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sardonic-the-writer · 4 months

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𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: hells greatest dad—various artists

↳ notes: this turned out way longer than expected. reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• What you did with your spare time outside the hotel had never been a problem

• Everyone blew off steam in different ways. Husk gambled is days away at dinghy bars, Vaggie practiced sparing, and Sir Pentious dreamed up designs for his retired war machines. The important thing was that everyone knew better than to ask the other about it

• So your friendship with Lucifer never come up. At least, not until Charlie decided to invite her dad over one day

• You were well aware of the strange relationship you had with the king of hell. He was all powerful ,and technically your ruler, sure, but it was hard to view him that way after you caught him babying a small army of rubber ducks

• It had been such a long time since you’d first met him, honestly you were still surprised you’d remembered it

• Back when you still worked as a part time package deliverer for the UPS equivalent of hell, you’d been tasked with handing off a rather heavy, and rather odd shaped box. The label didn’t give an address, rather a small drawing of an apple with a snake curled around it

• It took you a while, and way too many u-turns, to arrive at a pair of tall metal gates

• An uncertain push of a button had been delivered to a nearby buzzer, and you briefly wondered if you had been sent on a dead end errand. Your boss liked to do that; said it kept his employees on their toes. You just thought that he enjoyed seeing the pissed off looks of returnees

• Nothing longer than a minute passed before you were answered with an overjoyed voice, sounding rushed and getting father away from the mic as he proclaimed ‘I’ll be right down Terrance!!’

• It was only when Lucifer himself had opened the gates to allow you in, that his face fell from an excited grin into one of confusion

• “Oh. You’re not my normal guy.” He frowned, looking up at you slightly. “Are you sure you have my package.”

• You simply showed him the address label’s drawing, and he nodded

• “Yeah that’s it alright.” A little bit of the enthusiasm he had shown at the sight of his delivery reappeared before you. It didn’t take long after that before he remembered that you were both still standing outside the towering stature of his house, and quickly invited you inside so you could help him move the package where he wanted it

• “So! Is Terrance sick or something? I could have sworn it was just yesterday that he was where you are now. Or a few days. Maybe a few weeks. Alright it’s been a while, but can you blame me. Do you know who I’m talking about? Long horns, red splotches, and a weird amount of hands. He always had the funniest jokes to tell though— “

• The first impression of him you got was weird. For the ruler of hell at least. But as time went on, and you kept delivering packages to his house with each passing month, he just struck you as lonely. His house, while big, was always empty. You would go as far as to say that you were the only steady interaction he had. Even if you were technically required to visit him

• Eventually, you quit your job. It had been a long time coming, and you were looking forward to a different take on life away from packing peanuts and scotch tape. Yet, for some reason, you didn’t stop showing up at Lucifers place. And he didn’t stop letting you in

• “You know—“ The devil approached you one hot afternoon in his work room. It was actually quite cold outside, but the fire breathing duck in his hands had heated up the room something fierce upon demonstration. “If you ever need someplace to stay, my daughter has a passion project that she wont stop talking about. It’s pretty sparse in souls, and I’m sure she’d let you stay there as long as you went along with her plan that she has!”

• You tilted your head with a small hum that day, choosing not to mention the far away look in Lucifers eyes as he talked about his daughter

• “Sounds better than where I’m currently living.” You shrugged, handing him a spare bolt off of the floor when it rolled off his work desk. “Where is the place?”

• So you’d shown up on the Hazbin Hotel’s doorstep, then still known as the Happy Hotel, with a bag or two in had and asking for a room

• You hadn’t told Charlie that Lucifer had mentioned it to you. You didn’t want her to feel like you were only there because he dad had named dropped it, but you guessed that she had her suspicions. You didn’t seem very taken with her title as princess of hell after all

• You were there nearly as long as Angel Dust; the likes of which showed up in the room next to yours a week after the move

• That means you were present for the embarrassing news interview, and in turn, the introduction of Alastor as a new patron

• He had been annoyed by you at first. Unlike Charlie’s slight nervousness at his appearance, or Vaggie’s outright aggression, you practically ignored his spectacular entrance, save for a few quick comments

• That had bugged Alastor. You’d hardly reacted when he’d shown just a sliver of his powers. Your lackluster once over as he pulled the darling Nifty from a fireplace had given him nothing to go on. Nothing!

• “Now what’s your role here, my friend!” The Radio Demon practically sang to you on that same afternoon. He waltzed over to your position in a corner, and his smile thinned slightly as you barely spared a glance at him. You found yourself much more enthralled with the sight of Husk fending off Angel’s advances over at the bar

• “I’m a tenant.” You mumbled, looking right through him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed down at you in an unreadable emotion that day

• He took to annoying you for the remainder of his stay following his debut. With every day, he increased his pestering, and you continued to remain the same

• Neither of you made a breakthrough with the other for quite a while. Months passed, and he found you looking as disinterested as ever with his display of powers. At this point he was sure you were purposely giving him nothing just to see his smile crack at the edges. And he was getting frustrated, for a lack of better words

• It wasn’t until you’d wandered into his recording studio by mistake that something changed

• Alastor felt a disturbance in the air the moment you stepped foot in his little alcove. Territorial demons such as himself could always tell when somebody was trespassing on their land, especially when having as much power as he did, and you were no exception to this rule

• He materialized behind you almost instantly. His limbs were already beginning to crack and stretch in size, a glowing smile casting wild shadows all throughout the room as he searched for what was sure to be your cowering form as you dropped whatever item you were attempting to steal

• Instead, he found you kneeling to the side of his polished desk, blinking up at him as your hands sat frozen in the motion of flipping through a record basket. His record basket

• “And what, pray tell—” Alastor’s distorted voice sounded like an screeching echo. He wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the hotel could hear it from downstairs “—are you doing here my dear?”

• You didn’t say anything for a moment. He watched as your eyes flickered to this symbols floating around him, then back down to his face

• “I was looking for some good music. Sorry to intrude” You eventually pull out of your weird staring match with him. Dusting the seat of your pants off, you rise to walk past him and towards the door

• Alastor’s mouth opens to say something, but stops when you pause in the doorframe

• “Nice antlers by the way.” You shrug. He doesn’t have to look up to know your talking about the honey structures protruding from his forehead. They really only come out when he starts to take on his true demonic form, and never before has he had someone compliment them

• Before he can get a better read on you, you’re gone

• Turns out, you weren’t exactly unimpressed with him. Just wary in your own way. It was a slight hit to the overlords ego that he hadn’t been able to pick up on that so quick, but he’d never admit it. Instead he took to your new attitude with rigorous mischief

• Music and murder had been the thing to bridge the gap between the two of you. When Alastor discovered you were particularly fascinated by his time period, he laughed heartily

• “Why my dear, you should have told me you had such good taste!” He wrapped a tight arm around your shoulders. “What is it you wish to know about the darling 1920’s?”

• “Did you really feed your victims to alligators?”

• “Hah! That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” He said while flicking your nose. You just hummed with a scrunch of your eyebrows and wriggled out of his grip. Alastor laughed at that

• You wouldn’t classify the two of you as friends necessarily, but Husk did mention one day that the fact he didn’t kill you that day in his recording studio stood for something

• “He’s murdered demons for less.” The grumpy cat told you. You chose not to respond

• Everything came to a head the day Lucifer showed up at the request of his daughter

• He didn’t notice you right away, instead doing a little dance with Razzle and Dazzle as the rest of the hotel watched on confused. Angel tossed you a look and you just shrugged

• Lucifer eventually spotted you standing by the scrappy welcome table. With the same exuberance that you'd seen time and time again before, he hugged you almost immediately

• “Good to see you again too, Luce. Heard you were coming over.” You exhaled after he set you down. You chose to ignore Alastor as he stepped out of his shadows and stood behind you ominously. You could almost feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of your head

• “Ah so this is his majesty! You’re a bit shorter than I expected.” Alastor’s voice was a bit more grating than you recalled. His grip on his cane tightened as you raised your eyebrow at him

• “Uh, excuse me. Exactly who are you? Lucifer gave the overlord a once over, looking very bored as he did so

• An eye twitch

• “Why the Radio Demon of course! Manager to this very fine establishment, and a—!”

• “Nope. Never heard of you. Sorry.” Lucifer cut Alastor off and smiled tensely from next to you, not sounding sorry at all

• It became apparent very quickly that the two of them didn’t mix. If a competitive musical number didn’t convince you of that, the way the both of them wouldn’t let go of your arms sure did. By the end point of Lucifer’s visit, you were sure a bruise or two had formed on your forearms

• “You know you should really come visit me more!” Lucifer adjusted his hat as he spoke, sending you a sharp toothed smile as he prepared to step out the door. “I’m sure you get tired of this hotel sometimes. Or at least the people—“

• “I’m sure you’ll find they are perfectly happy with their arrangement!” Alastor didn’t let Lucifer finish his thought. His shadows were getting restless at this point, stretching in the three of yours direction as if attempting to push Lucifer out. At this point Charlie and Vaggie had stopped paying attention to the weird power play between the two of them, instead talking about their upcoming trip to heaven together, so you were all alone. Save for two of your friends that were acting really weird

• "You know maybe the two of you shouldn't hang out."

• "Agreed."

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yourplasticlittlespastic · 14 days

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E̴N̴T̴W̴I̴N̴E̴D̴ - Series - Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f/reader

Warnings: F!nger!ng sesh with BB and fluff!

Notes: IDK how they expected me to watch one ep. per week like... I watched them all yesterday and now one month to go... Thank you for reading this story. Can we not talk about Tilly Arnold? thanks

WC: 3.9K

You were featured in Lady Whistledown a few times now and those times, she talked about your persona, describing it as just, kind and friendly. This time as your eyes scanned the page you wondered why she didn't use more scrutinizing words against you and the situation. She was talking rather fondly of you, nothing compared to your Mother who made sure to silence your father quite often now.

You read the paper again and bit your cheek. Lady Whistledown has made sure to explain the situation and collect the evidence of Lord Coxingworth's harsh behaviour that in reality he was being antagonized by her very badly.

"My dear" you father looked for your mother's face "Is this not what we wanted? Our only daughter is getting married"

"But how is she getting married?" she huffed, angry at you "Debuting" she pointed with her hands "House calls" she indicated "courting a man!" she winced "not two, Y/N!" she touched her stomach "and finally marrying him but your daughter has made sure to add scandal in that process"

"It is not a scandal, Mama" you said, knowing well enough to keep the tone respectful but firm.

"I beg to differ, Y/N" she hissed.

"It is not like I met Benedict while talking to Lord Coxingworth" a very subtle smile tried to curve your lips

"But oh dear, you have met him at the Bridgertons"

"Never unchaperoned" you pointed out, your cheeks turning a deep shade of pink

"I do not care, Y/N, you ruined my debut plans"

"Mama" you breathed, not believing her words. "My debut happened and you helped me achieve it flawlessly"

"I know"

"And things... well, things turned around for the better"

Your Mother had enough. You were giving her logic that her hysteria could not chew for now so that is why she excused herself leaving you with your father. His beard already turning white by the roots and his elegant attire wrinkled as he sat down in the drawing room.

"Y/N..."

"Yes?"

"Come here"

You moved from the window and approached your Father who was patting his side. You did so and he sighed "My beautiful daughter... have things turned around for the better?"

"yes" you admitted "I would not say it if it wasn't right"

"Mr. Bridgerton is a good man. I know" he nodded more to himself "I of course do not enjoy the scandal this will hold until well, the wedding but I am good at deafening them here" he pointed at his head "Your mother is not. Be kind to her, particularly these days"

"Of course, Papa"

"Also..." he smiled at you and reached for your hand "I want you to know that I am happy. Very much"

"Really?" you tilted your head to the side, your heart warming.

"I was not sure of the Bridgerton boy, at first" he chuckled "I do not think your Mother likes him"

"I know, Papa"

"But he is a Bridgerton after all and I see Edmund in him."

His words inked deeply within you as your day passed by. The day rather than join in celebration of the engagement being solid, was spent apart which gave you time to… no, not that.

You did your things. Played the pianoforte. Talked with the maids. Did needlework. Anything, everything to keep your mind busy and away from desire. You wondered if in the near future there could be a way of communication that does not require a servant holding a letter and handing it personally.

Of course not, how can it be?

You kept on going. Dinner reached its course and as silent as it was more because of your mother than anyone else you enjoyed the moment. You will be soon married, married you smiled.

Mrs. Bridgerton. You blinked at the meat pie in front of you and imagined a house. A family. Children. And of course, a husband.

You smiled, your hand reaching for your glass and as it was filled with wine you noticed a piece of paper sticking from the pocket of your dress. Your eyes widened as you tried to hide the blush from your parents and quickly reach for it.

The handwriting was messy and hurried but the words were clear enough.

Bring the poetry book to my library.

You questioned why so seldomly you clenched your thighs. Your breath hitched and your eyes darted to the window where you could see the dark night sky, the moon and the stars shining in a way that felt so magical, so ethereal and so the so-called pious girl routine commenced and when you brushed your hair as the last step of it your long forgotten your bed.

Waiting you did and went outside your house through the back door. The odd guilty feeling felt more at ease, now you were going to meet your future husband, not your… your… what was he before?

When you reached it was a matter of time before turning to the vast garden however the entrance lit up and you hid behind the stone pillar.

“...And from who are you hiding from?”

You grinned and turned around to see Benedict with his sleeping wear and holding a candle.

“No one”

“Good because I only live here”

“And the staff” you reminded him

"The staff won't say a word" he bobbed his head "Fancy greeting your fiancé properly?"

His impeccable quick wit made you nod and he plucked his lips ready to savour you but instead, the proper greeting he expected was an arm slap and a giggle from you making him chuckle in return.

"I brought the book" you mentioned

"Right... I do not care about the book"

Your brows joined in a frown "May I remind you that this book" You showed the thin copy "Was what made us... this?"

Benedict locked the door and put the candle on the entry table "I do enjoy its contents and do know the meaning of that stolen book" he made you roll your eyes "But I may remind you that I harbouredfeelings for you long before your crime? I do not wi to speak for you but-"

"I had them before as well" You tried to slap his other arm but he swayed away to the stairs "Where are you going?"

"I have a bedroom"

"Good for you"

"A comfortable bed" he snorted

"Lucky"

"Do you have these things?" he pointed around

"I had them back at my house"

"And you don't have them if you stay down here. Follow me"

You slowly grunted not in annoyance because who are you but a smart girl who knows that whatever might happen behind those doors will be for your benefit? But you grunted in fatigue. You saw Benedict waiting for you to walk inside his room, the crimson colour in your face was ignored by the darkness of the night but you certainly perceived the heat of it.

"Please" he closed the doors and then bit his lower lip and exclaimed "Oh!"

You flinched at his frantic movements and saw how he jumped at his bed, papers around, some chalk, more papers "Busy today?"

"Quite... I... Well, I have taken Anthony's role until he comes backs from his honeymoon and I didn't have time today to sketch"

"And now that I am here I'm afraid I will take your sketching time away"

Benedict placed all his papers on a desk and shook his head "Unlike the immature boys you have encountered, I do know when my number one priority has entered the room"

You blushed and looked around "May I sit... or?"

Benedict tilted his head and sighed "Y/N... this is going to be your bedroom"

The idea made you blush harder "Mine? Are you saying you will move? Isn't opening one of the multiple bedrooms for me easier than transporting your items?"

"What are you talking about?" he scratched the top of his head, moving slowly to his bed "This will be our bedroom, not just mine"

"I thought there were separate rooms for every couple"

"And who would like to sleep away from you? Not me!" he laughed and so gracefully landed on his twisted duvet and took the opposite corner to open the spot next to him "Come here, have a taste of the future. A time machine"

And you clearly were not stupid to reject his invitation, perhaps what happened in this room a day ago might happen again and oh... you were using your damned pantalettes. He hates them. Nevertheless, you jumped and giggled feeling the flannel of the linen and the heaviness of the satin duvet.

"There you go" he puffed the pillow for you and leaned on his arm to face you, his head resting on his palm "Tell me, what did you do today?"

Your hand was certainly halted as your fingertips were clearly already letting loose the waistband of your pantalettes. You softly frowned and recomposed as he bombarded you with a normal question.

"Oh, well, my day was quite dreadful"

"Why?"

“I hate needlework”

“Iugh” he stuck out his tongue “Yes I hate it too”

“But you don’t have to do it”

“I’m hating what you’re hating” he shrugged “What else?”

“Pianoforte, Italian, talking…” you huffed “You making me say out loud makes it all sound so dull” You shifted and took your robe out of your body, you threw it to the end of the bed “I don’t like coming to London”

“Don’t you?” He asked and then laid on top of his pillow “I thought the season had its charms”

“It does but when I go back to the countryside is far better. Freedom. You do not care about not using your rib-breaker”

He frowned “rib-breaker?”

“Corset”

He chuckled “Then let us go to the countryside and burn all your rib-breakers. Of freedom you seek, let me also benefit from it”

You felt the blush again coming and you looked at his eyes “I am not wearing one right now”

He swallowed thickly and bit his cheek, his chest raising and lowering faster. He did not expect this information. Not that is not welcomed.

