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all-purpose-dish-soap · 17 days

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1.7k / 21 / soap soulmate au, part 2

...

Unfortunately, Ghost finds you before Soap does.

Ghost yanks you by the elbow, cuffs around your wrists, dragging you to an unmarked military vehicle, pistol in hand.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask him.

He shoves you into the back seat and slams the door, gets in on the other side and starts the car up. You right yourself, having been shoved hard enough for your ribs to bounce off the leather seats.

He answers without looking at you. "The base." Curt, cold, and pissed. He drops the gun barrel-down into the cup holder.

"We just left the base."

"Huh. So we did." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Ain't that funny."

There’s a chance he’s not 141. As if there’s some other brick shithouse of a man who wears a skull balaclava around.

You shift in your seat. "What do you want from me?"

“Nothin' that'll feel good, I can tell ya that." He rests his elbow on the center console. “We’re gonna have a long talk."

"And then what?"

“Dunno. Maybe a bullet. Depends on how much you piss me off. Got a lot of questions to ask you first.”

Great.

You look around. This isn’t a police vehicle. Barely a military vehicle. There’s no barrier between you and that gun in the front seat cupholder. But you’re not an idiot. He knows you won't go for it, too, but he wants you to try.

You lean back, looking out the window at your side. "You can still turn yourself in. You don’t need to resort to hostages.”

“I made my choice. Not a difficult choice, considering how corrupt Shadow Company is."

“Orders are orders.”

“You always follow orders to arrest your friends, no questions asked?”

“When there’s good reason to.”

"Good reason, my ass. You're just a mindless dog, doing whatever Graves says. You think he'll protect you from the consequences of his actions? He'll toss you to the wolves in a heartbeat if it means saving his own sorry ass."

"That's not true."

"It's the mercenary way, innit. Sell yourself to the highest bidder and tell yourself orders are orders."

You brace one boot on the other, slowly working one foot free from inside. "Military’s the same. Only difference between us is you're salaried."

“I fight for a cause. Can’t say the same for your line of work. All you know how to do is gun targets down for cash and a little approval from your boss. Pathetic.”

Your heel slides loose. “No cause is clean. You can’t tell me you’ve never seen corruption in your line of work. Or a bad call. Or an unnecessary death.”

He grips the wheel, glaring at you in the mirror. “Doesn’t make it right. Sure as hell doesn’t mean you turn a blind eye to goddamn betrayal in your own ranks.”

“Some bureaucrat in a suit fumbling the bag and trying to right wrongs doesn’t make us corrupt. Graves knows what he’s doing—"

"So you knew."

Your jaw snaps closed mid-sentence. Shit.

He's staring right at you in the rearview mirror, eyes so cold they could freeze the breath in your lungs. "You knew about Shepherd. Didn't you?"

You swallow, looking away from the mirror and out the window. Your left foot finally comes free, and you shift subtly to brace your heel on your right boot, beginning to work your right foot loose next. "Doesn't matter."

“You followed orders to turn on your own allies, knowing they came from Shepherd. Knowing all he cares about is covering his own mistakes." He grips and re-grips the wheel slowly, as if he's thinking hard about picking up that handgun and ending your life in a ditch somewhere. "Welcomed us into a slaughterhouse for a fistful of cash. Bet you sleep real easy at night."

You trust Graves. He’s never steered you wrong. You were doing the right thing by following orders. That mantra is stuck in your throat. You want it to be true, but then there’s Johnny.

Ghost hasn't mentioned him by name. The Shadows never found him—he got away—but you don't dare let yourself think about the implications of him being alive and knowing about you. You put it out of your mind as soon as the thought surfaces, even. You made a deal with yourself that you'd never dwell on it again. Much less ask his very hostile squadmate about it. You’re not about to offer your arteries up to a butcher.

"Shepherd is in your chain of command, too."

"Not anymore. You and yours made sure of that."

"You didn't have to defect. Commander Graves asked you to come quietly. You would've been fine. You didn't do anything wrong, right?” You hear an edge in your tone and blunt it back down. "You didn't have anything to hide. But you turned it into a firefight."

"You realize you’re defending the bastard that sold out me and my team. You think I'd lay down, let him put us in some jail cell to rot for the rest of our days? I've seen too many people follow orders, trusting that everyone above them has their best interests at heart. Seen more than a few of them get punished at the hands of men like Shepherd. I'm not giving him another chance to betray me.” You still feel his eyes on you in the mirror, but you don't look. "You never once stopped and questioned what you were told to do? Or did it not matter because your loyalty was to your company, not the right thing?" His voice is flat. "That's the difference between me and you. I don't look for excuses to feel better about my actions. And I damn sure don't turn my gun on my allies.”

Your stomach curls with discomfort. "You had a choice. You knew how this would end for you."

"Rather be a wanted criminal for the right reasons than a gun being pointed at whoever Shepherd wants dead. And wouldn't you know it--I'm in damn good company, too. Turns out sticking to a moral code earns you a little more loyalty than payin’ cash. But you want to know what the best part of being a criminal is?" He taps out an odd little tune on the wheel, but there’s nothing warm or cute about it. The loaded gun would be friendlier to contend with. “I don’t have to follow Shepherd’s orders. I’m free to deal with this little problem as I see fit, and no one can tell me I’m wrong. If I kill some mercenaries who would arrest me on sight, that's just the unfortunate collateral damage that comes with my newfound freedom and your buddies following orders."

You consider that for a long moment. “So when do you plan to kill me?”

"Depends on whether or not I like what I hear in the next couple of hours. Might change my mind in that time. Might not." He takes his hand off the steering wheel to lean back a little. The road is empty, stretching long into the horizon. "The more I hear you talk, the more I feel like shooting you just for the sake of it. But I've got too many questions for that, so..." He lets the implied you live for now hang in the air, then taps the wheel again. "We'll see how the rest of this convo goes."

You manage to slide your right heel free. You glance up to see him looking at you in the mirror again. Your heart skips. You think he's caught you. But he doesn't say anything, and you realize he's just examining you, mulling something over.

“I don’t know what you think I can tell you, but I don’t know anything,” you say.

“Why don’t you just stay quiet and think about all that stuff you don’t know. Maybe we’ll starve you until you talk; maybe we’ll grease your palms. That’s how you operate, hm?”

He’s trying to make you angry, make you take the bait, but you don’t. You know what you are.

You keep both feet carefully lowered into your boots so as not to rouse suspicion. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you and your buddy got hurt.”

That seems to catch him off guard. He frowns. A beat passes where he doesn't say anything, just watches you. Not angry or suspicious, just... calculating. "Not worth much. And his name is Johnny. But you knew that, didn't you?"

You look away. Ghost's cell phone rings.

The sound pulls his attention away from you. He glances down at the display with a frown.

"On with Ghost." A short reply. "Yeah, I got her. About three hours out." He glances at you once as the person on the other line says something else, but after a few more seconds, you can tell he's more concerned with what they're saying than with you.

This is your chance.

With his eyes fixed on the road, you silently pull your cuffed arms under you, lifting your feet deftly through the loop of your arms.

You glance down at the gun one more time. He’s holding the phone with his left hand; driving with his right. Still, even with your hands in front of you, you’re cuffed. You won’t have a chance if you go for that gun and he gets it away from you. It won’t end well.

Plan B, then.

You push your feet back into your boots and slide yourself behind his seat.

"Hey!"

Drill Sergent voice. Busted.

He hits the brakes, drops his phone, and reaches for the pistol.

You slam your feet into the back of his seat, sending him crashing forward and trapping him between the seat and the wheel. The horn blares. The car jerks and runs off the road.

Cuffed hands in front of you, you throw your weight against the driver's side door and grab the handle. He reacts, but not quick enough, his gloved hand snatching at the space where yours were a second after you get the door open.

You dive outside, crash to the ground, roll ungracefully away from the back wheels as they roar past, and use the momentum to get back to your feet. The car keeps rolling, driver's side door still open. It's still moving fast, and you landed hard. That's going to hurt in a minute. Not yet, though.

You run.

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Soap / masterlist tag

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 5 months

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Why is it always Hellva Boss earworms that make me come up with ideas?

So, during the whole Freakshow thing, it wasn't true mind control. Danny was definitely affected, but it messed with his self esteem and emotions to the point where he damaged all of his relationships and is considering running away. Freakshow, who was a little bit smarter in this, then reveals that he knows Danny's a halfa and hey, why don't you join my ghost circus while you figure some things out.

So Danny becomes a clown because he's always liked clowns, and if you've seen the new episode, you know what happens next

and over the course of a few years, Freakshow isolates Danny from his family and friends, indoctrinates him into the crime side of business, and gaslights Danny into thinking he's nothing without him. Danny loves performing, but is so beaten down that he thinks he can't leave even if that's what he wants. Danny's a famous performer at this point, even if no one knows his real identity. The other ghosts aren't really a comfort since they're mind controlled.

The Justice League, specifically Young Justice, already know that Circus Gothica is a crime ring, but have no evidence to get them arrested bc the ghosts (who they think are just metas) are too good. The leader during the thefts (Danny) is the only one they've ever been able to get close to. Maybe at some point, Tim!Robin and Danny get trapped and Danny has a panic attack for failing Freakshow? Something happens that makes Tim convinced Danny isn't a criminal willingly, but he can't convince the others.

Danny and Klarion somehow end up dating. Freakshow joins the light, probably, and the two work really well together. Klarion asks Danny out, and Danny was really reluctant since he hasn't had... anyone, in years, but they date and it's just another thing for Freakshow to hold over his head.

Eventually, Freakshow gets the inkling that Danny isn't working as hard as he should be so he puts "Greatest Clown in the World" contest, and tells Danny that all the clowns who don't win will be immediately killed.

Danny is horrified, but he can only care about himself right now, so he's working his ass off.

(Meanwhile, in Gotham, the Joker tried to join, but the Batman broke in, stole all his bones, and left him in the hospital for a few months)

So Danny's putting his all into this performance, but Young Justice finds out about the murder bit and infiltrates with, IDK, disguised Nightwing? Klarion is also there to support his man.

Danny ends up tying with Nightwing, and the tie-breaker is a three minute performance and whoever's more entertaining wins. Danny has a panic attack during Nightwing's performance and Tim and Klarion team up to talk to Danny.

Danny's convinced he will be nothing without Freakshow (literally, he might fully die), so while Klarion helps him feel better about his skills, Tim finally gets the deets about Danny's whole situation. Tim logics that Freakshow mindcontrolling this other dimensional species + Danny is half this species = Danny is being mind controlled, pissing off Klarion while Danny thinks back to what happened when Circus Gothica first came to town.

His irrational anger at family and friends, his desperate need for approval from Freakshow, how he never even considered going independent, how he thought he was immune to the mind control staff despite being half ghost.... He's pissed. He wants to quit.

So he tells Tim that YJ needs to get the staff during his performance; without it, Freakshow wouldn't be able to mind control anyone. And he goes on to give his performance.

As for that... look, 2 Minute Notice is an amazing song with amazing choreography. the only thing i would add would be a quad somersault during the trapzee part.

Danny proves himself as an amazing clown, Freakshow gets arrested since Danny is willing to testify against him, the ghosts are free, and Klarion later murders Freakshow in a cell because that's his boyfriend, you pathetic excuse of a warlock.

"Freakshow, you sad sack of shit! Fuck you!"

#chaotic spirits #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #c: danny fenton #c: freakshow #c: klarion the witch boy #c: tim drake #c: nightwing #cw swearing #cw attempted murder #did i imply that danny was actually a grayson in the end?#yes i did and both tim and nightwing are having a little freakout over that #i'm tired of people saying danny's afraid of clowns bc freakshow isn't a clown! it's just circus trauma #now i gave him DOUBLE circus trauma #klarion loves his silly clown boyfriend #danny loves his scary magic boyfriend #tim loves having his theories validated and lords the fact that he was right about Danny over YJ for weeks

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yawnderu · 7 months

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Parenthood — Miguel O'Hara x Reader

I love putting this man in situations.

Content: You kidnap a wombat and force Miguel to play house with you.

fluff, idiots in love, mutual pining.

"You brought a living wombat into my office." Miguel notes bluntly, staring at you dead in the eyes with an unreadable expression as his slow-moving platform lowers.

"I wanted you to see it." You retort, shooting him a playful smile as you put the heavy creature on the floor, trying not to cringe at the pain on your back from carrying it. You crouch down next to it, petting it like it was a domestic pet, and it lets you.

"You could have sent a picture." Miguel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he mutters in Spanish, not knowing what to make of the situation. Why was it always up to him to handle all this nonsense? He deals with timelines and the multiverse, what the hell does he know about wombats?

"Why on earth did you think you should bring this to my office?" He asks, jumping down from the platform and staring down at you and the not-so-tiny creature, hands on his hips.

"He was so miserable at the zoo! Now he's smiling and laughing— well, not really, but you get what I mean. He looks happier." You retort, looking up at Miguel to give him a sheepish grin.

"You're telling me you kidnapped a wombat just for this?" He looks between you and the wombat, who is now chasing you around. He's... both impressed and amused now. Impressed because you actually managed to do something like that, and amused because you would do something like that.

"What's his name?" He internally punches himself for falling for the bait. He knows he should have sent you away, maybe even have you arrested for stealing a zoo animal, but... you kidnapped the animal to show it to him, and it's playing with you, looking happy. It's... kind of endearing.

