw their way into the system, they had fucking earned their place here. Cerulli had told you so, himself.
But you?
You were still the fresh, shiny new rookie who everyone assumed knew nothing because you were young, you were small, you had only been here a week...
You'd be lying to yourself if you said it didn't sting a little, the way everyone seemed to view you here. Sure, the teammates sitting here at the table had treated you fairly enough, but everyone else? If you weren't bearing a callsign and a knowledge of how to defend yourself, you weren't worth their time...
"Hey."
Horror's voice cut into your thoughts, making your gaze snap up to meet his.
"I know it might seem like he's riding you a little too hard right now, but... I promise, his heart's in the right place. Give him a chance, out of everyone here, he's your best shot when it comes to training. You didn't hear this from me and if you ever repeat it, I'll kick your ass, rookie... but I would trust Cerulli with my life, more than I'd trust myself."
"We all would," Vinny cut in, both of his teammates beside him nodding in agreement.
"Give him some time. He might seem like a dick, but his methods work," Justin agreed, offering you a light half-smile.
You stared down at the tabletop for a second, not really seeing it as you contemplated what they told you, turning it over in your mind.
You knew what you should do. It wasn't what you wanted to do, by any means. But if what they told you was true, then... maybe it needed to be done.
Maybe you should gather up what was left of your dignity and go crawling back to Cerulli to apologize. Or, at the very least, to see if he'd give you a second chance at training.
You could be the bigger person here, right? Take all of his teachings with a grain of salt, so to speak?
Ugh...
With a groan, you shoved your plate of food away from you, resting your head facedown atop your crossed arms.
"I know, I know. But I'm telling you... if you give him a chance and show him that you actually have a desire to learn? It'll be the best decision you've ever made, rookie," Horror said, his tone laced with amusement.
Would it though?
With another quiet grumble, you slowly lifted your head, exchanging a glance with Vinny, who grinned. "Want me to let him know you're heading down there?"
You immediately shook your head at him, a grimace marring your features. "No, please don't. It's embarrassing enough that I have to go back and apologize to him..."
"Then do us a favor and kick his ass, I guess? It'd be kind of satisfying to know Chris had his ass handed to him by our newest recruit," Horror grinned.
Hmm... that was a rather tempting thought... to take everything Cerulli taught you and really give it back to him...
"Alright, fine. Deal," you agreed, getting up from the table. "Oh and... thanks, Horror. I kind of needed that, I guess," you added softly.
Shrugging, he gave you a light mock-salute in response.
"Sure. And, from now on... no Horror. Only Ricky."
Nodding, you bade your teammates farewell before slinking out of the mess hall, determined to find Cerulli and make good on your promise.
You only hoped he'd actually give you a second chance and not let it go to his head...
"Have Jensen work with you more on it tomorrow, your aim's a little off. Go get some rest."
Chris watched one of the recruits he'd been training retreat into the distance, the smell of smoke and polishing oil still heavy in the air on the rifle range.
And then something caught his eye.
Or rather, someone.
Your figure gradually became more detailed as you approached, and Chris internally groaned.
If you were here to give him more shit and another lovely 'Fuck you', he wasn't having it...
But the look on your face told a different story. Your brows were drawn together in worry, any traces of your usual anger and frustration gone, a look of nervousness in place.
He waited until you were about four feet away from him before he spoke up, his voice cold.
"If you're here to train, go ask someone else."
But your response surprised him a little, catching him off guard.
"I actually came to apologize..."
You... come again??
"What-" he began, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.
"No, let me finish. I, um... I talked to Horror, er, I mean Ricky. I talked to Ricky and the others, and... and they told me to come back here and give you another chance. I... I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry."
Huh. Leave it to Rick to sort things out behind the scenes, ever the peacemaker as always....
Silence settled between the two of you for a moment, before Chris spoke up.
"Why?"
That one word lingered there in the air, and your brows furrowed in confusion. "Why, what? Why... am I sorry, or...?" you asked, trailing off.
"No. Why did you give up on me? Why the fuck'd you decide you were done?"
"I..." your voice faltered for a moment, your gaze dropping to stare down at the grassy field, and Chris watched as you frowned, digging the toe of your boot into the grass.
Fourteen.
Fourteen times.
It was a habit he'd noticed you had, whenever you were uncertain or anxious. Not every recruit had little tics or habits they'd pick up, but the few that did? Chris noticed.
He always noticed, especially more so when it came to you.
Fourteen times this past week that you'd been here, fourteen times he'd seen you dig the toe of your boot into whatever surface you were standing on, your hands and fingers fidgeting either in front of you or at your sides.
Fourteen times he'd stopped to watch you, his attention utterly fucking captivated by you.
Slowly, he took one step towards you, followed by another, and still another, until he was a mere foot away from you.
"Is it because you don't think you're good enough? You don't think you have what it takes, or what?" he asked softly, trying to keep his tone gentle.
The way you avoided his gaze immediately after he asked the question told him everything he needed to know.
"Do you really think you're not worthy of a place here? Is that it?" he continued, the mounting tension in the air becoming more palpable.
Almost an entire minute or two went by without you answering him, and he started to repeat the question until you finally did answer him, your voice surprisingly strained and sounding on the verge of breaking.
"No."
You didn't have to specify for him to know what that single word meant.
He could feel it, could see the way you thought of yourself as you stood here in front of him.
And for some reason, he didn't like it.
He hated it.
He hated the newfound knowledge of how you saw yourself, how it seemed everyone else had been seeing you, since the day you'd arrived.
You really didn't think you were worthy of a place here, did you? The thought that he himself might have been a contributing factor in that made him feel sick.
Fuck... if he'd stopped for just a second to try and see things your way, see how it felt to be an outsider-
But he did know how it felt.
Memories of his first week as a frightened, inexperienced new recruit flashed through his mind, images of a young, dark-haired boy who had no clue what the fuck he was doing...