“Clearly you would be mad if you slept with it”

Your hands grabbed the ditched collar of your sleeping gown, and the courage to show what hides underneath crept in you but you were met with both of his hands as he sat upright.

“What a-“

“My love” he tried to smile “I do not wish to be seen as someone that calls upon you only for mere passionate encounters” You opened your mouth and he shook his head “Although I am filled with lust for you I am also filled with love” he stopped and he blinked, the word has never left his lips until now “there are things that give another type of pleasure,” He said, his fingers moving up to your cheeks. You blinked, his words and his actions were softer than the silk you wear or the butter you taste in the mornings.

“Have you shared those other things with someone else?”

Benedict thought about your question deeply “…no, not quite. I for once never asked a woman to join me in bed to talk” he laid back again on the bed “or slept all night with someone… of course it was me who stood up and left”

You were silently startled, your eyes wide open as your hand moved to rest on his chest, feeling his heart beating. He looked at you and his thumb moved to caress the apple of your cheek.

“I’m sorry for the brash stories. I do not intend to do so with you”

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to know” you confessed “I always wondered what you did away from the Bridgerton House”

“I did not do that all the time. I painted, drank good brandy… danced…” he smiled “occasionally danced within the sheets”

“Danced writhing the sheets” you mocked him and turned around to stay at your side as you stared at him “I don’t know what that means?”

“You don’t?” He somehow snorted “I know you have read biology books, love. So you must know something”

You rolled your eyes and slapped his shoulder, making him laugh and shake his head.

"I know that for a baby to be made a man and a woman are needed and that there is a special moment when the woman might have more chances. That is w-“

“Please don’t say full moon. Please don’t say full moon…”

You gulped and with a very quiet voice you said “Full moon…”

Benedict loudly laughed so that his voice hit the ceiling of his room, he squirmed in the bed making you laugh in return "Y/N!"

"What?!"

"No, no, no... those are just tales. Please tell me what are marital encounters?"

You were never questioned like that before and your chest felt sweaty with the amount of heat you were starting to feel "Things..."

"Things?"

"Things of... married people"

Benedict so cutely hid his cheeks in his hands "I cannot t-"

"Things!" your exclaimed trying not to be embarrassed "Things like uhm" You bit your cheek and with the same quiet voice, you added "Kissing"

"Kissing" he repeated.

"And touching and uhm..." you sighed "I'm not sure. I do know you have in you some essence but somehow the act itself was not written in the book"

"Was not written or did someone rip the pages?" he asked for himself and sighed, he saw your genuine eyes and pulled the duvet further so your shoulders were hiding now "So much to know of this world and still women are being concealed of it"

"Not all women"

"True" he nodded "Society women are treated so poorly and that is a lot to say. They might be close to diamond jewels and so far from actual and factual knowledge"

"That's why I say I like the countryside better, you read whatever you want as long as no one sees you"

"Is that how you found those biology books?" you nodded at his question and then went back to bed "I'm sorry I have taken your sleeping time"

You looked around "you expect me to sleep here?"

"I thought we already ta-"

"No, as of right now, tonight"

"Yes" he pouted and circled your frame with his arm, his head crashing on your shoulder "Yes, of course, and... we can wake up early so you can go to your house" his voice suddenly turned slow "if you get caught is not like... we are" he yawned "strangers. The worst they can do is make us get married"

"But we are going to get married"

"Exactly"

With his drowsy voice, you also allowed yourself to close your eyes. That night, even though there was no recollection on your part of your sleep, you knew that it was by far the most peaceful you have ever gotten apart from the fact that you blinked in the middle of your slumber and felt the ardent heat coming from his body. A man his size truly doesn't need a furnace.

You tried to unlock his arm from you and felt your gown sticking against your skin with mild sweat. You slowly and softly moved around and reached the end of the bed to stand. You leaned on the end to put your slippers and that is when a hand grabbed your wrist.

With the most sleepy face someone could have, his chestnut hair a mess and his voice croaked he said "Where are you going?"

"Home"

"No..." he said and tugged your wrist and he opened his eyes, his other arm moved the duvet aside "There is no light outside"

"And that is good" you mumbled "When there is light it'll b-"

"Sssshhhh you talk too much, come" he let himself fall against his bed and moaned "Comfortable bed" he then opened an eye and saw you "I mean it come, husband orders"

Your shoulders deflated as you climbed the bed again "Husband orders... wife orders..." you muttered and laid again "There?"

"Turn around," he said and moved closer to your frame. You did as he said and he circled his arms around you, his leg resting on your thigh and his face nuzzling against your neck, his hair tickling the space behind your ear "Closer"

"That is the closest"

Benedict growled and was drowsily moody as he took your shoulders, turned you flat on your back, growled more and laid again next to you. His head trying to hide somewhere. You smiled at the sight and the softness of the moment and the fact that he was not thinking and was just following his sleepy desires.

You kissed his forehead and he smiled, his nose pressing harder against the spot under your jaw. You closed your eyes yet the pressure on your jaw increased and like a snap you opened your eyes to see Benedict staring at you with a smug face, his chin now on the pillow and his lips kissing your neck.

"You are awake"

"I am" he said and licked your neck, his tongue tasting the saltiness of your skin "You woke me up"

"No, I didn't-"

"You did" he smiled and kissed your cheek "I'm awake"

"Sleep"

"What is that?" he purred and his hand moved to your leg, the tip of his fingers caressing the bare skin of your thigh.

"Benedict" you said and closed your eyes, your mind was not helping, his fingers were moving further and you felt his lips kissing yours.

"Sssshhh"

You felt the soft fingers tracing the seams of your pantalettes and you gasped. He smiled and kissed your lips, his tongue slowly tracing the contour of your lower lip. You sighed and he did the same.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No" you whispered

His lips were back again against yours, his tongue gently asking for entrance and when you complied, you felt a wave of bliss hit your body. His tongue was hot, his taste was a hint of cotton, yes, cotton and you didn't know why. Perhaps you're dreaming.

You felt his hand turning to the waistband of your pantalettes and clear as water his hand was underneath now.

"Ben" you said in a gasp

"Y/N" he groaned and kissed your cheek and neck. His hand moving between the soft material and his knuckles brushing the apex of your legs. Your breathing became erratic as the tip of his index finger explored your folds.

"Ahhhh..." you moaned at the sensation, you had explored there but him? His fingers, as foreign as they were still made perfect sense they were there. How do you know? You just do. Your hands grasped the side of the linen under you and you tried not to tense as he kept tracing up and down, his thumb gently pushing and rubbing on your little nub.

"I will take them off"

"Please" you nodded as you breathed in

He smiled and slowly took them off, the material stuck to his wet knuckles and he saw his hand coated with your "Essence" he grinned and received a soft slap from you "Uhum" he hummed and took your neck as his captive.

"Do not think" he whispered

"I can't"

"Yes, you can" he smiled and his finger traced a line, a line that felt like fire. And you moaned again "Be here with me as I touch you, God, you're so beautiful"

You closed your eyes as he kept kissing you, his mouth, his tongue, and his teeth were all over your face and neck and that tracing stop made you frown until your lips parted at the sensation of his finger strangely close to your... what is there?

"Breathe for me, dear"

You did. In. Out and then you felt his finger factually inside you and it was not strange as feeling it outside. This was warm and this was new.

"Ah" you breathed out and his hand rested on your stomach, his eyes looking at yours and the way he was taking the whole thing. His finger was exploring the depths of your walls, the way it felt, the warmth and tightness of it. "Ben"

"Ben" he repeated and kissed the back of your ear "Never call me Benedict again" he moved his finger and you felt it curve and he stop your body from wiggling, his free hand moved to his side of the bed and took a pillow.

"What?"

"I am going to use the pillow, my love"

You didn't have time to react because the second after the pillow was under your hips, his finger was back again. You moaned loudly and your hand moved to cover your mouth. Benedict frowned.

"Why are you doing that?"

"They could hear"

"Sssshhh no one can"

"But-"

"If you keep quiet I will add a finger"

"How can I if I-"

He stopped you with his kiss and he started moving again, you moaned and moaned and you were sure that the moment he introduced a second finger was the moment when your legs started to move, jolt, and shake at the sensation.

"Oh, my love, oh" he groaned as he saw his fingers coated with more juices, he wanted to taste it, he really did but this was not about him. This was about you. "You are taking this so good"

"Keep going" you groaned and arched your back at the craze. Benedict smiled and kept moving, his lips were peppering kisses on your neck and his thumb was now adding more sensation to your clit.

"Ah!"

"You like that?"

You were a mess of groans and moans. You were trying not to scream but you felt this fire inside you, a fire that was becoming bigger and bigger and more intense and Benedict could see that, feel that, and hear that.

"Let go, Y/N, let go"

Your hands were clawing at the linen, your legs were shaking and then you felt like the world had exploded, the room was spinning, and there was no sound coming from you apart from the erotic splash and clammy sound of his fingers going faster and harder deep in you.

Benedict smiled and slowed down, he saw the way your body was now limp and he was enjoying the view. You were panting and sweating and the glow was there.

"Y/N"

You tried to answer but nothing came out of your lips. Benedict chuckled and kissed your cheek, his fingers leaving your core and he saw the way you were dripping on his hand and your thighs. He groaned.

"My love, I cannot wait for us to marry"

You laughed so deeply at the orgasm you just had, your smile so wide as you turned to see him, his eyes were glowing, his lips were pink, and his hair was a mess.

"Why?"

"Because I cannot wait to be buried deep in you and making you feel better than this"

"There is better than this?"

He nodded and licked his fingers. Your eyes widened at the action and you saw the way his eyes rolled at the taste, his lips licking each digit and his tongue cleaning his hand.

"You have no idea, my love"

"I would love for you to show me"

"Of course" he smiled and his head rested on the pillow "I hope this has been a good experience for you"

You nodded, and your fingers caressed his cheeks "This has been the best of my life"

"Then you are not living enough"

"I will"

"You will"

657 notes · View notes

gi4hao · 2 months

Text

some vernon x acts of service fluff for you ♡

vernon dyed his hair black this morning. he kind of loves it, and he hopes you will too. obviously the execution isn’t perfect; there are some dark stains on his ears and his forehead and he ruined two t-shirts in the process. but he knows how much you love that color on him.

this afternoon, vernon did some shopping. he needed a new shirt and he remembered the pretty bracelet that had caught your eye last time you were in town. he hopes you’ll be happy when he gifts it to you.

and this evening, vernon cooked dinner. it’s not done yet, but it will be in about thirty minutes. mingyu sent him an easy yet sophisticated recipe which he followed to the letter, and it turned out pretty well, at least on the outside. he hopes you’ll like it.

it’s past 7pm when he hears your key turn in the front door’s lock. the oven is a bit greasy, there’s oregano spilled on the counter, the wrapping of your gift is a little messy, and his ears are red from his attempts to remove the dye from his skin. perhaps from stress too.

and suddenly it hits him. he feels stupid. what if he’s doing too much? it is too much, isn’t it?

“hi handsome” your voice pulls him out of his panic as he exits the kitchen, his hands a little moist. you’re ready to lean in for a kiss, it’s almost muscle memory at this point, but the sight of his hair makes you pause.

“love it. and love the new shirt”, you reply, letting your hand brush against the strands of hair on his forehead before finally going in for the kiss. “what’s that smell? did you cook something?”

his ears turn a new shade of red as he grabs your arm to lead you to his living room. “i did, but you don’t wanna go in there right now”, he warns you, grabbing your arm to lead you to the living room instead.

it’s rather unusual for vernon to look so agitated, especially around you. you look at your surroundings, trying to notice anything different.

“is everything okay?”

he nods, a bit faster than usual, before digging his hand in his pocket and pulling out a small gift with a wonky ribbon on top.

“got you a little something today. but you can return it if you don’t like it, or even if you change your mind in a few days. or weeks. or even months, really.”

you’re only now noticing the dye stains on his skin, which draws a chuckle out of you. he looks so frantic it’s almost comical. without a word, you put the gift aside and stand up, pretty sure to know what this is all about.

“i already know i love that gift. i’ll love it forever and i would not trade it for any other. ever. because it comes from you, and that’s all i want.”

completely unfazed by how easily you saw right through him, he looks down at the hand you’re still holding, the one with a brand new silver ring on his fourth finger.

your words were heard and understood, but you can feel him internally tiptoeing around what’s really on his mind. his eyes, however, carry the same sweetness they always do when he looks at you.

“this is gonna sound really dumb but, i just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured to love… my gift. or to commit to it. i promise i won’t be mad if you tell me you don’t want it”, he tells you, grabbing your other hand to get a look at your own ring, the exact same as him.

it’s now 7:25pm, meaning that it’s been almost 24 hours since vernon has gotten down on one knee to ask the most nerve-wracking question of his entire life. 24 hours since you were legally allowed to call him your fiancé, a much awaited upgrade from the ‘boyfriend’ status.

last night had been a dream come true. but this morning, an uneasy feeling had started crawling into vernon’s mind, making him feel like maybe that dream of his would never come true after all.

dyeing his hair, making dinner, buying gifts, he had really thought about doing anything in his power to keep you from second-guessing your answer from yesterday.

still, nothing would calm his mind except maybe hearing the words from your mouth.

“i’ll love your gift because i love you. and because i spent the last 24 hours on cloud nine, thinking about how lucky i am that you proposed”, you told him in your calmest voice. “i’ll be honest, i even spent my entire day practicing saying “my husband” instead of “boyfriend”… and it sounds really, really nice.”

and that is the exact moment when the crushing weight of doubt and insecurity is lifted from vernon’s shoulders.

he still feels a bit stupid, but in a way that feels great, warm and almost comforting. for the second night in a row, he’s overwhelmed by the pure yet simple feeling of knowing his love is perfectly reciprocated.

“so… does that mean you still want me to be your husband?” he asks with a relieved smile as you trap him in the tightest hug, one hand running in his freshly dyed locks.

he loves you and you love him, that’s the one thing he doesn’t need to hope for. he knows it, and oh how he loves knowing it.

#seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon imagines #hansol x reader #seventeen vernon

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whatsnewalycat · 2 months

Text

SURRENDER

Part Two of Ruthless | Stepdad Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6.2k+

Warnings: non-canon, Boston Joel, dub con, step-cest, sneaky sex, use of the word daddy in a sexual context, dad kink (that’s a thing right?), age gap, degradation, praise kink, avoidance, silent treatment, sneaking into bedroom at night, angst, collective grief, mentions of explosions and gunshots (nothing graphic), *it’s about the yearning*, hair pulling, no physical descriptions of reader aside from hair can be pulled, reader is 18-19, Joel being a bad dom and a bad caretaker, hot shower, food mention, mentions of religion, unethical D/s dynamics, dry humping, anal sex, physical restraint, face fucking, sub-space unlocked, dirty talk, dd/lg maybe i think, masochism, like a lick of fluff if u squint

A/N: Heeeey buddy. As stated above, this is a second part to Ruthless. Big thanks to my love @frannyzooey for the help and hype, you're the best. Please be mindful of the warnings and tell me what cults you think exist in post-outbreak tlou.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

———

As the 19-year anniversary of Outbreak Day draws near, unrest festers in the streets of Boston.

Whenever August ticks over into September, residents of the QZ seem to divide into three distinct categories: people who want to forget, people who won’t let them forget, and people who are too young to remember.

Born post-apocalypse, you fall into this third category.

Which doesn’t mean the ripples of loss don’t touch you, contrary to what some may think. You still lost something. Everyone did.

This fact is apparent when you take the scenic route home from your job posting at the distribution center.

Rubble crunches under your shoes as you walk down the crowded sidewalk, passing by a message spray-painted over the battered brick building: WE’VE BEEN FORSAKEN.

Graffitied sentiments like these pop up constantly this time of year. Overnight, almost. Your mom and Joel mostly blame Fireflies for the vandalism. The bombs, too. Apparently they stir shit up to make people uneasy, then recruit those who seem susceptible. That’s what your mom thinks, anyway. ‘Leveraging their grief against them,’ she says.

You think it might be more than that, though.

Yesterday you saw three separate arguments break out in the streets. When you were taking inventory of k-rations this morning, an explosion went off so close-by that boxes rattled off the shelves. It was the second bombing this week, and you don’t foresee it getting better until October.

Sure, the Fireflies lay claim to the lion’s share of vandalism and destruction, but their activity is consistent year round. They are the baseline. But this? This is different.

You attribute the excess chaos to this heavy, static feeling in the air. It clings to your skin and gets stuck under your nails like a thick cloud of invisible dust or spores. Microscopic particles embed themselves in the cracks and creases of each person inside the QZ, fertile ground for clusters of violence to sprout up at every turn.

If you had to guess, you’d say this phenomenon probably spans the globe. All of you felt the loss of Outbreak Day, the whole human collective. Echoes of what humanity lost will likely still be heard a thousand years from now.

Some people refuse to accept this.

Like the guy a few strides ahead of you, who walks by an orange spray-painted message that reads REMEMBER WHAT YOU LOST and sneers, “Almost twenty goddamn years, fuckin’ let it go and move on.”

