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writingoddess1125 · 9 months

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The old men of One Piece finding out they have a child with you.

Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk X FemReader

Healthy mix of Angst and Fluff.

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Part 2

Buggy

"You two get your asses down now!" You yelled, trying to stop the two blue haired boys from destroying the restaurant further. Your two identical twins sons where only 11 years old but they were trouble- Double Trouble as everyone called them. Benny and Danny, who had given themselves the Nicknames of Bee and Dee- cause of course they did.

It wasnt just their dramatic tendencies, destructive nature or lack of volume control that made them silkar to a know pirate but also their appearance Who was non other then- Buggy the Clown. While they did lack the trademarked rounded red nose. They did get almost everything else- Long nlue locks, watercolor eyes and that crooked smile of theirs- it really wasn't fair how your genes didn't even have a chance-

It hasn't exactly been your best of moments when you conceived your children- Having been a performer on the famous pirate ship you ended up sleeping with your Captian one night on his Silly Throne. A few weeks later you started to feel unwell and realized you had been pregnant. In a moment of panic you fled the ship the next time it docked- Running from your Crew and Captian to never be seen again.

Once realizing you were on your own. You did what you could to make a living- opening a flashy little restaurant and using it to raise your two trouble makers. Dee running past you with a giggle snapped you from your thoughts, frowning as you set down your customers order infront of them before following the boy.

"Mom Mom! Look!" Bee yelled as he stood on one of the tables pointing out the window of the restaurant at the open ocean, Dee taking his place next to his twin. You walked closer to see what your son was looking at, the fog being thick that night as you tried to focus on what he was seeing.

Squinting your eyes you finally saw it- a Ship. As your eyes focused you saw the Jolly Roger and gasped, Ice feeling like it ran through your vain. You grabbed the boys quickly and backed away from the window. As if on cue the alarms set to alert that pirates had arrived. The sounds of canons hitting the town soon peirced through the alarms and the whole town erupted in chaos. You rush from the windows to the back of your restaurant.

Rushing down the stairs you knew Buggy and the crew would level the town to ashes. The best place to hid being the cellar, while it was small it would hopefully keep you and your boys safe. "Mom what's happening!?" Dee cried as he did his best to keep up with your fast pace. You didn't bother responding as you rushed to the old underground cellar lifting the rug and opened its little door.

"Mom I don't want to go down there!" Bee cried as you lowered him in the cellar first, Dee following soon after as you tried to sooth them.

"I know I know my loves, But do as I say- Stay quiet and-"

You paused as you heard the sound of crashing from out in the dining room followed by screams. Quickly you climbed in with your boys and lowered the wooden door of the cellar above you and frantically tried to place the rug so it fell onto it before plunging you and your sons in darkness.

You sat there shaking, holding your boys close to your chest as you heard the sound of someone walking towards you. Your hands shaking as you held them closer, feeling the moisture of your sons tears soaking into your dress.

You heard the sound of footsteps starting to search the room above you. Previously looking for valuables or anything interesting-

"Captian! I found the liquor!" The voice above you called out, Clearly grabbing the cases of rum that sat in the room above. Heavier footsteps followed into the room, hearing the cackle that made your skin stand up on end.

"Grab it all and whatever people you can find! We have a show tonight afterall!" You heard Buggy voice sound. The crew mate clearly rushing out with the cases while Buggy remained. You heard him turn through the room, ready to leave before his heavy steps landed on the cellar door above you it's old wood groaning at the weight. Your eyes widened as you realized you'd been caught, Without time to react the door was ripped open and you couldn't help but release a scream.

Buggy- In his hands you see his signature blades as he grinned down in the cellar. Reaching down and grabbing you by the hair and yanking you out-

"A new audience memeber!- wait" He raised an eyebrow as he held you up higher by your hair and looked over your crying face. His eyes looking over your face. "I know you... (Y/N)?" He asked questionably before his eyes shot to see a flash of blue dart at him and kick him as another one came to try and pull you from his grasp.

"Let her go!" "LEAVE OUR MAMA ALONE!" Your boys desperately screamed as they weakly tried to attack the man holding you. Buggy dropping you quickly as he stared down at the three of you, You quickly pulling the boys away from him and behind you.

A awkward silence following this as Buggy released a shaky breath before laughing loudly. A insane laugh that had him doubled over, before looking at you again with crazed eyes. A few crew members coming into the room after hearing their Captian laugh, especially at the sight of you, their former crewmate and two boys that looked like their Captian.

"Freaks, Take these three and lock them in my personal Quarters. We got a family reunion!"

Shanks

"Mommy I have Missy Luc-ia ready!" You heard your daughter call out. Setting out the freshly frosted cupcake, onto the countertop, that she was just barely taller then. Smiling down at the bright face before you- She may be only 4 but she was the sweetest girl.

"Thank you Vivian. Can you grab the order list for Mommy?" You ask, getting an exaggerated nod and running off. Her mess of bright red hair bouncing with each step. A little clone of her dad, The famed Shanks 'Red Hair' a former fling of yours.

It had been a nice little relationship you two shared, him coming by every other week to meet with you when his ship restocked. Buying random pastries you knew he bought to get close to you, always complimenting your Baking skills and sweetness. Which ended up to many passionate nights both in your own bed and on Shanks ship. The last time you met, Shanks told you he had to go for a while and didn't know if he's return. Tears shed as you watched him set sail- having the feeling you'd never see him again.

As if the gods had sympathy for you or wanted to use you as a cruel joke you fell pregnant. Giving birth to your daughter who ended up being a Shanks part 2. A giggly and happy baby with unique red hair, while she was a perfect mix of the two of you in terms of face she inherited Shank's smile, hair and eye shape.

As you packed the poorly frosted cupcake that your daughter had made. Ignoring the fingerprints in its frosting- you hit it in the back of the fridge you'd never tell her you couldn't sell it since she had eaten part of her work and replaced it with the true finishes product to be delivered.

As you finished your packing you heard the bell of your bakery door chime.

"Welcome to the Sweet treats bakery, how can I help yo-" the words froze to your lips as you saw Shanks. Eyes wide at seeing him again, it was clear he had delt with some serious wear and tear by how the world seemed to settle on his shoulders a bit more.

"(Y/N) long time no see" He said softly as he stared at you, mentally still trying to process what you were seeing. He stepped forward, Looking ready to explain himself away before the sound of tiny footsteps drew him in- Seeing the little girl holding a notepad with all your orders and running to you. Out of muscle memory you scooped your daughter and placed her on your hip, she smiled at you and held the order book out to you again which you gingerly took.

"Here you go Mommy!" She chimed, Looking at you as she noted your shocked face. Her gaze following the now shocked man, He looked like a breeze could knock him down as he stared at her then you then her again.

"Shes mine isn't she?" Shanks asked, his eyes never leaving the little girl on your hip. Vivian looking at Shank's then you confused at what was taking place. Before you could respond however it seemed Shank's answered his own question. Laughing loudly in utter joy and jumping forward towards you, scaling the countertop like it wasn't even there and crashed his lips against yours happily.

"Ha! I'm a Dad!!" He cheered, Taking his one arm around you and starting to spin you and Vivian who at first was scared. But hearing the giggles from the man started to as well- the two even laughed the same which made the Red Haired man even happier.

"Y-Yes Shanks. She is yours...This is Vivian" You said softly, watching Shanks lean in close to view his daughter. It was like he had found the most amazing treasure in the world and it shone in his eyes.

"Vivian, Such a beautiful name for the most beautiful girl in the world" He said in awe, earning a shy smile from Vivian.

"Vi, This is... this is your Daddy" You say softly, watching Vivian look up at you then back at Shanks. Hesitant at first before holding out her arms tk him, taking the opportunity he scooped her up in his single arm and held her close. Tears welling up in his eyes as he looked at her delicate face, her chubby little fingers touching his face and looking over him.

"You're my Daddy?" She asked innocently. A smile breaking over Shanks face as he nodded and held her close, tears pouring down his face.

"That's right baby girl- I'm your Daddy"

Mihawk

It had been 16 long years since you had laid eyes on Mihawk- a simple one night stand that had long consequences that followed. Your son, your beautiful baby boy who you named Alucare.

It had been at a bar, the two of you drinking and simply talking. Before one thing lead to another in the alleyway next to the bar- You truthfully cringed at the thought of how embarrassing it was to be undone by a few nice words, a charming warlord and some drinks.

"Mother, which one did you want?" Your son asked, snapping you from your thoughts pointing to the fishmongers selection, his emotionless face like a carbon copy of his father's.

Truthfully he looked too much like his damn father- same yellow eyes, black hair, very tall form, stoic face the only thing missing was the facial hair Which you thanked The Gods for since you didn't think you could stare at your one night stands face forever. Alucare did have some differences, he had your nose as well as kept his hair longer. The thick spicy locks hitting the center of his back which you helped him care for. But truthfully that was really it-

You also knew that other people would star long at your boy, a few times Marines having come up to see your son when he was walking to school or going to the market. He knew who his father was, having Marines who had seen him in battle tell him as much. However he never seemed to care, just giving them a frosty look that made them back away before leaving. Whenever you'd brought up the topic of His father he often would sit quietly for a few moments before saying he wasn't interested in such a conversation which you respected.

"Hmm, that one is fresher-" You say sweetly as your boy grabs the fish and plops it in the basket, Handing the merchant the berries.

Always the gentleman he would take your arm in his as the two of you walked. He would hold the heavier baskets and give you only bread or a small bag of fruit. He was too kind as a child, you felt bad at times at how his eyes seemed to know the struggles you had faced when he was born and tried to help you out now that he was older besides your persistence.

"Alucare, I heard from your teachers yoh got very high marks again. Do you want to celebrate? Maybe a nice dinner is in order? Or-"

"It's just a test Mother. No need for so much trouble" He said softly, giving a hint of a smile at his words. You chuckled at him and shook your head. Stubborn too.

You felt your son stop midstep- Glancing up at him as his face turned to stone before your eyes.

"Honey?" You call to him, before following his gaze at what had caught his attention. Across the market a dark figure stood, You immediately felt your heart drop to your stomach as you knew instantly who it was- Mihawk standing there with the same stoic expression as Alucare but his eyes seemed to be a bit wider. Most likely the closest to shock that could come over his face-

You tugged slightly to turn back, not wanting to create a accidental scene but your son clearly had other plans. Instead starting to walk again, His arm still holding yours as he kept his gaze at Mihawk. You expected Alucare to stop infront of Mihawk- a blowup or something but. No.