"I was thinking about naming him Miguel O'Hara." You answer teasingly as you lay down on the floor of his office, allowing the wombat to climb on top of you as your hands cover your face, feeling its tiny and gentle scratches on them.

"No— that's my name." Miguel says. This is adorable in the most unhinged sort of way, and he can't help but ignore the way the corners of his mouth tilt up slightly.

"Fine, then he'll be... Miggy." You poke your tongue out at him, sitting up as the wombat stays on your lap, being surprisingly calm. You made him tired by running around and letting it chase you.

"You call me that." He answered with a raised eyebrow, glancing between the wombat and you. He can feel his brain leaking out of his ears.

"Are you too selfish to share a nickname with a wombat?" You grin up at him, enjoying teasing him, just like every single time you're together. His reactions are the best, and he's so funny without even realizing, like a grumpy cat.

Miguel simply rolls his eyes, walking over and crouching down in front of you. He stares at you dead in the eye before disengaging his suit on his hand, reaching down to gently pet the wombat. His hands easily dwarfing the head of the animal, yet he's surprisingly gentle.

"Tell you what— this is my child, I'm its mother, and you'll be the father." Yes, you're trying to play house with the damn animal and Miguel. No, Miguel will not stop you, despite the way he rolls his eyes.

"I didn't sign up for this." He replies, yet he keeps petting the animal, scratching behind its ear. This girl could probably kidnap an entire herd of these if she so pleased... and he'd probably join in on it.

"You're insane." He tells her casually, though his words lack the usual bite they carry. "Actually insane." He loves her.

"You still have a huge crush on me, though." You retort teasingly, ignoring the way he's blankly staring at you, burning a hole through your head. He's probably making your head explode in his imagination.

"I don't." Miguel is a horrible liar and he knows it, yet that doesn't mean he won't defend himself against your horrible— but true accusations.

"You totally do." Your smug tone only makes things worse, forcing Miguel to try his best not to roll his eyes so far he could see his own brain. He simply sighs, ignoring you as he starts petting the wombat's tummy.

"Don't speak when I'm petting the baby. Cállate." It seems Miguel is getting a chance at parenthood with you, even when the "baby" is a 30kg marsupial. The thought of it makes the corners of his mouth slightly tilt up, looking down at the animal to hide it, yet you can still see it. The image of it puts a smile on your own face, yet this time, you keep quiet about it.

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel 2099 #miguel x reader #atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara fluff #fluff #miguel spider man 2099 #miguel atsv #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099

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sweaterweatherever · 1 year

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Tyler PLEASE! Especially one where he is smitten with the nevermore reader… if you feel like writing smut I feel like him worshipping her body would be ✨✨✨✨thank you!!!

Honey Catching Season (Tyler Galpin x Reader)

Pairing: Tyler Galpin x AFAB Reader

Warnings: Smut. Cursing. Kissing. Oral sex (Female receiving) Unprotected vaginal sex. Mirror sex. Lots of praise and kisses. Siren reader, I gave her Bianca's eyes. Mentions of reader being tiny but it is in comparison with the Hyde. AGED UP CHARACTERS.

Requested: Yes. I tried my best. We need more sweetheart Tyler, even if dark Tyler is cool too.

A/N: When I tell you I struggled writing this, I mean it. My brain is fried. I loved all your suggestions, but I went with this one in the end. Title is another song reference, if you catch it I would love you for it.

The first time Tyler saw you, he was half dizzy with exhaustion, covered in blood and naked. His father had just shot him, and he was about to be arrested. So of course, when you stumbled upon him in the woods, and knelt next to him, taking off your hoodie and putting it over his shoulders, with your unnatural eyes and long flowing hair, the thing that came to mind was this:

“Are you a goddess?” He asked you, eyes half lidded, unmoving where he laid on the leaves. You chuckled, pressing a hand to his forehead. Your hands were soft and cold over his overheated skin, a balm against his exhaustion. You two didn’t know each other. To him, you were just another outcast and to you, he was the cute barista at the Weathervane. When Enid had gotten out of the woods, covered in blood and sobbing, something had told you to go looking for the other combatant. Maybe it was destiny, but as his father approached to handcuff him, you had knelt next to the broken boy, making the older man pause.

“Not a goddess.” Your eyes flashed silver under the moonlight. Tyler thought you were mistaken. You had to be a goddess, with eyes like that, and a touch so gentle. Artemis. His mother used to tell him the story when he was a child, of the lone maiden that patrolled the woods, goddess of the hunt and protector of women. Always surrounded by wolves, with silver eyes. The girl he had fought…. Enid. She was a wolf.

“You got pretty eyes.” He raised a weak hand to touch you, and you didn’t flinch, allowing him to drag tired fingers against your cheek. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Why would I…?” You asked, concerned. This boy, he was not okay. He wasn’t making any sense, and he wasn’t as badly hurt for it to be normal. You cupped his head in your hand, searching for a head wound. Maybe he had a concussion?

“You're Artemis. Protector of the woods, women… Enid, she is under your protection, isn’t she?” He dragged his fingers down your cheek, leaving four bloodstained paths on your face. “You are warm.” Tyler gave you a tired grin. “I won’t fight you. I just… make it quick.”

“I’m not Artemis.” You answered him, unable to stop looking at his eyes. Something shifted in the bushes, making you startle. The sheriff. You looked at him. “You can’t arrest him. He is too out of it.”

“I can tell. But I still have to.”

“You won’t put him in chains, right? He is your son.” You pleaded, still on your knees. Tyler’s father was a tall man, and you didn’t think you could stop him if you tried, but seeing this boy, so broken, tugged at your heart. You had a thing for underdogs, after all.

“He is dangerous.” The sheriff argued. “Could rip a tiny thing like you to pieces if he wanted to. The things he could do to my men… The things he has done…”

“I can keep him under control.” You pleaded, taking off your amulet. The man looked unconvinced. Tyler had his eyes half open still, but he was not looking. He seemed unable to focus. “Look.” You closed your eyes, fixing your posture. When you opened again, you weren’t the same girl as before. “Rise.” You ordered Tyler, voice sweet, but with a hint of steel behind the words. It was a cruel thing to do, but much more gentle than chains.

Tyler did as you asked, getting up in unsteady legs. His movements were rigid, like a puppet on a string. It was odd, and painful to see.

“Go to the truck and sit down. Don’t run away.” You ordered, eyes glowing silver. Tyler did as you said, walking there of his own accord.

“What are you?” The Sheriff asked, taking a step back and raising his hands in the hair, as if gesturing surrender.

“A siren.” You said to him. “But don’t worry, I won’t hurt either of you. I just… He is not well.”

“Okay, mind control. Yeah, I can work with that.” The sheriff placed a hand on his gun. “Go to the truck, sit on the passenger side. One wrong order, one odd move, and I will shoot you.”

You did as he ordered. Your heart was beating wildly on your chest. The sheriff scared you, you knew he wouldn’t hesitate. You weren’t too sure on what you had gotten yourself into, but it was bad. Sometimes, doing the right thing felt a little like that.

Summer break comes and go. You don’t know anything about how the boy you helped is faring, but you get to see his trial on TV. It’s disgusting, the coverage this is getting. Like it wasn’t his future they are deciding, but instead some sort of juicy celebrity gossip. The case is high profile, and so it sparks debates about normie - outcast relationships, and the relationships different classes of outcast have between them. Wednesday Addams is in the thick of it because god forbid she is not fighting for the oppressed's rights.

You wish you were as brave as her. Instead, you take to wearing sunglasses, so your eyes don’t get you in trouble.

One day before the semester is expected to start, your parents drop you off in Jericho. They set you up in a nice inn, which unfortunately doesn’t serve any lunch. You decide to walk to the best café in town, the Weathervane.

When you step inside, you come face to face with Tyler.

“Hi.” You say to him, not sure if you are going to speak about what happened in the woods, if he remembers the twisted way you used your powers to help him. He looks thinner, hair more messy, eyes darker than you are used too. He drinks you in as you walk to the register, like you are the firsts drop of water he has after weeks in a desert. Tyler looks you up and down, taking your scuffled shoes, the jeans you are wearing, the simple shirt and the ever present sunglasses.

“Hi.” He answers with a blush. “What can I get you?”

“Umm, a latte and a sandwich?” You ask him, fingers drumming nervously on the countertop. There is another barista with him, a pretty girl with long straight hair. “Is she new?” You ask him, desperate to get him to talk to you. It seems he won’t talk about what happened that night, but Tyler doesn’t look scared, either. He passes her the cup and the sandwich to heat up, and she gives you a curious look. Not many people wear sunglasses in Jericho, where it is dark and gloomy all year long.

“Yeah, I’m training her. This is my last day.”

“Oh?”

“Got enrolled at Nevermore.” He grimaces as he says it. “Guess I’ll see you around?” Tyler scratches the back of his neck, and you pay him the latte and the sandwich.

“Yeah.” You say, all awkward. You are saved by the bell because then the other girl screams.

“Latte and a panini for Artemis!” And you laugh because what else can you do? Tyler remembers, then. And he is not scared of you, or what your voice can do if he is teasing you. He gives you a shy smile in return, and you grab your latte and sandwich and walk out the Weathervane, giving him a last, complicit smile.

You keep bumping into each other after that. Tyler is feared by the Nevermore population, but never you. You don’t get why they act so scared, the boy can barely hold a conversation with you without blushing, voice getting all high and squeaky. He is a shy little thing, you think. Nothing to be scared of.

Tyler carries your bookbag for you, opens doors and slips cute little notes in your pockets. It is awfully cute, and you love him for it. Tyler is head over heels for you.

When he finally finds the courage to ask you on a date, you realize all the shyness was because he liked you. You get to see more of his personality after that, and you like him. Tyler is funny, charming, and so considerate. He is the best boyfriend you ever had.

And when it comes to sex… It is more of the same.

“Shhh, keep quiet.” You say to Tyler, pulling him inside your window. “If my dorm mom finds out, she would have my head.”

“She wouldn’t.” He jumps down the window frame, with a cheeky smile. You love that he has gotten more comfortable with you, comfortable enough to tease you. He takes a look across the room, and you eye, self-conscious, the messy papers over your desk. Other than the mess there, your room is like any other, bed, closet, and a mirror near the door.

“Like you know her so well?” You hug him and kiss his cheek. It is true that the new dorm mom is much more relaxed than Mrs. Thornhill. She doesn’t care if boys are on the dorms before curfew, as long as they are out when the night falls. It’s a stupid rule, like people are unable to have sex at other hours that aren’t the nights.

“Oh, shut up.” Tyler pulled away from the hug, looking at you curiously. “Are all sirens this pretty?”

“I don’t know, actually.” You smile at him, the teasing smile still in place. “What do you think? There is Bianca, and Divina…” You start naming them, eager to know what his answer will be.

“No. It’s a you thing. “ Tyler interrupts, and before you can argue, he kisses you. This is his thing, telling you are so pretty, so smart, all the time. If someone asks about his love language, you can say undoubtedly it's words of affirmation, followed quickly by acts of service. This boy worships the floor you walk on, and it is so hot you think you might combust. You kiss back, biting his lower lip. Tyler opens up for you, easily. “So fucking pretty.”

“Oh, I know. I am a goddess.” You laugh, quoting him.

“Let me worship you, then.” Tyler has this serious expression on his eyes, and you know then he isn’t kidding.

“Tyler….”

“Let me, please.” He kisses your forehead softly. “Come on, up the bed you go.”

He takes his time undressing you. He kisses each of your eyelids as he tugs your tie off. Then, kissing your nose as he undoes the first button of your blouse, your breath hitching. “Look at you, you are gorgeous.” His fingers trace your eyes, sliding down your cheekbones. He undoes a second button. Everything is moving too slowly for your liking, and so, you decide to take matters in your own hands.

“You don’t have to…” You pull away just enough to open the rest of the buttons on your blouse, quickly shrugging it off. His eyes go to your breasts, covered by your bra. But still, Tyler doesn’t make any kind of move towards them.

“So impatient. Why do you always want to rush things?” Tyler traces your lips with one of his fingers, keeping you quiet. “Normally, I would say I love your quick mind, but sometimes it’s good to take things slow.” He presses a kiss to your ear, and blows a little puff of air against it, making you tremble. “Don’t you agree?” He whispers.

“Maybe. But you do realize you don’t have to treat me like glass, right?”

“I’m not treating you like glass. I’m treating you like one should treat something precious because that’s what you are to me.” Tyler states, running his fingers down your jaw. His touch is quickly followed by kisses, down your jaw and to your neck. “Breathtaking.”

“Fine.” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. And, hey, if the motion makes it, so he gets an eyeful of your cleavage, you are only human.

“I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.” Another kiss is pressed against your skin, this time to your shoulder. Tyler takes his time, making his way to your hand. He nuzzles your elbow, kisses turning open-mouthed. He grabs your wrist, lifting your forearm to press kisses there. “Your skin is so soft.” Tyler is well shaven, and so, the feeling of his lips against your skin is smooth. You shiver at the way he is mouthing to your wrist, eyes dark. There is something there, something so intimate, it doesn’t feel right to watch. You press your free hand to your face, hiding it from view.

“Don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart.” Tyler says, pulling at your hand a pressing a kiss in your palm. He follows the grooves and lines of it with his tongue. “This is your life line.” He says, holding your fingers open. “And this, is your love line.”