Chris swallowed hard, his gaze locked on you as he spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You... deserve to be here. You know that, don't you?"
"Do I?"
Your immediate response, the way you mumbled the question without even bothering to look at him, it made his insides feel sick.
And he'd been hard on you today...
Granted, he was hard on everyone who fell under his guidance, but... you were different.
More fragile and feeling and human than the others, you had caught his attention almost right away.
And when they'd insisted he be the one to train you-
Holy fuck.
He'd figured it out.
The sudden realization had him internally reeling, absolutely losing it.
He'd been harder on you than the others because... he cared more.
He cared almost too much, surely more than what was appropriate, right?
Fuck...
Swallowing hard, he reached out towards you for a second, his hand lingering there in the space between you, before he let it fall back to his side.
Steeling himself to avoid the tears he could feel burning at the edge of his vision, he gritted his teeth, before gesturing to his left, the movement finally capturing your attention.
"Headphones. Weapon. Now."
Your eyes widened for a moment, your voice faltering as you spoke.
"What are you-"
He cut you off midsentence, his tone hardening, though his gaze remained soft as he stared down at you.
"I'm training you."
"I'm training you."
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, catching you off guard and making your breath hitch in your throat.
You'd come out here to apologize, expecting him to turn you away with a refusal of said apology, and instead... he was giving you a second chance?
Swallowing hard, you slowly turned and grabbed a set of the soundproof headphones out of the box nearby, plugging one end of the attached cord into the wireless comm pack, the other end connecting to the headphones themselves, before tucking the comm pack into the front pocket of your tactical vest.
You watched as Lieutenant Cerulli did the same, reaching up with one inked hand to turn on the comm link and adjust the mic, and after doing the same, you could hear his voice come through the speakers.
"Weapon, now."
Without a word, you followed his order, grabbing one of the rifles propped up nearby, the weight of the weapon seeming almost too heavy and unfamiliar in your hands.
You weren't scheduled for rifle range practice until at least a week or two from now, surely he had to have known that...?
Upon telling him so, Cerulli shrugged, casting you a sideways glance before gesturing towards the targets out in the distance.
"Doesn't matter. I'm teaching you now. And I expect you to be willing to learn. I also expect you to hit at least one of those."
You followed his gaze, staring out at the targets sitting on the grassy field. From here, they looked to be at least a mile or more away, surely too far to even graze with a bullet, right?
No, no... you were determined to get this.
This morning's practice may have gone terribly, but that didn't mean this one would.
Taking a deep cleansing breath, you moved to stand where he wanted you, lifting the weapon in your hands.
And almost immediately, Cerulli's voice came through the speakers.
"No. Your stance is off. Here, look."
You felt one of his legs nudge yours apart, correcting your stance, before an inked hand came into view, reaching forward to adjust the position of the rifle in your hands.
"Look through the little lens, until you have the center of the target in your crosshairs. And when you pull that trigger, keep as tight a grip as you can, because there's gonna be some kickback from the rifle. It'll knock you on your fucking ass if you're not paying attention."
You nodded, taking another deep breath before doing as he said, looking through the lens. From here, that target looked so fucking tiny, nearly impossible to hit.
"I can't do this-" you started.
"Yes, you can. You can and you will."
Cerulli's voice was quiet in your ears, his tone gentle, and you could feel the close proximity of him behind you as he reached forward to make a slight adjustment to the rifle again, his fingers brushing briefly across yours before he let go.
"I want you to focus, and really try for me. You can do this, I know you can. Stop second guessing yourself, Y/N..."
His touch, combined with the use of your actual name, instead of his usual 'rookie' pet name for you, sent electric tingles down your spine, your heart stumbling over itself within the confines of your ribcage.
Your throat suddenly felt tight, your mind racing as you tried desperately to remember what he'd told you, how to correctly aim and fire.
Swallowing nervously, you looked through the lens again, taking a deep breath and curling your finger around the trigger. A mere second passed before you brought that finger down a little tighter, squeezing the trigger.
Even with the protective headphones, you could still hear the bullet as it left the chamber, could smell the scent of gunsmoke and oil as it left its home. And Cerulli had been right, there was indeed some kickback from the rifle.
But you dug the heels of your boots into the ground, trying to stay firmly in place. Still, you stumbled backwards a little, your back meeting Cerulli's chest, his hands instantly coming up to your shoulders to steady you.
"Good, but your aim was a little off, I want you to try again."
His tone was far less harsh than it had been this morning, his whole demeanor vastly different.
A part of you wanted to look back, to see if the heat you felt gathering in your cheeks would be reflected in those brown eyes of his.
But the bigger part of you insisted on staying focused, on seeing your training through.
Steeling yourself, you cast a brief glance out towards the target in the distance. He was right, your aim was more than a little off.
You could see from here the impact left by the bullet, the mark nowhere close to the center.
Looking through the lens to correct your aim, you took a deep steadying breath before pulling and releasing the trigger again, preparing yourself for the anticipated kickback.
It came a little easier this time, your weight being distributed a bit more evenly in order to keep your feet firmly on the ground.
And when you glanced out at the target, you found yourself a little too satisfied that the mark had hit a bit closer to home this time.
"Again," came Cerulli's velvet voice in your ears, his presence behind you more noticeable as he took one half-step closer to you.
Trying your hardest to ignore the sudden distraction, you nodded, taking aim before firing again, the crack of the bullet loud in the late afternoon air. You watched the target, taking note of how much closer the bullet had hit.
"Slight improvement, Y/N. Again, one more time."
You shifted your weight a little, taking aim one last time, making sure the target was dead center in the crosshairs before you pulled the trigger, the bullet leaving its mark just a touch away from the center of the target, this time.
You dared to glance over your shoulder for a brief moment, and when your eyes met his, your breath trembled as it left your slightly parted lips. The look in his eyes, on his face, it was the only time you'd ever seen him look even remotely... proud...
The longer you kept your eyes locked on his, the more you noticed the way his irises seemed to darken, one corner of his mouth twitching into what looked like a smirk before it was gone.