Alucare just walked past Mihawk- Like he wasn't even there. His face staying forward as no words passed. As you continued to walk you turned to look behind you where you saw Mihawk, he seemed to stagger on his feet like someone had finally peirced him with a blade.. but it seemed to be a invisible one to his heart.

#x reader #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #shanks #shanks one piece #shanks x reader #one piece shanks

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buckyalpine · 6 months

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Fluff, domestic cuteness, more fluff, I know it’s not everyone’s thing but pleaseee hear me out; just imagine beeeefy paramedic Bucky taking care of you when you’re in labor. You’re ex decided to leave halfway, realizing he wasn’t ready to be a father when you were already midway through your pregnancy, not that he was much help in the first place. You managed all on your own, ready to bring your little baby into the world all by yourself which is exactly how you ended up in this situation.

You were so close to your due date, ready to pop at any moment but your cravings for a donut didn't cease so you waddled down to the corner coffee shop in hopes of getting something with double chocolate.

Everything was fine until another customer bumped into you, sending you tumbling to the floor. A sudden sharp searin pain began to radiate through the lower half of your belly making you cry out in pain and it didn't take long for a crowd to form, the number of shouting voices and concerned faces adding to your growing anxiety. Al elderly woman held you hand while you tried to hold back tears; you couldn't get up, still laying on the floor when the faint sound of an ambulance grew louder.

A firm voice cleared the path, 2 large men walking towards you, ushering the crowd away from you first. The one with brunette hair crouches over to you, giving you a comforting smile before asking you a few quick basic questions, all while neatly looking over you for any signs of a major injury.

“Up you go, mama” he lifted you up with 0 effort, carrying you carefully in his thick arms, laying you down gently onto the stretcher. A sudden contraction rips through you causing you to panic more while your on your way to the hospital but he takes your hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey, its okay, look at me doll, focus on me alright?" He continue to hold your hand while monitoring your heart rate and vitals, timing your contractions since they're happening closer and closer together. "I know it won't make the pain go away but how about I try and distract you, hm? My names James but you can call me Bucky" He threw you a wink while you tried your best to focus on the feel of his hand, calloused palms from lifting, yet soft and warm. You focused on his baby blue eyes and scruffy beard and sweet pink lips that curve into a half smile; no doubt he was a shy charmer.

As soon as the ambulance stops, you're whisked away to the delivery ward, poked and prodded by doctors again. None of this was part of the plan and the pain was getting worse.

"How's she doing" Bucky came by the ward on his break, curious about the sweet thing he helped earlier in the day; surely you had a partner of some sort but he couldn't help himself nonetheless. The doctor directed him to your room, his heart breaking seeing your tear streaked, terrified face.

"Everything alright, mama?" He knew you were scared, hell, he was scared himself just thinking about the situation. He rested his hand on top of yours, careful not to touch anywhere near needles. You'd been at this hospital for 2 hours already and you were still alone without another visitor in sight. "Is uh-anyone-do you want me to call anyone-

You shook your head, biting down on your lip to keep it from trembling, gripping onto him tighter. The pain was becoming unbearable, alerting the doctor and nurse to check on you again.

"She's gonna have to start pushing" You overheard the nurse as she spoke to the doctor, your heartrate racing more. Your panic stricken face wasn't missed by Bucky, still planted in his seat as if he had any business being there. He debated on if you felt comfortable with him there, ready to go or stay, whatever you needed.

"Doll, it's almost time, I can leave-

"Please-please don't go" You shakily cling onto his hand, now frozen in fear when you realize the moment is coming. The baby is almost here and you're alone. There's no one here to support you, no one here to-

"M'not going anywhere, I'm here, you're doin' great" Bucky let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you wanted, coaching you through your breathing while you were prepared to have the baby. "C'mon, push mama, you can do it, almost there"

You were in tears, sweating, crying, and Bucky couldn't help but find you beautiful. Not that he'd say that right then and there but there was something so raw and powerful in that moment, seeing you give yourself to bring in another life. He watched in awe as you fought with your body to push a human out of you.

"One more, just one more and your little one is here, you can do it doll, one last big push" He dabbed your forehead with a cool cloth, comforting you until you let out a final gasp, tiny screams filling the room. You fall back against the bed panting and he still holds your hand, gently rubbing your knuckles while giving you a proud smile.

"You did it, you did amazing mama"

After your baby boy is born, you still occasionally visit the hospital for checkups. You can't help the way your cheeks heat up every time you see Bucky, giving him a shy smile, lingering to talk to him longer than necessary every time you see him. You insisted on buying him and the rest of the paramedic crew coffee and donuts for helping you safely deliver your baby boy. Bucky blushes when you give him an extra donuts as a special thank you.

Each time he sees you, he likes you even more but he doesn't want to push his luck. Not when you're probably still trying to figure things out. Initially he's a little unsure, wanting to give you some space. He's also careful not to overstep any boundaries, making sure he's respectful.

Eventually he can't help himself.

He has to ask you out.

And he does.

3 years and a wedding later

You giggle watching your husband and son both press their heads against your swollen belly, whispering secrets to the little one growing inside as if you couldn't see them.

"Daddy, can she hear us?" Daniel asks with wide eyes, his little hands trying to feel the places where his baby sister was kicking.

"She can hear you baby, let her know you're gonna be her big brother" Bucky chuckled while Daniel continued to talk to your belly like he did every night ever since you found out you were pregnant.

"I can't wait to meet you" He hugs your tummy before crawling into Bucky's arms, ready to go to bed. Bucky takes him to his room, laying him down and tucking him in, pressing a kiss to his head before turning off the lights.

"Sleep tight little man"

"Night, daddy"

Your second pregnancy is nothing like your fist. Bucky is there by your side for every second of it. He takes time off work, cradling your belly so you don't have back pain. He reads up on books to take care of your cravings. He worships your changing body.

"Look at you, Mrs. Barnes" Bucky cooed, loving the way you filled out his Henley, your little belly stretching it while you pouted at him.

"I'm huge Bucky" you whined while he grinned, rubbing your tummy.

"S'cause you're carrying my baby, mama" He kissed your head, his large form scooping you up for some midday cuddles. He holds your close to his chest, excited over his growing family. You smile against his chest, closing your eyes while he rubs your back.

You're so happy you decided you wanted a donut.

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garoujo · 1 year

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✩ ˛˚ . INTERRUPTED ; — you find your alone time with multiple tokyo revengers characters being interrupted.

FEATURING: sano shinichiro, hanma shuji, haitani rindou, sano manjiro + sanzu haruchiyo.

warnings: f!reader, exhibitonism, bonten!timeline, shin owns his bike shop, phone calls / being walked in on, cock-warming, sort of possessive behaviour in sanzu’s, ch-oking. note: hewo :3 i am v happy w how these turned out i think so i hope u guys enjoy hehehe <3

✩ ˛˚ . SANO SHINICHIRO

shinichiro could never fucking say no to you, you just had to give him one of your pretty little looks from underneath your lashes and he was like fucking putty in your hands.

it’s like you knew exactly how to get to him, made just to tease and test his own self control and fuck—turns out he hasn’t got any at all, because now your usual little afternoon visit to see him at work has ended up with his hips pressing flush and tight against your own as he sinks his cock into the warm hug of your pussy.

it wasn’t normally something that bothered shinichiro, but when it’s only 2pm on a friday afternoon and he’s just heard the bell on the front door of his bike shop ring to alert him of another customer. he’s pretty sure they might find a problem with the fact he can’t deal with them because he’s balls deep in you in the back shop.

you feel the deep press of your boyfriends cock against the sweet spots inside of you when his next thrust stutters, followed by another languid withdrawal of his hips before he’s rolling them back into you at an even slower pace. but he swears he feels you squeeze even tighter when the sudden ring of the bell at the front desk rips you both from your blissful, hormone-drunken state.

“just a sec..” shinichiro calls as his fingers squeeze almost painfully at your hips and he’s pulling back to give you a lidded look from under the messy mop of black hair framing his flushed features. you shudder when you feel the cool metal of his chain leave your too hot skin but he still doesn’t pull himself away when your hands tighten in the fabric of his shirt. “f-fuck, angel, gotta let me go.. quit squeezin’ so tight.

“but shin, ‘m so close.” you babble through your pouty lips and even the fucking sound only seems to lure him closer as he offers you another stuttered thrust and he grits his teeth. another ring of the bell accompanied by another sinful squeeze of your walls around him and shit— he wished he’d just closed up for the day. god he is fucking whipped.

“mmm—fine, angel. shit— jus’ gotta make it quick, alright? make it up to ya later.”

✩ ˛˚ . HANMA SHUJI

your trip to hanma’s office had started somewhat innocent, it was always down to him when you ended up spread out on his desk atleast — not that you can be blamed when he’s so infuriatingly handsome, amber lidded gaze never once leaving yours as soon as you enter.

it’s the same look that he’s giving you now as you sit spread out for him across the paper work that he couldn’t give two shits about right now. he’s still dressed apart from his unbuttoned slacks — just enough to free the heavy strain of his cock but still a stark contrast to the way he’s stripped you of everything — offered you up to himself like a luxury meal he’s about to devour, and you almost shudder with how exposed you feel before you melt at his touch again.

“you miss my cock that much, babydoll?” hanma goads, smirks as one of his large palms, sin squeezes at the flesh of your thigh so he can push you wider. you can barely offer him words with the way your desire weighs heavy on your lungs, a weak little nod that only makes his grin twitch even wider as he wraps your thighs around his hips.

“such a helpless little thing, can’t cum without me doing all the work.” it was almost uncharacteristic for him to give into you so easily, he liked you begging — crying for him to finally fuck you but any suspicions soon melt when the fat head of his cock finds the entrance to your flexing pussy.

you gasp and hanma growls as he sinks carefully up inside you, punishment taking its usual place around your throat as he squeezes lightly at the sides — he always said it was your prettiest fuckin’ necklace afterall. his other hand on your hip pulls your hips closer to his as your back arches and his cock feels like it sinks into you forever. he was long and thick, curved upwards and warm and it glides so sweetly past the spots inside of you that make your whole body twitch against the wood, your pussy tightening harder around him the deeper he goes.

but just as you find yourself floating into a blissful state, almost consumed completely by him — you jolt when there’s a sudden, sharp knock on his office door and his fingers around your throat squeeze a little tighter before he chuckles.

your wide-eyed as you look at hanma but he doesn’t stop, he looks amused and there’s something dark, wild in the same familiar amber that looks over you when the next knock is accompanied by him forcing your walls to spread open wider for him. “s-shuji.” you try, a small plea for him to tell him he’s busy — to do something, anything.

but then you only feel him press into you deeper, looking at you from over the frames of his glasses before he’s urging your head to tilt back — palm pressing tight against the middle of your throat as he drags you along his cock with the other.