“How do you know so much?” You ask, captivated by the way his eyes glitter in the low light.

“I picked it up somewhere.” Tyler shrugs, and kisses each one of your fingertips. He mouths along your other arm, doing the same path but in reverse, until he hits your bra strap. Slowly, he pulls it down, kissing your shoulder.

“I love you.” You say, shyly. “So much.”

“Love you too.” Tyler runs his fingers down your throat, stopping briefly to caress your collarbones. His fingers go lower, between the valley of your breasts, over your stomach. He kisses your nape, pushing your hair to one side. Tyler’s mouth is hot against your back, against your shoulder blades. You can help but shiver at the gentleness. His hand hits the button of your skirt, and he does quick work of removing it. You can feel his lips running along your spine, until they hit the waistband of your panties. Tyler removes them tenderly.

He rubs at your hipbones, hands warm against your skin. Tyler kisses them with an open mouth, hungry. You can’t help but smirk. He is getting impatient too. Tyler pushes you, so you are sitting near the edge of the bed with your feet on the floor. Then, he kneels, facing your legs. You card your finger through his hair, already fluffy from all his moving around. He looks up at you and smiles.

“Beautiful.” But instead of kissing you where you want the most, he mouths at your thighs, and then to your knees, all the way to your feet. He presses chaste kisses to your ankles, and then, he slides a hand between your parted legs. Tyler rubs a finger back and forth over your slit, gently. You moan at the touch, canting your hips just so, in the hope his finger will slip inside. But Tyler doesn’t let you. Instead, he parts your folds, running the tip of his finger over your clit. “You smell so good. And you always make the prettiest sounds.”

“Tyler, please…” You beg.

“Don’t rush me, sweetheart.” Tyler lets his head drop, hiding his face where your hip meets your thigh, inhaling deeply. “I bet you taste sweet.” Then, he moves his head, licking a strip over your hole.

“What’s the verdict?” You ask him, breathless. Your thighs shake. You feel the impulse to close them, but Tyler’s hands, as if he can tell what you are thinking, grasp your thighs.

“Better than honey.” He licks at your folds again, lazily. “But I want to show you something…”

“What?” You ask. Tyler doesn’t answer, starting to take off his clothes efficiently. You try to help, but he shakes his head.

You go to obey him, locking your arms around his neck and stepping over his open thighs.

“Don’t. Tonight is all about you.” When he is naked, he sits down on the foot of the bed, almost diagonally. It is an odd position, the one he chooses. Tyler’s erection looks painful, red, and leaking, but he makes no movement towards it. “Sit on me.”

“No, sweetheart.” He gently pushes you away. “Facing the mirror.”

You understand, then, why he decided to sit there. This way, when you sit on his cock, he has the perfect view of how your pussy swallows it, how your mouth falls open at the stretch and how your thighs quiver.

“Tyler.” You moan, eyes closing.

“No, none of that.” Tyler grasps at your jaw, gently directing it towards the mirror. “Eyes open. Look how good you look. Look how I see you.”

You risk a look in the mirror then. The woman who locks eyes with you, she is something else. She might very well be a goddess, with how beautiful she looks. Her eyes are pure silver, with blown out pupils, so big they almost swallow the pools of mercury they are in. Her hair cascades down her back, loose. In her cheeks spreads a healthy flush, her chest rises tantalizing with every breath. Her skin glistens with sweat and her lips part open into sweet agony. The woman in the mirror, she is no Artemis. No virgin goddess there. She is something else. And she can’t be you.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” Tyler says, carding his fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your face, tenderly. “Look at this perfect face.” You look, in a trance, how he runs his fingers down your cheek. You can feel it too, but the image in the mirror has you transfixed. “This pretty mouth.” His thumb rubs at your lower lip, eyes following the motion in the reflection. “This wonderful mind.” He kisses your temple, softly.

“Tyler, do something.” You beg, arching your back against him. You roll your hips slowly, but Tyler doesn’t budge.

“Those pretty eyes.” Tyler says, his other hand coming to hold down your hips like a vice. You know he is strong. Someone told you once he could break you in half without even trying, and it is true. His arm easily holds you down in place. “This gorgeous chest.” He rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, making you whimper. You are going to go mad. “Your gorgeous soul.”

“Tyler, please…” You insist, but your eyes are locked in the way his hand is cupping your breast. For all your begging, you aren’t really trying to move. This is a form of exquisite torture, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. You can tell he knows because Tyler drags his tongue over your earlobe, until you are shivering and trembling in his grasp.

“This perfect pussy.” Tyler says, like if he too is submerged in this trance, like he can’t just stop admiring you. His hand goes to rub at your clit, making circles around it. He kisses your neck, peppering it with kisses. You throw your head back, and he makes a tutting noise. “Eyes in the mirror, sweetheart.”

“You are spectacular.” He says when you open your eyes again. Tyler kisses you then. “My perfect girl. My goddess. I love you.”

You keep looking. He keeps doing circles over your clit and starts rolling his hips just enough to press where you need him to. Your lips part, a low moan leaving them. It takes a while, but you feel the way your muscles start tensing before you can see them in the mirror, how your stomach gets tight, how your chest flushes. The last thing you see before reaching your orgasm is Tyler’s wicked grin against your shoulder.

“Love you too.” You mutter, letting him take more of your weight. “I think you broke me.”

#my writing #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin #tyler galpin smut #tyler galpin imagine #tyler galpin x fem!reader

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literaryavenger · 2 months

Text

Black Panther - Post Credit Scene

Summary: Bucky comes out of the ice.

Pairing: Avengers x F!Reader, Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Nothing really for this one, maybe language. Mostly fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I want to specify that I used google translator for the Xhosa, so I hope it's at least decent, but I thought it would be cute to put it in there. I've had this ready to go for WEEKS and I'm so glad I finally get to post it! I hope you like the idea of a reunion like this as much as I do! Enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You’ve been on the run for a year now with Steve, Sam and Natasha. A few weeks after you all escaped the Raft, Clint and Scott decided to make a deal with Ross to get house arrest because being on the run and away from their families was too hard for them.

The five of you that remained went from safe house to safe house while doing as many missions as you could, never staying in one place too long and still trying to help people to the best of your capabilities, with Wanda disappearing from time to time to spend time with Vision.

Lately, though, you’ve been noticing Steve’s been a little fidgety, even disappearing here and there for a couple of days at a time.

You want to ask him what’s going on, but you don’t want to be nosy so you wait for if and when he’s ready to talk about it.

And that time comes one random afternoon as you’re all sitting around in the living room of the safe house you’re in, Wanda being off with Vision.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” He sits next to you and you nod, putting down your book to give him your full attention. “I know you’ve all been wondering where I go every now and then, and I’m glad you didn’t push it. But I’m ready for you guys to know now.”

He addresses everybody before turning to you and looking straight in your eyes as he finishes. “Bucky’s awake.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t seem to find it in you to say anything more than “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner...” He looks actually sorry. “We just thought it would’ve been better to keep it as lowkey as possible.”

You nod and look at the floor, trying not to show your disappointment.

It makes sense. After all Steve is his best friend, his brother, his only family. You’re barely an acquaintance.

Right?

“He asked about you.” your eyes snap back to him. “He wanted you to be there, but he understood. He’s glad you’re safe.”

“From the government or from him?” you mumble and Steve gives you an apologetic look, but lets it go.

“The thing is, I kind of need to ask you a favor.” you narrow your eyes at him and he raised his hands in surrender. “It’s nothing bad, I swear!”

“Fine,” you sigh. “What do you want?”

“It’s just, the mission we’ve been planning is important…” he looks at the plans and footprints on the table. “And only three of us are needed for it.”

You think you see where this is going. “You want me to take over your part of the mission?!” you look at him like he grew three heads. How the hell can you take on the role of a supersoldier?

“No, of course not. That’s the thing.” he quickly clarifies. “I can’t be spared for this, and we know the mission is gonna last a while.”

“Where are you going with this, Rogers?” you’re just confused now.

“Could you look after Bucky for me?”

Oh. You try hard not to look too excited about the prospect of seeing Bucky again and spending time with him.

“Are you… sure that’s a good idea?” you ask him as coolly as you can.

“It’s not gonna be hard. You just need to keep an eye on him from a distance.” good thing you managed your expectations. “Shuri’s gonna be working with him and, when he’s ready, she’ll let you talk to him.” Okay, you’re excited again.

“Uhm,” you have to at least pretend to think about it, right? “I guess, if I’m not needed on the mission and you are, I could do you this favor.”

You fight a smile as you make the mistake to look at Sam, that’s grinning, knowing full well how you feel about Bucky. You groan and roll your eyes, but he says nothing, thankfully.

“Thank you.” Steve lays a hand on your arm and smiles at you. “This means a lot to me.”

“I know.” you smile back, then hug him.

“Okay,” he says as you let go “we’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

You nod and get up to finish packing the bag you were getting ready for the mission in a few days.

After you’re done, you go back to the living room to spend one last night with Sam, Steve and Nat as you don’t know how long it’s gonna be before you see them again.

The next morning you wake up thankful you’re not hungover and get your stuff with Steve’s into the jet, Sam and Nat accompanying you out to say the last goodbyes.

“I’ll miss you.” you tell Nat as you hug her “Please don’t cut your hair again while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try not to.” she laughs, hugging you back. “I’ll miss you too, Crazy.”

“Try not to miss me too much.” Sam tells you as he hugs you too, making you roll your eyes with a smile.

“Sure, birdbrain.” He groans at the nickname “Be careful.”

He nods and, after they say goodbye to Steve too, the two of you board the quinjet and make your way to Wakanda.

You are met by Princess Shuri and King T’Challa himself. You hug Steve goodbye as he makes his way to visit Bucky before his mission and to tell him he probably won’t be coming by again for a while.

Shuri and T’Challa, who insisted you drop their formal titles, give you a tour of the palace and then take you to a guest room that’s basically a suite, and you’re shocked to find out you’ll be living here in the palace for the duration of your stay.

As promised you look after Bucky from a distance.

Every morning you and Shuri get escorted to Bucky’s hut where she works with him on his deprogramming as you and Ayo hang back.

Other than making sure he’s okay, there’s not really much for you to do so you take this time to get to know the people. It astonishes you how easy you get welcomed by the community.

You’re taught their customs by the locals, you pick up some Xhosa, not a lot but enough to have conversations and you’re even taught to fight by the Dora Milaje. Mostly Okoye and even Ayo since the two of you cleared the air after the whole airport fight.

She apologized profusely about the wound she inflicted in your arm, which has been fully healed for months now, and you assured her it was okay. You understood she was simply doing her job and admired her passion and determination to protect her king.

Also, it turns out you broke a couple of her ribs, which you also apologized for, so you two decided to just call it even.

You got comfortable fast; dressing with their clothes, participating in their festivities and playing around with the children everyday as Shuri does whatever she does with Bucky.

You’re always careful to not get too close to be seen while still being close enough to keep an eye on them.

After their sessions Shuri always brings you up to speed and then you report to Steve to let him know Bucky’s doing good.

You’re making your way to Shuri’s lab where you’ve met her everyday for the couple of months that you’ve been in Wakanda.

“Good morning, Princess.” you tell her, bowing when you stop in front of T’Challa. “My King.”

“Stop that.” he swats at you as both you and Shuri laugh.

“Ready to go?” Ayo asks and you eye her suspiciously as she’s grinning like she does right before she makes a move that instantly knocks you on your ass during training.

“What are you up to?” you ask her but she just keeps on smiling.

“Today is the day, Agent.” Shuri tells you as smirks, knowing how you feel about the nickname.

“I’m not an agent of anything.” you roll your eyes, then register what she just said. “Wait, what do you mean, today’s the day?”

“Sergeant Barnes is ready.” she says and you can’t help the smile that comes to your face, which falls with a groan when you see them all smirking at each other at your reaction.

“Let’s just go.” you say as you turn around and start walking with Shuri and Ayo.

“Have fun!” T’Challa yells after you.

“Your order is my command, Your Highness!” you yell back and you all laugh at the loud groan he lets out.

As always, Shuri gets closer while you and Ayo hang back and she walks to the shore of the lake in front of the hut and then stops there.

You see three kids run out of Bucky’s hut, laughing, and the princess turns around as they run up to her and hug her.

“Are you playing around with that man again?” she asks, laughing. “You’re teasing him again.” she keeps teasing them as they chant ‘no’ between laughter and you can’t help but smile.

Bucky exits the hut and, like every other day, he takes your breath away. His sun-kissed skin, his Wakandan robes, his growing beard and the longer hair. The whole style just suits him.

You see him take a deep breath and then he gets closer to Shuri as the children run towards you giggling about the “Ingcuka Emhlophe”. [White Wolf]

“Uyayithanda Ingcuka Emhlophe?” you ask them. [You like the White Wolf?]

“Yena engaqhelekanga” one of the kids says and you laugh. [He’s strange]

“Kutheni ephulukene nengalo nje?” another one asks you. [Why is he missing an arm?]

You aren’t sure what to say, they are children after all, but you try your best.

“Kuba uyindoda ekhaliphileyo eyathi yenzakala xa inceda abantu.” [Because he is a brave man that was injured while helping people]

They all look at him in awe just as you hear Shuri say, “Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky.” he corrects her and you smile.

“How are you feeling today?” she asks him.