You watch him. See his neck get all red as he mutters to himself and clenches his fists at his sides. He looks around like he expects someone to challenge him. Nobody does.

This doesn’t seem to satisfy him.

Further up the sidewalk, he encounters a memorial made up of candles and wilting flowers hugging the side of a residential building. He kicks it over and repeats his earlier sentiment, this time louder and directed towards the brick wall.

“It’s been twenty fucking years, get the fuck over it already!”

Of course, a passing spectator indulges him.

“Hey—watch it, asshole!”

The two men puff up their chests and start yelling back and forth, so you cut right down an alleyway to avoid the situation completely.

When you arrive home, you find Joel at the dining room table, hunched over a map, holding a glass of whiskey like it’s a lifeline.

Neither of you say hello, but when you glance up while untying your gritty shoelaces, you catch him staring at you.

A jolt of electricity shoots through you.

He corrects himself, returning his eyes to the map as he takes a big swig from his glass.

“Mom home?”

“No.”

Nodding, you rise to your feet and slip out of your shoes, squirming with the excitement that one syllable brings you.

“When’s she gonna be home?”

He doesn’t look at you. Just shrugs and takes a sip of whiskey, too engrossed in his project to spare you attention.

For weeks, he’s been trying his hardest to pretend you don’t exist, which would be typical behavior if he didn’t fuck you dumb a few weeks ago. Sometimes you’re not even sure that what happened between you was real.

But, then again, sometimes… sometimes you feel him staring at you when he doesn’t think you’ll notice. Sometimes he touches your waist as he passes by. Sometimes at night you hear him pacing the hall outside your bedroom, the faint squeak of the warped floorboards giving him away.

When this happens, you stare at the door and will him to do it. Aching with something stronger than want, you pray for him to cross the threshold. But he never does.

You exhale through slack lips and wrinkle your nose at the canned goods.

“Hungry?”

He grunts in response, which is Joel for ‘I could eat.’

Tilting your head at the handwritten labels, you present the options, “Stew or… meat and beans?”

Another grunt, roughly translating to ‘Both options are fucking terrible,’ a sentiment with which you wholeheartedly agree. You grab the stew and empty it into a saucepan on the gas stovetop.

While it heats, you steal glances at Joel, noticing the rigidity in his demeanor. His set jaw and tense muscles. The deep creases in his furrowed brow.

You’ve coexisted with him long enough to understand he’s not immune to the heady thrum of anguish in the air this time of year. Like you said, nobody is.

Joel distinctly falls into the “people who want to forget” category of the forsaken, but carries whatever or whoever he lost on Outbreak Day like a ten thousand-pound weight on his broad shoulders. He white-knuckles his way through the season of chaos and mourning and tries to act like it doesn’t affect him, but it does.

You can tell, not just from the way he holds the grief captive in his body, but also from the obvious indulgence in his favorite coping mechanism: planning.

Joel is a meticulous planner.

Between smuggling runs, he comes home after a long day of manual labor at some job site and unwinds by plotting logistics. Drinking, too, but he clearly has a favorite.

Hours will go by while he pours over reference material, maps or blueprints, making addendums of any notable changes he and your mom discovered. After this, he deliberates. Joel could chew up weeks with this step. He plots out each possible route, taking into consideration all the penciled-in shortcuts and caches they’ve stashed within a 30-mile radius, then determines the most beneficial path for their next big adventure.

Given FEDRA’s current paranoid state, with the increased patrols and surveillance and whatnot, your mom and Joel won’t be making a trip outside anytime soon. But still, he drinks and plots and winds himself up into a tight obsessive knot.

You divvy up the simmering stew into two bowls, placing one next to his glass of bootleg booze while you take a seat across the table from him. He ignores your presence, just flicks his eyes around the map like it’s supposed to give him the answers.

When you’re halfway done with your bowl, you gently prod him, “It’s gonna get cold.”

Sitting up in his chair, he sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, then folds up the map and sets it aside.

The two of you eat in silence. Each wordless second twists hot beneath your skin. Your mind wanders to the dig of his fingertips in your soft flesh. The sting of his flattened palm. The stretch of his thick cock. The things he said to you—fuck.

You’re tempted to tell him to do it again. To tell him that you’re still abiding by his rules. That you don’t sneak out anymore. That you haven’t felt the sweet bliss of release for weeks because you don’t fucking come without his permission.

Over and over, you rehearse it in your head. You imagine yourself telling him, ‘I’ve been so good for you and you haven’t even noticed.’

The sound of him clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts.

He shifts in his seat a little, studying you, “You still seein’ that boy downstairs?”

Your heart stutters. Heat floods your veins as you shake your head.

“Why not?”

All you can do is stare at him while trying to verbalize an answer. For weeks, you ached for his attention. And now that you have it? The words are stuck in your throat.

You shrug, pushing your empty bowl away to lean your elbows on the table. When you look up at him again, he blinks. Waiting for a response.

A rush of adrenaline makes the world around you buzz.

“Why do you care?”

He clenches his jaw for a moment, then parts his lips to respond.

The apartment door swings open.

Both of you start at the intrusion. You jump to your feet to collect the dirty dishes while Joel turns to greet your mother.

“It’s a fucking madhouse out there,” she grumbles, then pulls out the seat adjacent to him and starts telling him about her day.

———

You step into the shower and hiss in reaction to the scalding hot water.

The fact that it's warmed at all surprises you. Not an unwelcome surprise, even if it hurts a little. Most days the water comes out tepid at best, and you’d gladly accept a third-degree burn over a lukewarm shower.

Besides, the sting feels right on your skin, as weird as that sounds. You relish the pain while washing yourself, thinking, ‘this is what I deserve for feeling this way.’ Hell fire, if the sidewalk preachers are right. If there is such a thing. If you’re not there already.

Only once the water runs cold do you turn it off and go back to your room, leaving the door cracked open behind you. After putting on a big t-shirt and some underwear, you turn off the lights and climb into bed.

For a while you stare at the water-stained ceiling and listen. You hear the roar of FEDRA’s armed vehicles patrolling the streets. Far away, gunshots ring out into the night. Some kid starts crying next door, then his mother lulls him back to sleep.

Closing your eyes, you try to tune it all out and focus on the noises within this unit. Concentrate on the drip-drip-drip of the bathtub faucet. The ripping sound of your mom’s snores.

Then, you hear it.

A creak from the floorboards. Footsteps.

Their bedroom door squeaking open.

Everything goes silent long enough for you hold your breath and scream inside your head, please please please—

It starts again. One careful step, then another.

His presence hovers there at the door for six restless seconds before he opens it and steps inside, closing it behind him.

Your pounding heart squeezes your breath ragged. It comes out this shallow, shaky push and pull that broadcasts your consciousness.

Still, you pretend.

You keep your eyes pinned shut and listen to the advance of his footsteps to your bedside.

Down by your feet, the mattress shifts under his weight. He doesn’t touch you for a while, only watches you, his gaze burning into your skin.

Then, he murmurs, “I know you’re not sleepin’.”

You blink your eyes open to look at him, in boxers and an undershirt, all hunched over at the foot of your bed. Always carrying that weight on his shoulders. The glow of the street lamp outside your bedroom window casts this perfect golden light on him that makes you kind of hate how good he looks.

“What are you doing?” you ask in a whisper.

Over the blanket, he rests his hand on your calf, then takes it back and shakes his head.

You roll onto your side, swinging one leg over the blanket and tucking it between your thighs, a wordless plea for him to touch your hungry skin. Joel shifts further onto the bed, turning his body to stare down at you with a straight spine. His gaze drifts up your exposed skin, fingers twitching in his lap.

This faltering self-discipline compels you.

Joel is nothing if not self-disciplined. That much is true for all the forsaken, yourself included.

Your working theory is that nobody wants after the world ends, they just need. Need to sleep, need to eat, need to fight. Anything to survive one more fucking day. It’s all any of you can ask for.

So do you want him, or do you need him?

And what about him? Joel fucking Miller, with his reinforced concrete walls and heavy heart. Was he ever capable of wanting?

“Joel,” you reach out to touch him, beckoning him to meet you halfway.

His eyes flick to your outstretched hand, then back to your face. He shakes his head, as if declining the offer, but you don’t retreat. You sit up and crawl across the bed to him.

The column of his throat bobs, head rocking back as he watches you come to a stop. He almost lets you touch his cheek when you try again, but snatches your hand away before you can make contact.

“Don’t,” he warns, the tone of his hushed voice deadly serious.

He squeezes your fingers while you study his stonewalled expression, tilting your head at him, “Why did you ask me that earlier? If I’m still seeing Bert?”

“I was curious.”

“Curious why?”

His lips part, then close, gaze dropping to your mouth.

Heat pulses through every inch of your body. You drop your voice to a breathy whisper.

“Were you thinking about what you did to me?”

Something flickers behind his eyes when they snap onto yours. It draws you in, urging you to scoot so close your knees butt-up against his jackknifed leg.

“You fucking loved it, didn’t you?” you ask quietly, smirking a little when his stern face twitches, “You loved how it felt to make me surrender—”

The dull throb of his tightening grip around your hand makes you gasp. A rumble slips from his chest, which could be read as a warning if you had an ounce of self-control left. If you didn’t need him to combust.

You let your gaze drift from his burning gaze down the slope of his nose to his lips, “Do you think about it every time you see me, like I do with you? How fucking good it felt?”

“It was wrong—”

“Then why are you here?”

Your question comes out louder than you expected. It ricochets through the charged space between his body and yours, popping the bubble of awareness around you.

All the little sounds you picked up on earlier seep back into the foreground. FEDRA patrolling. The whiz-pop of firecrackers going off maybe a block away. A faint murmur of conversation in the upstairs unit.

He holds your stare, but doesn’t make a sound until a snore rips from your mom’s chest, signaling crisis averted. When he speaks, his words come out hushed and calm.

“You need to be quiet. Understand?”

The command liquifies your bones.

You lick your lips and nod, “I understand.”

“Good.” He studies you as if deep in thought, finally releasing your hand to pinch your chin and assert, “You know why I’m here. Stop pretendin’ you don’t.”

It’s hard not to fall in line when he’s looking down at you like this, all hot-blooded and self-assured. Cocky, almost. But you try to push his buttons anyway.

“I thought it was wrong.”

“Don’t get cute with me. Yes or no?”

Your pulse flutters. Tongue goes numb. All you can do is nod.

He jostles your head a little, “Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Say yes please.”

“Yes please.”

He works his jaw back and forth, studying you, then tugs your shirt.

“Take this off.”

While you pull the offending garment over your head and toss it aside, Joel moves further onto the mattress, leaning back against the wall.

You follow him, swallowing the static buzzing in your throat as he ushers you onto his lap. The scrape of his rough hands on your waist may as well be a live wire crackling across your skin. He pulls you closer and closer until your belly presses into the worn cotton of his shirt. The heat between your legs settles on his stiff length. When he twitches against you, a heady electric current courses through your body and coaxes a whimper from your lips.

It seems too intimate to look at him, so you cast your gaze downward. Your shaky hands lay flat against his chest, absorbing the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

Being with him like this feels strange. Not strange how it sometimes is with a new partner, that clumsiness before you know how your bodies work together.

It’s strange in a fucked up out-of-context sort of way. Of course, growing up around him never conditioned you to think of him like this. Joel fucking Miller, with his scarred-up knuckles and unending apathy. The only man who could make big brown eyes like that seem cold.

All those years, you never considered him anything more than an obstacle.

Even then, if there was some tiny shimmer of attraction lingering under your skin, a piece of you that wanted more from him, you never thought he could feel so solid and soft and alive. You never dreamed he could make you feel so fucking good.

“This stays between us,” he tells you, more of a command than a request.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

The tips of his fingers dig into your hips, and he purrs, “You’ve been good for me, haven’t you?”

You preen at the warm timbre of his voice, body arching into him as you breathe, “Yes.”

Under your touch, his muscles tense. He exhales hot against your cheek and guides your hips in a rocking motion, slow and steady, rubbing all those aching nerves hard against him.

“You liked it, too. Didn’t you? How I fucked you last time?”

A low-frequency hum throbs deep inside you, amplifying every sensation tenfold. You nod, rolling your hips faster, “I did, I liked it.”

“Yeah, you liked it? Or did you fucking love it?” he hisses, “Dirty little slut like you. Bet you loved getting fucked in the ass, didn’t you?”

“Oh my god, Joel—”

“Tell me.”

“Yes yes yes I fucking loved it—”

Too loud.

He ceases all movement, locking you in place with a steel grip. All ten of his digits bury themselves in your skin. The exquisite pain makes you gasp.

“Hush.”

You clamp down on your lips in an attempt to stifle yourself. Each heaving breath wiggles down to your core and back.

“Look at me.”

If you do, you’ll dissolve at the edges. You know it. You are sugar paper and he is a humid room and you are so incredibly fucked.

Pinching your eyes shut harder, you shake your head and whisper, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll come if I do.”

The confession makes him throb underneath you. He husks, “Do it, look at me.”

You do.

Even in the shadows you can make out his features, his parted lips and hooded gaze. The desire etched into his face as he stares at you, looking mystified in a way you’ve never seen before. Heat percolates beneath your skin, sending your heartbeat racing.

His hips arch into you just so, then he pulls you in and pushes you back, rubbing your body against his, “Do you wanna come? Come for me just like this?”

“Please—please,” you whine, feeling pleasure branch out from your middle as he slides you back and forth, “Please I wanna come for you it’s been so long—”

“Will you be quiet?”

Swallowing a moan, you nod frantically.

His eyes flicker around your face and he breathes, “Go ahead.”

You’re not sure if it’s the flames in his eyes or the fact that you haven’t had an orgasm in almost two months, but the second he gives you permission, the ecstasy you tried so hard to contain spills over the edges and floods your body. It pulses through you hot and hard and makes your mind go white. You have to clasp your hand over your mouth to muffle the guttural noises that try to escape.

“That’s it,” he coos from far away, still grinding your twitching body against him, “There we go. That’s my good girl, hmm?”

“Oh my god—” you whimper at the sharp aftershocks that shoot through you, “It feels so good, Joel, fuck—”

“Do you wanna come again?”

Nodding, you link your hands behind his neck and set yourself in motion, rubbing against him a little faster than his set rhythm. His eyelids flutter as he throws his head back, the muscles under his shirt going taught. Beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, he’s hard as a fucking rock.

Releasing the tight grasp on your hips, he roams up your sensitive skin to your breasts and tests their weight before squeezing. It shoots through you, the pleasure and pain indistinguishable, just a throbbing rush of need. Your breathing comes in heaving gasps and you pinch your eyes shut again, tilting your head towards the ceiling as you once again find yourself struggling to keep quiet.

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you.

You snap them open and meet his.

“Good girl.”

And—god, the way he looks at you, his gaze hungry and wild. Fucking maddening. Simultaneously, you wish he would stop—the contact too intense, too intimate—and pray that it never fucking ends.

Heat bubbles up inside you. You bury your fists in his hair and roll your hips faster, chasing the scorching need for more.

He hisses and pushes back against your thrusts, murmuring, “That’s it, grind that pussy on me, make yourself feel good.”

“Fuck—fuck yes, it feels so fucking good—”

“I can feel how fucking wet you are, leakin’ all over me. You do love it, don’t you, baby?”

You start to tremble and nod, trying your hardest to whisper when you tell him, “Yes yes yes I do I fucking love it—I wanna come again, can I please come again, please please—”

“Listen to you. So good, askin’ for permission.” He brings a hand to your face and brushes his knuckles against your cheek, “Such a quick learner.”

“Joel—”

“Do it. Make yourself come again.”

Something untethers inside you. Heartbeat pounding behind your ears, you work your body against him in jerky movements, each one more delicious than the last. His eyes burn into yours, all heavy-lidded and lust-blown in the darkness, watching your face twist up with pleasure as the hot gooey feeling between your legs stretches wider and wider, then overtakes you completely.

You give in to it with a shattered breath, burying your face against his shoulder to muffle your moans. He holds you down, making sure you smother your cries in the damp cotton of his t-shirt as wave after electric wave washes over you.

When your spasms start to peter out, and your rolling hips come to a stop, he releases his stronghold to pet your hair. Your heaving chests meld together, breath syncing up into a steady ebb and flow as he smooths his palm up and down your spine.

For a moment, it’s just this. Just the soothing motion of him rubbing your back, calming your boneless body. Soft and quiet with everything else stripped away.

Emotion swells in your chest and tingles up your throat, behind your eyes. You try to hide it, the fact that you’re crying, but it becomes obvious when a sob escapes you.

Joel shifts a little, then tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. He searches your face and frowns, furrowing his brow.

“I’m sorry,” you wipe your tears and cast your eyes downward, “I—I don’t know why this is happening, I’m sorry. I’m stupid.”

“No—hey, no,” he assures you, “It’s fine.”

You shake your head.

“Look at me,” he commands, and when you do, he cups your cheek and holds your gaze, “It-it’s normal to feel… emotional. Really, it’s ok.”