“came here to cum didn’t you? better tell ‘em.. or. else.”

✩ ˛˚ . HAITANI RINDOU

rindou is fucking late, he knows as he gives the watch underneath the expensive fabric of his suit a lazy, lidded look from underneath his lashes. it’s not that he was stuck in traffic or anything, hes at the venue for the executive meeting atleast — hes just far too fucking obsessed with the way you’re bouncing on his cock as he sits in the front seat of his fucking car to actually leave.

ran’s definitely going to kick his ass, he thinks before it’s replaced by the next particularly sharp connection of your hips — warm hug of your pussy reducing him to low grunts and growls as every thought in his head is consumed by only you instead.

“fuck sake, i gotta go princess. but shit, got the sweetest lil fuckin’ pussy.” rindou hisses through gritted teeth as he lets his head fall back against the headrest — his violet gaze heavy underneath his mused bangs as it focuses on the way your pretty tits jiggle everytime you sink back down onto his heavy cock. he’s gotta go, but why can’t he bring himself to fucking move.

“so close rin!” you whimper through pouty lips, your mind cloudy with how well hes fucking you and it does wonders at drowning out the way his phone is vibrating in the passenger seat — his hands preoccupied with dragging you along the length of him instead.

“yeah? lemme see how fuckin’ pretty you look when you cum ‘round my cock, gorgeous.” the ragged tone of rindou’s words feels like it drips through you as the muscles in his well trained body shake beneath you. his pace is unrelenting as he begins to meet each of your thrusts with heavier ones of his own, fingers squeezing tight into your hips so he can push his cock even deeper into you with every wet connection.

“you been thinkin’ ‘bout my cock, princess? already made me fuckin’ late, gotta make it up to me.” rindou groans and your walls reward the thick spread of his cock with another needy twitch. your pussy squelches, wet and messy as the sounds echo around the walls of the car and fuck— he wants to ruin you. but his next harsh thrust stutters when there’s a sudden knock against the drivers seat window that makes his head twist quickly, because despite the dark tint and the condensation from you both — he knows who it fucking is.

“oh little brother? hm, don’t make me drag you in here.”

✩ ˛˚ . SANO MANJIRO

you think it’s warm, comfortable when you’re curled up in mikey’s lap — a place that had become one of your favourite despite how many people feared him. but he was different with you, softer as his slender fingers trace up the length of your spine — making you shudder as his cock rests inside the intoxicating hug of your walls.

it was a nice sort of routine, like a little ritual than always seemed to keep him grounded and it was some of his favourite moments with you — sacred moments with you. you pull back to give him a pretty, drowsy sort of look and you almost melt completely when it earns you a relaxed sort of expression in return followed by a small smile. “manjiro.” you begin and he swears the use of his full name from between your lips makes him shudder as something warm licks at the base of his spine.

“hm?” it’s low the hum that mikey offers you but you only sigh contently before you’re urging yourself closer, letting yourself bask in his hold as his arm around you proceeds to tighten as his lips rest against your temple. “it feels good, you’re warm.” he drawls and the whispered affirmation makes your insides ache before the next squeeze of your walls is pulling a shuddered breath from the man beneath you.

but just as you get comfortable in the blissful atmosphere in the room, it’s interrupted suddenly by the harsh wrap of knuckles against his office door before a particularly scared looking gang member scurries in after. he opens his mouth to speak but the cold look your boyfriend gives him seems to make the words die in his throat before he cuts him off completely.

“i’m busy.” mikey’s tone is blunt, ragged and a stark contrast to the softer one that he seems to reserve only for you as his fingers continue their ministrations along your skin. but you find yourself tensing when his words aren’t followed by the sudden unwanted company leaving, something that your boyfriend picks up on when instead they proceed to try again as they stutter out something unintelligible.

“didn’t you hear me?” there’s authority in the sharpness of his tone this time and it leaves no room for argument — only an apology as the gang member bows before leaving, probably mentally preparing himself for the visit he’ll be receiving from sanzu later no doubt. but you find yourself relaxing into manjiro’s embrace again as soon as you’re both alone again, hearing him sigh before it’s followed by a sudden, deep kiss of his cock as he shifts beneath you.

“so annoying. i’m comfy.”

✩ ˛˚ . SANZU HARUCHIYO

“haru..” you gasp from where sanzu has you hips pressed tight against his desk — swiping his fingers softly through your folds as he drags the pad beneath the hood of your clit, rolling the sensitive bud until he can see the way your thighs twitch. it was insane, the way he’s toying with you — playing with your pretty cunt like you’ve got him fucking hypnotised.

“i know, angel. just real pretty.” he hums before he’s deliberately pressing down onto your puffy clit harder, eagerly, until you’re wet enough for him to push two fingers inside. he rewards you with a sweet little kiss against the puffy bud when he’s not met with much resistance, grinning at the even sweeter little whine it pulls from your pouty lips.

“such pretty sounds, perfect fucking pussy.” sanzu’s fingers are long, long and thick enough for you to hiss at the stretch but you feel something blissful flutter in your tummy with the soft affirmation from his scarred lips. it was intoxicating to see a man so dangerous turn to fucking putty when he was between your legs and gazing up at you from under long lashes.

his warm breath rolls over your slick folds as he pants, his crystalline eyes transfixed and shining on where his digits sink into you, until his head lowers and his tongue is curling against your clit before he’s dragging it back up — complimenting every twist of his wrist with kitten licks like you’re the sweetest thing hes ever fucking tasted. it was rare for you both to get some alone time, he was a busy man afterall being bonten’s number two and you forget just how fucking good he makes you feel — making your toes curl from where they rest over his shoulders so easily.

but just as you let yourself melt back onto the heavy wood behind you, fingers smoothing through the bubblegum roots of sanzu’s hair before you pull — you’re jolted from your blissful state by the sharp ring of his phone in his pants. you hear him click his tongue before he’s spitting out a curse, but he continues to sink his fingers into you as he struggles with the device, swiping at the screen as he swirls tantalising circles into your clit with his thumb.

“what the fuck is it?” he spits and fuck— you swear the sudden boom of his voice makes you even wetter as your walls squeeze tight around his fingers, making his scarred lips twitch into a wild grin as he hums. you can tell he’s barely listening to the caller, not important enough for his attention so you know it’s not mikey, but his attention remains on you despite the way he addresses them. “fuckin’ do something about it then, im busy.”

you’re so fucking wound up, moans muffled behind your lips despite the way sanzu’s so desperately trying to drag them out of you before he’s resting the phone face up on the desk beside you. you’d assume he was done, but you can still hear the faint voice on the other end and the hooded look he gives you is dark before he’s suddenly burying his face into you, drinking up everything you offer to him despite the way his sharp gaze cuts up into you as he grumbles out a warning.

“keep that pretty mouth quiet, angel. those sounds are for my ears only, wouldnt want to have to kill that sorry bastard for hearing what’s mine.”

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violetrainbow412-blog · 8 months

Text

Day 23: coffee shop

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

This one is even longer than my favorite and although at first I didn't have an idea, I loved the final result. I hope you like it!

The movie on your phone was interrupted by the bell ringing, alerting you that some customers had just entered.

Your aunt had owned the modest cafe you were now in for most of her life and now that she was too tired to take care of it anymore and the money was already enough for a comfortable life, she decided it was time to sell it.

The transaction was still in process and you were there that day to cover for her while she went to a doctor's appointment, hoping that the day would be calm enough so that you could finish the movie series you were watching and, perhaps, make some progress in your schoolwork.

“Good morning, how can I help you?”

Your friendly smile seemed to please the couple of girls in front of you and they took a moment to decide what they wanted, until finally they told you what they wanted. You had worked as a barista for a while elsewhere and it wasn't difficult for you to prepare the lattes that they waited patiently for, while they carried on a conversation that you heard fragments of, but didn't understand.

A minute later, when you took another look at the line, you realized that there was a man behind them and you stopped for a moment to look at him carefully. He was older than you but you also noticed that he was very handsome and dressed like an executive, very different from the kind of people who frequented the establishment.

Once you were done you placed both drinks on the counter and the two girls, who had already held hands, thanked you and handed you a bill to pay.

“For a dollar more I can give you some cookies, we have chocolate and walnuts, would you like that? They will taste delicious with the latte you ordered” you offered kindly, showing them the product in the basket you had next to you “They are homemade and a sweet gift for a loved one.”

Your sales strategy seemed to convince them both and one of them gave you the missing dollar. You packed the things and before they left you wished them a good day, trying to be as polite as possible. When the couple left the place, the man walked to the front and you repeated the question at the beginning, a little nervous after noticing that he was even more handsome up close; he had slightly curly and messy hair, a discreet trace of facial hair around his pink lips, and beautiful honey-colored eyes that made you shiver.

“I wanted to ask you, is Mrs. Smith here?”

“No, she had to go to a doctor's appointment,” you responded, somewhat embarrassed. The idea of who he could be didn't even cross your mind, as you were too worried about recording as many details as possible about your attractive client “Who's looking for her?”

“My name is Spencer,” he replied. The name sounded captivating coming from his lips and there was something about his smile that made you feel nervous.

“I can call to tell her that you are here”

“No, if she's busy I'd rather come another time,” he murmured. The thought of what this man might want intrigued you and before he even turned around you rushed to say something, anything, to hold him back.

“Don't you want to drink coffee?” your words sounded small and rushed and you didn't even know why you had said them. That man would be, according to your calculations, about ten years older than you, but that didn't stop you from appreciating his beauty and wanting to be nice to him “You look like…” you began to say, feigning a thoughtful tone, “an espresso man. You know, something serious and strong”

Again, your attempt to attract customers seemed to be working, you knew by the small smile that formed on his lips.

“In fact it's quite the opposite,” he murmured, taking another step towards you that he had taken away “I'm a big lover of cappuccinos. The sweeter the better."

“Well, that's definitely a surprise,” you murmured, batting your eyelashes without even being aware of it “My aunt should be back soon and we have a cappuccino machine here. You can wait for her. If you want,” you added, hoping you didn’t sound too forward.