“Good. Thank you.” she smiles and motions towards you.

“Come. Much more for you to learn.” she says as she starts walking.

He takes a second to look out at the lake before following Shuri, but as soon as he spots you, he stops.

He stares as you’re giggling with the children that are now circling around you and dancing, and when you look towards Bucky again his eyes are already on you.

You blush a little at his intense gaze but he seems to snap out of it when your eyes meet his and he gets closer until he’s right in front of you.

“Sergeant.” you say, smirking.

“Doll.” he says, smirking back.

You smile at each other until Shuri clears her throat and you turn to look at her just to see both her and Ayo with a smirk of their own. You roll your eyes at them, but your smile stays on.

“Shall we?” Shuri says and starts walking, Ayo right behind her.

Bucky takes your hand and starts walking after Shuri too, pulling you with him, both of you feeling like nothing could wipe the smiles off your faces.

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham @mary-jinx @abbyyourlocalmilf @selcouthial @esposadomd @americaarse @multiversefanfics

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ceilidho · 4 months

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1800s mail order bride [price/reader] for da wip game

i haven't yet gotten around to writing more of this fic (it's listed as complete on ao3 because i feel like it leaves off at a good place so if i never get back around to it, im fine with that, but the door is still open enough for me to return.

without having given this too much thought, this is what i would probably write if i were to make this into a proper fic (huge spoilers below because i'm basically outlining the entire plot):

after the scene in the sheriff's office, Price whisks you off to the local judge to be wed; this is where you come back to yourself and start protesting and denying that you're the girl he's waiting for

Price then says something about how "if you're not her, then who are you?" and brutally interrogates you about your identity (he thinks you're lying and he's just trying to make the truth come out) but you're still too nervous to say anything about who you are and where you're from because, remember, you just left a city where you killed someone. you have no idea how much information has been disseminated or whether you're a wanted woman. at one point you make up a lie about being "elizabeth smith from Rhode Island" and he challenges that by saying "we'll contact your kin then and have them confirm" (essentially saying you're under house arrest with him / in the town until someone related to "elizabeth smith" telegrams from R.I. or sends a letter)

you never actually give in and just go "fine, i'm the woman you've been corresponding with" but Price sees all these holes in your story as evidence that you are her and he's convinced that "your guilty heart brought you here to me anyway." There's basically nothing you can do to avoid being married off to him.

you're basically shell shocked the entire time at the court house and then on the trip back to the inn to collect your belongings to bring to Price's house.

the first night at his place is rough. you're basically like a feral cat the whole time - still insisting that he's got the wrong woman, indignant and furious when he thinks he has the right to put his hands on you and touch you (Price just lifts his brow at that because like...you are his wife now so really it's a moot point), and locking yourself in his bedroom the second the two of you are home.

Price finds all of this very amusing. he has stuff to do around the property anyway, so he lets you lock yourself in the room for a couple hours.

eventually he does just unlock the door with a key he has on top of the doorframe (you thought you were safe in there but oops nope). there's some conversation about "wifely duties" that has you screaming and spitting at him before he threatens to put you over his knee again, so you clam up and get a bit teary, which makes Price soften. (good excuse for me to write a soft but firm version of Price shushing you and drawing you into his embrace)

anyway, the middle of this story would be all slow, tender sex and you having to get used to being Price's wife while always keeping one eye out for any news of there being a warrant out for your arrest. you get spooked once by a man in town asking about any newcomers (maybe you're in a shop and you overhear him ask the cashier while you're behind a shelf) and try to flee, but Price tracks you down and he's sooooo mad when the two of you get home. like sex is rough that night.

events i'd want to have happen:

someone comes sniffing around town for you (bounty hunter maybe) and you try running away (unsuccessful, but you're mildly reassured when you hear the man has left town by the next day because everyone thinks of you as Price's wife so no one thinks to mention that a woman arrived in town the other week)

there's an incident on a farm on the outskirts of town that Price has to go to - he makes you promise to be good and you spend the next two days wrestling with whether to take the opportunity to leave or not. you end up staying. Price comes back and he's so happy to see his little wife still home after a few rough days of work. probably the first time he makes you sit on his face to reward you.

your luck finally comes to an end when the same bounty hunter finally comes back (your marriage announcement may have been in the local paper and somehow word got to him about a girl matching the description of the woman he's after) and somehow manages to trap you. the climax of this fic is that he manages to get you on a horse speeding away from town and you're heartbroken/terrified/desperate for John but your situation seems hopeless)

John catches up with the two of you and he, uh....deals with the bounty hunter that took his wife from him. before he "deals" with him, the bounty hunter does basically reveal who you actually are, and there's a moment where you see that John believes him. he looks at you in a strange way for just a second and there's this glint in his eye that says "yeah I either suspected this or this is new information to me but now everything makes sense" and your heart just stops because it's the first time where you actually don't want him to know that you aren't the woman that was supposed to be his wife

then he kills the bounty hunter and takes you home :) and he never ever acknowledges what the other man said. because you're his wife and that's all that matters.

suuupppperrrr tender loving sex that night LMAO probably out in wilderness because you're far outside of town and the two of you are exhausted (plus, John just buried this man's body so you had to diverge from the route home for a bit)

at some point in time, a woman does show up at your doorstep claiming to be John's wife. you slam the door on her face.

ok now i wanna write this again FUCKDJGHSJGVSD

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longing-for-rain · 3 months

Text

“There’s no way that person could be a predator. They’re so kind and helpful and give so much to the community! You must just be lying to tear them down!”

Let me tell you about Mr. Larry, the old band director when I was in high school.

That’s not his real name, but you get the idea. Everyone loved Mr. Larry. He was that fun, quirky teacher that all the students loved. He talked about how much he loved his wife and showed the class pictures of his cats. He danced on a busy street corner dressed as a pizza slice to cheer on students doing the charity run. He was very understanding and easygoing and always took that extra step to help a student who was struggling.

But there were always rumors about Mr. Larry. A few girls over the years had reported inappropriate incidents with Mr. Larry. Nobody believed them. He was so nice and so charitable. How could Mr. Larry possibly be *that* type of person? He must not have meant what he did. Maybe those girls just misunderstood. Or maybe they were just lying.

There was no evidence, after all, so the rumors stayed rumors. It was easy to accept, that way. Nobody wanted to believe Mr. Larry was capable of such things. What they didn’t know was the story of the girl who deleted all of her texts with him because she was afraid she’d get in trouble if her parents saw them, or the girl who didn’t realize what she’d experienced was sexual abuse until it was too late.

Mr. Larry was the same way for years. Nobody believed the rumors until he was arrested and put on the sex offender registry after one girl finally managed to prove her abuse to authorities.

But do you think it ended there?

Even after Mr. Larry was found guilty, so many people refused to believe it. His coworkers, students, parents. Instead of accepting that predators are capable of hiding behind a kind and benevolent persona, they instead spun a narrative in which that teenage girl was purposely seducing Mr. Larry, that it wasn’t really his fault. They called his sexual assault and grooming of this girl a mistake and tried pinning the majority of the blame on her. Because Mr. Larry was just so good and nice. Someone like him could never be a predator.

There are a lot of Mr. Larrys out there. Mr. Larry could be a teacher, a coach, your coworker, your next door neighbor, anyone. On the internet—because this pattern is extremely common online too—Mr. Larry could manifest as that chill person in your DMs, your “fandom mom,” etc.

Don’t brush off a warning because someone was nice to you. Remember Mr. Larry. He got away with it for so long because he built himself the reputation of a kindly and generous father figure. But he knew exactly what he was doing. Don’t fall for it.

#tw grooming #internet safety #signal boost #tw sa #grooming #feminism #fandom culture

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comicglitterr0909 · 6 months

Text

Confused. Vanessa Shelly/Afton x Fem!Reader

Vanessa Shelly/Afton x reader who is really bad with emotions. Reader basically had not the best life, and wasn't allowed to show emotions growing up, and so when reader starts catching feelings for Vanessa, you don't know what it is so they are really confused and awkward around Vanessa, also Mike kinda just doesn't exist in this lmao :D

Even though the pizzeria might not have been my first choice, it's really not that bad. Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself of that…oh well. I close my car door, careful not to do it too hard, the door would probably fall off. I really needed this job, I have maybe 100 dollars to my name. Sighing I use the key that Mr Raglan gave me, I try to unlock it one way, it doesn't unlock.

“Shit..” I mutter to myself, I turn the key a different way, flip it around, I try everything and it just isn't unlocking. I stand there for like 30 minutes fumbling with this stupid fucking key, and just my luck. A cop car pulls up, oh cool they can probably help me, wait oh shit, they are gonna think im trying to break in. I worriedly look at the cop car and wave, the windows are tinted and it's dark out so I can't see who's in there. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, I try to use the key again, glancing back at the female cop who just got out of her car. She looks nice… she can help, wait, all cops look nice, that's their tactic.

“Hey. What are you doing?” The officer says as I quickly turn around, I can feel my heart start beating faster, I'm usually fine around cops though, whatever it's just nerves. “Officer! Hi um I'm the security guard here, the key I was given isn’t working. I've been trying for like 30 minutes haha…” That was convincing and definitely not suspicious. Shit. She raises her eyebrow, looking me up and down, and glancing at the lock behind me. “You're really lucky that the owner said there was a new security guard, or I'd probably arrest you. Here let me try.” She says with a smile, I hand her the key without saying anything. Woah my stomach feels weird, am I sick or something?? It feels like my stomach has like… horses running around in it. Weird description but whatever…taking a step back I watch as she unlocks it on the first try.

That's awkward. “How did you do that?? I swear I... I tried for like 30 minutes…” She turns around and gives me back the key, looking me up and down again, god what happens to me? It feels like I'm going to throw up every time she does that. What is happening to me?? “It’s fine, keys can be difficult sometimes.” She smiles at me, fuck I feel like a fool all I can do is just stand there looking at her, I think im having a stroke. No wait, a heart attack, that more likely feels like my heart is eating itself. “Um, thank you Officer.” Why did I say that so weird, god she must think i'm drunk or something.

“Please, my names Vanessa, Vanessa Shelly.” She holds out her hand for me to shake, AND I STARE AT HER HAND FOR LIKE 3 SECONDS BEFORE AWKWARDLY SHAKING HER HAND OH MY GOD. I'm freaking out, is it hot? No, it's cold, why am I sweating?? “Right, uh, y/n, y/n y/ln. It's really nice to meet you.” It's really nice to meet you? Did I really have to put the really, whatever i can't go back in time. “You too, mind if I stick around for a bit?” YES, wait yes what the fuck is happening why do I feel this way? “Yeah no problem.” I say like a fool, I don't usually overthink things like this. Or do I? Have I just not noticed? Huh, whatever.

The night goes on, and my heart doesn't slow down, the odd feelings in my stomach continue as she talks to me, and asks me a couple questions. It feels like the night goes way too fast, and I find myself upset when it turns to 6am. Driving home all I can think about her, why? I think I just really want to be friends with her, probably, that's all it is. I get home and lay down on my bed staring at the ceiling, maybe this job won't be as bad as I thought it would be.

The next day Vanessa doesn’t show up, maybe she never will. I also find out how creepy the pizzeria is and even though my life is practically in danger, I just keep wishing that I’d get to see her again, but just as friends though. Just friends.

I pull into the parking lot of the pizzeria. Walking up in my goofy looking security vest, I sigh. Yesterday I was actually able to unlock the lock, after 10 minutes…but at least I got it. Ugh, time to try to unlock this for half of my shift. And just like I said, it's been 5 minutes and I still can’t get it. “Does it…go the other way or..” I mutter to myself, before I see headlights shining at me. SHES HERE. Oh god I feel like I shoulda put more effort into myself today, does my hair look okay. I zone out thinking about every possible thing that I could ever overthink, before finally getting snapped out of it by her. “Hey, need help with the lock again?” She says teasingly, grinning at me. Woah, my heart just went to the moon and back okay that's normal. “Uh yeah haha, still can’t seem to get it right.” She takes the key from me and just like before, unlocks it with ease, before handing the key back to me. “I'm gonna hang out again today, hope you don’t mind.” “Hah no, I don’t care, I enjoy the company.” Finally I said something without sounding like a 5 year old.

We both walk into the pizzeria, without saying anything, as we are walking her hand brushes against mine, there it is again, that fuzzy feeling that only happens with her. Maybe I should google my symptoms. “So how's your day been?” She asks me, with a smile. “Oh, pretty good, better now that you're here haha.” I pause, DID I JUST SAY THAT, holy shit oh god what? What was I thinking?? “That's funny, I was going to say the same thing.” She says with a wink, before continuing to walk down the hall. Everything in my head was screaming at me, I had to remember that walking is something that you do if you wanna follow someone. So I started walking again, maybe I should ask her? She's a cop, she might know what's wrong with me.

We go over to the showtime area. “Hey, have you seen them perform yet?” “They perform?” “Yeah watch.” Vanessa presses the showtime button, and the animatronics jump into a song. I watch them with intent, probably the first thing I've thought about that wasn't Vanessa in 3 days. We both walk over to a booth and sit down, just watching and listening to them do their thing. “So this is cool isn’t it?” She asks, looking at me, I look over at her. That feeling again, I swear I'm having a stroke. “Y/N?” Yup this is a stroke why can’t I answer her? “Y-yeah, right, um yeah this is super cool.” I say looking down at the table, smiling and looking back at her. “Are you okay?” Vanessa asks me, looking genuinely worried.