"So...?" you asked, your voice coming out in a breathless whisper. You nervously cleared your throat before continuing. "How'd I do...?"
Cerulli's response came in an instant, his voice low and hoarse as he kept his eyes fixed on you.
"Good- good fucking job, Y/N..."
You barely had time to crack the tiniest of smiles before Cerulli was holding up a finger towards you, reaching with his other hand to unholster the handgun he kept at his side at all times.
With a slight tremble, he reached out with one inked hand to pass the sleek black weapon to you, waiting for you to take it.
"I want to try something new with you..."
"I want to try something new with you..."
The words left his mouth before even he knew what was happening, what he was doing.
But to his surprise, you wordlessly set aside the rifle, taking the smaller weapon from his hand and immediately settling back into your previous stance, your feet firmly planted on the ground, though your gaze never left his for a second.
"Like this?"
Your voice reached his ears through the speakers, your tone soft and tentative, a vast change from the fiery attitude you'd displayed for him this morning.
He nodded, swallowing hard past the new, unfamiliar emotions building up within himself.
His throat suddenly felt dry, his palms unusually slick with sweat, and why the fuck was his heart stuttering every so often instead of beating like it was supposed to-
Oh.
Oh.
Well, fuck.
His eyes widened momentarily before he fought to quickly regain his composure, moving to stand behind you.
Reaching up with one hand, he tried hard to focus on helping you adjust your grip on the handgun, instead of focusing on how he could feel the warmth of your back against his chest, or the way you smelled faintly of strawberries and something slightly floral, was that... roses?
His jaw tensing a little, Chris leaned back, his hand slipping from yours, though his fingers lingered just a moment longer than necessary, as he watched you.
"S-same thing as before. Take aim, and... well, you know."
"Fire," came your response, a hint of sudden amusement in your voice. He nodded, unable to keep one corner of his mouth from lifting in a brief smirk.
"Exactly."
He watched as you stood there, inhaling for a second before letting it go, pulling the trigger, the crack of the bullet leaving its chamber a satisfying sound to his ears.
And when he looked out in the distance and saw how close you'd come to hitting that target dead fucking center...
You were a quick learner, once you got out of your own head and stopped being so stubborn. He could see it now, anyone could.
Hell, if you'd let him, he could probably shape you into one of the best recruits he'd ever taught, turn you into an absolute powerhouse of a soldier, maybe even help you earn Ghost status on TF141, a position that was highly strived for and sought after by many, but earned by so very few.
You didn't even have your callsign yet, you hadn't quite earned it yet. But by the time he was done with you...
'Bet you could have her coming undone for you...' the sudden errant thought slipped unbidden into his head before he could stop it, and he could feel the heat rush to his face.
Fuck, he needed to quit thinking like that, he knew it was wrong, it was so fucking wrong, and besides, would you even feel the same way he did-?
The sharp crack of another bullet leaving the chamber snapped him out of his thoughts, and he watched in shock as this time, finally--
Holy fuck.
It hit dead center in that target.
He stood there, his eyes widening, mouth slightly open in surprise as you immediately turned around, the biggest grin on your face.
"Bam. Dead center!"
The excitement in your voice was all too infectious, and he found himself starting to smile, a sense of newfound pride for you welling up inside him.
And when you locked eyes with him, giving him a wink and another excited little smile, something inside himself clicked into place, the decision made before he could stop it.
So it was just like that, all too suddenly, without practically any warning, that he was leaning down towards you, moving his and your mics out of the way, his mouth finding yours in the briefest of kisses, and oh fuck, what the fuck was he doing, what if you didn't-
But then there you were, yet again catching him off guard today, kissing him back, your mouth soft and yielding against his, your body arching into his touch, the handgun slipping from your fingers to land in the grass at his feet, your hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging softly-
Fuck, you were like heaven to him-!
The softest of groans left his throat, and he could've sworn he heard his name fall from your lips for a moment, before the two of you finally parted, standing there staring at each other, breath coming out in quiet gasps.
He could see the heat flooding your cheeks, could feel the warmth coming from you, took notice of the way your eyes darkened with barely concealed desire.
So it wasn't just him, then.
You could feel it, too...?
Almost like you could hear his unspoken question, you gave a slight nod, your breath coming out in soft pants before you spoke.
"That was... um, yeah. Fuck. Wow."
It wasn't enough, hearing your voice filtered in through the speakers, Chris needed to hear it in person. Reaching up to shut off the comm link on his headphones, he tugged them off, watching as you did the same, discarding them back in their bin, before retrieving his weapon from the grass and reholstering it.
"You, uh... job well done today, Y/N," he said, awkwardly extending a hand out towards you. You eyed it dubiously, not shaking it and instead raising a brow at him as you gave him a confused look.
"We're back to formalities now...?"
The way you asked the question, the slight tinge of poorly concealed hurt starting to reflect there in your eyes, Chris didn't like it.
"I- you-" he scrambled to try and find a proper response, not wanting to leave you hanging. "We... we can't do that again-" the words seemed to tumble from his mouth, one right after the other.
And the injured look on your face, the way you swallowed hard, your eyes taking on a glassy look before you quickly blinked, hoping he wouldn't see-
Fuck. It was a lie, and he knew it. He couldn't do that to you, couldn't lie to you like this, it wasn't fair to you.
"I- Y/N, sweetheart, look at me. I... can't be the reason they make you leave. Because they will. And... and you won't get your callsign, you-"
"I don't care."
You cut him off midsentence, those three words giving him pause.
"You- what?"
You repeated those three words, your gaze hardening as you stared up at him, your resolve never wavering even as your eyes remained on the verge of swimming with unshed tears.
"I... I think maybe I thought, if I hated you enough, it wouldn't matter how I felt about you. I thought maybe if I didn't let myself care enough, it wouldn't fucking matter someday, if we were out in the field together and one of us went missing. It wouldn't... hurt as much.