The warmth and sincerity of this—his touch, his eyes, his words—makes your heart stutter. It curls up inside you and sedates your jumpy nerves.

You sniffle and nod, “Ok.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he studies you, bringing his hands to your waist. The longer you stare at each other, the more all the subtle signs of his lust come back into focus. How his tongue peaks out to wet his lips when he looks at your mouth. The heavy thudding of his heart. His strained breath and throbbing cock.

Your gaze drifts to his lips. A needy, aching desire simmers at the base of your spine. It seems wrong to kiss him. More sensual than sexual, rooted in something he will never have for you. But still, you wonder.

You wonder how soft his plush lips would feel against yours. How he would taste. Whether or not he would use tongue, or teeth, or both.

Your fingertips twitch hesitantly towards his mouth. He doesn’t pull away or admonish you, even though you give him ample time to protest. When you make contact, smoothing your touch over the pillow of his bottom lip, he murmurs against your fingers, “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m never gonna be, either, I wanna make that clear. That’s not what this is.”

“I know you’re not my fucking boyfriend, Joel.” You scoff at the thought, “Boyfriend. I don’t want that. I don’t need a boyfriend. What I need…” you watch your touch drift from his mouth to his jawline, where you scrape your nails through his scruff, “What I need is someone to fuck the thoughts out of my head.”

“Fuck the thoughts outta your head,” he repeats, almost a chuckle, “That’s what you need, huh?”

“That’s what you need, too. Isn’t it?”

Something smolders behind his gaze as he searches your face.

“You can use me, you know. Take whatever you need from me. Use me like a fuck toy, Joel, I fucking need it.”

His whole body reacts to your request, muscles flexing taught as he clenches his jaw.

You bat your lashes at him and pull yourself close enough to feel his breath on yours when you ask, “Don’t you need a little fuck toy like me, daddy?”

“You’re a sick girl, you know that?”

“You like it.”

Neither of you can deny the other’s accusation, resulting in a stand-off that tingles beneath your skin and makes your heart pound in your throat.

Subconsciously, you rock your hips forward and suck in breath when his cock throbs against your clit. He pushes back, flooding your veins with fire, “Are you gonna keep quiet if I fuck you?”

“Are you gonna shut me up if I can’t?”

He lets out one single amused chuckle, then asks, “Are you really tryna test me right now?”

Suppressing a smile, you shake your head.

“That’s what I thought.”

Something in the way he says it blooms heat in your chest. His tone teasing, almost playful.

He gives your ass a light smack, then tugs at your underwear, “Take these off.”

You roll off him onto the mattress and slide them down your legs while he stands to strip naked. Seeing his cock makes your body hum. It stands at attention, bobbing a little when Joel catches you staring.

Sidling up to the bed, he beckons you closer, so you follow his silent guidance and crawl over to him, wrapping your hand around his thick length. You glance up at him, licking your lips as you await further instructions.

“Get it nice ‘n’ wet for me.”

Nodding, you bring your mouth to the head of his cock, exploring first with your tongue, licking up the salty dribbles of lust. You taste a hint of yourself on him too, arousal that soaked through his boxers and marked him yours. Temporarily, at least. At least for tonight, or at least for right now.

A pleased rumble erupts from his chest when you wrap your lips around him and start to slide up and down his shaft. He feels solid and warm and fills your mouth completely. The first time he hits the back of your throat, you gag and pull off him, working him with your hands as you catch your breath.

“Do it again.”

You take him in your mouth, rutting up and down a few times before sitting up taller to drive him down your throat. He buries his fists in your hair and thrusts his hips forward, “There we go, that’s it—fuck, you’re so fucking good at that.”

His praise sparks at your core. You whine around his cock and bob against his thrusts. It doesn’t matter that you can’t breathe. You don’t need oxygen, you just need this. The sting of his grip prodding your movements, the raw stretch of him fucking your airway, the wet squelch that fills the room.

When he yanks your head back and unclogs your throat, you gasp for breath and stroke him with both hands, churning his slick length. Fire roars in his eyes when you look up at him.

He grabs your chin and husks, “Say thank you.”

“Thank you.”

He smacks your cheek and grabs your chin again, “Say thank you for fucking my face.”

“Thank you for fucking my face, I fucking love it—”

“Say please can I have some more.”

“Please can I have some more, daddy?”

Stifling a groan, he crams it back in your drooling mouth, down your throat, snapping his hips in sharp, quick thrusts that make you gurgle with pleasure around him. Far away, you hear him panting, “Take it take it take it—”

The chorus makes your body tingle. You think about your mom sleeping in the other room, how there’s just a wall between her and this. How she could wake up at any moment and follow the muffled, hedonistic noises. How she would find Joel balls deep in your mouth and you giving him something she never could: control.

This time when he pulls you off his cock, he uses his white-knuckle grip on your hair to make you flip over and turn around, ass in the air towards him.

The head of him nudges up against the tight ring of your asshole. You hear a wet splat, then feel the heat of his spit trickling down between your cheeks. Your body clenches with anticipation as he smears it around.

“Remember, you gotta relax,” he murmurs, releasing your hair to smooth a palm against your spine.

You inhale a deep breath and exhale the tension from your muscles, letting your heart melt into the mattress.

“Good girl,” he arches forward, breaching your entrance.

The sharp sensation splits you open. It pulls a wanton moan from your lips that rings through the silent apartment like a siren.

Yanking you up by your hair, Joel secures your back to his humid chest and clasps a hand over your mouth. Stars invade your field of vision as he drives his cock deeper and deeper, only stopping when he can’t go any further. You sob against his palm, so he pulls it down harder, muffling the noise until you stop.

Everything goes silent and still, but you can’t even bring yourself to worry that you woke her. Not when all you can hear is your thudding heart and his ragged breath, coarse with what you assume is rage or lust or both. Not with his lightning rod cock vibrating hot up your middle.

It doesn’t matter that she could walk in to find her common-law husband fucking your ass, or that this discovery would burn all your lives to the ground. All you care about is more. More stimulation, more attention, more Joel—more more more—

You try to move your hips in an attempt to create friction, but his vice grip renders you immobile. So you stay in place and try not to make noise as the flames lick at your insides. You squirm and ache and claw at his arms while he muffles your whimpers.

Then your mom snores in the other room.

He pulls his hand from your mouth and you gasp for air.

Thinking you can get ahead of the inevitable scolding, you plead, “I’m sorry—”

He drags his cock out of your body, then plunges it back inside, all the while hissing, “If you’re gonna be my little fuck toy—”

“Holy fuck—”

“—You have to be fucking quiet. Do you understand?”

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand, I’ll do better, I promise—please just fuck me, please please—”

You strangle a moan in your throat when he slips a hand between your legs and draws tedious circles on your clit.

“Try ‘n’ breathe through it,” he coaches, “I’ll go slow for you this time, ok? Just remember, shut the fuck up and take deep breaths.”

You suck in air until your chest is full, then release it, restricting its flow through a narrow space between your lips. You do it again. Tension begins to melt from your bones. It has a clarifying effect, allowing you to relish in the heat of his touch. You take another deep breath, only hitting a snag when Joel starts to rock his hips.

It feels fucking unreal. Rough and raw, the steady drag of his cock fills you with static electricity over and over.

“Oh fuck—”

“Shhh…”

Your inhale stutters, but you regain control on the exhale. Everything disappears except him. His heated skin sticking to yours. How fucking full he makes you feel with each thrust. The thick swell of pleasure that accumulates every time he flicks his wrist. You surrender to all of it, to Joel, entrusting him with everything except your breath.

“That’s it, baby, let go.”

“It feels ssso gooood,” you whisper, head rolling back onto his shoulder, “Nothing’s ever felt this good, holy shit—”

His lips tickle your ear as he purrs, “Such a good little fuck toy, aren’t you, baby?”

You gasp a little when the velvet of his tongue rolls against your pulse. Nodding, you reach back behind his neck to scrape your fingernails through his curls. He does it again, this time sealing his lips to suck on the sensitive skin. Your heart pounds thick and hot through your body. The edges peel back at the corner of your mind. You push back against his thrusts, panting out subdued whimpers as the fire in your belly begins to spread.

“Do you wanna come?”

“I do, I wanna come—oh my god I wanna come, please make me come, daddy—”

His hand covers your mouth and holds you down so he can fuck you harder, stretching you out wide and filling you deep. He works your clit faster. The bed frame thumps against the wall in a frantic rhythm that matches the wet slap of his thrusts. Tears prick your eyes and heat swells beneath your skin, pressure building more and more until you think you can’t fucking take it anymore—

His palm smothers your moans as you fall apart, breaking into a million pieces and coming back together again with a choked sob. Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck and groans as his hips snap forward, then stutter to a stop.

The two of you go slack propping each other up, too loose-limbed and lethargic to peel yourselves away at first. He makes the first move to separate, though, uncovering your mouth to brush the damp hair from your forehead, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you tell him instinctively, then second-guess yourself and look up to meet his eyes, “I mean, I don’t know. I think so.”

He studies you, nodding.

Hesitation buzzes in your chest when you contemplate whether or not to return his question. It seems unlikely he’d cooperate even if you wanted to know the answer. So instead, you give him his out.

“Is this goodnight, then?”

“Suppose it is.”

A flicker of something passes between your bodies as you stare at each other. It feels so hot to the touch that you chicken out, glancing away as you whisper, “Will you do something for me before you go?”

“Hmm?”

“Tuck me in?”

The noise that comes out of him is half-grunt, half-chuckle. Joel for, ‘You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.’ But he obliges, pulling his soft cock from your body at a mercifully slow speed before allowing you to make yourself comfortable. He sorts out your blanket and drapes it over your body, then starts fishing his clothes off the floor.

Tugging his shirt over his head, he asks, “Need anything else, princess?”

You’re sure it’s a dig, but choose to ignore it as you snuggle into the covers and hint, “Don’t make me wait so long next time.”

He sits down at the edge of your mattress and threads his legs through the boxers, “I’ll make you wait as long as you need to. What else?”

“Mmm. Goodnight kiss?”

“Goodnight kiss,” he scoffs to himself, then looks back over his shoulder at you, “Fine, then I’m goin’ to bed.”

He turns to face you more directly, folding a knee onto the bed as he leans in and tilts your head to the side, pressing a gentle kiss into your cheek. Even though you wish he had kissed your lips, you close your eyes and savor the affection while you can.

After murmuring goodnight, Joel leaves. He crawls back into bed with your mother while you memorize the sound of his retreating footsteps.

#joel miller #x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ruthless joel miller #whatsnewalycat writes #pedro pascal smut

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 1 month

Text

The Witch's Bodyguard

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Bodygaurd!Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda is in need of a new bodyguard and you are called upon to fill in.

Word Count:

Warnings: None this is just a set up and establish chapter

A/N: I'm so glad you're all looking forward to this series!

Wanda Maximoff; sure you'd heard the name before. She was one of the top celebrities around. You didn't pay any of it much mind as you worked security at a gala. Your manager had asked you to work there since she'd be there talking about contracts with people. She had other bodyguards under her, but she always favored you.

“Y/N?” You hear your manager, Val, called out as you stand on the balcony making you turn towards her. Next to her was Wanda Maximoff, you'd seen her around talking with a handful of others like Natasha Romanoff and Kate Bishop.

“What's up Val? Everything okay?” You ask immediately going into guard mode. She chuckles a bit, putting a hand on your bicep.

“Calm down. Nothing serious. Miss. Maximoff here was asking about you when she overheard me speaking so highly of you.” You looked over at the ash blonde, you had seen earlier someone playing the trailer for her upcoming movie which explained the blonde instead of her natural brunette.

“Ma'am.” You gave a nice enough smile and held out your hand.

“It is very nice to meet you…” Her voice trailed off, leaving you to fill in.

“Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” She smiles and takes your hand. You see her eyes rake over you, assessing if you'd be a good fit. Currently you were wearing black army pants and a tight fitting black short sleeve shirt. As she looked you over, you swear you see her bite her lip.

“You said she's available, right?” Wanda looks away, back to Val, as if you suddenly don't exist anymore.

“Yes she's open right now. We can draw up a contract for you to look over if you'd like?” Val suggests earning a smile from Wanda.

“That would be lovely. Can it be ready tomorrow? My last bodyguard had to take a leave so I am I'm need of one as soon as possible.” You wonder what could have possibly happened for only a moment before your presence is being requested elsewhere through your ear piece.

“It was lovely to meet you Miss. Maximoff, but I'm needed in the main hall concerning a matter.” You take your leave with a smile, getting one back from both women.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You had woken up at 5am, done your workout, showered, and had breakfast before you were being summoned by Val for this new contract. Standing in the at home office with Val, Wanda, and a handful of lawyers and other important people from Wanda's team all gathered. You stood at ease behind Val wearing much the same as you were yesterday. Only difference was an army green shirt today.

“We need your signature Mrs. Y/L/N, can we get your signature?” One of the lawyers asked.

“It's Miss and yes you can.” The lawyer looked at the paperwork and Val then went back to you. “I told you to fix that, Val.” you hissed as you signed and initial on the lines indicated. You were used to this by now. You'd been through dozens of contracts with Val. You knew every word in the contract by now.

Your eyes flicked up to Wanda, feeling her eyes on you as you signed. It felt like she wanted to say something, but decided against it as you finished your signatures, pushing the papers back to the lawyer.

When everything was said and done most of Wanda's team left leaving just Wanda, Val, her manager Agatha, and yourself. There was small talk mostly of what it would entail. One of them being you'd be a live-in bodyguard for her. Sure Wanda had other guards, but you would be her personal bodyguard and she needed you at all times of the day.

You couldn't complain really. Leaving the old stuffy apartment you'd wanted to leave behind for a while now would be good. You didn't have to pay rent or anything. Food would be provided and you'd still be getting a paycheck each week. It was probably the best possible outcome you could have asked for.

“Well hire some movers to get all your belongings and bring them here.” Wanda spoke as you followed her down the hallway, her heels clicking on the hardwood. You took in the different pieces of artwork she kept around the house. Her home is mostly filled with white, gray, and blacks. The only splashes of color are scarlet hues every so often mixed into things such as a blanket or an accent rug. “This will be your room here.”

She opens a door to show off a rather blank room at the moment, but it's bigger than your whole apartment had been and it even has its own bathroom. You were a little in shock. This was a first for you being 24/7 for someone so you'd never stayed in any other celebrity's houses.

“Once we get your stuff here anything else you might need we can go get or order whichever you prefer.” You honestly weren't sure what to say.

“Oh thank you Miss. Maximoff, but once we get my things here I should be fine. I don't need much, honestly if I didn't have anything besides clothes this room alone would be enough for me.” She let's out a bubbly laugh at your statement.

“A minimalist. I like that.” She responds and you turn to fully face her.

“I did four tours in Afghanistan ma'am you learn to live minimally.” You tell her. She pauses a moment as if unsure what to say as she just looks at you.

“Straight out of high school?” She finally asks, but you have the feeling it wasn't what she really wanted to say.

“Yes ma'am. Did four tours and then met Val through a martial art class. I was trying to blow off steam in a healthy manner after coming back. We got to talking and she asked if I wanted to work for her. The rest is history.” You explain without giving away too much. You didn't like any one person knowing everything. She simply nods.

“Well if you need to grab anything we can go do that. Clothes, essentials, all the big stuff we can worry about tomorrow.”

“We?”

“Yes. You're supposed to stay close to me and if you need to grab your things then I'm going with you.” She says with a smile. Guess you were stuck with her now. At least she's nice. You've had to work with some people who aren't and you couldn't stand being around them.

“We can go whenever you're ready.” she tells you, starting to leave the room as you follow close behind.

“Ready when you are ma'am.”

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @rroyale-109 @wandanat01 @scarlizziee @nixxnsworld @snoozingredpanda @mrsromanovaa @sweet--escape17

#ley speaks #ley writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #actress!wanda #beefy!fem!reader #bodyguard!reader #bodyguard au #The Witch's Bodyguard #TWB

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justanerdy-gal · 4 months

Text

"Do You Resent Me?" (Astarion x Tav)

-> pairing: Astarion x Tav -> content: fluff/angst -> summary: In which Tav wonders whether Astarion resents her for convincing him to choose to reject the Black Mass ritual and not Ascend. Full of angsty fluff.

-> notes: The finished version of the WIP I posted yesterday. Astarion & Tav draws all the angst and cheesy fluff out of me 🥹

——————

“Do you resent me?”

Astarion looks up, wearily, from the corner of the Elfsong Tavern room that they had been staying in for some time now.

“Darling….what would I have to resent you for…?”

You slowly walk over to his corner of the room, and sit beside him on the edge of the bed. You observe him as he turns his gaze over to the hands in his lap.

“It…just feels like…you may have made your choice because of…me.”

Astarion turns his head to look back at you, betraying nothing in those crimson eyes at the moment, but listening.

“If I wasn’t around….you would have been free to make the choice you always wanted,” you continued, your eyes glassing over as you ponder the thoughts that have been plaguing you since the moment Astarion made his choice in the Szarr palace.

“The freedom that you always craved… did I take that away from you?”