I gulp and look at her nervously. “Um, not really? I don't know.” “You don't know? What do you mean what's going on?’’ She stands up and squats down in front of me, looking up at me. She takes my hands and holds them. I swear my heart just stops at that point. “Hey, talk to me, what's going on?” “Do you um” I clear my throat. “Do you ever get this weird feeling? Lately my heart has been beating faster than normally, and I'm really nervous and anxious and my stomach feels like it's being twisted up.” She looks at me, with those doe eyes of hers, with genuine care and worry. “And the weirdest part of it all, is it only happens around…well…you.” And with that, the worry on her face disappears into a softer one. She laughs and looks back up at me with a smirk. “Y/N have you ever had a crush before?” “A crush? What's that have to do with this, I’ve never had one before but I’ve heard- oh” And it finally clicks, all those movies i’ve seen are like this, a crush, I have a crush on her. Oh shit. I just admitted to her that I have a crush on her. As she watches me come to realization, I feel my face heat up. “Don’t start stressing yourself out, y/n, I like you too.” She says grinning and looking at me sympathetically. I’m still processing all of it, so I don’t really say anything for 10 seconds. “That's good, I um I like you too…a lot.” “Yup, I realized that.” She teasingly smirks at me. “So are we dating now?” I ask genuinely as she laughs again, standing up. “Wow, you really haven’t ever done this before huh? It’s cute, and yeah, we are dating, cmon.” Vanessa holds her hand out for me to take, and finally, it feels right. No more confusion, it feels right, being with her. I’m finally happy. With her :)

#vanessa afton x reader #fnaf vanessa #vanessa shelly #vanessa afton #vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa afton fluff #fnaf #fnaf movie vanessa #elizabeth lail

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upsidedownmvnson · 8 months

Note

from the prompt list: this is you thinking rationally?

a/n: this request is seriously 100 years old

"Eddie Munson, what have you done?"

"Is this anyway to treat the knight defending your honour?"

Eddie's eye was swollen, bruised with a cut over his eyebrow, and another bruise on the same side of his face along his jaw. He was fine, looked worse than it felt. And really, he had won the fight, so he didn't care at all about a few temporary bruises.

You huffed, tilting Eddie's chin with your thumb to look at the damage. He was right, it was all surface level scrapes, but you hated the idea of him fighting, with one of the jocks no less.

You let go of his chin, and shuffled over to the window in the kitchen. Usually, the trailer brought you an odd sense of comfort, but today Eddie was trampling all over that by bringing this situation home with him. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the trailer, and more about the fact you couldn't stand it if anything had happened to him. You wouldn't forgive yourself for putting him in that situation.

A drama filled conclusion to a drama filled week. There was this guy, on the basketball team, his name is Jackson, and you two had gone on one date. It went horribly, and you didn't even kiss him goodnight. You said something along of the lines of, "yeah, maybe not though?" when he asked for a second date.

The next day, the whole school was talking about how you had put out before dinner. It was annoying, and it hurt your feelings. But you didn't really care, only the idiots at school believed him, and like your best friend Eddie - you didn't get bothered by a words from a bunch of jackasses.

"So you spray painted that message on the water tower, then?"

"Did you ever think it wasn't me?" he asked, playful sparkle in his eye.

Someone had spray painted 'Jackson Evans is a virgin'. And while you'd also suspected it was Eddie, there was never a chance to bring it up, he was an expert at dodging your questions.

"Eddie! What you were thinking?" you huffed again, crossing your arms. "You've could've been arrested. those guys could've really hurt you."

"Oh please," he sighed, waving you off. "I was thinking that those guys shouldn't just be able to get away with whatever they want. I was perfectly calm, level headed and just trying to explain to them that there are consequences, and then they got totally irrational when they realize I was the artiste," he used a faux french accent, "that tarnished Jack's great name."

"They were the irrational ones!?" you asked, raising your voice, "you pick a fight with the entire basketball team, and that's, what? That's you thinking rationally?"

Eddie raised his eyebrows. Honestly, he thought you would laugh with him about all this, he wasn't really expecting the third degree.

"Oh, let me get one thing straight," he said, losing his patience, "my thinking was crystal clear." He took a long stride towards you, "I was thinking that those dickheads don't even get to think about you like that. I was thinking that you aren't the butt of their fucking jokes. I was thinking that you deserve to be defended!"

He looked down at you, calming down from his brief outburst. You didn't say anything, just watched him, watched as his features softened, and his eyes dripped with vulnerability.

"You deserve everything," he whispered, waiting for any sign of hesitation as he got closer, both of your hearts racing at the sheer intimacy of his words and proximity. "Is this okay?" he asked, tucking a piece of here behind your ear, his voice barely audible and wispy, like he was scared of what the answer may be. You nodded. "I just didn't think they deserved your indifference to it all - you're too good from them, for all of them."

And you took the next step, closing the small gap between the two of you, crossing that devilish line of just friends, turning to lovers. He wrapped his arms around you, surprise and delighted, reveling in the moment he's been waiting for for years. He's been waiting for his moment, and this was it. A chance to be with the person he loves, who luckily happens to love him back.

#eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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harryforvogue · 7 months

Text

Bringing the Queen Home*

hi yes hello. this fic is about persephone being a late to returning to hades!harry, so he decides to take matters into his own hands. 6.5k words and, as always, happy reading :)

tw: mention of child passing away

***

Hecate and Hermes glance at each other as Harry stalks past them again, the look on his face murderous. The effects of his rage have been prominent from the trembling of the palace walls and the cold air shifting through the gardens. His arms are behind his back as he paces, hands in fists.

Hermes is the first one to speak. “Er, my king. Perhaps we should look into communicating with Dem–”

“Say her name and I’ll kill you.” Harry’s growl is demonic. He turns his black eyes to Hermes, daring him to say more.

Hermes (tries to) stand his ground, but he shifts back towards Hecate against the corridor wall and murmurs, “Your turn.”

Hecate doesn’t bother. She’s been around an enraged Harry too many times to interfere. Whatever plan he comes up with will be his own and then he can’t go around blaming other people for the hole he digs for himself.

“A week,” Harry’s muttering to himself. “What could have made her so upset that she’s late for a week. I understand a day. Maybe even two. But 7 entire days is ridiculous.” He runs a hand through his hair, gripping it tight at the base of his neck.

Harry paces in the dimly lit hallway outside his bedroom for a little longer. And then, suddenly, he stops. Hecate knows he has a plan from the way he lifts his head sharply, eyes returning to their normal color.

“We must go up and get her.”

Hermes groans. “You’re still technically barred from leaving the Underworld, remember?”

It’s true. Last year, he’d been visiting Persephone after a particularly terrifying dream about his father, and only wanted solace in his wife. Persephone had kept it a secret very well, and had cradled his head to his chest while waiting for him to calm down. But as he was leaving, disguised as a black snake, Helion, the traitorous bastard, had identified him and alerted Zeus. And as a result, Hermes was sent to “guard” the king of the underworld to ensure he did not break the clause in his contract that (paraphrased) stated, “Do not be stupid and leave the Underworld while your wife is gone or I shall fry you on the spot.”

Also as a punishment, Zeus placed Hades on something that the mortals had made up. “House arrest” he’d called it, looking quite pleased with himself for thinking of it.

“I’ll be invisible,” Harry says.

“It will not be enough!” Hermes groans, his head in his hands. “You put me through so much stress. If I were mortal, I sure would have one of those things. Those heart conditions. The, er. Heart…heart…”

“Heart attack,” Hecate mutters.

“Yes. Precisely!”

Harry is unfazed. “You will cover for me, and if you should refuse, I will keep you as my personal servant and messenger for the next five years.”

Hermes looks up, horrified. “Five years? You’d be that cruel?”

“Quite. Do you want to defy me?” Harry’s voice is low and challenging.

“But your brother–”

“Will never find out. I must get my wife.” Harry prowls closer to him, power radiating off him. His eyes are growing black around the edges again. “Hermes. What is your answer?”

When Hermes is all but backed to the wall with a looming, murderous man above him, he yells, “Fine! Fine! I won’t tell!”

“Good.” Harry doesn’t look away from Hermes. “Hecate.”

“Yes, my king?”

“My chariot.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Hecate?”

“Yes?”

“You must stay here and look after the kingdom.” Harry finally pulls away from Hermes when the other deity starts cowering under the dark glare. “I will be going tonight.”

Harry steps back and looks at both of them pointedly. They nod back, and then Harry disappears into his room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

***

There’s nobody else capturing her attention, Harry tells himself as he removes his crown from his head. He’d dressed up well for his wife’s return, adorned in jewelry and the finest material. He turns the crown in his hands. There’s nobody more important to Persephone than he. There can’t be.

So why is she not home?

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, falling down to his shared bed. He tosses the crown away. Could she be upset with him? So filled with rage that she doesn’t wish to see him? Was he not writing back to her well enough? Was he not telling her enough, how much he loved her? How he ached to touch her? Kiss her? Was it not enough?

Is he not enough?

Does she not wish to be his wife anymore?

His chest tightens, and Harry thinks it’s all too mortal of him to feel the physical ailments of his agony.

Persephone loves him. He knows that. He does. So why does he–?

Harry stops himself. He stands up again and fixes his clothing. He then prepares for his journey, hiding sheathed bronze weapons in his suit, tucking his invisibility cap close to him as well. It matters little of the reason for her reluctance. He will bring his wife home.

Before he leaves his chamber, Harry looks at himself in the mirror, a picture of terror. He forces his face to relax. Persephone always tells him not to be so severe. He can feel her soft fingers pull apart his eyebrows that she swears are connected. He can feel her lips on his jaw, kissing away the tension. My love, she murmurs, arms around him tight. I just want to see you smile. Please?

So then it is decided. Whatever the reason for her hesitance is, he’ll deal with it. Whether it’s a duty, or another man. He will be rational.

***

Harry is anything but rational, he finds.

Because Persephone isn’t with her mother at her palace. In fact, Demeter’s already weeping and grieving and all that fucking bullshit. The earth is cold, winds picking up as he leaves the palace.

Persephone isn’t with her mother. Persephone isn’t with him. She’s elsewhere, and now he’s angry at her.

Now that the familiar feeling has returned, Harry wants nothing more than to quickly identify where his wife is and demand answers. So after a brief break within the trees, he stalks out of the woods then, and closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down so that he can grasp the connection between him and his wife.

He might have felt even a flicker of something if he weren’t so angry. He opens his eyes and begins walking in the usual direction Persephone takes to return to him. Demeter has previously expressed that she doesn’t like seeing Persephone leave the way she comes because it’s “too close to home” so Persephone usually goes a town over before returning to him.

Harry’s footsteps against the earth are hard, and he catches himself caught up in his rage when the trees around him begin to shake.

What could have been so important that she refused to return home to him?

The town over is quite far, and Harry uses the long walk to try to calm down. He doesn’t want to be raging when Persehone sees him for the first time in six months.

By the time he reaches the town, Harry’s feeling lighter. He’s said a few mantras to himself — which Hermes told him before he left — and taken a few breaks in between miles. He’s done well, he thinks. At least by the standards of the King.

He walks on the town’s cobblestoned pathway, winding between makeshift houses and temples. At nearly every door, he stops and closes his eyes, trying to feel his wife’s presence. But everytime, he comes up short, devoid of any trace of her. He doesn’t immediately give up even though the irritation returns. Instead, he walks to each establishment, including the pubs and hotels, hoping he can feel her.

It isn’t until he’s about to leave the town and angrily trudge to the next one that he violently stops, turning his head.

There. He feels her.

He slowly turns around and scans the land. The town is busy preparing for winter, several men walking in front of him with wood on their backs, the women carrying baskets of vegetables into their homes. Some of them are bandaged, some of them limping.

But despite the excitement. Harry can feel a faint glimmer, and it tugs at his heart. He looks around. She wasn’t in the house. Not the shops. Not the pubs. She’s–

The infirmary. His eyes narrow in on the small hut-like building made of remaining bricks and wood, barely put together. His feet begin to walk him in that direction.

She can’t be hurt. She’d heal immediately if she was.

But that reminder doesn’t make him any less worried. Suddenly, he feels stupid for being angry. Never once did he consider she could be hurt. He just assumed she’d be able to take care of herself.

It’s not a busy infirmary, though. There are a few children laying on cots with their mothers near them, but aside from that and the one healer, the room is empty.

Harry walks through it, careful not to make any sound. He hovers over the children, their pale faces flushed with fever. With a tight jaw, he holds his hand over them and reaches, removing their pain. He can’t completely heal them, but he figures anything will help. The children, barely of ages 5 or 6 he assumes, relax into their bed, eyes fluttering shut. To their mothers, it looks like they’ve fallen asleep.

He steps away and then turns back towards the room, glancing around.

The healer is dressed in all white, tall and kind. She is currently busy with helping a child enter, taking the baby of barely six months in mortal time from its father and resting it on her hip. She cradles the baby’s head to her chest and sighs softly, gently bouncing. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “You’ll be just fine.”

The mother rushes in, eyes filled with tears. “I did as you asked, Miss. Only natural milk. As you asked.”

“Yes,” the healer says softly. She brushes her fingers over the baby’s full cheek. “And you must leave the rest to me. I assure you, she will be well in a day’s time.”