"And... and I know that's not an excuse for why I was probably one of the brattiest recruits you've ever had, and I know it probably doesn't make it any better, or any easier-"
"Stop," Chris cut you off mid-rant, his voice on the verge of breaking.
So that's why you had been so difficult to work with during your first few weeks here.
It wasn't because you hated him, not truly.
It was the exact opposite.
It was because you... cared too much for him?
"I'm sorry, I should've told you sooner, I... you made it too easy to hate you and I... I didn't like the idea of becoming too attached, of caring too much, of..." your voice trailed off at the end, your gaze dropping to stare down at the grass.
And then you did the one thing he'd gotten so used to noticing, one of the many things about you that he found a little too endearing.
You nervously dug the toe of your boot into the grass, your fingers fidgeting in front of you.
"Of what?" Chris asked softly, urging you to continue.
And your next words nearly broke him.
"Of falling in love with you."
Brown eyes widening, Chris took a step towards you, taking both of your hands in his, and giving them a gentle squeeze.
"Hey, look at me. I..." he broke off with a gentle sigh before continuing, "it's not that I don't want this, I promise you, I do. There's so many things about you, tiny little things that other people don't notice, that I find adorable and endearing and- Y/N, sweetheart.
"I... I think maybe I might be falling for you too. But as badly as I want this to work, I also want to see you come out of this as part of our team, I want so many things for you. I want you to be able to have your own callsign to go by, I want to see you leave my care as one of the best recruits this place has ever had, I want..."
He trailed off, his thoughts racing at a million miles an hour. What was it exactly that he wanted, more than anything else, more than he'd ever wanted anything?
The answer was both simple, and at the same time, not simple.
He wanted you.
"What, what do you want?"
He pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his words coming out mumbled and broken.
"I want you."
"So have me..."
Your response, the way you said it, the way you moved to gently card your fingers through his hair, almost as a semblance of trying to comfort him, he wasn't expecting any of it.
Lifting his head to gaze down at you, he swallowed thickly past the raw emotion he could feel building up inside.
"But it's not that simple, Y/N-"
"Okay, and the life I've chosen here, with you and everyone else, isn't simple either. But... maybe we can figure it out... together..?"
Your voice held so much conviction, your tone determined, your demeanor suggesting you weren't about to back down. It reminded him so much of your first week here, of how training this morning had gone.
You'd been so defiant, determined then, too.
You were really pushing for this to work out, weren't you? He had to admire your tenacity...
With a soft sigh, he met your gaze, silently pleading with you. "What if this doesn't work-?"
You cut him off midsentence, taking the lead for once and standing up on your tiptoes to capture his mouth in the softest, gentlest of kisses, both of your hands briefly moving to cup his face between them, the gesture utterly pure and wholesome.
When you pulled back to look up at him, he wasn't surprised to see that same conviction had settled there in your eyes, one corner of your mouth lifting in a wry smile.
"Then we keep trying until it does work? Just like my training?" you whispered.
He couldn't help the laugh that slipped free from his lips; the comparison was too perfect. But maybe you were right...
Maybe if the two of you kept trying, eventually things would work themselves out...
He just had to try.
"Okay," he sighed softly, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Is... is that a yes, or...?" you asked, casting a tentative sideways glance up at him, and he nodded, trying not to laugh at the way you were failing to hide the sly smile on your face.
"It's a yes, rookie..."
🥀 SIX MONTHS LATER 🥀
"And it is with the highest, greatest honor, that we present this new recruit with their place on our team, here as a part of Taskforce 141. With many months of training and guidance under the care of our own Lieutenant Christopher Cerulli, this recruit has proven themselves beyond the highest measure.
"It is with much respect that we announce to you all how proud we are to acknowledge the new addition to our team."
Horror and his teammates sat there in the audience, his blue eyes fixed on the scene before him and everyone else, on the small recruit standing up there on that stage, with the tall Lieutenant standing proudly beside her.
And it was with the greatest sense of pride and love that he sat there, watching as you finally, finally got the one thing you'd been wanting since you first joined their base: to be a part of their team, to just belong.
Chris had been right about you from the beginning; with more training and devotion and care, you would indeed grow to be one of the sharpest recruits they'd turned out in a long time. He'd also noticed the way your relationship with his best friend had blossomed, how close you and Chris had gotten over these past six months.
Vin and everyone else had made cracks about it, that they'd known all along something was going on between you and Chris, it had just been a matter of time. He knew better than that though, the dynamic you and his best friend had, it went so much deeper than that.
Anyone could see it if they looked hard enough, really. He could see it.
The way Chris stood there, his hand clasped tightly in yours, the proud Lieutenant and his newest recruit, one bearing the familiar patch with the callsign 'MOTIONLESS' embroidered in pristine white letters... and the other bearing a callsign of her own, 'GREMLIN'.
Horror couldn't help but smile at the slight irony as he sat there; how fitting the name was for you. Tiny recruit, sure, but full of fiery passion... with a knack of never backing down, always ready to go head to head with anyone on their best day, or even their worst day...
"Welcome to the team, rookie... you made it."