You saw him debate for a moment whether he should consider your offer or not and apparently something in your childish and kind eyes convinced him to accept, which you celebrated with a huge smile.

“Regular, vanilla, or mocha?”

“Regular, please,” he responded, walking to the nearest table so he could take a seat. All the furniture was shabby and rustic, with bright color combinations that had already worn out over the years “And you work here?”

“No, I'm just helping out today. There was an employee, but she had to resign for personal reasons and since my aunt is selling the cafe, we thought it would be more prudent for the new owner to hire whoever he wanted.”

“Huh, now there will be a new administration? Who is it about?" you weren't very used to sharing information with strangers, but you wanted to continue having this man's attention and if that was the way to do it, you would take the risk.

“My aunt said he is a Doctor Reid. I think she's known him for years because he comes here often for coffee and when he found out she wanted to retire... well, he offered” you could see him from above the counter and although you thought you saw a little smile, you thought you were just imagining it “Are you a frequent customer?”

“You could say so,” he responded and you swore there was a bit of mockery in his response.

You had already put the ingredients in the machine and now all you had to do was wait, praying inside that no other person would cross the door so you could have your little moment with that mysterious gentleman.

“I hope the new owner considers remodeling. There is a university near here and many young people could come if there were some more flashy things. You know, something that looks cute on Instagram”

“Instagram?” he asked, as if you were speaking to him in a strange language.

“The social network,” you answered obviously and he was quick to nod his head, as if he had just remembered what that was.

“Sorry, I'm just not very techie,” he apologized, with a sheepish smile. “But I think you're right, maybe this site could use a change. This way it would stop being full of old people like me and young people like you would enjoy coming.”

Was he describing himself as old? How old was he supposed to be? The question was drowned out on your lips because the machine announced that the drink was ready and you ran back to finish preparing it. You did your best to place a pretty design on the top of the liquid and then left the counter to hand the man the cup, accompanied by one of the cookies you had sold to the previous girls.

“It looks delicious,” he hummed, receiving the coffee from your hands and accidentally brushing your fingers. His hands looked calloused and big; the kind capable of holding you perfectly “Should I pay now or later?”

"Oh, don’t worry. It is courtesy of the house”

Again, you didn't even know why you were offering that to the man, and although he seemed surprised, he didn't protest at your show of kindness. You thought about how daring it would be to sit at the same table as him and in the end, you decided that the best thing was to return to your place behind the counter, now with no intention of watching your movie because if that were the case you would miss out on the good view that destiny had given you.

“If you need something else, you can tell me. We have some books on the shelf over there, if you feel like reading while you wait.”

Spencer thanked you and then you thought it would be best not to ask him any more questions or he would probably feel harassed. You saw him get up from his seat to listen to your suggestion and take a book, on the cover of which you managed to read Crime and Punishment. You wanted to tell him that you had read it for a college assignment, but instead you bit your tongue, reflecting that this information was something he clearly wasn't interested in.

You stayed as composed as possible and he didn't seem to notice your gaze on him, or if he did, he didn't say anything of it. There were no customers the entire time he was drinking his coffee and when you thought about preparing something else for him, a clatter filled the air: it was your aunt, at the door, holding a shopping bag in one hand.

"Oh hello!" she greeted, both to you and to the man who was waiting patiently “Honey, why didn't you tell me that someone came looking for me?”

“I asked her not to, Mrs. Smith.” Spencer answered for you, getting up from his chair and leaving the book on the table, next to the empty cup “I didn't want to interrupt your activities.”

“Well, now I'm here. "Just let me leave these purchases and I'll be right back to discuss the contract, Doctor Reid.”

Contract? Doctor Reid?

“I'll wait for you here” he smiled. Your aunt crossed the counter to enter the warehouse and you followed her like a lost puppy, trying to find an explanation for what you had just heard.

As soon as you were inside you stood next to the woman to get her attention, making sure to be out of the man's hearing range.

“Is that Doctor Reid?” you hissed.

“Yes, he didn't tell you?”

"No!" you squeaked, while she looked around for a folder with the documents she needed “I mean, he told me his name was Spencer, but he didn't tell me his last name. And since you said he was a doctor, I imagined a grumpy mister, not someone like him"

“But he is a mister, he is in his forties.”

"How many?" you screamed again, unwilling to believe what she was telling you “But he… he's so handsome! I thought he would be around thirty at most. How can he be forty?”

“Do you think he's handsome?” she asked and this time she did look at you. You had always had a good relationship with her, so her older woman's scowl judging you didn't offend you like it should.

“Of course,” suddenly your head seemed to remember an important detail and your entire face turned red, while your mouth opened in a soft oh “Damn, I even bought him a coffee! I just gave the future owner of this place a coffee, what is he going to think of me?”

“Youth, youth, you are becoming more and more indecent!” she murmured, half joking and half complaining. When she finally found her folder she grabbed it, ready to get out of it again, when you stopped her by her arm.

“Please don't go telling him that I think he's handsome,” you begged and she assured you that she wouldn't do it.

When you came out again, luckily, there were already some customers waiting and that gave you an excuse to escape from the amused look that the man you had been talking to had. The time you spent preparing people's drinks was enough for them to talk about the purchase and sale contract and for both of their signatures to finally be on the pages of paper.

“I know that this little corner is in good hands, I trust that you will take care of it”

“And of course I will, ma'am. While I was waiting for you, your niece kindly suggested a remodel and I think that will be the first thing I will do. I will keep the essence, but with a modern touch, right?” he smiled, giving you a kind look from his spot as if he were seeking your approval.

“I said it with the best of intentions,” you admitted sheepishly “If I'm honest, I didn't even know that you were the future owner, otherwise I think I would have treated you better.”

“Better than your friendly attitude, free coffee, and advice?” he asked and you almost thought he was returning your previous attempts at flirting, as if that amused him no end.

“What I want most is to see this place full of people again and I think a remodel would be perfect” your aunt smiled “Give me this week to take out my things and then the cafe will be all yours”

“Take as much time as you need, Amy. You will always be welcome here as if the place were yours,” he told her, with a sweetness inappropriate for a grown man, while he wrapped her in a hug. When he pulled away his eyes landed on you. “And you too, Miss Y/N. If you are interested in obtaining a permanent job, I would be happy to hire you. I’ll need someone young to help me give it that youthful touch.”

You wish you could say that his offer didn't flatter you, but that would be a vile lie. You looked at your aunt for a second and she already had a smile that bordered on disapproval of your victory, but she also hid some amusement at the situation.

“I need to talk about it with my parents and review my schedule at the university, but… I would love to, to tell the truth. Even if I am not a permanent employee I will continue to live here to shop”

And to see you, you wanted to say, but again you held back.

“I'll look forward to your visits then,” he murmured, giving you a bright new smile.

From that moment on you knew that your aunt's old coffee shop would become the number one place for social gatherings, solitary visits to do homework and, with any luck, free afternoons to chat with the handsome and charming owner.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger @missabsey

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2023 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #older!reid #professor!reid #post prison spencer reid

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archangeldyke-all · 3 months

Note

I know Sevika has her way with cards in a gambling sense but how about being a tarot card reader. It’s a shady business ofc but she’s just genuinely super good at reading people and bulshitting her way into people’s heads. She’d definitely pull the lovers card to get reader to go out with them. Oh and she’s HELLA charming, instead of scamming reader to buy some shit she’s “scamming” reader into going on a date with her.

this is SO cutelas;djf;laskdjf

men and minors dni

the markets of zaun are a wild place. whether you need a mercenary, exotic fruit, poisonous animals, or supernatural powers: you can find it all in the filthy, crowded, markets.

sevika learned at a young age that the key to surviving zaun was all about marketability. nobody in the under-city gives a fuck if someone;s fat or skinny, but they'd take interest in hearing that someone'd make a good bouncer or could fit in the tight spaces in the mine shafts.

nobody's going to pay an artist to paint-- but they might pay them to tattoo their skull or draw a caricature of them.

sevika's always known she's good at reading people: she just never knew how she could sell that to someone.

and then she discovered tarot cards.

within a month of her getting her first deck, she'd made enough money scamming people to buy her own storefront in the markets.

and now, she's running an incredibly lucrative business.

despite the fact that her store is decorated with various silky fabrics and crystal columns, despite the astrology posters on the walls and the candles and insence always burning: sevika uses no psychic powers in her readings.

it's mostly bullshit. occasionally, the 'official meanings' of the cards will line up with what she says, but she mostly just says what she knows her customers want to hear. (and sometimes what they need to hear.)

it's easy. the customer comes in, sevika takes one hard, good look at them, and nine times out of ten, she's able to figure out what they're hoping to hear.

then, once she gets them talking and gets the details out-- she's able to bullshit some pretty accurate guesses about their lives, just to convince them they're in the presence of a 'true psychic.'

some people need encouragement-- to quit their jobs or to ask someone out. some people need a 'sign'-- that their deceased love one is protecting them, that things will be okay. some people just want an answer, stuck on a pointless question and unable to move on until they get closure. sevika's happy to supply. especially for how much they're paying her.

you work at the exotic pet store a few shops down from sevika's.

you're the only one who can see through her bullshit.

she's in love with you.

each day, around one in the afternoon, she takes a smoke break at the little table in front of her shop, waiting for you to walk by on your way to lunch.

each time, you smile at her, roll your eyes, and ask, "scammed anymore innocent believers today sev?"

"made three hundred bucks since we opened." she boasts. "want me to take you to dinner with the earnings?" she asks. you laugh and flip her off, continuing your walk.

sometimes she'll come visit you when her days are slow. if you're not busy, she'll 'give you a reading' at the counter of the shop, whispering so neither of you alert your manager that you're not working.

she has to shuffle and organize them before she comes in, because each and every time she's 'giving you a reading' she pulls the lovers, and grins at you. "looks like you've got a blossoming love interest." she says. you snort and roll your eyes.

"oh, do i? pull another, tell me what they're like."

sevika grins, pulling three more cards. "oh. i'm seeing here that she's... tall... strong... hmm... definitely rich..." she says. you snort, and sevika peeks one eye open at you. "half ponytail... her name starts with an 's' sound... ssssarah?" she tries. "no... that's not right..." she blinks at you for help, and you burst into laughter.