When the healer turns around, Harry stops.

Persephone. Wife.

Harry immediately goes to her, but stops when she starts walking in his direction. She’s disguised herself well, the opposite of what she really looks like, but her gentle eyes remain. Wholly focused on the baby. She brings the child to the cot closest to him and lays her down gingerly, reaching for a wet cloth. The baby has miraculously fallen asleep, no doubt Persephone’s work, and she puts the cloth over her eyes.

She stands again to address the parents. The father has his arm around his wife, holding her tight as she cries against him. “She will be okay,” Persephone whispers. “I promise you.”

Some more reassurance and then Persephone steps back to let the parents sit. She goes around to the other cots, nodding when the parents thank her for her help.

And then she’s finished with her round. She stands at the back, her hands clasped in front of her, a look of determination on her face. But her eyes. Her eyes look sad.

Harry steps closer again, wary of coming into contact with her. He can’t reveal himself. Not here. He’ll have to wait until it’s dark. Or at least until a few candles have been extinguished.

So he busies himself. He too walks around and removes the pain from the children, incrementally taking away the parents’ sorrow. It goes on for several hours. He’d never known parents could feel such hurt over their children, but then again – how would he know?

And he also watches his wife flutter around. Persephone makes stew over the fire and pours it by the ladle for her patients, passing the bowls around to the children and their parents. She sits with them, whispering even more kind words. Pretends to their food.

Harry’s anger is gone. All he feels now is a tremendous amount of love for his wife. He cannot name a single other god or goddess that would do such a thing for mere mortals.

At nightfall, Persephone goes around and blows out the candles. She leaves only two and then she gathers herself, exiting the infirmary. Harry trails after her, and once she tells her replacement the updates on the children, she turns the corner and rests her back against the brick wall, staring out into the night. He sees her lips moving silently as if praying.

His heart gives a start in his chest, the bond between them growing tight.

She’s talking to him.

Harry approaches carefully. He removes his cap, walking in the shadows to avoid any lingering eyes from the distant town.

Persephone sees him from the corner of her eye. She wipes her hands on the front of her dress, pulls a happy face on and then turns to him. “Good evening, sir. How can I–” She trails off when Harry steps into the dim light of the lantern perched outside. “Harry.”

“Wife,” Hades greets, eyes running over her face. He hesitates, suddenly feeling ridiculous standing so far from her with his hands tucked into his pockets. This is their reunion. He should be grabbing her. Kissing her.

Scolding her for not sending a message.

Persephone must see it all on his barely lit face. She suddenly crumbles, her shoulders dropping. With a glance around to ensure nobody is watching, she waves a shaky hand over her face, revealing her true appearance. Harry’s heart aches at the sight of her, his hands flying out of his pockets to grab her face.

“My darling girl—”

“Harry.” Her lips tremble.

“Yes. Yes, Kore,” he whispers, pushing her back against the wall. Her own hands grip his shirt. Every thought in his head disappears when he brings his mouth down, draping his body over hers. He kisses her hard, 6 months of sadness rushing out of him. “My love. My wife.”

Persephone’s hands trail up to his face. Then his hair where she knots her fingers in his curls. “I should have told you,” she says softly. “I know. I should have. But I couldn’t– I didn't think –” she suddenly cries and throws her arms around him, hugging him fiercely to her. “Harry. I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you so. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t understand?” he whispers, cradling her head as she’d done for the baby. He feels himself crumble when her body trembles with sobs. “I would have. I would have, love.”

Persephone shakes her head. “You were angry. I felt it. The ground shook and I knew it was you. Oh, but Harry. I couldn't walk away from this. They needed me. The poor children. The mothers. The fathers. They’ve suffered so much already. My mother did it. I left and she– the storm. It ruined houses. Everyone was hurt or sick. The healers did their best but there weren’t enough of them so I–”

“Shhh.” He turns his head and kisses her hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay now. They’re doing well.”

“I lost a few. Got here too late and now they’re–”

“We’ll see to them. Once we’re home, we’ll see to them, I promise you.”

Persephone raises her head. Tears slide down her cheeks, desperation in her eyes. “We will?”

“Of course.” He wipes her face gently. “They’re your people. And you are their queen.” He presses his thumb to her lips when it looks like she’ll keep crying. “I love you, Kore. I was worried about you. And yes, I was very angry too. But I understand now.” He cups her face. “So let’s fix everyone and go back home, please. I’ve already lost a week with you and I would hate to lose more.”

Persephone sniffles and nods. She wipes her face and kisses him again, sweeter and softer this time. “Okay. Yes. I love you. I want to go home.”

Harry doesn’t let her go for some time. He kisses her until she can’t breathe, and then kisses her tear streaked face, her neck, and shoulders. Anywhere he can reach. And he holds her tight to him, making up for lost time.

“I love you,” he rasps against her cheek. “My wife.”

The only thing that breaks them apart is a sudden shriek.

They jerk apart, glancing at the infirmary and then each other. The other healer who replaced Persephone rushes out, wildly looking around. When she spots her, Persephone is already in her disguise, and Harry stands several feet away, invisible.

“What is it?” Persephone demands, running into the infirmary with the other healer. “What?”

“The babe,” the healer says miserably. “He’s gone. The one with the fever from yesterday. He’s…”

Harry follows behind them. The parents of the boy at the end of the line of cots are crying, huddling around their son. Persephone runs to them, meeting the family from the opposite side of the makeshift bed. She tends to the son, but Harry knows, and he knows that she feels it too. As the King and Queen of the Underworld, they’re too accustomed to death to not feel it.

He sees it on her face. The grief. The sudden sadness. The anger.

The other healer is trying her best. “I was only checking him. He looked flushed. I was just–”

Persephone raises a hand, quieting her. “Please.”

“I couldn't have–”

“I know. I know.”

Harry watches his wife stand and stare down at the now incomplete family. For several long seconds, she lets the family cry. And then she raises her eyes up to stare at where Harry is, piercing him with her gaze despite his invisibility.

He slowly nears, beckoned by her. Harry carefully places a hand on her shoulder and then reaches for his cap. Persephone’s eyes close, tears dripping down her face, hands tightened into fists.

Then, she opens her eyes and looks at the healer. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For your help.”

“I should have done more,” the healer tries, crying. “I should have done more, miss.”

“No,” Persephone says. “You did well. Please. Take a rest. It’ll be okay.”

“I can��t–”

“You will.” Persephone’s voice hardens slightly, though it still shakes. “Now.”

The young healer holds a hand to her mouth to stop her mouth and leaves the infirmary.

The parents before her are still crying loudly. The other children and parents are waking, but Harry cannot have that. He releases his cap and walks to each cot, waving a hand over their faces to put them back to sleep. It’s not a power he’s familiar with so it takes more energy out of him than usual, but soon, they've all returned to sleep and all is silent except for the cries.

Persephone dims the candles and then nears the parents. She kneels before them. Harry’s beside her again. She reaches out to touch their hands.

“Listen to me,” she says quietly. “You must listen to me.”

The grieving parents glance at her shakily. Harry can’t look at them for too long. Even the King can’t bear this type of suffering.

“My baby,” the mother gasps, digging her fingernails into her skin. Her face is red and blotchy. “My-my only baby.”

Persephone looks behind her and nods. Harry removes the cap from his head, revealing himself. Two pairs of widened eyes slide over to him, horror growing on their faces. The mother shrieks, throwing a hand over her mouth, and she goes to rise out of fear, but Persephone’s honey voice keeps her still.

She reveals herself afterwards, but it only makes the parents shudder, their mouths opening to scream. Persephone shakes her head and pats their hands calmly.

“My name is Kore,” she says softly, power radiating from her. “And this is my husband, Aidoneus. It’s okay.”

Terror sprawls over the young parents’ faces. They grip each other tightly when they look at Harry. He can feel the intense spike of emotions when they do. He’s used to it, and normally he’d enjoy it, but now’s not the time.

Harry walks forward and kneels before them as well, putting his hand over his wife’s. “Your child is safe.”

A king on his knees. If Zeus were here, he’d rage. Perhaps Harry would too, if Persephone weren’t besides him leading.

“Yes,” Persephone says kindly. “Your child was a good person. And he has passed onto our realm. But we promise to treat him well. I shall ensure his happiness. He shall wait for you until you, too, are ready to come.”

Hades and Persephone give the parents time to understand. Their breaths stutter, chests blooming with ache, knuckles white, but they remain still, simply looking at the pair of them. The mother seems to have trouble breathing, the father absently rubs his wife’s back.

She is the first to recover and move. She throws herself onto the floor before Persephone and Hades, her forehead touching the hard ground. “Take me now, my King and Queen. Please. Take me now!”

The father is still frozen in his seat. Harry levels his eyes at him while Persephone tends to his wife. It’s better that way. Harry’s never been all that great at calming mortals, not even the dead ones.

“It is not your time. Not yet. And that is not our job. But when the right moment comes, you shall see him again.”

The mother continues to sob, clutching Persephone’s toga. “No. Please. I can’t bear to live without my baby. It took years to conceive him. I cannot. I cannot–”

“You’d do best to calm your wife,” Harry says to the father. “Mine only speaks the truth. You will be reunited and that is my oath to you, my humble worshipper. You must be patient. Do you not trust your King and Queen?”

“O-of course,” the father stammers, shakily reaching for his wife. He roughly draws her to his chest. “Darling. We trust them. We trust them with everything, don’t we?”

It takes some convincing to get her to start agreeing. She hides her face in her husband’s shoulder and softly weeps. “We do.”

“And I thank you for it,” Persephone says. “We must get going, but fear not. Just wait for the day you’re reunited.”

“Yes, my Queen.” The father watches Harry and Persephone rise. “We will. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Harry takes his wife’s hand and tugs her closer, slanting her a look. “We have no choice but to leave now,” he murmurs. With a nod of his head, the crying parents suddenly grow tired, and then they lay their heads down on the bed, falling asleep.

Then, it’s just Harry and Persephone. She squeezes his hand and nods, looking around the room. “The rest of them should be okay. He was our sickest child.” Persephone sighs. “My mother will have to answer about this.”

“They’re mortals,” Harry reminds her gently, taking hold of her chin. “Demeter will not suffer any consequences.”

“But they become our people once dead. She should care about that, if anything.”

“My love.” He holds her face a little tightly. “We will see to it once we return home. Yes?”

Her eyes are troubled as they look around at his face. “Yes.”

“Good. Now come.” He begins to lead her out of the infirmary, slowly so that she can scan her eyes over the cots once more.

Outside, Harry takes his invisibility cap and puts it on her head. He bends down to kiss her and then transforms into a snake, dropping by her feet. Instead of slithering on the cold ground, he wraps his body against her warm leg and nestles his head on her thigh. Though she’s invisible, he knows she’s looking down at him fondly.

“Home,” Persephone whispers wistfully. “Let us go home.”

***

Later when they’ve settled, Hades watches Persephone thank Hecate for keeping things running while both rulers were gone. And as soon as Hecate has left, Harry crosses the throne room to her.

Persephone’s eyes widen with happiness when he wraps his arms around her and picks her up, spinning her around.

“Harry!” she giggles.

He doesn’t put her down right away. He holds her flush against his chest and looks up at her, eyes dark. “Shall we go to our chamber, my darling beloved?”

Her eyes turn golden and she catches her lower lip between her teeth. She nods, kicking her legs behind her. Harry moves her, throwing her over his shoulder before beginning the ascent up the long stairs to their room.

“Harry!” She’s hitting his back. “Careful!”

Once the door is locked, Harry pulls her back down and tosses her onto the bed.

Persephone laughs, a beautiful fucking melody, leaning back on her palms. She takes in her devilishly handsome husband clad in his typical all black attire with a tilted gold crown resting on his brow. “You always do that. Throw me on the bed whenever I come back.”

She watches him unbutton his shirt slowly. “Oh yeah?” he murmurs. His voice is so deliciously velvet, she grows warm.

“Even did it on our wedding night.”

Harry’s dimple shows. “What a night that was.”

“I think I still hated you.”

“And I shall be the one to let you know that I was utterly, completely…” he leans down to kiss her, voice just barely a whisper, “and pathetically in love with you.”

Persephone loops her arms around his neck. He focuses his weight on his hands. After the brief trial of the kiss, her eyes appreciatively ogle at his thick arms, and soon she’s pushing the shirt down and off the floor. Her hands make quick work of his pants.

“As you still are,” she says, blinking up at him with innocent eyes.

“As I still fucking am.”

She’s still in her toga, so it’s easy to get her out of it. Once it’s off, Harry pushes her down on her back so he can take her in. She shivers under his dark gaze. Harry removes all his clothing and then joins her on the bed. Before he touches her, she reaches for his crown, carefully removing it from his hair and setting it on the pillow beside her. She does the same with her own.

And then she takes his hand, curiously looking at all the new rings. Harry remembers how she’d compared their hand sizes on their wedding night. How she’d stared up at him with wondrous, lust drunk eyes after tracing his long fingers. He suppresses a shiver at the reminder.

“I’ve got you some new ones too. Cut them from the finest stones,” he murmurs, holding the back of her head as he kisses her feverishly.

“You can’t keep these on,” she tells him in a small voice, her eyes lit with something he adores. “Shall I take them off?”

Harry’s mouth grows into a smirk. “Go ahead.”