💀 TAGLIST: @synthetic-wasp-570 @nixwolfe @th4t-em0-k1d @tearfallpixie @ladyveronikawrites @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @circle-with-me @motionlessomens @thatchickwiththecamera @skulliecadaver-blog @embracethereaper42 @talialovesmiw @bxrnthyfears @cookiesupplier @bobateaandchocolatepudding @somewhere-diamond @beaker1636 @ciginatree
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#cod! chris motionless#cod! chris cerulli#call of duty#chris cerulli oneshot#chris motionless oneshot#chris motionless#chris cerulli#chris motionless x reader#chris cerulli x reader#motionless in white#miw things#miw#cod#crossover fic#callsign: motionless
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new perspectives // part eleven // jake 'hangman seresin x reader
boy oh boy -- I've been working on this part since I posted the last one (and mind you... this version of it I wrote and completed within the last three hours - there's about 10,000 additional words with different versions of this) - I just could not figure out how to continue it and I don't know if I'm happy with it fully but here it is !! this one is more focused on Rooster and Jupiter and their friendship because I haven't gone as in depth with it as I would have liked in past chapters. as always - please let me know what you think !!
new perspectives // part eleven // jake 'hangman' seresin x reader
prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten
add yourself to my taglist
word count: 4.1k
warnings: mentions of war (but nothing too detailed), mentions of gunshot wounds (again, nothing too detailed), slight suggestiveness at the end
The stars above Rooster, twinkling and shining, served as some kind of mockery as he sat on the beach and looked for constellations, though he wasn’t finding any because he wasn’t trying very hard. He wished he could be in his jet right now, wished he could feel the controls in his hands and see the earth below him because maybe then this wouldn’t be so scary, maybe he wouldn’t feel so helpless.
There was just enough alcohol coursing through his veins for the weight of his emotions to get on top of him, but not enough to forget what he’d heard entirely. He knew what his job was right now. Your last request of him, bestowed not too far from where he was sitting with that sweet smile of yours and eyes full of stars, had been replaying on a loop for the past few hours. Take care of them for me, take care of him. You knew they were equipped to handle this, their lives weren’t all that different from the one you were currently living but there was one key difference that was not lost on anybody… while they were too high above the chaos to truly see, you were down in the middle of it all. While they may have been equipped to handle a friend's deployment, they weren’t all that prepared to think of you as the boots on the ground.
Take care of them for me, take care of him. You knew eventually things would catch up, that the reality of your absence would set in and that when it did they’d need you… and the next best thing was Rooster. You were always thinking eight steps ahead, it’s what made you a good friend and a good doctor, but right about now Rooster found it infuriating. You saw those eight steps ahead, you saw this getting on top of everyone at one point or another, and you made it Rooster’s problem. You knew Jake wouldn’t be able to offer much through his own worry and you wouldn’t have expected him to, but you expected it of Rooster.
He found himself wishing you’d never connected, never bonded. He wished he hadn’t played Drops of Jupiter that very first night, hadn’t harmonized with you and pulled you out of your shell simply because he couldn’t help himself. He wished he hadn’t offered to tour houses on your behalf, hadn’t spent countless hours working alongside you to bring your vision to life. He wished you’d never looked his way because you saw him in a way that was terrifying, you understood him and you pushed him. You pushed him further in his rekindling with Maverick, and you pushed him right into Eliza’s arms because you knew what he needed and what he wanted.
He wished he’d never realized his infatuation with you wasn’t romantic, because maybe if he’d chalked it up to being an asshole with secret feelings for someone who belonged to the man who saved his life he wouldn’t be sitting here right now with worry eating a hole through his stomach. Maybe he would have distanced himself from you, kept things cordial and casual to protect his own heart, but he did realize. He did see that it wasn’t romantic and it never was, he was simply misreading his own emotions because he’d never had a friend like you before. He’d never admit it in the light of day because he found such terms ridiculous but you were his platonic soulmate, through and through. And right about now he wished he’d never figured that out.
He wished none of it had ever happened, because here he was sitting on the beach feeling so utterly helpless because you’d bestowed an impossible task on him and he couldn’t even be mad at you because he’d heard it. One minute he was telling you he loved you, on his way back into the bar to give you space with the man you really needed, the next you were under fire… and you seemed calm. In the face of it all, your tone hadn’t changed, your disposition hadn’t changed. You’d told Jake you loved him without an ounce of fear or apprehension in your tone and hung up, because this was a common occurrence for you now. In the face of it all, you were fine, and here he was sitting on the beach struggling to keep it together.
Except, he didn't wish any of those things at all because you were you, and he couldn't imagine not having you in his life. And so he was trying, because that’s what you’d asked of him. If you could do the impossible, if you could save lives with those two little hands of yours under gunfire or worse, he could keep it together. He could do what you asked of him. He’d remain calm and collected, his usual goofy self to keep the anxiety at bay the best he could, because that’s what you needed. You’d asked for them, but really you’d asked for yourself. You needed to know Rooster was looking out for them so you didn’t have to worry, because you had enough to worry about.
And that’s exactly what he did… he went back into the bar and got Jake a fresh drink, set him up in front of the dartboard with Coyote. He’d filled everyone in on what happened. She’ll be fine, this is her life now and she’s Jupiter. She’ll be fine and so will we because she doesn’t want us spinning out, she wants us here having fun with each other so that’s what we’re going to do.
And then he’d lingered, made sure everyone made it home safely and wandered out onto the beach to look at the stars and feel everything he knew you didn’t want him to. “There’s only so much you can ask of me, JJ,” he whispered to himself as he took in the mass of twinkling lights above him because he was choosing to believe you were under this sky too, and though you couldn’t hear him, maybe you could feel it. You could feel that he was keeping up his end of the promise, and that you needed to keep up yours.
“I know I haven’t talked to you in a while dad, but… well, if you’ve been paying attention I don’t need to fill you in,” he started, openly talking into the night air because this was what he did. When it all got to be too much, when things started to get on top of him he looked to the sky and talked to Goose. “I don’t know if you’ve got any connections up there, I hope you didn’t use them all up sending Hangman after me and Mav but… she needs to come home. Please don’t let what happened to mom happen to Jake,” he said, choking on his words before clearing his throat. “Please don’t let what happened to Maverick happen to me. She’s my best friend, and I… I can’t lose her. Jake can’t lose her. None of us can.”
He was pleading because he knew he was right, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to uphold his promise to you if you didn’t come home. He wouldn’t be able to take care of Jake, or Coyote, or Phoenix… he wouldn’t be able to take care of himself. You swooped in as this mysterious old friend of Hangman’s and won everyone over in the course of an evening, and you only grew more important with each passing day. They’d all been friends before you, but in the wake of you they became a family. You were the glue, you were the last to join the group but you became the nexus, and if they lost you he didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t want to find out.