"get out of here, my manager's gonna be back from lunch soon." you say. sevika blows a kiss at you on her way out.

you can't deny that she's charming. you understand why so many gullible customers trust her with their lives. you watch her walk back toward her shop through the window, biting your lip as you watch her ass sway.

she finally asks you out after a few months of you guys flirting.

all day, you have people coming into your shop, finding you, and handing you flowers. each time you ask them why, they shrug, simply saying that their psychic told them to give flowers to the 'closest beautiful woman' they could find.

most of them assume that you're going to fall in love with them the second they hand you the bundle of flowers-- not knowing that their psychic is using them and their desperation for love to secondhand hit on you. you just thank them, smiling sweetly before letting them down gently, encouraging them to try the next girl they see.

you're exhausted by the end of the night, and about ready to strangle sevika.

but as you leave you bump into her. at the sight of her, all your frustrations from the annoying little prank she pulled melt away.

she's in a fancy suit, her hair neatly combed behind her ears, her eyes nervous-- darting around and never quite meeting your eye. she holds no tarot cards, only a single red rose that she thrusts into your chest the second she sees you.

you stare sweetly down at the rose, sighing softly before speaking. "you're so fucking annoying." you say, warmly. sevika chuckles nervously.

"do you want to go on a date with me?" she asks. you smirk, looking up from the rose to admire her.

"well, i should probably ask my tarot reader-- i trust her with my life." you say. sevika grins, reaches behind her, then pulls the lovers card from somewhere behind her back. you burst into laughter.

"the cards say yes." she says. you roll your eyes, reaching out to smack her shoulder, melting a bit at the sweet smile she shoots you. "...so?" she asks.

"fine." you say, giggling. "i guess i can't go against the cards, huh?" you ask.

sevika just grins, swooping in to kiss you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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eggtartz · 8 months

Text

✧ 20th October ✧

Giyu Tomioka // Destress (f! swordsmith villager reader)

kinktober masterlist

warnings : soft sex, giyu is straightforward

you weren't the best swordsmith there is, so you resolved by doing what you can well. serving people. you name it, restaurants, massage services, your name is quite infamous in the service area of the swordsmith village. unlike them, you wanted to contribute more rather than just simply living there. today, the chief village had alerted you to serve a full on massage and relaxation for one of the hashiras who's coming to the village.

you were exhilarated as always, finding happiness in what you're doing. you waited by the hot spring bath where you met him, his towel on your knees. "tomioka-san? ah, what an honour to meet a hashira" you lowered your head to bow at him "thankyou" he said silently "i was informed that you want a massage? will you want to have a cup of warm tea while you're relaxing inside the hot tub?" you asked, being friendly.

"yes, that'd be great" he answered. you nodded and gave another bow before going inside to brew some tea. the water hashira was known to be stoic but as far as you observed, he looked quite.. normal? handsome, even. you did not understand all the fuss about him being stoic and expressionless. perhaps, he's stressed.

stress is a no no for you.

"tomioka-san, i have brought you tea" you smiled, kneeling at the edge while putting down a tray with cups and kettles. "yes, thankyou" you waited there, hands on your lap as you looked at him expectantly. "uh, yes?" he raised his brow. "the massage, tomioka-san. i usually massage my customers while being in the hot tub because the water has healing purposes" you smiled. when you noticed he went radio silent, your smile quickly falter.

"u-unless, if you refuse then that's okay too" you said, averting your eyes as you felt ashamed for barging into his personal space. you slowly shifted back, in order to dig a hole and hide in there forever until you heard sounds of water splashing. "i don't mind" he said, empty eyes looking into yours. "o-okay.." you stammered, quickly taking a special ointment and rubbed it along his muscly scars. you took note of multiple scars as his broad shoulders relaxed.

"it's warm" he commented as you slowly massaged his back "yes, it's supposed to relax your muscles for you to be less tense" you said, hand swiftly moving on his back. you eventually went into the warm, steaming water while massaging his arms. "oh, you're very skillful. it's not wonder the chief recommends you" he said, voice low.

"yes, i try my best" you smiled politely to him. working on his biceps, you could feel his eyes boring into yours with curiosity but you remained silent. he gave small grunts when you pressed a pressure point, his muscles spasming.

"y/n. i paid in full for you but still this isn't me forcing myself. i just wanted to know" he said when you're massaging his feet, water splashing underneath you "what is that, tomioka-san?"

"sex. i wasn't intending to but your touches makes me.. hard" he looked away, blush on his cheeks. "if you'd like, i'll pay extra for it." you smiled "a customer order is always a pleasure to be fulfilled" you smiled and gently took off your already soaked yukata. giyu's breath hitched when your boobs came on display and he's trying not to peek at your pussy.

he also removed the towel around his waist, he won't be needing that anymore.

you swam closer to him, breathing at his face. his hands slowly crept to your waist as he finally, so slowly kisses your lips. it was slow and almost felt intimate as he pulled you closer with easy strength that he has mustered. you smiled when he fingers your entrance, liking the dominance and the fact that he isn't hesitating to use you for his own destressing ways. you softly mewled when one finger entered your cunt, your slick mixing with the warm water doubling the pleasure and it pulsed with anticipation.

"o-oh.. tomioka-san.. need it.. please.." you plead with half lidded eyes. "patience, y/n. i'm the customer here" he said, almost mischievously. you whimpered when he pushed you to the edge of the hot tub, the wall behind you while he teased your pussy with the tip of his dick. you couldn't see much through the water but you knew it was going to stretch you good.

"oh!" you yelped when he pushed inside as giyu gritted his teeth. it was so easy sliding inside you, your pussy is basically inviting him and warming him up. he gnawed on his lips as he had to pull out but pushed back in with double the intensity. his thrusts were shallow, but deep as you made ah, ah, ahs with your eyes getting blurry.

"y/n" thrust "you" thrust "feel" thrust "so good" his pace was slow as he took his time burying inside you like he never wanted to leave. your hands went behind his back that was still moist with ointment and held it tight, scratching it with your nails. giyu almost growled, lifting your body with his hands under your knee "spread it for me" he whispered as your hands spread your needy, greedy cunt that swallowed his dick without difficulty

"damn it.. gonna cum.." he panted beside your ear, whining and breathless. you held on tight to his back, placing sloppy kisses to his neck. you clenched your pussy in purpose at times, giving him the utmost pleasure at all times.

"oh! i can feel it tomioka-san! o-oh!" you moaned as he came inside with a grunt. "damn it! you're too good!" he growled again, pushing your body harder to the wall behind you as he pistoned himself inside your weeping cunt. "wait! you're gonna make me cum tomioka-san!" you screamed, feeling your brain disconnecting from your body as he was going too fast, as if he didn't creampied you earlier.

"that's the point, y/n. you did a good job with my stress, it's time for me to pay something back. pay something that isn't money" he nibbled on your ear one hand of his teased your clit, flicking it and rubbing it and it swell under his touch. you were knocked out by his teasing and sinful plap plap plap sounds accompanied with wanton moans and groans could be heard from a distance.

"gonna cum!" you yelled as he quickly pinched your clit. you squeeze your eyes, feeling your wetness which was as warm as the water. you panted until giyu decided to give you another heartwarming kiss, a hand behind your back as he held you. it was a passionate one, tongues swirling as his cock is getting touched again.

"we can go for another one, free of charge of course" you smiled.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer #demon slayer smut #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba smut #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kny giyuu #demon slayer giyuu #giyuu tomioka #giyuu x reader #kimetsu giyuu #giyuu smut #kny tomioka #tomioka giyu x reader #demon slayer tomioka #giyuu tomioka smut

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thebearchives · 2 years

Text

slow days in monaco | PG10

PAIRING: pierre gasly x single mom!reader

REQUESTED: [] yes [X] no

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

SYNOPSIS: a slow day in monaco is like a bad omen, or so you were told. what happens when formula 1 drivers pierre gasly and charles leclerc enter the café you work at and spark up a conversation with your son?

WARNINGS: fluff, son has a name (thomas), reader can speak both french and english (translations are included), probably more interactions between pierre and the kid (sorry, not sorry. I'm a sucker for guys interacting with kids)

A/N: hello, hello!! first post alert!!! i hope you guys enjoy what i came up with during my dad!pierre brainrot. please don’t be a ghost reader! i love getting feedback, even if it’s just a small comment :)

( originally, this was supposed to be a series, and i’m more than willing to write more parts to this, but i’m not entirely sure if that’s what people want. that being said, send me a message if you'd like another part and I'll see what i can do! )

although there never truly was such thing as a slow and quiet day in a coffee shop in monte carlo, the mornings were just a little bit more mellow after the start of the formula 1 summer break. or at least they were to you.

this was your first year working at le pain d'amour, a bakery and coffee shop popular with tourists and natives alike, so you didn’t have much to go off of. you had started working there a couple of months prior to the monaco grand prix, and even three months later, you were still recovering from the weeklong madness.

long gone were the mornings where you made coffee for f1 enthusiasts and team members alike. now, your mornings were spent serving tourists looking for a good instagram-worthy latte, and suit-clad men complaining about their early mornings and lack of vacation days.

unlike other days, today felt like your longest morning shift yet; halfway into your five-hour shift, with only about five customers sitting inside the cafe. ‘a slow day in monaco is like a bad omen,’ your coworker had said. to you, it just felt like torture.

another hour passed, the five customers long gone, now replaced with three individuals who sat scattered around the shop, all busy with their own devices. the bells above the front door chimed announcing the entrance of two men. with the way the two men loudly chattered in french, you doubted the need for the bells in the first place.

you moved from your spot leaning against the counter to the front cash register. your coworker, michelle, had stepped out not too long ago for her break, leaving the cafe in your very capable hands.

“bonjour! welcome to le pain d'amour, i can take your order whenever you guys are ready!” you channelled your best customer service voice and looked up. the smile you slapped onto your face faltered slightly when you realized the faces of the two men standing across from you.

there in front of you stood f1 drivers, charles leclerc and pierre gasly.

you snapped back into reality when charles opened his mouth, “bonjour! can i just get an iced coffee and a croissant sandwich?”

you nodded as you entered his order into the system, “and for you?”

your question was directed to pierre, who had been gazing at the (h/c)-haired boy sitting on one of the stools near the counter. his head snapped back to you, a smile following as he looked over your head at the menu. a quick apology left his lips as he requested some more time, before opting to get the same as his friend but with a cookie as well.

as you turned to make their orders, telling the men to take a seat wherever and that you would call them up whenever their order was ready, you missed pierre gesturing towards the young boy, pulling charles up to sit on the stools near the kid. the alpha tauri driver couldn’t help but miss his nephew as he watched the young boy colour his page with great focus.

the quiet clicks of keys, and the music playing over the speakers was now overshadowed by the aggressive sounds of a crayon scraping against paper and the sound of the two drivers chattering in french. although loud enough for others to hear them, the speed at which the two men spoke made it hard to understand what they were saying.