Astarion’s eyes widened as you made your declaration.

“You… think it wasn’t the right choice?”

“Not that,” you tried to clarify. “Maybe… maybe I don’t know what the right choice is. But what mattered is… your choice.”

“You trusted me. You trusted me with a choice that, in the end, goes back centuries…” your voice starts to shake. “A choice with consequences you must live with for…eternity.” You look up at him as tears finally threaten to pour from your eyes. “What right did I have, to ask you to sacrifice yourself to the shadows?”

Astarion stares at you as he ponders your statement. He looks away from you as he stares at the cracked, drying paint on the wall of the old room.

“I think about it every minute, every moment.” Astarion speaks slowly, softly. “I think about the colours of the city. The warmth of the rays at dawn, beckoning me towards the next day. I think about the sanguine hunger I have suffered for over 200 years, and how I could be free from that pain. Free from all limitations. And how that will never be now… once the parasite is destroyed.”

You look up at him in despair as your body threatens to let out a sob.

“And I think about… how it would never be enough.”

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. His gaze had softened as his fingers move to entwine in your own.

“I see the colours through your eyes, through the stories that you tell me of your adventures. I feel the warmth through your skin as you lay beside me every night.”

“And your blood can sate me better than any power can.” You giggle as he smirks, softly wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Before you, before this nautiloid fiasco … I had no reason to want anything else but freedom and power. I only lived to escape what I was. I had everything to gain. And nothing to lose. So ofcourse, this Ascension seemed like an obvious choice.”

“But everything changed,” Astarion said breathily. “From the moment you wormed your way into my heart…you became a complication that I never expected. Suddenly, I had everything to lose.”

“I would have stayed,” you say thickly.

“I know you would,” Astarion says sadly, “but would you have been happy?”

“I probably would have been happy…happier than I was, for sure.” Astarion stares distantly at the wall as he speaks. “But where would that happiness end? What would sate me, if my happiness was dependent on power? I would have to take more, control more, be more…it is surely the fate that befell Cazador, that befalls all with power…more power than they know what to do with.” Astarion winces as he utters his late master’s name. “The need for power, for control, can never be sated. It would never be enough. Nothing would ever be enough.”

“But you, with me, here? That is enough. You are enough. We are enough.”

You pause as you ponder his words for a moment.

“Am I?” you whisper weakly as you stare at your entwined hands.

You feel the chill of his hands as they move up to hold your face tightly, and tilts your head up to look at him. The intensity in his eyes at that moment was like nothing you’ve ever seen on him before.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, staring fiercely into your eyes, as if he was speaking through to your soul. “There is nothing in the world that I wouldn’t sacrifice to remain here by your side. You are my eternity. My mad love. Besides,” Astarion smiles as he stares into your eyes. “I still think it was the right choice, regardless. If I could go back and do it all over again, I’d make the same choice. Every time.”

Astarion’s words cause the tears that you were holding back to creep up to the surface, as your body begins to wrack with heavy sobs, as you let out the doubt and fear that you have been holding since you both learned that the Ascension was a thing – since you have contemplated that potential decision every minute of every day, since the moment Astarion asked you to help him, and you convinced him to give away that power, to save those souls, to save himself. Astarion pulls your head to his chest and holds you tightly as you shake against him.

“My darling, why do you weep? Don’t sell yourself so short. No one else has a heart like you. You’re the only one,” Astarion whispers into your ear.

“I love you,” you declare into his shirt, tears still staining the soft, white material.

“I love you too,” Astarion says, leaning backward, pulling you down with him until he was laying on his back, with your head resting on his chest, hands softly caressing your hair. “I can’t imagine another way I would want to spend the rest of my days, my love. I’m not afraid – not anymore. And especially not of our future.”

And that is how you both fell asleep, with the two of you in eachother’s arms and your dreams of the future in eachother’s hearts.

——————

My AO3 and Twitter 🙂

MASTERLIST

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #astarion fluff #tav fanfic

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josephquinnswhore · 10 months

Text

Her Sanctuary

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: you start pulling away from Joel, he’s scared he’s going to lose you.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: mentions of anxiety, bad mental health. Joel talking about Sarah!!! 😭 soft Joel!!!!! Hurt/comfort.

Note: kinda just wrote this on a whim after rewatching the last of us. I miss joel. @cool-iguana ily.

You were an outspoken person. About everything. There wasn’t a single topic you didn’t have an opinion on. Always a snarky reply, a joke, or following pun. That’s just who you were.

Joel spent months wishing you weren’t like that. That you’d just shut up so he could have a few moments of silence between you. His limited replies included a scowl, raised eyebrow or an annoyed grunt. He spent months travelling across the country with you, refusing to open up and reluctantly teaching you how to shoot his rifle.

He didn’t like how you made him feel. How he had started looking at you romantically. The sound of your laugh stirred something in him. Your bright eyes lightened the darkness in his own.

He never allowed himself to let you in; as much as a fight he put up. You wormed yourself into the cracks in the walls around his heart and started to mend him. He doesn’t know when it happened exactly, all he can remember is wanting to hear more of her laugh, he even found her a joke book in an old RV he scouted one evening at the trailer park they posted in overnight.

He had learned how to accept your brightness, for all its worth. Your dorky comments, crooked grin and boisterous laugh. Even those small touches to his back and arm when you would pass by, excusing yourself. Always followed by a mumbled, “sorry.”

But this.. this he didn’t know what to do. He was tearing himself up inside for not knowing what to do. You were quiet today, something bubbling inside of you that radiated off and in between them in a depressing aura that had Joel feeling breathless.

He even found himself staring at you, from the corner of his eyes, turning his head to watch you, making sure you kept up as you lingered a few steps behind him, completely silent. Not laughing, not crying. Silent.

It was heart wrenching and he couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces together to finish the puzzle. Nothing extreme had happened that they hadn’t faced before. They’d fought off some infected yesterday but—it couldn’t have possibly been that. They were fine. They survived.

Maybe you just wasn’t coping as well as he thought you were.

He tried to think of things to cheer you up, and the guilt consumed him when he realised he didn’t really know much about you. He had never asked. It was always you asking about him, pestering to know more about him. He cursed himself for being so selfish.

The harsh reality of their one sided dynamic hit Joel hard, he had always protected her, with his physical strength and ability to kill. That primal instinct that kept them both alive and for what? He couldn’t help her when she actually needed.

He felt utterly useless.

Until. He had an idea. That stupid fucking joke book that she treasured, had to cheer her up right? It had to draw out one of those loud laughs that made his insides flip, the smile that made your eyes squint that his heart craved to see.

He reached into his pack, pulling it out. She’d stashed it in there, insisting that her pack had no more room. He didn’t argue, he knew she struggled carrying the weight. He decided that day that he could carry the extra burden for things that she decided she couldn’t bare.

This baggage however, was tricker. He would take it if he could. He hoped this would work.

He turns around to look at you and what he saw made him feel like there was a metal vice around his heart, your slumped shoulders and black eye bags complimented a vacant look in your eyes, you were unrecognisable in comparison to your default sunshine personality.

“Hey, I was thinkin’ about that algae-bra joke you told me the other day.” He tried to make his voice as soft as he could when he spoke to you, trying to nudge a reaction.

Nothing, she barely looks at him. “Hm?”

“Anyways, I was thinkin’ we could pass the time with this.” He held the joke book in his hand, swinging his pack back over his shoulder, adjusting his rifle strap as he shuffles on his feet.

You felt a spark of something, something that was quickly put out by the fear and darkness that felt so consuming.

“Maybe later?” You offer quietly, walking past him. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Joel felt defeated. How had he failed so badly. How did he let this fester inside of her like a fucking disease that he didn’t know how to get rid of.

This was an infection in your mind; that he figured on his own. This kind of infection he didn’t know how to cure. He had always pushed his own anxiety and panic attacks down burying them, until he learnt to live with it.

But you; the one fucking good thing in his life that brought him life, hope. He wouldn’t allow you to ignore it, to let it consume you.

He wasn’t going to let you fall victim. He would do whatever it took.

He set up camp in silence, stuck in his head about how the fuck he was going to help you, a feeling of shame overwhelmed him as he sits by the fire, rubbing his hands together as you sit in your sleeping bag, across from him.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, legs pulled to your chest. It made you look smaller, the way you held yourself protectively. A reflection of the flames flicking in her eyes only made the mood more somber.

He can’t say something came over him, possessed him to say what he felt bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to lose her. To him, you were too important, you disarmed him and weaselled your way into his heart. He wasn’t going to let you leave, not ever.

“When my little girl used to get upset, she always shut me out like this, like what you’re doin’, I always told myself she’ll come around.” He nods to himself, as if reminiscing the memory.

You stay silent, watching him. Watching his expression soften.

“An’ now she’s gone it’s all I regret. Not doin’ more. Not making more of an effort with shit like that. Fuckin’ haunts me.”

Not once in the months they’ve travelled he had mentioned having children, a daughter, let alone a decreased one. He had mumbled a few times in his sleep, incoherently a name. Serine, Sari, Sarah? You could never figure it out, and never pried.

But here he was, sitting across from her looking on with longing eyes and his features the most relaxed she’d ever seen.

“I ain’t makin’ that same mistake again, seein’ you like this, pullin’ away. Feels like I’m failin’ all over again.” His admission shocks you, enough to stun a quiet confession from your own lips before you could think.

“I thought you were going to die.” He seems surprised to hear you talking, but stays silent, wanting you to talk more, wanting to hear more.

“I know we’ve dealt with plenty of infected.. we’ve had some close calls even, sure.” Your heart clenched as you recall.

Joel lying on the ground with that infected on top of him, Joel’s gun inches away as he fumbles, fingertips desperately grasping the hairs of grass as he searched for his weapon.

Holding the infected away with one arm, grunting in a struggle that he was bound to lose. It’s rotten teeth and fleshy stench was so close to grazing Joel’s neck. Inches away from sealing his fate.

You had somehow mustered some courage inside of you to tackle the infected, throwing it off Joel and giving him a split second to reach for his gun and put a bullet in the back of the infected’s head.

Your jeans still stunk, of gunpowder and blood. A stench so vile you couldn’t help but relive the moment, it was on your mind every second, unable to process it all.

You almost lost Joel. Joel almost fucking died. It was a breath away.

“I thought if I just—shut down maybe you’d get tired and ditch me.. worse yet I’d stop caring about you so damn much.” Joel’s ears perked at her soft admission.

“And I know you think I’m just—some annoying fucking girl that you have to protect and feed and I’m sorry..“ Joel wouldn’t allow another word.

“Hey. Look at me, now.” His tone was soft, but held a firmness, there was no doubt he wasn’t asking you. He needed you to look at him.

His face looked so soft beyond the flames of the fire, his expression was tender and kind; as no one had ever seen before. He looked beautiful, fuck, he was handsome. You’d always thought so.

“I know it was a close call, we’ve learnt from it, yeah? We won’t make the same mistake.” You nod, Joel continues.

“Don’t pull away from me sweetheart. Please.”

You open your mouth to say something, but Joel interrupts by patting the space beside him.

“C’mere sweetheart. C’mon.” You don’t waste a moment to plop beside him. He wraps his sleeping bag around you and his big hands grip around your torso to pull you into his.

“Tell me you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

For the first time since you’ve known Joel. He was the one asking for comfort, reassurance.

“Promise I’m not going anywhere Joel.” You nuzzle into him, his natural musk strung a desire out of her that all she could do was lean into him.

“You get some rest now. I’ll keep ya safe.” He murmurs into her ear, a promise.

All you could do was obey him. Closing your eyes as your body and mind revelled in the intimacy and vulnerability of this moment.

His head rested on top of yours, your hair gets stuck in the rugged coarse hairs of his beard. He finds himself nuzzling into you, allowing himself to get lost in you. After months of fighting you; he lets go. He lets you in.

You were his. And he wasn’t going to let anything fucking hurt you. Not even yourself. He would be your sanctuary. No matter what it took.

#Joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou #angst #the last of us #Joel miller x reader #Joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #soft joel miller

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 months

Text

Easy Like A Sunday morning ~ BC

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

GENRE: comfort for family drama, argument between couple, established relationships, angsty, with soft ending

PAIRING: Chan x GN !Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The sun beamed through the cracks in the bedroom blinds as you lay with your head on Chan's chest, your fingers running up and down his chest softly as the two of you lay there for what felt like forever. Sundays were always the best for the two of you, neither of you had to work which meant you could spend all day in bed if you felt like it, which nine times out of ten you always did.

You'd lay in bed, tangled in the sheets enjoying the warmth of a lazy Sunday morning, doing nothing but eat and laugh together as you shared moments you couldn't wait to tell your future kids about.

"I love lazy Sundays with you," You said with a giant smile, your hands drawing invisible patterns into Chan's bare chest as he smiled and let out a content sigh.

There was nowhere else he'd rather be than with you, work had been stressful to him all week and this had been exactly what he needed to unwind from the chaos of his boss. The two of you needed this time together to just relax, sometimes it was the only thing you had to look forward to after a shitty time at work.

"Me too...No rush...No plans," He sighs happily as he stretches his legs in the bed making you giggle a little at him as he finally stopped and wrapped his arm around your waist,

"Just us, TV and lots of food." He finished as you let out a giggle. The two of you would always cook for one another, taking turns every Sunday to see who would cook for the other and this week it had been you.

So you'd made you both some breakfast wraps which had gone down a treat with Chan who'd already had three from you.

"We should do this on Saturdays too," You mumbled, turning to lay with your chin resting on your boyfriend's chest and smiling a little. Saturdays were usually reserved for spending time with your family but after the big blowout you'd had with them yesterday you were hoping you'd limit your time with them as much as humanly possible.

"I thought you were always busy on Saturdays..." Chan trailed off a little trying not to seem as hurt as he was by never getting to spend the full weekend with you but it was confusing for him. The two of you had been together for almost five months now and you'd never been free on Saturdays and whenever he asked you about it, you'd brushed it off as nothing or told him you were working.

"Turns out I might be free more often now," You smiled weakly and looked at Chan who appeared to be elsewhere in his own mind so you bit your lip and turned his head to look at you.

"I love you." You whispered before reaching across and kissing him softly. Chan's arms wrapped around you as he pulled you closer to him, his worries melting away as he shared a peaceful kiss with you. As you moved to straddle his lap something sounded downstairs and you stalled completely, your hands resting on Chan's bare chest and you frowned.

No one else had a key except for Chan - who was present and accounted for and...

"Shit!" You hissed out, rushing over to the end of the bed and throwing Chan's clothes in his direction, you looked at him to see him frowning at you.

"What?! Who is it?!" Chan sat bolt upright, panicking as you rushed to find your own clothes, you didn't have time to explain anything to him right now, all you needed to do was hurry up and get dressed before someone walked into your room.

"Yn, this would be a bad time to tell me you're secretly married with a husband." Chan chuckled lightly trying to make you talk to him but you shook your head at him, whimpering a little as you heard the front door slam shut.

"I'm not..I-I just- You need to go."

"What? Why?" The confusion was written across his face as he got dressed, grabbing his bag from your hands as you swallowed a lump that was in your throat.

"Yn! Get down here! We need to talk!" Your mother's voice screeched from down the stairs making your whole body tense up so hard you were afraid you were never gonna move again.

"Y-You need to get out of here before they see you," Your voice barely grew louder than a whisper but Chan heard you as he frowned,

"Why can't they see me?" Chan's voice came out in a whisper too and you cringed as you heard your brothers rumbling around in the kitchen,

"P-Please." Your shakey voice made Chan panic but he nodded his head, a little unsure as to where all of this was coming through.

The two of you had been going out long enough that you could easily meet one another's family, hell, you'd already met Chan's and they all adored you. Whenever Chan had asked about your family, you'd told him it was "complicated" and that you weren't that close but for them to walk into your home it seemed pretty close to him,

"Explain to me what's going on." He wasn't demanding but more concerned, your mother sounded pissed off and he wasn't going to leave you alone if you were worried about them.

"I will...later, I'll distract them and you can go out the front door." You looked out of the blinds to make sure none of them were waiting in the back and you made your way to the bedroom door, your heart racing rapidly inside of your chest.

"Yn," Chan whispered, his chest aching a little at the thought of you hiding him like he was some kind of dirty secret. All of your friends had met him, even your co-workers but you weren't introducing him to the people that mattered most and it pained him.

"I have to go. Please just leave." You barely gave him any chance to fight you on it before you walked out of the bedroom door and headed toward the living room.

"It's too late for you to still be in bed, you shouldn't sleep so much." Your mother's voice carried to the bedroom and Chan waited until he heard you shut the living room door before making a break for it.

The front door to your boyfriend's place creaked open as you stepped inside, your shoulders slumped as you let out an exasperated sigh and kicked off your shoes. You expected to see Chan waiting for you with open arms but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Chan?" You called out before walking further into the home but something felt completely off about it all. The living room felt uneasy and the air felt thick with tension as you noticed the dim lights and Chan sitting in a chair staring at you with a frustrated look on his face.

The air felt heavy as if it was carrying the weight of all the unspoken words between you and Chan from earlier in the morning.