Her eyes remain on him as she brings his hand closer to her mouth. She brushes a kiss on his knuckles and then slowly turns his hand to the side and bites down on the ring on his middle finger.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, growing harder.

She slides the ring off carefully and then holds it in her mouth until he places his other hand below her chin. She drops the gold into his awaiting palm.

She continues to do the same for the rest of his rings, but when she gets to his wedding band, she presses a kiss to it and then grins up at him.

“All done,” she murmurs, tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth.

Harry surges forward and grabs her face, leans down for a breathtaking kiss. Her tongue licks into his mouth, and she grinds up against him, gasping at his hard thigh against her core.

“If I were alive,” he whispers. “That alone would have killed me.” Persephone has the audacity to smile sweetly, fluttering her lashes against the bridge of his nose. “I want to taste you,” he says, holding her face tightly between his now ringless fingers. He drops the rings onto the side table, and then lays down, getting himself comfortable between her thighs.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, I want–”

Persephone’s breath hitches when he glides two fingers through her folds, hands reaching out to grab his hair.

“So wet,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to her thighs. “So fucking pretty. Is this all for me, wife? Tell me it’s all for me.”

“S’for you,” she says softly, cupping his face gently. “It’s all for you. Just… Could you–”

He slowly presses the two fingers inside of her, watching them sink in. She always takes him so well. Wary of their time apart leaving her unprepared, he takes his time opening her, tilting his fingers up and rubbing until she cries out.

“There! There. Yes,” she groans. “Oh, fuck!”

Harry grips Persephone’s left thigh, keeping her legs apart as he leans down and drags his tongue against her. She jolts again, and Harry has half a mind to raise his head and grin at her. The idea goes out the window, however, when her fingers in his hair tighten and she raises her hips to meet his mouth.

“Fuck.” She looks down at him, her eyes golden. The black sheets on their bed are rumpled, and with his wife sprawled above him Harry doesn’t know if there could be a better reunion. “It’s so unfair.”

Harry turns his head to press kisses to her soft inner thighs. “What, my sweet?”

“This,” she whispers, running her thumb over his cheek. “Having to be away from this.”

He smiles and laps her up again, crooking the fingers already inside of her. She cries out, body shuddering from the relentless thrusting of his middle and ring finger.

“I know darling.” His words are gentle, but his grip is anything but. When he brings his mouth back to her, he tastes her like he’s starved, eyes fluttering shut and losing himself in the feeling.

His little wife whines, gripping his curls tight. Besides him, their crowns are falling to the floor where their clothes are thrown in different directions. She’s breathing hard, and despite how many times they’ve found themselves in this situation, it never gets less arousing. Exciting.

Harry’s entire body is feverish. He sucks gently on her clit which makes her quiver. His hard cock is trapped between him and the mattress, but he cares little for it right now. All he knows is his wife’s desperate whimpers and pleas.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispers to herself. Harry feels her tighten around his fingers. Before she can come, he pauses and raises his eyes to glance at her. There’s a thin sheet of sweat on her body. Her perfect, jaw dropping body that he plans on worshiping once the initial desperation is out of his body.

“Harry,” she begs, eyes fluttering open. “I want you inside. Please. It’s too much— It’s not— I miss you so— I thought about it every day…”

He pulls away from her, gently removing his fingers. His lips drag up, skating over her hip bones and then up to her ribs. His mouth kisses each individual rib, and then wraps around her nipple. She gasps when his tongue glides over, her fingers twitching with more need.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing up her collarbones, shoulder, and then finally her neck. His hands are on either side of her head, trapping her underneath him.

She looks up at him with wide, fucked out eyes. It’s already enough to get him to spill, and she doesn’t help when her hand reaches out to wrap about his cock, giving him slowly pumps. He releases a breathy moan and continues to kiss her neck. He sucks a spot right below her jaw.

“Please,” Persephone whispers, wrapping a leg around him. “Harry. I need it. Waited for so long. I waited–”

“You did,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her mouth bruisingly. “You waited for me.”

“For months– I waited for months. I can’t– I can’t think–”

“I know darling,” he coos. “I know. You were such a good girl waiting for me. And you deserve a reward for that.”

“I do. I deserve it.”

“Even though you made me wait for an entire week, hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, my love, I should have never done that,” she sobs.

With a quick maneuver, he has Persephone on her stomach, and he hovers over her, using his knee to pull her legs apart.

Persephone lifts her hips to meet his, burying her face into the sheets. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

Harry leans down to kiss down her spine, occasionally biting and then relieving the pain with his tongue. With a hand under her stomach, he pulls her up, just enough so he can slot himself between her thighs.

“I want you inside of me,” she tries again.

“Persephone,” he says warmly in her ear. “Are you asking me to fuck you?”

She groans, grabbing the satin sheets tightly. “Yes, yes.”

“Tell me then, wife.” He carefully holds her hips, lining himself up against her entrance.

Persephone trembles beneath him. “I want– I want you to–” she takes a deep breath, skin hot. “I want you to fuck me, Harry.”

He smiles. “Good. And tell me this, my sweet angel. Do you want me to fuck you hard, or should we take our time? Should I fuck you nice and slow instead?”

She’s in near tears from the anticipation. “Hard,” she says, glancing at him over her shoulder. Her eyes swim with need. “Hard. I want it hard and fast.”

Harry raises his eyebrows.

“Please!” she begs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He wastes no time after that, easily sliding into her. He grits his teeth at the feeling, her walls fluttering around him to get readjusted to his size. It’s one of his most favorite feelings. After six months of being deprived, her body needs to accommodate him. Needs to be reminded who fucks her so well.

Persephone drops her head back onto the sheets, her moan muffled. Harry can feel the abrupt power surge inside of her, his own body feeling electrified when she whispers a small, “Thank you.”

He grips her hips and fucks her like he’s promised. He pulls out all the way and then sinks into her again, watching the pleasure take form on her pretty face, her lips apart as she whimpers, a tight knuckled hold on the sheets to keep herself grounded.

“Beautiful,” he mutters along with the swears under his breath. “My beautiful queen.”

Persephone doesn’t seem to be able to say much. As if her mind has shut off, all she can manage to give him are small sounds and occasional cries, especially when he snaps his hips, driving himself into her with a pace she can’t comprehend.

Yes. This is what he’d been missing. It’s the answer to everything. Why he feels half a man for six months a year. Why he can’t seem to breathe properly. Because of her.

His perfect Queen.

It makes sense. Harry needs to be intertwined with her in every way. His hands on her, her vanilla scent surrounding him, the taste of her lingering on his tongue, the sight of her thoroughly fucked underneath him, and his cock deep inside of her.

Harry drops a hand to her clit, running small tight circles. She immediately reaches back and grabs his wrist, digging her long nails into his skin. She’ll be leaving marks, that much he knows. But he can’t find it in him to care. The longer he works her, the shakier her moans get, and the sharper her nails become.

He fucks her fast, and the pleasure leaves her with tears in her eyes.

“I love you,” she whimpers brokenly. “So much. I missed you.” He feels her tightening around him. “I’m going to come. Fuck, I can’t–”

Harry holds her tight, dropping his head to her neck. He turns and kisses her sweaty skin. “Do it. Come on, baby. Come all over me. Wanna feel it. Come on, sweet girl.”

She shatters around with him with a trembling cry of “yes, yes, yes, thank you, I love you, thank you” and he follows shortly after, her walls so tight around him he finds himself barely able to breathe. He crashes against her, crushing her under his weight as they try to catch their breaths.

Harry slowly pulls out and then wraps his arms around Persephone, only loosening when she shifts around to face him. Her glazed over golden eyes take him in, lips apart. Nobody looks at Harry like that. Only his wife.

Her breasts press against his chest, legs between his thighs. He’s so big over her, covering her view of anything that isn’t him.

Harry wipes her face clean of any tears and then kisses her for a long time, rubbing soothing patterns against her side. She nestles into his side.

“I love you,” she says quietly, reaching for his hand. She laces their fingers together. She clears her throat. “I really am sorry I didn’t come home straight away.”

Harry shakes his head once, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. “Well now you know that I’ll be leaving my kingdom to go get you if the need be.”

Persephone blinks her pretty eyes at him. He leans down and kisses her eyelids. “I personally would love it if you retrieved me every time.”

“Your mother would curse me.”

“So what?” The corner of her mouth lifts challengingly. “Are you afraid of her?”

Harry takes her wrists and pushes them into the mattress, hovering over her with darkened eyes. “I’m afraid of nobody, dear wife.”

Persephone wraps her legs around his waist again, a burst of excitement striking through her. She’s ready to go for more. Already. The only person that could match his energy.

“Oh yeah?” she says coyly. “So you’ll come get me every autumn solstice then?”

His eyes narrow. Then he’s leaning down to catch her mouth in a kiss. He mutters, “Quiet,” and Persephone knows she’s won. She kisses him back, breaking her arms from his hold, wrapping herself around him until every inch of her skin is touching his.

He pulls back and holds her face. “I love you,” he tells her softly, eyes ablaze with endless adoration. He caresses her cheek. “Welcome home.”

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #hades harry #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst

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dekusdarling · 8 months

Text

Thinking about Jealous Deku

-not how most people do, I don’t think he’s insecure about it (at least not as much as people say)

-maybe it’s something small, Denki’s being way too “buddy buddy” with you

-Deku’s quick to forgive, he doesn’t want any trouble, as long as he knows you love him

-but it gets worse

-your attention shifts, Denki texts you all day, and Deku is unconsciously being put on the back burner

-he tries to convince himself it’s fine

-but he’s walking down some hallway and Denki’s there and suddenly your calm and quiet boy is slamming that bewildered Pikachu into the wall, his grip on Denki tight

-“what the hell are you doing?!” “What’s your endgame?!” “I don’t want you anywhere near y/n!” “Why her? You can have anyone else!”

-“Izu?”

-he stops, turning to you who stands there, bewildered and confused

-he lets go of Denki, who immediately sprints away

-“ah, uh, sorry you had to see that, love” he mumbles, embarrassed

-he can’t stop apologizing, still shaking with anger and jealousy. Terrified you’re about to leave him

-but you merely sigh, holding your arms out, letting him sink into your arms, his head on your chest as he trembles

-“please don’t leave me for Denki” he whispers, blinking back tears

-you don’t know wether to laugh or cry. On one hand, he thinks you’re leaving him for Denki

-on the other, he thinks you’re leaving him for Denki

-you cradle his face in your hands, looking into his eyes, sparkling with tears in the light and chuckle softly

-“why would I leave you? You’re perfect” you mumble, kissing his forehead

-here come the waterworks

-there’s a lot of sobbing, happy and relieved, blubbering about how much he loves you and how scared he was, making you smile patiently until he’s finished

-then you kiss him

-he holds you like he’s holding something precious, like he’s scared it’ll break or disappear in his hands

-it almost makes you cry, how much he absolutely adores you

-“maybe next time we don’t scare someone, yeah? I think Denki went into cardiac arrest.” You tease, met by a tearful laugh

-anyway, jealous Deku is jealous Deku

#mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #izuku mydoria #deku #mha deku #deku x reader #deku x you #deku x y/n #just girly thoughts

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holylulusworld · 1 month

Text

The widow (2)

Summary: You trust no one. Not since they got your husband killed.

Pairing: TFaTW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions death of a loved-one, mentions of s miscarriage (no description), the reader is under protection, bitchy reader, arguments, grumpy Bucky, angst, grief

The widow masterlist

The Widow (1)

Over the next few days, you stayed in your bedroom. The confrontation with Bucky, and defending your dead husband drained all the energy you had left from your body.

You lost your appetite and didn’t even try to get up from bed to have a shower. It’s not a secret that you reek, and need to clean yourself up but you just can’t find the strength to do more than mourn the loss of Ransom all over again.

“She didn’t leave the room for days?” Sam throws his hands up. “I know you and her were butting heads from the moment you met, but we are responsible for her. Y/N had nothing to do with her husband’s crimes. She’s an innocent victim and lost more than her husband that day.”

“What else did she lose, huh?” Bucky huffs. “The money? Or all the shiny things. Maybe her pretty dresses and expensive shoes.”

“Bucky, why are you so angry at her?” Sam questions. “From the very beginning, you attacked her without a reason.”

“Because she’s a spoiled brat and cries over her criminal husband. I lost people too – good people. People who protected people all her life!”

“Her husband was a good person too,” Sam gets louder and starts to argue with his hands. “He did everything to protect his wife. Ransom Drysdale committed most of the crimes he got arrested for after they threatened his wife.”

“That’s what he told the cops.” Bucky sneers. He still doesn’t believe you and your husband got tricked by his business partners.

“Bucky, I know blaming you for your past was a low blow,” Sam’s features soften, and he puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “But man, she’s an innocent bystander, and she’s grieving. Y/N did not only lose her husband that day, but her unborn child too. Her future got ripped out of her hands by the people claiming to protect them.”

Bucky feels like someone punched him in the guts. He looks at Sam, feeling like a monster. “Her baby?”

“Ransom protected her with his body, but she still got shot,” Sam lowers his voice. “One of the bullets hit her belly and…”

“She lost the baby,” Bucky whispers, as he looks anywhere but at Sam. “You should’ve told me so, Sam.”

“Why? Only because she lost her baby doesn’t make her a saint,” Sam can’t help but snap at his friend. “I didn’t think her losses would stop you from blaming her for all the things happening to her.”