“maman, regardez ça.” mom, look at this.

you drew your eyes from the espresso machine to the five-year-old, thomas, and the paper held up in his hand. you absorbed the shapes and lines on the paper before looking at the boy who was smiling widely.

“devinez ce que c'est!” guess what it is!

his energy was palpable, no thanks to the three hours he had spent sleeping on the couch in the backroom while you worked outside. you looked back at the machine, noticing the coffee just barely starting to stream.

you decided to entertain the boy, “hmm,” you furrowed your eyebrows in fake confusion, “est-ce un chien?” is it a dog?

“what?!” he gaped at you, “not even close! réessayer.” try again.

you giggled at the young boy’s exasperated face, “désolé, mon petit. je dois retourner au travail.” sorry, my child. i have to get back to work.

if it wasn’t for sanitary reasons, you would have reached over and ruffled his hair to get him to smile. instead, you resorted to calling out to him again, “stop pouting, amour.”

thomas grumbled, a mess of both french and english, albeit both sloppy, escaping his small lips.

a voice broke his muttering, “puis-je deviner?” can i guess?

both you and the boy looked over to where pierre sat, a small smile gracing his lips. you looked back at the young boy, eyes wide open and jaw slacked.

you huffed a small laugh, “tommy, ferme ta bouche.” close your mouth.

thomas sat up straight, “you’re in f1!”

he turned to look at you, “maman!! driver! un pilote de course!” a racing driver!

it was endearing, listening to him exclaim in both french and english. you, yourself, had been raised in a bilingual household, with your father being a native english speaker, who met your monégasque mother on his summer vacation. you grew up in a household where both english and french were spoken in tandem, and now, with your own son, you couldn’t help but raise him the same way.

you turned back to finish making the drinks that said driver had ordered, “oui, and he asked you something. sois poli et réponds-lui.” yes…be nice and answer him.

tommy’s eyes grew wide again and he turned back to the driver next to him, “pouvez-vous répéter votre question?” can you repeat your question?

pierre pointed to the drawing, repeating his question in english this time, “can i guess what you drew?”

thomas looked down at his drawing. an attempt at copying the foam art you had done on his long-empty cup of hot chocolate.

he looked back at you for guidance, gesturing you to come closer to him with his hand. you placed the sandwiches and coffees in front of the drivers, smiling apologetically to pierre for your son’s blatant avoidance of his question.

“i’ll get you your cookie in just a minute,” you stated, to which he responded, “pas d'inquiétude.” no worries.

as you neared the cookie display, and thomas, he reached up and whispered into your ear, “what if he thinks my drawing is really bad?”

you looked down at the boy, a small smile gracing your lips, “i’m sure he’ll think you’re very talented, and if he doesn’t…” you trailed off as you placed the cookie onto a plate.

after placing the cookie in front of pierre, you leaned down to whisper in your son’s ear, “i’ll fight him.”

thomas giggled, moving away from you to push his drawing in front of the driver, “maman said if you think i’m a bad drawer, she will fight you.”

charles’ chortle was loud, turning into a series of coughs as he choked on his coffee. you gasped quietly, quickly turning away from the three to avoid pierre’s amused gaze and get charles a tissue, to which he nodded with a red face, eyes watering. you began cleaning your station, ears not having to strain to hear the conversation going on behind you.

as charles’ coughs died down, pierre sighed, “well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

after a small sip of his own coffee, he continues, “is this a cup?”

you couldn’t see it but pierre was pointing to a spot on the drawing.

thomas nodded excitedly, “mhm! c'est une tasse comme celle-là.”

the five-year-old pointed to the large array of coffee cups and mugs just to the left of where you stood.

pierre nodded, “is this design on top one of those foam…” he trailed off forgetting the words.

charles piped up from his spot, “latte form art?”

again, thomas nodded fast, “yes! but maman says i can’t have coffee so she makes me it on hot chocolate!”

both charles and pierre nodded at his words, “your mother is very smart, then.”

you turned around just in time to catch thomas nodding super fast, cheeks turning red at the compliment.

pierre took a bite out of his sandwich and charles decided to reach out and make conversation with the kid, “what’s your name, buddy?”

“thomas! with an h,” he started, going on a ramble about his classmate who also shared the same name, but without the h.

your attention got pulled from the conversation as you heard the bell chime again. this time, however, it was your coworker coming back from her break, keeping the door open for the person who was leaving the shop.

michelle smiled at you with a wave, tapping on her wrist as if to indicate the time. you looked at your own wrist, eyes widening to realize your shift was due to end in about 10 minutes. as slow as your shift had started, in the presence of the two drivers, you couldn’t help but be amazed at how fast time had passed.

there wasn’t much for you to do, waiting for the time to pass. as thomas continued chatting up the two f1 drivers, you made rounds around the tables placed in the shop, cleaning up any messes left behind.

with thomas and pierre’s loud voices filling up the air, it wasn’t long before michelle pulled you by your arm, eyes widened at the sight of the two very famous men sitting next to your son. her inquisitive look made you laugh quietly, explaining that they had come in not too long ago and had already ordered, and finished most of their food by the looks of it.

the ten minutes went by quickly, and you found yourself apologetically disrupting the very important conversation between thomas, charles, and pierre about whether or not a velociraptor could outrun charles in his ferrari. (charles: “velociraptors cannot run as fast as a racecar.” pierre, smacking his hand on the table: “you can’t believe everything you read on the internet!” thomas: “yeah! raptors are fast!”)

you smoothed out thomas’ hair, “hey, mon petit chou. i’m gonna go get our stuff from the back so we can get ready to go, okay? why don’t you start wrapping up the conversation?”

you left before charles could ask for your opinion on the matter, not wanting to face the wrath of either side if you defended the other.

by the time you made it back out, thomas was sitting on his stool, hunched over a piece of paper, a red pencil crayon held tightly in his hand as he drew something. the plate with pierre’s cookie now sat next to the boy, small teeth marks indicating that instead of the man who had ordered the cookie, the young boy was the one eating it.

pierre, noticing your return, smiled sheepishly as if embarrassed. whether it was for not ensuring your son had packed up before you came back, or for the fact that he got caught giving your son a cookie, you weren’t sure.

“sorry, he said he wanted to draw something for us,” pierre started, his eyes catching the movement of thomas taking another bite of the cookie before darting back to your amused face, “and sorry for the cookie, i always intended on giving it to him, but i realize now i should have probably asked before if he could have one.”

you smiled at him, “don’t worry about it, either of the things. the cookies are by far his favourite item on the menu and he’s not had one yet, so no harm done.”

charles leaned over from his spot, pushing against pierre, “so, do you think i could beat a velocirapt-”

pierre’s groan cut him off, “fermez-la déjà.” shut up already.

charles poked pierre with his elbow, “no, you,” before he turned back to you, “google says raptors only travel about 40 km/h…”

you laughed, “i’m afraid i cannot give my answer without risking my life,” you gestured your head towards the boy still colouring, now with a blue pencil in his hand instead.

“i think that gave your answer perfectly.” though his words were directed to you, charles couldn’t help but stare at pierre, a cocky smirk planted on his lips.

before pierre could retort, thomas sat up eagerly, “j'ai fini!” i'm done!

he pushed the piece of paper into the middle of the counter, right in front of pierre. looking over thomas’ head, you couldn’t help but smile at the picture he drew.

two racecars, one red and one speckled with blue, the numbers 16 and 10 drawn on either car respectively. in between the two racecars stood four people. three squares bodies and one triangle, three boys and one girl. as thomas pointed at each aspect of his drawing including the people, not that any of them needed any supporting description, you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that the triangle stick figure was connected at the hand to the smallest square figure. you and thomas, holding hands.

after pierre and charles thanked thomas profusely, you helped him hop off the stool. you turned to look at the two drivers one last time, “thank you for keeping him entertained today, you really didn’t have to.”

“nonsense, he’s a good kid.” charles smiled, pierre nodding at his words, “hopefully, we’ll see you both again.”

you smiled, “well, i’m here nearly every morning, so y’know.”

you helped thomas put his backpack on, “have a good summer break, both of you. hope the rest of the season treats you two well!”

the racecar drivers smiled, waving bye to both of you as you walked towards the door. before stepping foot outside, however, thomas turned around.

“maman’s number is written on the back! bye!”

A/N: second part is now posted!! read lonely nights in monaco here!!

#pierre gasly x reader #f1 driver x reader #f1 imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly 10 #pierre gasly x you #pg10 #pierre gasly fluff #charles leclerc #alpha tauri #fluff #ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ writes #f1 imagines #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula one #sdim #1k

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renata-has-thoughts · 2 years

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W/c: 2.2k Pairing: Dom fem Reader x Sub P.Bateman Includes: PLEASE READ!!! Dubcon, very dominant reader, physical assault, blood play, blood drinking, scratching, degradation, riding, p in v, dacryphilia, choking/breath play, Patrick is into it but only slightly admits to it at the end, therapeutic sex? If that’s a thing? ‘I/My/Mine’ pronouns for reader.

A/n: First of all, always read tags, but I mean it this time! This is very intense but I had a LOT of fun writing it. I’ve read the book, and I can assure you he’s an insecure slut, and he’s so babygirl. Need I remind you, INTENSE. If you don’t like it don’t read it. That’s on you. No minors. Have fun~

My fist came down sharp across his face. I reveled in the electric contact stinging my knuckles as the hook of my arm drew away. What I savored even more was the pained, groggy gasp Bateman emitted, his head lolling to the side with the motion of my punch before snapping back, and his half-lidded eyes meeting my gleeful, anticipatory ones.

He made a movement like gritty biting to fix his jaw back into place, the grotesque crunch causing his expression to sour.

“I bet that hurts, doesn’t it?” I teased, loosening his tie with two fingers, curling them upwards suggestively with a coy smile. His face stayed stone cold and annoyed, but there was something behind his eyes. Like the poised stature of a scared rabbit preparing to dart off. The threat of adrenaline. It pulsated, alive and steady. I could stare into those eyes for hours. I could claw them out with the edges of my nails, ruining them.

Beauty is only that when it’s temporary. And Patrick is beautiful. With a swift tug, his tie was thrown somewhere far beyond my peripheral vision. Beyond my care.