"Chan-" You started but never got to finish,

"We've been together for five months and you've never introduced me to your family." You knew the two of you were going to talk about this tonight but you were hoping you could do it within the comfort of your boyfriend's arms.

"Chan, it's complicated." You breathed out, dropping your bag onto the floor and taking in a deep breath. You'd been trying to figure out where to start with this all day but you still didn't know how or even where to begin.

"Complicated? What seems complicated because they all seemed pretty happy to swing by your place today." He grumbled at you, you looked down at the floor before switching your gaze back to Chan who was staring daggers at you.

"They weren't invited." You mumbled a little because they weren't. They weren't supposed to use the key unless there was an emergency and after the fight you'd had the previous day you figured they'd never wanna see you again anyway.

"They're family, they come whenever they want. My family is the same." Chan reminded you and you rolled your eyes a little. Chan's family were great, they came around but announced it first, and sometimes sent a quick text to prepare him but yours weren't like that.

"Yeah, well your family is different than mine." Your family were different than most, they would drop by unannounced or call you at work demanding you leave and go to them right away.

"How?" He arched a brow at you. All day he'd been left to stew in his own thoughts and he'd come to one conclusion about everything and that was that you were ashamed to be with him and that was why you hadn't introduced him yet.

"It's-"

"Complicated," You both said at the same time before Chan let out a loud scoff at you, shaking his head before sitting down in the chair. This felt like a losing battle every single time he brought up the subject of your family,

"We've talked about it all before and you always brush it off. I feel like a dirty little secret."

"You're not a secret, Chan...It's just-"

"Just what?!" He finally yelled, losing his patience with you as tears built in his eyes. He wasn't the type to cry in front of you but he was losing his will and needed to know if there was something wrong with him that you would hide part of yourself away from him.

"They're just...They're different," Tears began to well up in your eyes as you stared at him. Your family had been one of the main reasons you swore off dating for the longest time. You'd never wanted to have to introduce anyone to your family so long as you could have helped it.

"Are you ashamed of me? Is that why we haven't been introduced?" He questioned, staring at you as you sniffled a little, you never wanted him to feel that way because of something you were doing. It had nothing to do with him and all to do with your family,

"No...Chan, it's not that," You sighed shaking your head.

"I just need some more time to figure out how to handle this." You explained, taking in deep breaths but Chan was through with waiting if it meant hiding behind closed doors and sneaking out of the house like he was a teenager.

"Time won't solve anything if we don't face it! We're supposed to be a team...Yn..." You stared at him as you felt the doubt hanging over you like a dark cloud.

You'd been taught never to depend on anyone else no matter what but Chan had been breaking that thought ever since the two of you had met. He'd been breaking every lesson your family had hammered into you over the years and you loved him for it.

"Let me in, Yn...Let me be there for you,"

"I need...time." Your voice cracked as Chan growled a little, standing up and staring at you.

"How much time do you need? Huh? This affecting our relationship and I can't just keep waiting around for you to be ready." Your eyes landed on his as you shook your head. It sounded like he was getting ready to break up with you and the whole point of hiding him from your family was to avoid that,

"Chan, please." You pleaded desperately with him, reaching out for his hands but he stepped further away from you, shaking his head.

"I love you, Chan, and I want to be with you just give me...a little time to figure things out with them." You begged, watching as Chan's eyes softened a little.

"I want to be with you too Yn but we can't keep avoiding it. It isn't fair on either of us." You sighed a little rubbing the bridge of your nose and nodding, you knew he was right but it didn't make you feel any better about all of this,

"We're not teenagers, I don't want to sneak around anymore." He finished and you looked up at him.

"My family are...They have certain beliefs." You told him plainly, sitting down on the edge of his sofa and trying to figure out the best way to approach all of this. It wasn't religion-based but your family believed that certain things had to be a certain way for families to be able to work and grow. It was safe to say you didn't share a lot of their beliefs since you'd done everything you could to get away from them ever since you were at a legal age to do so.

"They have a whole thing about dating, I'm not supposed to date anybody without them giving their approval," You scoffed a little and shook your head as you finally let it off your chest, a weight felt as though it was coming straight off you as well

"You know, it took me almost six years to convince them to let me move out."

"Let you?" Chan asked softly as he sat down on the chair, staring at you as he waited for you to elaborate on it some more,

"I wasn't allowed to work either, they stopped me working. Claiming I needed to be a homemaker for your future partner."

"But you weren't married to anyone..." Chan hoped you weren't since the two of you had been dating for so long and you laughed dryly and shook your head,

"No, but they had plans for me and I broke them down so I wouldn't have to fit in the mould that they had for me."

"Yn.." He whispered, sympathy leaking from his words as he moved to kneel on the spot in front of you, your eyes finding his as you finally let the damn break and you told him everything.

"Every Saturday is reserved for them. I have to go around there, and we talk about work and life at home it was the condition they had for letting me move out...That and no dating," You laughed dryly and Chan moved to sit beside you, holding your hand tightly.

"I hadn't told them about us yet because I didn't want them to rush me back to their place...To shield me away and I certainly don't want them to judge you." You looked at him with tears running down your cheeks.

"I'm scared I'll lose you." Chan grabbed your hand in his and squeezed them softly. There was no way on this earth that he was ever going to let you go without a great fight,

"You're not going to lose me...Ever and you're certainly not going to face it alone, Yn. I'm here for you, no matter what." He told you and you smiled weakly, you wanted to believe him but if your family were set on something they weren't just going to back down from it.

"I appreciate it, Chan, but they're difficult." You told him as he gently wiped the tears from your cheeks and shook his head, he didn't care how difficult they were he was never going to let you go through any of it alone.

"Then we can stay hidden as long as you need but sooner or later you'll have to face them...I plan on making you my future spouse and spending forever with you." Your cheeks began to heat as you looked at him,

"We're in this together, I love you." He whispered before kissing your forehead, your chest tightening a little as you nodded.,

"I love you too and I'll tell them...eventually. I just-"

"We'll tell them together whenever you're ready." He said, cutting you off and kissing your cheek softly. You thought about it and laughed a little, they were going to hate you introducing a man you'd already been dating for months.

"They won't like it."

"Then they'll have to get over it. If they try and take you from me they'll have a big fight on their hands." He winked at you before you cuddled into his chest, relaxing for the first time since that morning and letting out a small and happy sigh.

"Let's go upstairs and finish our lazy day." He told you before you kissed him softly and made your way toward the staircase.

"I'll be up, I'm going to order your favourite." He chuckled as he watched you happily jogging up the stairs to his bedroom.

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sixosix · 6 months

Text

YOU GOTTA LEAVE BEFORE YOU GET LEFT | LYNEY

warnings profanity, angsty fighting (violence but it’s not descriptive), 3.7k words!

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The House of the Hearth is quiet around this hour, save for the soft snores coming from the rooms, or the clink-clink-clink of your polearm when hitting your arms. Lynette has already crashed somewhere, but Lyney can’t sleep a wink. At least, if you asked him what he’s doing in the training room alone watching you, that’s what he would say.

Thankfully, you haven’t asked; didn’t even acknowledge when he slipped into the room.

Lyney hasn’t been able to stop thinking about a few nights ago when he saw a glimpse of something real from you. Your smile and his newfound determination to defeat you to see more of it.

Sweat rolls off your temple, your breath visible in a silhouette of a misty cloud. You strike the air as if it’s insulted you greatly. With one final swing, you pause, turning to look at him.

Lyney can tell something is wrong. Your eyes are heavier; your movements are more sluggish than usual. This is the first time he’s seen you in a few days, with him going out for missions and coming back to hear that you’ve been cooped up in the training room day and night, frustration rolling off of you in waves.

Lyney smiles instead. “Would you like to spar?”

Your gaze is intense. Lyney could see a flame sparking in them when he asked you. But it fades when you ask, “Lyney, ‘Father’ has just returned yesterday, right? Has she talked to you at all?”

Lyney blinks. “Oh, um. No, I haven't really seen ‘Father’.”

Your shoulders loosen. “Alright.”

Then, you stand before him—all Lyney needs as an answer.

He’s gotten better with a bow, his only form of weapon during missions when they get a little more dangerous than prying information. But he only gets to feel the thrill of it when he’s facing you, who’s always one step ahead.

He bows. “It is an honor.”

Something of a smile flickers on your face when he looks back up. “You always say that whenever we do this.”

Lyney beams, pleased to hear you speak to him beyond anything related to training. “It’s no lie.”

“Then,” you twirl your polearm around in a hypnotizing circle, and Lyney feels a near-maniacal grin creep up his face, “overcome me.”

Lyney takes the first shot, no longer surprised when you barely flinch as you swerve. You move as swiftly as his arrows. He fires another shot, then another, and another at a rapid pace. As expected, you dodge and deflect all of them with ease. Even when not at your full best, you can easily conquer everyone.

But Lyney’s been watching closely. His eyes follow every shift, catching each minuscule movement of how you favor one side more than the other or how your eyes are fixed on his weapon and nothing else.

You start drawing closer, your steps so fluid that anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it. Lyney conceals a smile.

Your eyes widen when Lyney disappears into a twirl of cards, fading out of view, disappearing into nothingness, just like that.

You pant, looking around warily, “How did you—” only for your breath to hitch when Lyney materializes right behind you, kicking your weapon off your staggered grip and aiming his arrow right at your head.

His eyes are narrowed as if facing a real enemy—as if preparing to actually shoot with one wrong move. But that’s not right, because how could Lyney ever bring himself to hurt you when you smile at him like that?

“That was…new,” you say, breathing heavily. Your exhaustion is getting to you now.

Lyney’s lungs are doing just as bad. “Thank you,” he manages to say, sensing a compliment when he hears one. “It’s only right for a magician to have tricks up his sleeves, right?”

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s taken advantage of your state. Had you not been visibly tired, you never would’ve fallen for his trick. It’s victory, but he doesn’t feel as if he’s really won.

Now that you admit defeat, Lyney says, “Let’s take a break.”

To his delight, you murmur a yes. Now that’s victory.

The orphanage has become used to the sight of the magician twins tailing after you, with Lyney grinning smugly and Lynette close behind because, really, her brother was just tagging along. And some other times, they’ve become used to the sight of Lynette curled up on the couch with Freminet resting his head on her lap while you yell at Lyney to piss off, and he doesn’t piss off.

You’ve even come to admit them as friends. Mostly Lynette, though. Lyney’s just there because they’re twins.

Lyney pouts. “I mean, we’re basically friends now, right?”

You send him a strange look. “What are you talking about? No, we’re not.”

“Whaaat?”

You push his face away when he’s decided to come up all over your personal space. “I like your sister better.”

“Lynette and I are twins!” he whines.

“Completely different people, still.”

Lynette does a mischievous half-smile, blinking slowly. “Don’t tease him too much,” she said. “He’ll cry when it comes to you.”

Lyney splutters. “Lynette!”

Thankfully, the Archons are on his side. You don’t look too deeply into Lynette’s words, simply laughing and returning back to your food, chatting comfortably with his sister and Freminet. Despite all the bickering, Lyney feels warm inside.

“Lyney,” you say, catching his gaze. “Do you want to spar later?”

Lyney’s heart soars. “Yes, of course.”

In the comfort of their own room, Lynette strikes.

“Y/N is really nice,” Lynette says when Lyney is practicing tricks with his hat. “You think so, too, right?”

Lyney doesn’t know where this is going. He fumbles with the rose. “Mhm. Yeah.”

Tonight is particularly cold; the old-fashioned fireplace is barely doing anything. Lyney wants to check on the training room—it’s always much warmer there.

Lynette shifts beside him, and Lyney can feel the weight of her infinitely keen stare. “And you also think that you should tell me who you’re practicing those flowers for, right?”

“I—what—” Lyney’s face goes hot. “It’s for my tricks, Lynette! What are you trying to imply?”

His sister sniffs, as if Lyney is just an insignificant little thing. “I don’t know what you and Y/N have been doing lately, but I'm happy to see you happy.”

Lynette smiles at him. “I haven’t seen you like this for so long. I’ll do my best to not let anything take this away from you.”

Speechless, Lyney could only utter: “Lynette…”

In all honesty, Lyney doesn’t know what changed—doesn’t know how it shifted into something else he can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe it’s the fact that he and his sister have a home now, despite the fact that it’s an intelligence source for the Harbingers. Or maybe it’s…something deeper than that, something to do with you.

“It’s really nothing,” Lyney says softly. “You don’t have to do anything, okay? I promise you.”

Lynette nods, trusting her brother easily. “Okay. I just don’t want you to lose this.”

Ha, as if he could even bring himself to do that.

“Hey, is Lyney in this room?” someone yells, rapping on the door frantically. “Father’s looking for Lyney. Is Lynette here?”

“What…?” Lyney mumbles, turning to the window and belatedly noticing sunlight peeking through from the sides of the curtains. “Oh no. I didn’t get any sleep.”

“And ‘Father’ is looking for you,” Lynette says, amused. “Go, Lyney. Shoo.”

Lyney scurries off and nods politely at the person who had summoned him. He pads over to the dining table, where ‘Father’ is always waiting, desserts laid before her.

“Lyney,” she greets. Lyney felt the hair rise on the back of his neck, but also warmth spread throughout his chest, happy to see the person who had changed his and his sister’s life. “Come. Would you like a plate?”

Eating something sugary while he lacks sleep is not the brightest idea. “No, thank you, ‘Father’.”

“Alright,” she says lightly, taking a bite and indulging in her cake for a long pause. “You’ve been training hard, haven’t you?”

“Yes, ‘Father’.” He sits somewhere that’s a chair away from her, too nervous to sit close and too afraid to sit too far. He still doesn’t know what ‘Father’ thinks of him, or what to think of ‘Father’.

“And you’ve gotten stronger since receiving your Vision.” It sounds like a question, but that’s not right. ‘Father’ always knows what’s happening in the House of the Hearth.

“…Yes,” Lyney says slowly, unsure where this is heading.

Arlecchino leans back, pleased. “Hm. Good.”

Lyney isn’t quite sure what’s happening, but she asks about how he and his sister are doing, and they get involved in an almost-something-of-a casual conversation. Lyney’s nerves are on high alert the entire time, as if suspecting that this is a test. But after that, ‘Father’ dismisses him before Lyney can start being suspicious.

He doesn’t think too much of it. He leaves the room and feels as if he could melt on the floor from exhaustion.

Someone sees him and claps him on the back, startling him enough to wake him up. She glances at the door he just came out of and hums lowly. “Did ‘Father’ call for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ha,” she snorts. “Guess that’ll happen a lot when you're the next successor, huh? Lucky you.”

“Yeah,” Lyney agrees, though he doesn’t really know what it means. He doesn’t really care because at least ‘Father’ still wants to keep them around.

Most importantly of all, in this orphanage, Lyney has been having the time of his life. His sparring with you has led him to a tentative friendship of sorts. He can confidently say he knows you as well as he knows Lynette and Freminet. He’s been living in bliss, always pleased to have a home and a family to come back to, no matter how gruesome the mission they’re sent to.

He and Lynette have been seeing the House off with missions successfully fulfilled, and ‘Father’ has acknowledged their loyalty. Their worth. Whispers about successors get louder. Lyney pays them no mind—this is only them acknowledging his worth.

Days would pass. Lyney would perform tricks for his fellow orphans. Lynette would tell him that she’d rather not be in the spotlight. Days would pass. You would keep on overworking yourself, and Lyney would try to pull you away from it.

“Y/N,” Lyney announces his presence with just your name, standing by the doorway.

You don’t flinch nor even waver from your moves, nearly dancing with how swiftly you move across the grassy field. It’s easier to talk over the slash over your weapon this time, at least, with the sounds spreading across the evening air. Lyney can shout and he doesn’t have to fear waking up anyone.

He has to wake you up first, though.

“Y/N,” he tries again, his fingertips beginning to burn underneath the steaming plate. Despite his connection with fire, his skin is beginning to feel irritated—or perhaps it’s proof of how long he’s been carrying your dinner. “Your food’s gonna get cold.”

“Leave it there,” you finally answer, slowing to a halt. Your back is facing him, posture perfect, and Lyney’s star-struck even in moments like this.

“And you’re going to eat it?”

“I will.”

That’s what you said last time, and Lyney came back to a full plate, untouched even by ants. Lyney decides to stay, content with watching over you until you tire and give in. He’s been hearing that you’re relentless, not even sparing a single glance to anyone.

“Why have you been practicing so hard recently? Is ‘Father’ punishing you? Did you sneak out again?”

You deign to face him with a fierceness that could match the fire of his Vision. “As if ‘Father’ has even looked at me.”

Lyney blinks slowly. “...What?”

Then—it was that moment that Lyney realized this was more serious than he realized—you school your expression into something blank. He was asking the wrong questions. He feels like there’s an invisible wall between the two of you, even when he’s already far away.

“You all have something I don’t,” you say, lowering your weapon. “Tell me, Lyney, if I start slacking off, will she even look at me the way she does to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Your expression grows colder. “You wouldn’t understand. Who am I kidding? Just leave the food; I’ll eat it.”