So he let himself cry, let a few tears slip before saying goodbye to his old man and packing it down. He couldn’t let himself spiral any more than he already had, and he couldn’t have you coming home to realize he hadn’t kept his promise when you’d kept yours. He spent the next day and a half being Rooster, he was goofy and borderline annoying but he kept everyone together, he made sure everyone kept their spirits high and their worry to a minimum, and he made sure Jake got out of bed. He did what he could, and in the end it was everything because there the squad was with beers in their hands and smiles on their faces as they watched Jake kick Coyote’s ass, because even though he was falling apart and he didn’t know if you were even alive, he’d never give anyone the satisfaction of ousting him at his own pool table.
“Any word?” Bob asked quietly to Phoenix who shook her head and when he let out a relieved sigh the few people in hearing distance snapped their attention to him, varying degrees of disbelief and disgust on their faces. “If she were dead we’d know by now.” he supplied, and while his lack of tact was surprising, Bob was always mindful of what he said and how he said it, this served to ease people’s nerves. He was right. If you were dead, Jake would have been notified by now and none of them would be standing around the bar.
“We’ll know when we know,” Rooster said before walking down to the bar to get a fresh drink but something stopped him in his tracks, a brief flash in the distance beyond the windows that had him questioning his grip on reality because it was gone just as quick as he’d seen it… but he could have sworn he saw you. He tried to push past it, blame it on fried nerves and too much on his plate but he couldn’t. He had to be certain so he pushed past those doors and tentatively stepped out onto the beach, “way to go, Rooster. You’ve officially lost it,” he muttered to himself as he peeked around the side of the building but he hadn’t lost it. He saw what he saw, and he stood there gobsmacked as he got full sight of you, your body facing outwards towards the ocean with your hair messily strewn across your shoulders and donning a standard issue uniform… minus the top which left you in a tight tank with a concerning amount of gauze wrapped around your arm.
“JJ?” he asked, approaching slowly and you startled, jumping as you turned to face him and he could see it clear as day. You were scared, and while the appropriate assumption would have been everything you’d gone through, maybe the story linked to those bandages, he knew you well enough to know that wasn’t it. There was something else keeping you outside the bar instead of reuniting with your family.
“Roo,” you started, but you didn’t have anything else to say so it fell flat. There were tears in your eyes and you looked relieved but that fear was just under the surface and his steps were fast to close the distance, wrapping you up in his arms as carefully as he could and he was almost taken aback by the way you gripped onto him, latching on with seemingly no intention of letting go.
“How long have you been out here?” he whispered into your hair and he felt you shudder beneath him.
“A while,” you answered, and he realized that shudder was a humorless laugh. “I didn’t… I don’t know why, I just couldn’t-” you tried but your voice was thick and you didn’t need to say anything more. He understood. He knew coming home would be difficult for you, especially under these circumstances, and he didn’t need you to explain that you weren’t out here because you wanted to be, but because you felt like you couldn’t go inside.
“I know. You’re home and that’s what matters,” he pulled back to look at you but he didn’t go far, keeping his grip firm on you because he had a feeling it was what you needed. Much like the way you’d loop your hand through his when you were telling a story, so animated and excited you could barely get the words out fast enough, because you needed the physical tether. You needed to feel grounded so you didn’t get swept away by whatever it was you were saying or thinking.
“I uh…” you shook your head and cleared your throat. “I got evacuated, by the time this healed and I was cleared I’d be going home anyways,” you said, nodding to your shoulder. “I didn’t call and I-”
“Stop, you had bigger things going on,” Rooster said, cutting you off entirely. He had tears in his eyes looking down at you, your hands gripping his arms so tightly and your features so soft and vulnerable in stark contradiction to the khaki pants and clunky boots and suddenly he felt selfish. “Let me go get Jake,” he started, beginning to pull away from you but he stopped when your brows furrowed. “You don’t want me to?”
You shook your head, “no… no I do, I just… god, I keep doing everything wrong,” you sighed. “I signed up to go to war without so much as a heads up, I told you first, I… I couldn’t even call to tell him I was okay before just showing up and standing out here lost in my own thoughts for half an hour,” you let out another humorless chuckle. “I keep doing this wrong.”
“You’re doing the best you can. You know he doesn’t expect anything from you, right? He doesn’t have some grand idea about how this would go, he knows this isn’t going to be like your reunion at his tap out or at your match day,” he said and you smiled sadly.
“I forgot I told you those stories,” you said.
“That’s not what he’s expecting, he’s… you know, he handled it better than I thought he would but he hasn’t been okay and that’s just because all he wants to know is that you are. He wants to know that you’re mostly in one piece, and he wants to hug you the way I am right now- well, okay… maybe not the way I am because it has been several months since you left and I would imagine-” he started to joke and you let out a laugh… a real one, and you went to push his shoulder, disentangling yourself from him but it only served to make you wince.
You shook your head when his eyes widened, “it’s okay, just sore. You’re right… will you- will you go get him? And be cryptic,” you said, referencing the way Jake had called Rooster out minutes before your call disconnected. “I don’t know if I’m ready for everyone yet.”
“On it,” he replied, already moving to head inside.
“Wait, Rooster?” you called and he stopped, turning to face you. You gave him one of those blinding smiles, one that felt like a glimpse of the you before you left, the one that didn’t wear standard issue khakis and clunky boots, the one that wasn’t harder and shaper, and the one that hadn’t confessed to him you didn’t know if you were okay. You gave him that smile that was so you as you ran and jumped into him, squeezing him so tightly it sucked all the air from his lungs and he laughed as he caught you, twirling you around. “Thank you.”
“What for, JJ?”
“For being my person.”