“Sam, I’m not like that.” Bucky tries to argue. “ You know that.”

“Yeah?” Sam cocks his head and looks Bucky up and down. “How about you prove you are not a stubborn and unfair bastard.”

“I still don’t like her,” Bucky points his index finger at Sam. “But I’ll try to do better.”

Bucky enters your room after he knocks a few times. You didn’t tell him to get fucked as usual and he’s worried you tried to escape or worse, hurt yourself.

“I’m coming in,” he says and opens the door. Bucky finds it unlocked because you didn’t want him to tear the door down for a third time. “I hope you are dressed.”

He waits for a heartbeat, and another before finally stepping inside the room.

“Sam is downstairs and needs to talk to you. They will be here in a few days to hear your statement.”

Bucky walks toward the bed, finding you in the same position as last time he sneaked inside your room to check if you are still alive.

“Come on, don’t be a brat, redress, and come downstairs for breakfast.”

You don’t react. All you do is stare at the wall and wallow in your pain.

“G-et fucked,” your voice cracks, but you at least tried to get rid of him.

“There she is,” he says and walks around the bed to crouch down right in front of you. Bucky frowns deeply. You are still staring at the wall. “You need to get up and have a shower.” He scrunches up his nose. “When was the last time you showered?”

“Get fucked.”

“Doll, that’s not what’s going to happen,” he carefully moves closer to drag the blanket off your body. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. “You need a shower and food. If you don’t get out of the bed yourself, I’ll grab you and put you under the spray.”

You huff. “Just let me rot in dirt and smell. You don’t give a fuck about me.”

“Yeah, but you smell bad, and I don’t want Sam to get mad at me,” he smirks when you turn your back on him. “Oh, we are on cold-shoulder terms already. Good. That’s progress.”

You don’t like that he’s talkative today. Something must’ve happened, and you wonder what your prison guard is up to today. “Let me sleep.”

“You slept enough over the last days,” he says and grasps for you. You’re too tired and weak to fight him. You end up in his arms.

“Let me down,” you say, and wiggle in his grip, but you don’t stand a chance against a super-soldier. Bucky carries inside the bathroom, laughing as you throw insults at him. “Let me down! I won’t tell you twice!”

“You already did, doll.” He carefully puts you on your feet but blocks your path. “You’ve got two options. Number one, I’ll leave the bathroom and you have a shower. Number two, you act like a brat, and I’ll scrub your smelly ass clean.”

“You wouldn’t dare putting your hands on me!” Your nostrils flare, and you’re about to attack a much stronger opponent.

“Have a shower, and I’ll change the sheets. Sam brought you fresh clothes and toiletries.” Bucky turns to leave. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes to get clean, or I’ll take down the door and scrub you clean.”

“Get fucked,” you weakly reply. Today is not the best day for a fight or any kind of interaction with other people. You only want to go back to bed and hide from the world.

Bucky glances at you one last time before leaving the bathroom. Something seems to be off with you, but he doesn’t have the time nor the patience to ask you what’s wrong.

“Y/N, hi,” Sam walks toward you to tell you about the latest development in your husband’s case. “How have you been?”

You shrug and walk past Sam.

“You could at least answer his damn question.” Bucky curses himself for his slip of the tongue. He promised Sam to try better and just started a fight again.

You yawn and walk toward the small kitchenette. “He’s still my prison guard, and my husband is still dead. Everything remains the same. What about you? Any plans on killing me yet?”

Bucky watches you grab a bottle of water and an apple before you walk back upstairs to hide in your bedroom.

“What’s wrong with her?” Bucky frowns deeply. He was waiting for a snarky comeback or a witty comment coming from you.

“Bucky, leave her alone,” Sam shakes his head. “Today is her wedding anniversary. It’s the worst day to mess with her. Give her time and space.”

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #The widow (2)#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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mochi-owos · 1 year

Text

Meeting genshin men at your local grocery store?!

Childe, Itto, Kaeya, Alhaitham, Ayato x Reader

To be honest, the job itself wasn’t too bad. Pretty normal actually. Aside from the few weirdos that have been walking in lately..

Inspired by @abyssruler’s 7/11 Diaries! (One again written in the depths of night, so I apologize for the errors and tbh it’s kinda bad 😰)

Childe:

You could do this! Self belief! Stay awake! Your shift was almost done, 2am on the clock and two more hours to go. Everything was pretty mundane, occasionally mopping the floor, checking the stock, handling the (basically unused) register— all mundane with the lack of people. But today a real odd ball walked in: ginger hair, roughed clothing, tussled hair, and oh- the massive nose bleed dripping down onto his clothes.

He walks through the store so calmly - it’s almost startlingly - he strolls through the isles putting random items, then walks up to the counter. He grins, "Well hello there, I didn’t know such a pretty thing would be working at a time like this." He says, all while blood is still dripping down his nose.

You blink once, you blink twice, you take the basket and start scanning, "It’s too early in the morning for this.." You mumble, tired eyes fumbling with the unreasonably items. The prices of each individual item would send you into cardiac arrest, but all in all? Fucking nuts. How does he even have money? Have you seen the economics state of the world?

Your words only make him laugh, as you look up at him your gaze fuses on his bloody nose, "You’re bleeding."

"I know." He smiles.

"O," You blink slowly once more. "Want a tissues or something?”

He raises a brow, "Ha! You’re pretty funny, you know! Most workers get scared!" He laughs, watching intently as you pack away his items handing them to him.

You look him in the eyes, "I don’t get paid enough."

From that day since he’d often come to the store chatting with you, all while buying odd products. At this point you were starting to think it’s all to speak with you, I mean— Instant rice and pickles? You raised a brow, almost like a mind reader he spoke,

"My friend dropped his phone in the toilet so we’re doing the rice method, and the pickles is for me, nice snack."

Isn’t the rice method supposed to be bad? “Why don’t you just go to a repair shop?"

"Hes quirky like that."

"Just leave."

At some point you started seeing him outside the shop, he also goes to the same university as you. Which did make sense seeing at though he looked your age, but what surprised you the most is that he’s pretty well know. So now you started to wonder how you hadn’t heard about him. Maybe it’s because you have no friends— that’s a problem. You’ll need some of those.. you guess. Now that you think about it, you never got his name. How odd.

Itto:

It was very much valid for you to assume that the man before you was drunk. He was awfully loud (so much so you could hear him from five blocks down), he talked funny, and so did he act the same.

As you tiredly rub your eyes you to try shake yourself awake, there was still so much time until work was over. And with the shouting going on outside it was actually quite easy, most would be worried of a murder being what’s taking place outside but it was awfully normal for such screams, also the sound of drunk laughter easily disproves the thought of murder. A man -easily 7ft tall, White hair, super buff, his hair oddly whisked - trudges in, panic written all over his face. "WHERE IS YOUR RICE?" He asked anxiously.

"Excuse me?"

"I NEED RICE FOR MY PHONE." He jumped around in place, you point him towards the section and he runs off, few of his friends snicker while some look worried.

You wait around at the counter, it takes him a few minutes to gather what he needs, next time he comeback he has at least four small bags of rice and bandages. As you ring him up you hear the man speak with his friends,

"Do you think it’ll work?" One of his friends ask.

"I think so! I got the premium rice, and I think the bandages will work too!" He smiles.

"For.. your phone?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing.." his friends mumble, stifling a laugh.

You simply shake your head at such idiocy, but then again you can understand, repair shops are unbelievably expensive and half the time it gets even more broken. But your action seems to have caught the man’s attention, gawking he turns to his friends, “THEYRE SO HOT.”

From that day forward he constantly visited the shop, goofing around in the store in attempts to get your number.

"So, you like jazz?" He has this odd smirk on his face, almost as if that was his attempt to finesse you.

"Yes."

"Ah. You were supposed to say no."

"Sorry?"

Soon, Itto (his name, he had written it on a piece of paper and whilst paying for his newest purchase slipped it in) started being able to spot you on campus, following you around like a lost puppy. Perhaps you’ll slip in your number next time you give him change.. perhaps.

Kaeya:

To Kaeya you were hot, really fucking hot. Though you were kinda invisible that added to your charm, that or he just had a thing for total losers, he couldn’t tell. And for the most part you weren’t entire invisible, often seeing your name on the first board after grades come out, or even seeing you enrolled in competitions, or he’d see you studying in the library - looking so adorable- writing away at your notes. He thought you were utterly ethereal, and the need to get to know you was insatiable. His friends quite literally needing to hold him down from running up to you and scaring you away. So come to find out lovely ol’ you works at one of his favourite convince place he already had a plan brewing.

You drearily watch the clock, your body feeling as if it's numb. Your hands lazily drawing circles on the counter, starting to regret the fact you decided to work the graveyard shift. The ringing of the store bell waking you from your hazziness, a man dressed nicely came in: blue hair, blue eyes (odd combo, to be completely honest), dressed in what looked like ballroom clothing, his expression of.. smugness? Unyielding.

As you wait to ring him up you take out your phone and start scrolling through it, but soon you here light steps approaching placing your phone back in your pocket and take the items and start scanning. All as you do so the man watches you intently, and little too much.

”Can I help you with something, Sir?"

He raises a brow, "Sir? You don't think I'm that old, do you?!" He cried.

"No, Sir. I'm required to do this."

"So you think I look nice?"

"Sure."

"Would you go out with me?" Was that really his attempt at rizzing you up?

"Please just take your items and leave, Sir." (I'm saving you the embarrassment -and myjob-)

He couldn't stand it, no, he was determined-- he will rizz you up. You have to give him a chance! And so whenever you had a free moment you would see him walk up to you, it’s not that you minded his unbreaking tenacity, it was quite admirable actually.

"Hey!" He ran up to you, waving his hand. He stops in front of you weaving, "Trying to run away from me?"

"No. I’m hungry."

"Ah! The allow me to do the pleasure and buy you lunch."

"If you have money, sure.”

You were oh so happy, free food truly did taste the best. So while he got to know you you got full - and happy - tummy. Maybe you’ll actually let him take you out.

Al Haitham:

See, typically you were fine with customers, but this time you were utterly enthralled by this.. this asshole with a stick up his ass. You’d love to hop over the counter and give him a wack, but you refrain from doing so— he looked rich, and he was buff, you most definitely could not take him in a fight.

"It’s 14.55."

"I’m aware."

"I am in a rush, please let me pay already."

"Im sorry, Sir. I’m required to ring this all up."

"But I already told you, it’s 14.55." His eyes looked a bit agitated, his arms crossed.

"Sir, I am just doing my job."

"K."

To be honest, you didn’t really know what was coming out of his mouth after that, nor did you care, you simply nod, most of the “conversation” you looked at his.. uh, breast(s) pocket. You’d never see him again, what’s the harm?

You were wrong, so undeniably, unbelievably, wrong. Exactly 5 hours later you’d see him at the gym, staring at you, approaching you- wait, approaching you?? You look around the room, what do you do? How do you seem like you’re busy? Pull out you pho-?!

"Hey."

"Hello..? Do you need something?"

"Do you need help?"

"No."

"I’m helping you anyway."

"O."

And workout buddies you came to be, often meeting him during your workout sessions. You never really needed his help, but with his insistence you agreed. Sometimes even studying together.

"Are you stupid?"

"I think so, I’ve been talking with my doctor lately and-"

"I didn’t mean it literally."

"Ah."

With exams coming up you’ve been seeing each other a lot more, and the study areas have been a lot more.. romantic? Close, cool mood lighting, cold- sometimes even his own house. But then again, maybe it’s just you.

Ayato:

This was absolutely fucking nuts. This guy was decked out— SO BAD. The Ayato Kamisato, one of the richest bachelors was before you, you couldn’t help but be a bad bit taken back. But regardless you tried your best to scan all his odd items.

For a hot bachelor his grocery items were really weird, and so fucking expensive you felt your heart clench.. you’ll need a break after this, maybe even a smoke (you’ve never smoked in your life and if you were to you were pretty sure you’d have an asthma attack).

His gaze wondered you curiously, has you handed him his groceries he smiled, leaving a.. 100$ TIP?? WHAT THE FUCK. WHERE DOES HE GET THIS MONEY? I THOUGHT WE WERE IN A RESCISSION. WHAT. Your eyes were massive, looking back up at him, "Uhm, Sir. I think you misplaced this bill.." as much as you wanted to keep it, you had morals (sadly), holding yourself to high principle.

"Oh, that was no mistake. I appreciate the fact someone like you is working at such an hour. Have a lovely morning." He waved and left.. someone like me? Is that an insult? Does he think I’m poor?

As you pondered what he meant you started seeing him more, and more. Always leaving a massive tip, does god.. love me? Your reactions always brining a smile to his face, and conversations with you always left him with a swelling in his chest, you were awfully funny.

"Here, a tip."

"Am I.. in more debt?" You tilt your head, "Do you want something from me?" Your eyes widen, "Is this perhaps your way of buying me? Is that what rich people do..? That’s what’s I heard.." mumbling the last part you look into the floor, bringing your hand up to fumble with your lip- in deep concentration.

He was so weird, people said he was cool. From what you can tell all he is a weirdo. Who tips this much? Who buys this much weird stuff? Isn’t he rich? Why doesn't he just get someone to get him groceries? Why does he look at you weird? Honestly, if he kept giving you this much money you might as well become his sugar baby (not that you would mind).

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