“I’m pleasantly surprised you haven’t told or forced me to stop yet. Either you’re secretly into this or you have some insecurity about dignity…seeing what you can take,” I mused as I undid the buttons of his shirt meticulously, adding in a whisper, “whichever one it is, it’s absolutely pathetic. I find it adorable.”

The farther I got down, the more I could sense his restraints heightening. I couldn’t sense his breathing getting faster, nor as in feel it from where I was straddling him or hear it from where I was bent over his chest, but rather knew it. Call it intuition.

For my enjoyment, I didn’t undo the last button, I simply ripped it open, ruining some of the stitching in the process. Patrick yelped.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he hissed, more solemnly than with bite.

“Physically or financially? Because I don’t see you making any moves to get me off of you.”

“That was Versace.” He mumbled from somewhere low, and went silent again, save for a few small noises while I stripped the shirt off his arms and out from underneath him. I rewarded it with the same discarded fate of the tie into the abyss behind me.

I splayed my hands across his abdomen. So warm…so humanly warm. If I didn’t have any self-control I would slice him open from every vantage point I had. He is just so perfect.

“Maybe one of these days I’ll eat you alive,” I said, turning my attention towards removing his pants. He made a brief, inaudible high-pitched sound. It caused me to smile.

With a tug and a toss, I had him. He was as good as a cornered mouse. He looked like it, too, eyes boring into mine, alert and unsteady. I bared my hypothetical fangs at him in an open-lipped grin. His eyes darted away, off to the side as if in humiliation.

“You do maintain your physique quite well for me, Bateman.” I complimented, letting my eyes run wild around his almost exposed body, except for his silk boxers. Of course they were silk.

I removed my robe-the only thing I was wearing-while examining the man before me. This seemed to grab his interest, his own eyes making their journey across my flesh. I do have my own insecurities, as an unspoken custom to any person, but I relished the way Patrick looked at me. He was intimidated. What a pretty response.

I hoisted myself, in my straddle position, just a bit higher up his body so I was sitting on his abdomen. Just an inch or so closer to his face.

Without any warning, I punched him again, this time with my non-dominant hand. The bliss of it all consumed me again. The contact, the thrum of my veins and his, the sound, in all its harshness. I could’ve orgasmed right then and there. I suppressed a pleasured moan when Patrick coughed and whimpered. When his head returned to look at me again, I was ecstatic to see I had drawn blood in his mouth.

“Fu-uck…fuck!” He groaned. Maybe he bit down too hard on his tongue, maybe the clash of teeth caused one to loosen. Excitement coursed through me as I leaned down to kiss him, eager to figure out just how I had demolished the insides of his mouth.

It was open-lipped and I spent no foreplay before pushing my tongue in. For the first time that night, I moaned with a newfound wanton fervor. I tasted blood. His blood on my tongue. Even though my eyes were closed, I felt as if rolling them back into my head. As I drank in his flavor disguised in hurried kisses, I spent careful notice on the heartbeat deeper in my body. Need. Heat. Something beyond craving.

I desired to kiss him longer, to enjoy the blood I drew for myself, like wine from a vineyard, but my body demanded he be inside it.

The need almost hurt, I admit. I sat up, smiling down at him benevolently, and pushed back and over his groin. I can’t say I was surprised to feel he was desperately hard. I almost felt bad. I tsk-ed with pity. Teasingly.

“Fuck, Bateman, you’re hard,” I muttered, observing the obvious and licking my teeth for any remaining blood, like going in for seconds after a decadant meal. I palmed the intrusion through his clothes, biting my lip when he moaned. I wish I had a keener ear. I wanted to transcribe that onto a sheet of music. To play it for myself every night. Feeling each note under my fingers on the piano. Feeling his vocal chords.

I looked up at his expression, and decided I would’ve titled the music ‘ruin’, for his eyes sprang tears, blood pooled from his mouth, a vague bruise blossomed on the side of his face. Yes. He was ruined.

I cursed something holy and beautiful under my breath as I hooked my finger in the waistband, eyes glancing up to him to note his submissive expression. His cheeks were red. Flushed from my assault or the obvious situation at hand, I didn’t know, but I assumed both.

I pulled it down. Away. Off his ankles. And there he was, ready however I would take him.

I sucked in a harsh breath, either of my hands coming up and digging into the tissue of his thighs, my nails just barely piercing his flesh. Much to my enjoyment, he made a pained sob as I drew blood from one point where my fingernail was pressed just hard enough to do so. I grit my teeth to maintain some composure.

A small amount of blood coalesced under my right hand, where, as aforementioned, my fingers dug into his thighs. I grinded myself against his other leg to satiate me in the meanwhile as I bent down and licked the blood from his left one.

Y’know those conversation starters, that go something along the lines of ‘if you had to drink one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be’? I have a new answer, thanks to the events detailed. His blood was orgasmically fantastic in my mouth. It’s like it was made to go there. To be devoured by me. To take it for my own.

“Oh, fuck, Bateman,” I droned, lips shiny with his blood, a trickle down my chin. I sat up, and the sight before me was heavenly.

The slut was leaking precum. From me drinking his blood. And his face-Christ, his face-I can still see it when I close my eyes. Even more tears glimmered around his groggy eyes, drunk on me, blood from before still on his pretty lips. He was painfully red elsewhere, too. I felt self-gratified knowing he was likely agonizing over how hard he was. Fighting to not just cum without any contact whatsoever. That made me fucking throb, and I’m not embarrassed to say that.

Equanimity be damned. I practically threw any leftover poise I had behind me like I did his clothes.

I licked up the still bleeding wound on his thigh again, but I dragged my tongue up and onto his burning erection this time. He seized. Spasmed at the contact.

He moaned so despairingly I honestly can still hear it reverberating in my head. I, in turn, moaned as well. I kept moving my tongue, focusing on a vein I found, exploring its edges and curves. His precum went well with his blood, a good flavor combination I made a mental note to try again at a later time.

I needed our bodies close so badly. Together. To take him inside my body, permanently instating him as mine, and a physical part of me. So I sat back up, still straddling his leg, and hoisted both of mine over to lock him in place. I steadied my breath. I had appearances to maintain. I slid myself up, and finally, down.

He gasped. I gasped, too, but made an effort to suppress it. He felt…I don’t know if there’s really a word for it. Incredible will suffice.

“Is this what you wanted?” I asked, beginning to thrust up and down upon him.

“I-I-“ He replied, per say. His voice was battered and broken.

“Ugh, speak up,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. Half from pleasure half from feigned frustration.

“Yea…yeah…” Patrick finally sighed. All vulnerable. Defenses crumbled. Mine to pillage and desecrate.

“Slut,” I chuckled, barely audible. I knew he heard it by the way he choked out a sob. That sparked in me a deviously brilliant idea.

Still with him inside me, I careened down just enough to wrap both my hands around his throat. With each thrust, I applied more and more pressure to my grip around his throat. Soon he sputtered and coughed, chest heaving as he tried to breathe through his bloodied nose. His eyes were off somewhere distant-like an animal looking at something not there. A ghost. Maybe it was the ghost of who he was before I ruined his facade, tore it down to pieces. Evaporating from his body as he fought for air. I moaned.

From this position, me leaning down, he hit a spot that felt just right. My knees felt weak upon their own accord.

He tried to grab my arms, as if making a move to pry them away. I wouldn’t be having that. I slid my thumbs down to the dip of his windpipe in a silent threat, and he instantly dropped his hands, making the correct and logical choice.

I toyed with him a little, abusing my power over him. I loosened my grasp on his neck completely, letting him get in one shaky, anguished gasp, and then clamped back down again. Upon doing so, he bucked his hips up, consequently getting deeper inside.

I laughed with joyous disbelief. “You-you like being choked? You’re getting off on it?” I guffawed in hilarity from the situation at hand. No pun intended. “What-is it…don’t tell me it’s gonna make you cum, now. That would be mortifying for you.”

“I-I’m-“ he writhed.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes.”

He shook his head meekly. That, or trembled.

“Well hold on, if you would be so kind. I’m get-fuck-I’m getting about there too, but…we wouldn’t want you to become all overstimulated, would we?” I broke out into a broader, toothy grin, “I don’t want you to get hurt, Bateman.”

He whined and whimpered, as if wounded. Which he was. I picked up my pace, managing to rub my clit on his groin every now and again, groaning each time I did so.

Finally. Now I was ready.

“Alright. Whatever. You can cum.” I muttered, syllables asunder, half to myself and half to him. I bared my teeth and growled lowly as I came, mentally releasing something spike-edged and dark in my mind that had been plaguing me for a while. Like admitting something deep to a therapist. I needed this like a salaryman a vacation. Throughout this, I didn’t stop, making Patrick follow rapidly, breathing with loud groans and short, pathetic wails when he came. I had a feeling this release meant something more to him, too. A letting go. Literally.

Eventually, I slowed and gently peeled my hands away from his throat. His inhales were deep and steady, exhales shaky. I pulled off and everything about him went limp, coping with the events. I chuckled inaudibly. I swung my legs off and over the bed, standing up and headed towards the bathroom. I heard no commotion from his room, and after cleaning myself off, I emerged to see him unmoved except for the rising and falling of his chest. I fetched my robe from its crumpled spot on the ground, lithely wrapping it back around me. I went to leave to the kitchen to grab myself a snack, but paused in the doorframe

“Water? Tea?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Are you alive?”

He nodded.

“You’re sure?”

Nodding.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Very enthusiastic nodding.

I smiled to myself as I left to raid his fridge.

End

If you made it this far you’re messed up and I love you and we should get married. Repost and comment if you feel inclined.

#patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman smut #American psycho smut #Patrick Bateman fanfiction

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darkhymns-fic · 2 months

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Overtime

On his day off, Husk gets a visit from Alastor. It's routine.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters/Pairing: Husk/Alastor Rating: M Word Count: 1640 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Warning for suggestive situations here and some dubious consent. Just a short fic inspired by this art from @star-junk. It just really made me want to write something with it, so I hope it's okay!

It’s the creak of the bed that finally wakes Husk up. Wide-eyed. Fur standing on end. Vulnerable.

Maybe he should be surprised, but he's not at all. All he can think about is how damn tired he is. He’d already had to deal with errands and stocking up the bar, the crates full of bourbon and absinthe wrecking his back as he carried them. He’d had to deal with multiple grabby hands from the same eight-eyed customer, who whined about not getting his attention. And as well, any weird new activity Charlie was cooking up for the hotel residents, and pulling him into it. Not like Husk’s seeking redemption. He isn’t foolish enough to believe it could ever be for him.