“Thanks for coming home,” he replied and you gave him one more squeeze before dropping down to the ground and he gave you a nod before disappearing inside. You resumed your earlier pacing, already feeling lighter after seeing Rooster and for as selfish and awful as you felt for always getting this wrong with Jake, it took the edge off. It made seeing him feel less daunting, and while you’d spent the previous half hour working yourself into a tizzy about how he would react or what he would say you now felt silly. Rooster was right, all he wanted right now was you, just like you wanted him. He wouldn’t be mad at you for not calling, he wouldn’t be mad at you for having a reunion with Rooster first, he would simply be your Jake.
“What the hell is so urgent with your precious truck? I don’t even want to be here but you made me and now you’re ruining my streak,” you heard Jake complaining as the door to the bar opened and you couldn’t help but chuckle as you waited for them to round the corner.
“Okay, first of all, it’s not a truck, it’s a Bronco,” Rooster corrected, “and once again you might not want to be so hard on me when you see what it is,” he added and you couldn’t fight the smile on your face. You weren’t okay and you knew that, but you would be because you had them. You had your people and you were home, and that’s all that mattered.
“What does that- what the fuck?” You’d walked closer, not wanting the distance to be any further than it already was when he rounded the corner and he nearly walked right into you. “Jupiter?” he asked, blinking in surprise and simply staring at you because he couldn’t be certain what he was seeing was real.
“Hey you,” you replied, ignoring the single tear that streamed down your cheek and you let out a laugh as he crushed you in a hug, lifting you off the ground and forcing your legs around him to keep your balance.
Rooster stood and watched for a moment, soaking in this moment of unbridled joy between his two best friends before taking his leave. “So much for it not being like the tap out,” he said and you mouthed thank you to him over Jake’s shoulder as he went back inside.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, one hand firm on your waist and the other cupping your thigh as you pulled back slightly to look down at him, to commit that beautiful face of his gazing up at you with pure adoration to memory.
“It’s a long story and I… I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” you answered and he nodded, slowly lowering you to the ground to cup your face and press a kiss to your forehead.
“You don’t have to, not until you’re ready, I just…” he pulled back to look at you again and the emotion in his eyes cracked your heart wide open, and with it the flood of anxiety and uncertainty you’d pushed aside. “I was so worried something had happened.”
“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you started, that single tear giving way to an onslaught and his face crumpled at the sight. “I should have called, I should have-”
“Hey, no no no… that’s not what I meant,” he said, trying to reassure you as he smoothed his hands along your back. “I’m just so happy you’re home,” he said, trying to quell your tears but it was no use. He finally got a chance to really look at you, to soak you in and his heart broke when he noticed the bandages around your arm and you started to shake your head.
“Come on, come sit with me?” you asked and he nodded, catching one of your hands as you walked further out onto the beach and sank into the sand and he looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to find the words. You didn’t know if you were ready to talk about it yet but you needed to, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to let it go no matter how hard he tried to be supportive. “What you heard… we got ambushed, I’m still not entirely sure what happened but uh… it wiped most of the camp out,” you said, voice shaking and Jake tried to keep his feelings off his face as you spoke. “My call to Rooster saved my life, anyone that was near the command center-” you cut yourself off with a shake of your head and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “I did what I could, I tried to get to as many people as I could but there wasn’t enough time, or enough hands and I got caught in the crossfire,” you said, gesturing to your arm. “It was a lucky shot, if you could even call it that. I’ll be okay, just not cleared to work yet which is why I’m home. It’ll be another few weeks before I am and at that point my deployment would have been over.”
“J, I’m so sorry…” he started, his hand gently cupping your arm just beneath the bandages. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he said, pulling you into him and you moved into his lap to wrap your arms around him more easily, not paying any mind to the way you felt your stitches tugging.
“I’ll be okay. I can’t… I don’t think I can tell you any more, not right now.” You pulled away to look at him seriously, “it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… things are different over there, I was different over there. I did things and I saw things I can’t begin to unpack right now but I want you to know that I plan to set something up at the hospital, a specialist to talk to so I can sort it out. I just… right now I really need everything to just go back to normal.”
“There’s no rush, sweetheart. You’ll tell me when you’re ready and if you never do, well… that’s alright too, as long as you talk to someone. All I cared about was you getting back home to me, even if Rooster had to get the first look at you,” he teased and you pouted.
“In my defense he wandered out and found me, that wasn’t intentional,” you protested.
“Yeah sure, whatever… the pornstache is your person and I just have to deal with that.”
“He might be my person but you’re the love of my life, you know that right? You are who got me through everything over there, and you are who I thought about day in and day out.”
“Oh yeah? And what exactly is it you thought about?” he asked, that famous smirk of his playing on his lips and you rolled your eyes.
“The audacity to call Rooster pornstache when you are trying to put the moves on your wife who just got back from war!” you laughed and he shifted you in his lap, pulling your leg to the side so you were straddling him and the contact on your core elicited a reaction that completely undercut the way you were trying to tease him.
“You did say you wanted everything to go back to normal,” he muttered, letting his lips trail along the column of your neck and he was right… you did want everything to go back to normal and this was something you’d thought about every moment you could while you were gone.
“This is utterly indecent,” you sighed, feeling him growing hard beneath you and you pushed him back because if he kept going you’d scandalize the beach. “And mind you we are both in our uniforms right now,” you added.
“Yeah, by the way? This is super hot,” he said, letting his eyes trail over you appreciatively. “You’ve got a real Lara Croft thing going on right now and I’m into it.”
“Lara Croft!” you laughed, “she never even wore pants.”
“Please let me objectify my super hot, super tough wife in peace, thank you,” he said, and as you stared down at him you realized you hadn’t kissed him yet and you couldn’t believe you’d overlooked it. You pressed your lips to his softly, all pent up love and emotion but quickly it turned hungry… all tongues and biting lips as you gripped his biceps.
“Take me home then, objectify me all you want, Lieutenant,” you said, pulling away to catch your breath and his eyes darkened as he was quick to stand pulling you up with him and you couldn’t help the squeals and laughter falling from your lips as he hurled you over his shoulder. You felt everything in your life right now was unsteady, you had no idea to come back to civility after what you’d been through but you had the tools to do it the best you could, and more importantly you had Jake who was everything you needed him to be and more.