“How do I know that?” he asks weakly.

“Take the hint, Lyney. I want to be alone right now.”

Days would pass. Lyney gets busier—his life gets more hectic. He starts performing on stages, small ones, but stages with props galore nonetheless. Lynette starts to feel more confident joining him, but she still has to work on her expressions. Days would pass. Lyney sees you less often. Your thread is snapping.

He enters the training room, where it’s been eerily silent. Not even Freminet nor Lynette tried to train today as if sensing danger from inside. But all he sees inside is you, staring silently at the wall, heaving.

Lyney sees your state and winces, your shoulder hiked to your ears and your expression unpleasant. “Y/N,” he calls out softly, “Are you okay?”

You’re really not, and it’s obvious, but how else does Lyney approach this?

You take a too-long moment to respond, eyes distant. “I’m…fine.”

Lyney hesitates, wildly looking around the room for something to distract you with. “Do you want to spar?”

“No.”

He should’ve known the moment he noticed you were acting strange: there’s something bothering you enough to leave you trapped in the training room. He tries to think hard about it, looking back at the first moment you were acting off. He comes up with nothing.

“Lyney,” you say, “you should leave.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m not leaving if you’re going to keep this up.”

“Lyney,” you say, facing him fully with a scowl. “That was not a question. Leave.”

“Y/N, I…” Lyney thinks and thinks. What has been happening recently? He’s been sent off for missions far too often that he hasn’t been able to notice this sooner. How long has this been happening? Why is this happening?

If anything, you’re far too prideful to show your weakness. To break down like this so suddenly… How will ‘Father’ react to this? Surely, she would put a stop to it if you were always next to her. But he hasn’t seen you next to ‘Father’ in so long. In fact, he’s…

Lyney stares cautiously. “Are their words bothering you?”

“They’re always talking.” That’s not a yes, but Lyney feels like he should take it as one. “Lately, they’ve been talking much louder than before.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? It’s about ‘Father’’s successor?”

Your mouth curls up in a snarl. “Don’t rub it in my face. You, of all people, shouldn’t ask that to me.”

Lyney’s heart sinks. So it was him who was causing this. “Whatever you’re hearing isn’t true.”

“What? Don’t make me out to be so stupid. You spar with me to gauge my weaknesses. You want to become the next successor.”

“I don’t want to become the next anything,” he pleads, instinctively taking a step back when you inch closer.

“That’s what it is, right? You see me as a challenge? So that’s what you meant?” Something is terribly wrong. You’re looking in his direction, but he doesn’t feel the weight of your gaze—like you’re only seeing through him.

Lyney frowns. He’s being cornered. “No, what—”

“I changed my mind,” you say, your shoulders tensing and the grip on your weapon tightening until your knuckles turn white. “You don’t want to leave? Fight me. Now. Prove that you’re worth more than me.”

“Y/N,” Lyney says lowly. “You’re not thinking straight right now. I don’t want to—”

You strike at his side. Lyney only manages to block it because of his experience with close combat from you, but this one is different. His eyes widen. That one hurt bad, leaving a buzzing ache on his skin. That’ll leave a bruise that won’t leave for weeks.

“Fight me,” you whisper, desperate, crazed. “Fight me.”

You demand it, but you don’t give Lyney a chance to react, attacking once again. Lyney blocks it off with his body and bites down a whimper of pain at the impact; at what sounded like the crack of bones.

“Y/N, stop—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl. “Bring out your weapon. Fight me. You’re the next successor, aren’t you?”

“Y/N,” Lyney says, trying to get a hold of your wrists. “Y/N, you’re crying.”

“I’m—” You inhale sharply, a sob wracking through your shoulders. “Shut up. Stop talking. You don’t know what’s happening. Fight me—just fight me. Why aren’t you fighting back?”

Lyney hates that you’re right—he doesn’t know what’s happening. He feels entirely useless. The person he looks up to, who has made him the better version of himself, and made him want to excel in everything he does for praise, is losing her mind right in front of him—he can’t even give you what you want.

“Why aren’t you fighting back? Isn’t this what you wanted?!”

“I didn’t want this!” Lyney shouts, moving swiftly to dodge the swing of your polearm. It misses him by a hair's breadth. Your fervid cries are making him lose composure. He doesn’t know what to do—doesn’t know how to make you stop.

“Pathetic,” you say, knocking him down. “This is who they’re calling the next successor? Beaten by someone who doesn’t have a Vision.”

Visions. Lyney learned that oftentimes, they dictate the fate and the potential of the orphans here. Those with Visions are sent off on more dangerous missions, drastically stretching their capabilities. And it’s true—Lyney wasn’t allowed to join Lynette on missions when she was the first to get one out of the two of them.

“You are still weak.”

“Shut up,” Lyney says, forcing bile down his throat. He doesn’t want to believe it. He wants to convince himself that you don’t mean that, but that means nothing if he thinks it, too. “Visions mean nothing.”

“To you, they don’t!”

Then, to Lyney’s horror, you swerve your entire body and strike to attack him with your everything. The bruises all over his skin sting, and his brain chants danger, danger. He panics, forcing a wave of fire to crash over and protect himself, but blue washes over his vision for a split second, and then he’s face to face with a tsunami of ice.

Ice.

Lyney blinks once, then looks down at his arm and realizes it’s been frozen over. It’s covered in ice, extinguishing the fire that’s enveloped his skin.

“What…?” he says dumbly, more confused than anything.

He turns back to you and sees you shaking uncontrollably, clutching a Cryo Vision to your chest. You’re looking at it as if it’ll bite you.

“No, no…” You look back at Lyney, eyes round. “Lyney—”

His eyes widened. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I attacked you—you were just defending yourself—”

“Don’t console me, you idiot! I don’t know how to—get it off—” You cry out, roughly wiping away tears that are trickling down. The frost is creeping up on your face, turning your lips to blue. “Get away from me…!”

The numbness is getting to his arm, and he’ll probably get hypothermia if he keeps on ignoring it, but he can’t bring himself to do anything when you’re wailing and terrified of your own self.

Lyney’s hands hover around you, unsure if he should touch you and risk it. “It’s okay, I promise, just—just breathe—”

You slap his hand away, crumbling even more at the sight of his frozen arm.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

Then, your face is carefully blank, shutting him off—worse than any wall of ice. Then, you snatch your polearm from the ground and scramble away. Lyney rushes to follow after, but you’ve flicked your hand, and the door is blocked off by a thick wall of ice. Great. Just great.

Desperately, Lyney melts them away, but your footsteps have already gone out of earshot. It’s an answer in itself: Don’t bother. Take the hint, Lyney; you already messed it up.

“Fuck!” Lyney hisses, throwing his bow to the ground, causing it to crack and splinter against the cold tiles.

“Calm down,” he says to himself, thawing his arm with his Pyro. The sudden change in temperature hurts, but that doesn’t compare to what he’s feeling right now. “Y/N will be back. Calm down. Patience.”

It’s pouring uncontrollably outside. You shiver, shaking with each desperate step you take to get far, far away from the orphanage—from Lyney. The rain has melted the ice that’s crawling all over your face and fingers, but you can still feel it humming under your skin as if one wrong move and you’d kill something.

How ironic. Goading Lyney into using his Vision led to you getting yours. What a fucking joke.

You navigate through the crowd, hiding your Vision and speeding through. The gods have perceived you and blessed you because you’re worthy. Why only now? Why is it that it’s only when you’ve accepted you’re not worthy compared to Lyney?

You are still weak. You said it aloud, but you know more than anyone that it was not meant for Lyney.

A door swing opens, and you nearly slam onto it, if not for you skidding to a halt a second off.

The woman with brown locks and bright eyes who opened the door blinked curiously. “Hey, kid. What are you doing out here in this thunderstorm?”

You must look like a sight. Bruised and freezing, as flighty as a frightened animal. “I—U-Uhm…”

You’re given no script to follow this time. What should you say? What do you do?

You can feel all your limbs trembling. No—you can barely feel at all. “I’m fine. Miss. I was just… playing. I mean, running back home.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, taking it upon herself to ruin her dry dress and usher you inside. “Don’t worry. Come. Seek shelter here while waiting for it to die down.”

“I’m fine,” you try to say, but the inviting warmth inside has your next words dying. “You don’t have to do this, miss… I’m…”

Dangerous. Nearly killed the person that warmed his way through your heart. You frightened him. You frighten yourself.

“None of that.” She pokes your forehead, making you blink up at her in bewilderment. “You think too hard for your age. Come, I have tea and spare clothes.”

You obediently sit. Perhaps tea will help. With how tight you’re clutching your Vision, its frost is beginning to crawl up your arms.

i found it rly interesting lyney doesn’t wanna become the next successor, so i used it for plot! >:) ty for reading!!! if u reached all the way here im giving u a kiss on ur forehead

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #x reader #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

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jihyoruri · 7 months

Text

PAPARAZZI — idol!hanni pham x idol!reader

warnings: yn is a member of lesserafim and a small fire cracker(for the plot), hanni is down bad, swearing, fluff

hanni wouldn’t say she was an anti romantic, she was just someone who didn’t have crushes, no one impressed her. no one could find their way into her heart no matter how hard they tried and to say hanni was happy about that would be an understatement.

she didn’t like the feeling of having a crush, even though she’s never had one from what she heard it sounds like it sucked, a person having your heart in the palm of their hands seem scary, so she sworn to never let anyone have a hold on her like that.

that was until she first saw yn, she thought was acquainted with every member of Lesserafim and to be frank she never really payed much attention to her label mates but you got her attention.

hanni remembered it like it was yesterday and it was and fall both lesserafim and new jeans were pretty new groups.

the words of danielle came deaf to ears when she saw the girl that got her attention.

you were walking beside eunchae who she recognized immediately but who was this girl? eunchae whispered something to her which had the girl pushing her back harshly and cursing at her.

hanni furrowed her eyebrows at that, because it seemed like the altercation didn’t affect eunchae at all like it was a normal thing.

hanni’s gaze follows the girl as she walks ahead towards the front to order,eunchae who follows behind her laughing.

“are you listening?” hanni snapped out of her daze and turned to danielle, “huh?”

“so you weren’t listening.” dani concludes before letting out a deep sigh, “what are you looking at?”

“nothing.” hanni responds quickly, shaking her head but danielle is already looking in the direction that hanni was looking in, “oh! eunchae and yn! you want me to call them over?”

yn?

“eunchae, yn!” danielle exclaims, hanni tenses when both girls turn their heads in their direction, drinks already in their hands.

danielle waves them over and hanni watches as eunchae and who she now knows is yn walk over to her direction. “I don’t know if you know yn yet, she’s a new addition to the group.” danielle says to hanni when she notices hanni’s gaze set on you, “but beware she’s a little fire cracker.”

that explains earlier hanni thought to herself.

“hey guys.” eunchae smiles as her and yn stood in front of the girls, the shorter girl beside her just waving.

danielle starts a conversation with eunchae and all hanni can do is look at yn, the girl had her straw in her mouth and her face shoved in her phone.

“what are you guys doing?” danielle asks.

“we’re just on break from practice, we’ve been practicing like crazy for our comeback.” eunchae says as a big smile makes its way to her gaze, “it’s called anti fragile because we’re fearless.” the girl jokes.

hanni looks down and danielle laughs out of pity at the corny joke but yn looks up from her phone and side eyes her member, “you’re a dumbass.” she says bluntly before looking back down at her phone.

hanni’s head shot up immediately at the sound of the girls voice and the mean thing that just came out of her mouth but eunchae only laughs and wraps an arm around the shorter girl’s shoulder, “you’re so mean to me.” she whines.

hanni watch’s as yn surprisingly doesn’t move out of eunchae’s hold and just looks back down at her phone unbothered, she looks at danielle who looks at yn and the at her, “hanni, you’ve never met yn yet,right?”

hanni shakes head, her heart speeds up when yn finally looks at her, “I’m yn.”

hanni stares for a while and you furrow your eyebrows at her, “uh, I’m hanni.”

from that day on hanni had an infatuation with yn, the girl just had a way of drawing her in without even knowing it.

everything yn did had hanni falling to her knees, she watched yn’s fancams, her fansites, she’d even sigh lovingly when she’d see yn rage during hangouts or at the hybe cafe, she was your biggest fan.

hanni’s never had a crush before and didn’t know much when it came to love but one thing she did know was that yn was gonna be hers.

⬎

“hey, fire cracker.” hanni says greeting the girl that lays on the practice room floor before cringing at herself, this crush stuff is getting to her.

she sits beside yn who’s eyes are still closed and that’s when hanni realized that she was sleeping.

she took the time to admire the girl, shes gotta be the most prettiest girl hanni has ever seen, she’s wearing her normal baggy clothes.

hanni’s eyes trail down to your arm and sees a small tattoo of calcifer on the inner part of yn’s wrist and for some reason it brings a smile to her face, you act hard but on the inside you’re such a cutie.

she watches you shift and slowly open your eyes, “hanni?”

she laughs awkwardly, “hey…”

you sit up and lean on your elbows, “watching me sleep? what are you edward?”

hanni rolls her eyes at your teasing but is jumping up and down in her head, “you shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor.”

“I was practicing and I got tired, award season is coming up.” yn says rubbing her eyes tiredly as she stretches.

a smile comes upon hanni’s face, “oh yeah, I’m excited.”

“it’s stupid.” yn says as she finishes stretching from her nap, “and dumb and annoying-”

“your tattoo is cute.” hanni says cutting off yn’s potential rant, “it’s calcifer right?”

“yeah..” yn trails off looking at it, “since everyone loves calling me a fire cracker I thought it would be fitting.” she says tracing over it, “I also love ghibli, if you didn’t know.”

oh hanni knew, she knew how much yn loved ghibli studios which is a complete contrast from how the girl presents herself.

“I think everyone in the industry knows.” she teases, “ghibli is cool though.”

“it is, binging ghibli movies would be the best date.” yn says picking at her nails, “that’s probably like the most intimate thing you can do.”

before hanni can even think about it, it’s already coming out of her mouth, “wanna binge ghibli movies with me?”

yn pauses and looks up from her nails at the australian girl, “very smooth pham.”

hanni feels like she can’t breathe as she curses herself in her mind why would she say that? she’s not cut out for this crush stuff.

“vey smooth I’ll give you that.”yn starts as she gets up from the floor, “but try a little harder and that ghibli binge will be yours.” she says before grabbing her bag and walking towards the door.

“is that a yes?” hanni asks rushingly and she stands up from the floor, her heart was going at rate that didn’t even know that it could go.

“it’s not a no.” the shorter girl says behind herself as she walks out the rooms and closes the door.

hanni stares at the door for while before bringing her hand to her face a smile making its way onto it, yn really is gonna be hers.

#new jeans x reader #new jeans fluff #hanni newjeans #hanni pham #hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader #girl group imagines #girl group fluff #Lesserafim

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maidragoste · 1 year

Text

Bastard

Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra)

Summary: Aelor finds out that you are not his biological mother.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

part of the universe of "the queen and her husbands" but can be read independently

Masterlist Serie

It was no secret that Aemond had days when he felt uncomfortable seeing Aelor because he reminded him of Alys Rivers. Still, he always tried to be a good father, one better than Viserys. That's why when he just saw his son enter his chambers with a red face and full of tears he was already ready to cut off the head of whoever he had hurt his son. But that had to wait because now he had to deal with reassuring his child.

"Come here"

Another time Aelor would stay where he was and try to calm himself down. He wanted to show his father that he was already a big boy, but right now all he wanted was to be in his arms and be comforted so he ran to Aemond and let him sit on his lap.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" Aemond asked as he stroked the boy's back in circles.

"Baelon called me a bastard" replied his son, still crying but at least he didn't seem as agitated as before.

Well, he forgets the murder part because Aemond can't kill his other son but he would definitely punish him for bothering his brother. Though he could already imagine Baelon telling him that he couldn't punish him for telling the truth. It didn't matter that you and Aegon legitimized the boy to the rest of the world, he would always be a bastard.

It was not your intention to lie to Aelor. They never told him that you were his mother, but you didn't deny it when he first called you Muña. He was just copying his siblings and you didn't feel the need to correct him because for you he was another son.

"He also said that Muña is not my mother," he said with a trembling voice "Is it true?" Aelor asked devastated because deep down he already knew the answer. Baelon was right to point out that he didn't look like any of his family. All of his siblings had platinum or blonde hair while he had brown curls. Aemon wanted to make him feel better by telling him that their grandmother, Alicent, also had dark hair but Aelor wasn't a fool. His hair was nothing like their grandmother's.