There wasn’t any sort of guidebook you could follow, and you didn’t know if this was how your return should have gone. You thought maybe you should be more damaged, you shouldn’t be laughing as your husband ran across the beach with you in tow, or maybe that’s exactly what you should have been doing. You didn’t really know, and you didn’t really care because you were home, and whatever came next you’d handle as it came with Jake by your side.
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#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#jake seresin fluff#jake seresin fan fiction#jake seresin fanfiction#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x you#jake hangman seresin fluff#jake hangman seresin fan fiction#jake hangman seresin fanfiction#hangman#hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman fan fiction#hangman fanfiction#hangman fluff#top gun maverick#top gun fan fiction
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The first half of Shirabe Meshi chapter 30 is finally out after getting delayed due to the flu
It starts on a stormy night with Carol holding what seems to be the direct feedback system that Elfnein modified to dive into memories
"If I use this, then my memories..."
The next day, everyone is talking about the weather the night before, particularly how much lightning there was. Genjuro jokingly asks Hibiki if her belly button got stolen (referencing a bit of folklore where Raijin will steal your belly button if you don't cover it during a storm).
Hibiki says "Master, please, that would never happen these days! It may have happened to people in the past, but if you wear a belly band, it's totally fine! That's what Dad told me!"
Tomosato: (Don't laugh...)
Fujitaka (I actually feel sorry for her...)
But that particular conversation comes to a close when the Autoscorers run in with Carol in tow. "Master started acting all cute!"
Meanwhile, poor Carol is so confused and scared due to being taken to a "strange place" by a bunch of "weirdos"
The Autoscorers discuss Carol's personality change to which Elfnein comments that it's like how she was when she was younger and her father was alive (Carol: "A girl that looks just like me?!")
Hibiki gets sad because she thinks that Carol burned away her memories after all they've been through together but Fujitaka points out they haven't detected energy great enough for that to be the case.
...Then Elfnein notices Micha's hands.
Her claws are uh...fish now. Apparently Carol got scared of them and transmuted them into something less...sharp.
Genjuro suggests getting her to the infirmary, but him being as big as he is, he scares her, so she starts freaking out and turning everything she can into fish.
Shirabe comes in with onigiri and suggesting a break right in time for them to...also get turned to fish.
Shirabe: "My salmon onigiri turned back into salmon..."
Genjuro: "At this rate we'll all be turned to salmon! We have no choice, we have to use force!"
Carol: "NOOO! SOMEONE HELP ME!"
And so Hibiki's need to protect others kicks in.
"You can't be so forceful with a crying child!" and runs off with her.
Carol: "Um, who are you?"
Hibiki: "I'm Hibiki Tachibana, age 17! My birthday is September 13, my blood type is O, my height is 157 cm, and yeah, maybe I'd LIKE to be a bit taller! I'll tell you my weight once we're better friends! My hobby is helping people and my favorite thing is Miku's food! And when it comes to the whole never having a boyfriend thing, I'm updat--"
Shirabe: "Stop! You're screaming some pretty private stuff in a public area."
Shirabe informs Hibiki that Elfnein and the others are going to investigate the cause, but in the meantime they have orders to calm Carol down, so they decide to give her some new fun memories by taking her to an amusement park
Hibiki goes to get some drinks and comes back to Carol and Shirabe sitting on a bench. Hibiki asks if she's tired, and Carol responds that when she was living her with father, she never knew the world outside of that had so many fun things to do and so many good foods to eat.
So Hibiki says she has one last place to take Carol: Her dad's ramen cart.
Carol is amazed that his food looks so good, because her dad always blew up whatever he was cooking
Some tears fall into the broth, and that's...the end of the first half. Second half will be released in a week.
#senki kanshoku symphogear shirabe meshi#senki zesshou symphogear#symphogear#carol malus dienheim#hibiki tachibana#elfnein#genjuro kazanari#micha jawkan#garie tuman#phara suyuf#leiur darahim#shirabe tsukuyomi#akira tachibana
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Continuation to this
You reached the table where Kelce and Topper where sitting, along with a couple of kook girls. The latter looking you up and down and turning to themselves to whisper between each other. You knew they were talking about you, but, who wouldn't? You stood out like a sore thumb. You decided to pay them no mind as Rafe gestured for you to sit down.
"Yo, y/n, I almost didn't recognize you!" Topper said.
"Yeah, it's all thanks to Rafey here" you said between gritted teeth. You hated your outfit so much. So revealing, so pink, so... "kook-y"
"Rafey?" Topper laughed. Rafe stared daggers at him, which made Topper shut up instantly. He put his hand on your thigh and pressed lightly, as a warning, he knew you had an attitude, but you were pushing it too far. The slight touch made you feel weird. You and Rafe could be considered friends at this point, but taking note of all the times you had been together, you don't remember him touching you in any way or viceversa. You just kept to yourselves, you respected each other's boundaries.
What was even weirder is that he didn't take off his hand from your leg at all during the entirety of the event. He just kept it there. His warmth and weight becoming more and more comfortable with the passing of time.
You tried not to dwell on it too much. It was just a simple friendly gesture, right? Nothing to think about. Nope.
Rafe looked at you, you were strangely silent. Unbeknownst to him, you were trying to supress the fluttering feeling of your stomach, caused by his hand on your thigh and your constant overthinking.
"You okay?"
His voice pulled you out from your thoughts, you looked at him and smiled, trying to conceal your true feelings.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Ready to get the hell outta here."
"Don't worry, you'll be out of that skirt in no time."
Why. Did. He. Just. Say. That.
You knew he meant no harm, like, he knew how uncomfortable you were in your outfit. But what he had said could be taken out of context. You flushed at the thought of Rafe helping you get rid of your skirt and shaked your head. He looked at you with amusement.
"What's wrong with you?"
Oh, so many things were wrong at this point.
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