"Your brother is wrong" Aemond replied instantly. It felt disrespectful for someone to say that because even though you didn't give birth to Aelor, you were the one who took him in first, you were the one who, upon learning of his illness, flew to Harrenhal and took care of him as if he were another one of your children, you were the one who convinced him to bring the child to live with you, you raised him as if he were yours so you were his mother "You were born of another woman" when he saw that his son was about to interrupt him he continued speaking "But your Muña will always be your muña. She loves you more than anything just like she loves your brothers. It doesn't matter that you were not born to her, you are as much her son as your brothers are"

"Your kepa is right," you said from the door, drawing the attention of both. You had found out what happened because Aemon went looking for you worried because he couldn't find Aelor. You were furious when you heard that Baelon had called his brother a bastard, you wanted to question him and find out where he had heard that word from and why he said it to his brother, but you were too worried about Aelor's reaction. You had always feared that once he learned the truth of his parentage, he would hate Aemond, Aegon, and you for killing his birth mother. "You weren't born of me" you started walking towards them "But that doesn't make me love you less than your brothers. You will always be my son" you affirmed as you gently caressed his face.

"You promise?" the boy asked, still not sure. Yesterday Baelon had no problem playing with him and today he seemed to hate him. Grandma had days when she seemed to love him and others when she barely tolerated him. The same with his uncle Egg from him, he sometimes stared at him with deep sadness. What if one day they tell you something and make you stop loving it?

"I promise" you kissed his forehead "How could I stop loving you when you're one of the best huggers around?" you said managing to make Aelor smile. You snatched it from your husband's lap and started tickling him causing the room to fill with the boy's outrageous laughter. You were sure anyone could hear it in the hallways but you didn't care. You just wanted your son to forget about the bad moment that happened.

Aemond looked at them with a smile. He would never stop being grateful to the gods for letting him survive the battle at Eyes God and he would never get tired of seeing you with their children. No matter what the interaction, you could be singing to them, reading to them, playing with them, or, like now, comforting your child. Every time he witnessed the bond between you and the children he always warmed his heart.

"Kepa, help," Aelor asked between laughs.

"I'm sorry, son. But I have a council meeting," Aemond said, drawing your attention.

"Wait, do we have a council meeting?" you stopped tickling your son and put him down instantly, worried that you had forgotten your duty "Aemond!" your husband had taken advantage of your moment of distraction to start tickling you and your son soon joined the attack "You liar" you complain between laughs.

"I'm sorry, my dear wife. But I couldn't let you continue torturing our son."

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save-the-villainous-cat · 3 months

Text

“Where would be the fun in telling you the whole story?” the villain asked. They leaned forward in their chair, handcuffs rattling. “C’mon, you’re clever. Surprise me.”

“I know you’ve murdered a supervillain. An incredibly powerful non-human being. Someone, well, something I’ve been chasing after for years.” The hero crossed their arms in front of their chest. Was it really that easy? An entire threat being reduced to nothing because of the villain? “People might start calling you a hero.”

“A hero? Would that make me your what? Partner?”

“Well, right now you’re under investigation for murder. Even if it’s a supervillain, it’s still a crime.” The hero couldn’t wrap their head around why the villain would kill an ally that easily. It wasn’t like the villain was a particularly active one. More or less, they were like a puppet master, controlling other people from behind the scenes. That was dangerous enough in itself but the villain being active, being a threat instead of controlling the threads was even more worrying.

“You are the one who questioned the supervillain’s humanity just now. They’re something, not someone,” the villain pointed out.

That was foul. Using the hero’s words against them wasn’t new but both of them were fully aware of the contradiction here — was it wrong to kill a bad person? And was it right to get convicted for that?

“Is that a confession?”

The villain cocked their head, smirking even.

“You tell me. Is that enough to lock me up?”

“The evidence speaks for itself.”

“You’re drawing conclusions based on assumptions,” the villain argued. “And after all, they were a friend of mine. Why on earth should I kill someone who’s my friend?”

Indeed, the motive was the only inexplicable part in all of this.

“We have found samples of your DNA at the crime scene.”

“The victim and I used to meet there quite often to discuss work. You can ask my employees, I have a perfect record of my whereabouts for the last few months.” They looked the hero up and down, as if this was a date instead of an interrogation. They smiled when the hero’s eyes met theirs.

“You have bruises on your arms,” the hero pointed out. “The…victim was struggling before they died. There was quite the fight.”

Suddenly, the villain didn’t look as amused as before.

“You have bruises on your arms as well,” they said.

The hero blushed.

Unfortunately, a week ago the hero had actually attempted to take down the supervillain. They’d been beaten to a horrific degree and only thanks to modern medicine, they were walking and breathing.

Two days ago, some of the supervillain’s henchmen had “visited” the hero to make sure they’d gotten the message. They were still limping, refusing to go back to their medic again.

“My bruises are from practice. You can ask my martial arts teacher, I was with him yesterday.” They eyed the hero’s bruises, so the hero pushed down their sleeves.

The hero sighed.

“I’m sure all your ‘employees’ and your ‘martial arts teacher’ are in on this?” The hero closed their eyes, letting their hand go over their face a couple of times. “I know it was you. But…why? I’m a good detective. I will get more evidence. And I will most certainly figure out why you did it.”

The villain stared at them, their interest focused on the index finger the hero was holding up. They looked up at the hero eventually.

“Don’t break your pretty little head thinking too much about it, hm?”

#they’re not an elite employee #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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onepiece-fics · 2 months

Text

Law x simp!reader headcanons (+ short scenario)

Summary: Law x simpy/affectionate reader.

Warnings: Fluff. Reader is gender-neutral. Reader is incredibly confident lol. Brief mention of Law's past and struggles with feelings/emotions.

Word count: 1043

Law is the definition of tsundere.

He will NOT admit anything publicly, all of his affection is strictly for your private life.

It’ll take him so long to accept the fact that you two have feelings for each other. He spends literally forever pretending like nothing, despite how open you are about it.

Literally he is just in denial for SO long.

After you flirting with him openly for a few months you have a party where you end up drunkenly properly confessing your feelings for him.

Law being the only sober person that night cannot let go of what you said and confronts you about it the next day.

Although he can’t convey his feelings, your confidence and affection are enough for the two of you.

As you two start dating he starts to get more and more confident in your relationship, and eventually, he starts showing you affection back, but only in private of course.

He’ll start playing with your hair or drawing patterns on your skin eventually. Perhaps he would even cuddle into you if you're both sitting next to each other on a couch.

It takes him damn near a year until he stops getting flustered when you compliment him.

He knows that regardless of how embarrassing it is for him though, you won’t even judge him for anything, because if anything you’re 10,000 x more affectionate than he is.

All your crewmates will tease him for aaaages, even when he does get used to it. More than anything though, they’re all surprised he lets you do it in front of all the others.

In reality, Law knows he can’t stop you from showing your affection, and frankly he doesn’t want you to stop either.

Anytime you come running at him and give him a big hug or a kiss on the cheek he just gives the rest of your crewmates a glare (but that does NOT stop them from snickering).

The sun was setting into beautiful colours of pink and orange where you stood on top of the Polar Tang. Your captain had asked to get some fresh air, and for you to come with him. So there you stood, leaning against the railing next to Law. You glance to your right to see his hair lightly blowing in the wind, without the usual hat sitting on his head. He notices your glance and raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back at him.

“Was there anything in particular you wanted, Captain?” You ask him sweetly as you pick up a stray hair strand laying on his yellow shirt. His body stiffens slightly and he lets out a sigh.

“Y/N-yah… You’re gonna make me go crazy…” He mutters, barely audible. “I wanted to talk to you… about…” He lets out another sigh, this one heavier than the first one. “I wanted to talk to you about what you said yesterday.” He says and moves to corner you against the railing of the ship. You smile at him as you gently put your hands on the forearms on either side of you. You don’t notice it but his hands are gripping to the railing for dear life.

“Oh that? I meant every word I said, you know?” You respond, unashamed. Why would you be ashamed of your feelings after all? He’s Trafalgar Law. He has a mildly shocked expression on his face, and combined with his flushed cheeks he looks adorable. He should be used to this by now, you think, with how much you’ve flirted with him since you joined the crew it’s shocking he even reacts to it anymore.

“E-everything?” He asks and you hum and nod your head. Law looks down to his feet, his arms still surrounding you. “Y/N-yah, I’m… I’m not sure I deserve that…. I don’t think this is good for either of us… I’ll only get you hurt. Or worse.” He whispers. Your brows furry and you shake your head.

“Law. That’s nonsense and you know it. As if both of us aren’t constantly living in danger all day every day… You know damn well I don’t care about that. I love you. So much. And you deserve so much more than you get. I know that you have your… issues. But I need you to know that I’ll always be here for you regardless of that, okay? I don’t care if I’m only your friend, I’ll always be here to help you. I’ll always be by your side.” Law’s expression turns into one of awe, his eyes wide and mouth agape. His right hand moves from the railing to cup your cheek.

“Y/N… I… I don’t know what to say…” His sentence trails off and a blush creeps up on his face again. “You know my past, and you know I’ve been hurt. I struggle with my feelings, and you know this… But… If I get to be selfish I want to, uhm,” He looks away from your face, “I’d like to take you up on the offer you made last night…” He whispers and his hand falls back down to the railing.

The smile on your face turns to a grin as you take in what he’s said. “My offer? You mean when I told you I’d really like to show you my love? When I told you that you should trust the feelings of your heart and trust me? Because I still stand by that.” He groans as his face turns even redder. You shake your head and giggle at him before standing on your toes to give him a light kiss on the cheek. He turns to look at you again with wide eyes.

“Law. I already told you I love you, right? There’s no need to be ashamed.” You smile at him before leaning in to hug him and bury your face in his neck.

“God, you really are gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?” he whispers as he embraces you back and holds you tight against him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before burying his nose in your hair. “Thank you Y/N-yah. Thank you for understanding the words I can’t convey…”

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spidernuggets · 5 months

Text

Jason Todd x Reader

Warning: Mentions of suicide attempt

"You're not crazy, Y/n! If anyone thinks so, they're the crazy ones-"

You laugh. "Thanks, Jason. I like being friends with you too."

"Jesus, keep it down, would ya," you say groggily, rubbing your eye as you walk out of your room, utterly confused at the commotion unravelling in the lobby. "The fuck is going on?"

"You people are insane! I'd rather be with Deathstroke than with you assholes..." Jason says, the last statement he claims more quietly. A harsh truth, revealing how little his supposed teammates thinks of him.

"Jason drew crosses all over my mirror after telling me to go get looked at by a fucking priest!" Rachel yells in anger.

You looked over at Jason in confusion.

"Yeah, I told her to get looked at, so what?" Jason yells back. "You almost fucking killed me! And I didn't draw those crosses, I haven't got a fucking clue what you're on about, how many time do I have to say it!"

You stare at the two, still delirious from your interrupted nap. Jason would say some fucked up stuff but drawing crosses? He wouldn't go that far. Barking and yapping is the most he'd do.

"And he put a beer bottle in my room," Hank says.

"And a picture of Elis," Dawn adds.

"And an orange soda bottle," Donna finishes.

The adults list the things Jason presumably planted in their rooms. But for what motif? Just to piss them off? Wait. Jason literally fell from a building like, what? Yesterday? Why the fuck would he pull this shit then..

"Wait, wait, wait. Pause, I can not stress this enough," you say. "I understand Rachel's situation, what the fuck about you guys?" You ask the other adults.

"Jason just put some shit that was deeply connected to our past in our room. If he pulls something like this again, I'll forget what team he's on," Hank replies.

You cross your arms. "Okay, did any of yous tell Jason about this deep shit about your past?"

Rachel and Gar's head turned to the adults as they all looked at each other with doubt.

"Oh my fucking days," You scoffed, aggressively rubbing your temples.

Before you can scold at them, you notice Jason is already gone.

Jeez, maybe I am a shit teammate.

You ram into his room first and instantly run out when you see he's not there. You check the surveillance room, the training room. Not there, either. Finally, you speed up to the roof. And there he was, standing at the edge.

Your heartbeat's pace picked up.

"Jason," you called out. He looked over his shoulder, then looked right ahead of him.

"C'mon, Jason, get down from there. We can work this out," you slowly say, taking small steps towards him.

You see him shake his head. "There's nothing to work out," he says. "I'm just gonna fuck things up again. There's a poison in me. That shit spreads. Hurts even the most healthy people."

You stip at a safe distance where Jason wouldn't make any irrational movements if you'd come any closer, and you lean against the ledge near him.

"Mm, well, what about people who's already unhealthy?"

Jason turns his head to look at you in confusion.

"Jason, all of us here has been through some tough shit. From my experience, this 'poison' you're talking about, it's nothing compared to what I had to face. I'm sorry that they accused you, Jason. I don't even know why they did- they don't even have a good reason to," you explain, making sure he knew that you were not against him, that he wasn't alone.

"I don't know if this makes any difference," you continue, "but I believe that you didn't do any of that."

"You don't?" Jason asks in disbelief, yet still a hint of hope in his voice.

"Of course I don't. You're my teamma... You're my friend, Jason," you reply back, thinking it's safe to step closer to him as you reach a hand out towards him. "Please come down," you pleaded.

Jason stares at your offering hand for a while, then glances the view in front of him before returning his gaze to your hand.

He sighs, taking your hand in his and steoping diwn from the ledge, leaving a gasp of relief from you before you pull him into a tight embrace.

A few seconds later, you push him away, realising you may have crossed some boundaries.

"Sorry.. I- I'm just glad you came down," you admitted as Jason just shrugged in reply.

You sighed as you sat down, your back leaning against the ledge, patting the ground beside you, inviting Jason to sit beside you.

"Jason, you are kind of an asshole. I mean, you did tell Rachel to go get looked at by a priest- I know she almost tried to kill you, but she still needs to get a hold of her powers. I'm not saying it's not a reason to be scared of her! If I was in your place, I'd be freaked out by her, too. Just give her some time. Plus, you did call both her and Rose freaks..." Jason slightly nods at his mistake. "But... you're one of the most extraordinary people I've ever met," you admit as it seemed like Jason's head could've snapped off his neck from how fast he turned.

"Don't let it get to your ego," you say before continuing, "I mean, you can spar blindfolded! You survived being kidnapped by Dr. Light and Deathstroke. Oh... and Jason," you call out to him before you shift yourself to face him properly. "I know you're always saying you're okay after your... fall. But it's not a sign of weakness to ask for help. You don't need to prove yourself to anybody. Not to me, at least," you finish, placing a hand kn his shoulder for assurance.

All Jason does is look at you, probably searching for any sort of trap or lies or whatnot. You believe you've said too much that things got awkward and he probably wants to be alone.

"Yeah.. I've been talking for too long," you agree to his probable thoughts as you try to get up.

But Jason stops you, grabbing a hold of your arm.

"No," he says, "I... Thank you," he confesses as you take your place back on the ground. "Yeah, I guess I am an asshole," he continues, looking at the concrete underneath him. "I don't know... It's just shit I say. Sometimes, I say it without thinking. I say a lot of shit without thinking," he admits his wrongdoings.

"And that's okay," you reply, placing your hand on top of his. "We make mistakes. But we talk it out, and we forgive."

"I didn't put all that shit there or draw the crosses, I swear-"

"Jason, you don't need to try convince me. I told you, I believe you," you reassure him.

"Didn't really believe that you believed me," he shrugged. "The others still probably think I'm insane."

"If they do, I'll just punch some sense into them," you tell him. "Besides, they can't think you're any crazier than me."

Jason's eyebrows scrunched together. "What do you mean?"

"Oh shit," you laughed. "You never knew about how I became a Titan, and how I even met the others,."

Jason shakes his head.

"Well, I was running away from my mom. Criminal, but not one of those well-known ones. Robbed a few jewels here and there, had some of her workers try and catch me. Then, when I lost them, the only place I could think of staying was an alleyway. Luckily, it was on the safe side of town. That's when Dick found me. Brought me back to the tower-"

"He really has a thing for bringing unconscious people back to the tower, huh?" Jason interrupts, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"That sounds horrible without context," you say, then continue, "but yeah. When I woke up, I was absolutely shitting myself. I was my bag, but when I got to the elevator, the passcode wouldn't unlock. That's when everyone came. Hank, Dawn, Donna, Dick, Gar, and Rachel. I was so freaked out. So I threw my homemade bombs at them-"

"I'm sorry, bombs??"

"Calm down. They were just glitter bombs," you say as Jason makes a face in both confusion and amusement.

"Bht my mom taught me a few tricks. Pinned Gar to the wall with a couple of knives. Dawn was stuck to the floor with some knives, too. I think Hank was blinded by some glitter. But yeah, eventually, they got me to calm down," you finish, laughing at the memory.

"Jesus... I still can't get over the glitter bombs. I thought you just made flash and concussion bombs," Jason says.

You shook your head. "Nah, I only learned how to make those later. The glitter bombs were just a hobby. So, I guess you yourself aren't as insane as you think you are. I mean, even when I used to go to school, kids would think that I'm crazy, but I probably am, like, glitter bombs as a hobby? I-"

"You're not crazy, Y/n! If anyone thinks so, they're the crazy ones-"

You laugh. "Thanks, Jason. I like being friends with you too."

Jason's reaction is hesitant, but he smiles and laughs with you.

"C'mon, let's go back down. You need a rest. A long rest. We can even listen to that loud metal music you listen to," you say as you get up, dusting yourself off.

suggestions for part 2?

Jason copies you, getting up and wiping any dirt off from his pants, and a genuine smile on his face as he follows you down back to his room.

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