There’s a small dip from behind him, on his bed. Another creak. It’s dark, but Husk doesn’t really need to see. The soft shine of red tells him everything he needs to know.

Another of his boss’s little visits.

Husk’s not alert enough to decide what to do. His limbs still feel heavy and his mouth is all dry from drinking himself to sleep. The weight keeps moving around on top of him, softly treading, like an animal through the brush. What makes it all the more eerie though is that he can’t even hear the shadow over him breathe.

That’s when he feels the hand on his wing.

He grits his teeth, then shivers. His throat rumbles with a sound he could barely restrain, still moving out of the shades of sleep.

Husk realizes too late that he’s not wearing anything. He always goes to bed bare, his own fur a bitch to deal with.

Finally, a voice.

“Dear Husker,” Alastor whispers, leaning down just a bit. The filter over his voice seems to dial all the way down to low. “You sleep so deeply. And it’s already past noon.” He tsks. “Such a layabout.”

Husk softly groans, all as Alastor keeps his hand in that same place. “Well, I was sleeping fine before you fucking showed up. And what do you care how I spend my Saturday?”

He doesn’t need to look to know how deep Alastor’s smile is, how it cuts into his face until it’s all he is.

Before Husk can even ask what’s the goddamn occasion now, the hand on his wing shifts. A thumb rubs against his feathers, the palm edging across the bend of his wing. The upper feathers are shorter, but they’re also sensitive. He’d give his own bottle of whiskey away if it meant he’d just have less of these stupid fucking soft spots of his, where any stimulation at all just did something to him.

And Alastor knows just where such spots were. Just right there, at the wing’s curve, where the feathers softened, where the red edges into the black. The wings had always been such a cruel joke, with its alternating patterns that resembled some cheap roulette wheel. It was always the one game it had been impossible for him to cheat at.

Alastor’s fingers curl into his wing, the thumb continuing to rub patterns, as if he’s memorizing every soft thread that makes up Husk’s body.

“Come on, why are you–” Husk cuts himself off, his body still struggling with the depth of his fatigue. Infuriating that this is all it takes for Alastor to get such reactions from him, and that he knows just when to do it.

But, despite it all, Husk finally gets his body to half-turn instead of just stretching like some depraved animal. His room is still covered in shadows, with only barely muted hallway light coming from the doorway crack.

None of that matters. He can still easily make out Alastor’s face, his smile like a crescent moon shining over dark woods. Red swam over both, its color searing into him. He’s still fully dressed, unlike Husk. As if he had just left a social meeting, and then went to his pet for a little play.

“Are you sure you weren’t just waiting for me?” the demon above him asks with a low laugh. “You reacted just so quickly, even for you.”

Now he’s actively trying to piss Husk off, but then there’s another touch. This time, right at the inside of his right thigh. Husk shivers again, and this time, he can’t help but arch his back, just slightly.

Alastor’s expression doesn’t change, even as his fingers part through the fur, trailing through white and black. Even as his other hand keeps weaving a soft language into Husk’s feathers. He plays his body like an instrument, fingers tapping along invisible keys that make the one beneath him sing in a melody so few others would ever hear.

And Alastor is certainly enjoying the show before him.

It’s hard to escape. It’s hard to want to escape.

But he manages to speak, even when he’s lost to the soft touches, to the way they grip and hold. They don’t let go. The fingers are greedy, and Husk is all too familiar with greed and its call.

“It’s my day off, boss…”

Even an ironclad soul like his deserves a little mercy.

Alastor leans down, never letting his fingers rest. They change course, maybe even change tempo, but the insistent petting and stroking is still enough to make Husk into a useless pile of limbs and heat. “Then perhaps you should work a little bit of overtime for me.”

The fact that he’s trying to crack a fucking joke with me now.

Husk flinches, one eye shutting as another wave of warmth rolls over him. Hard enough to sleep with his wings that keep getting in the way, that he could never hug to his body tight enough so that they just disappear. Because not even just Alastor, but everyone loves to grab them. It’s too much. He hates it. He hates how his body just betrays him like this.

“You don’t pay me enough for this shit,” he shoots out. He manages to keep his voice steady, his tone deep, at least for that. He glares up at Alastor, letting the red light leak into his eyes. It always burns when he does so, looking directly at the Radio Demon.

It’s like looking at his forthcoming death.

Alastor notices. So, he shuts his eyes. And then, he lets a hand rush up Husk’s thigh, then up his chest, until they reach his chin. He leans further down, and down. And down.

Until the tips of their noses brush against the other. Until Husk can finally hear the soft breathing from Alastor, can feel it against his fur.

“Then how about I give you a goodnight kiss in exchange?” he asks, finally opening his eyes. The glee in them is almost manic. “For always putting up with me.”

All these stupid games Alastor loves to play.

The fingers grip his chin, while the others over his wing continue their dance. “After all, I know that’s what you like.” Then, a wink, almost coy in its motion. “You’ve always been such a romantic.”

It’s stupid how Husk’s breath hitches at the thought, even when a nightmare looms over his bed, because that’s what Alastor is. The Radio Demon is every awful, heartstopping sound in the dark. He is every fleeting shadow that you see out of the corner of your eyes. He is every ancient folktale that elders warn their children about, of the monster that takes those lost souls who live on the fringes. And he eats, and eats, and eats.

But like any shapeshifting monster, Alastor can look as pleasant as he wants. And right now, his voice is soft, and his hands still play Husk for every note he can find.

Husk opens his mouth, trying to breathe. He lets his tongue run over Alastor’s thumb, which presses just against his bottom lip. Everyone does play with his wings, but only Alastor knows just how to use them to full effect.

“Deal,” he says. It’s barely audible, like the last breath of a dying man. But Alastor understands. He always does.

The kiss is different from the touches. Alastor is a hungry demon, and he shows it through his mouth the most. Lips press down deeply over Husk’s own, and sharp teeth clash. It’s hard and biting. The kiss stings Husk’s tongue, overwhelms his mouth. It’s like being force fed poison all the while.

But the poison is spiked, because kissing Alastor is always so, so addictive. Husk leans his head up, drinks from it as much as he can. He feels the hand wander down his feathers, move between them and pull gently. Because he likes the texture, Alastor once said to Husk. It calms him. It’s pleasing.

Sometimes, he even takes a feather for himself, using it as a quill. And Husk has to see it in the boss’s room sometimes, a piece of himself that is being used, again, and again, and again–

Husk’s wings move to stretch and wrap around Alastor, like a shroud made with red and black, studded with stars and symbols. He brings the nightmare closer. It’s only half against his will.

Maybe one day, he can make them both disappear.

“More,” he groans out, staring into the red, like falling into a sky at dusk. “If you’re gonna make me work like this.”

The shadows don’t hide for him. They grow into shapes that stretch from Alastor’s head, that cover up the walls into pitch black. He doesn’t care, feeling the promise of that kiss again as a tongue presses against his lips.

“Oh, Husker. With me, you never have to work a day in your life.”

He’s too lost to get angry at the comment.

Alastor wears Husk’s wings proudly around his shoulders as he steals him away once again.

#hazbin hotel #husk #alastor #radiohusk #fanfiction #one shot

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sanguineterrain · 2 years

Text

Adore You - s.h | e.m.

Summary: When you and Eddie learn that Steve has never celebrated his birthday—and had no intention of letting you know he even had a birthday—you two make it your mission to give him the best birthday ever. Secret parties, however, aren’t always easy to keep secret.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mild angst, misunderstandings, Steve's crappy parents, birthday fluff, happy ending!!

dividers by s-tarksintern

Follow @sanguine-stranger for all my Stranger Things fics updates!

"Yo, Buckley!"

The door jingled, alerting your entrance. Eddie held up a pair of customized Converse by the laces. Robin's eyes lit up.

"Holy shit!" she squealed, walking around the counter. "You’re a dream, Munson.”

"Flatterer," Eddie grinned, tossing her the shoes. "No charge."

She inspected the designs, all carefully hand-painted by Eddie. "Dude, you're awesome. Y/N, tell your boyfriend he's awesome."

"I remind him of that fact everyday," you grinned, pecking Eddie's jaw. "He knows."

"I know," Eddie smirked.

"Well, unfortunately, your other boyfriend sucks," she informed you. "He's been moping all week. And he left me to stack the new releases by myself!"

You frowned. "That doesn't sound like him. Where is he?"

Robin rolled her eyes. "I made him go pick up the tapes Keith ordered. Hopefully he eats something—that’s probably why he’s so cranky.”

"Aw, damn. We were gonna get his measurements to start his jean jacket," said Eddie. ”Don’t tell ‘im, though. It’s a secret.”

"Eds wanted to match," you explained. "Because he's a dork."

"You said it was a good idea, baby," he pouted.

"Both things can be true. It's very cute, honey," you assured. "He'll love it."

"Custom jacket is a great gift," Robin agreed, already lacing up her new shoes. "That's probably the one thing Steve's never gotten for his birthday."

You and Eddie both went still.

"Birthday?" he echoed.

"Yeah, it's next Sunday, remember? I made him look up his astrology chart and y'know what? A lot of it makes sense." She twirled her finger over her temple in a crazy sign. "Good luck."

"Wait, back up." You held up a hand. "Steve's birthday is next week?"

"Uh, yeah? Don't you know his birthday?"

"He never said anything." Eddie's face scrunched. "What the hell?"

"How do you know it, Robs?" you asked.

"I learned it by accident when Steve filled out his job application. You really didn't know? You guys have been dating for a while."

"We figured it had passed." You frowned. "He was just gonna let it come and go without ever telling us."

"Hang on. Maybe he doesn't know you usually tell serious relationships your birthday," Eddie reasoned. "This is the longest relationship he's had."

You thought for a moment, then rapped your knuckles on the counter.

"Actually, we're gonna take off.”

Eddie’s head swiveled to you. “What?”

“We have things to discuss.” You gave him a look, then turned to Robin. “Can you tell Steve we'll meet him at home?"

"You got it," Robin said, giving a two-finger salute. "Godspeed. And please pull that stick out of his ass!"

“Buckley wouldn’t lie about Steve’s birthday, would she?”

“No,” you said, watching the butter melt in Mrs. Harrington’s luxury cast-iron pan. “Definitely not.”

You and Eddie had gotten a copy of the Harringtons' house keys before you'd become something more. After an incident involving dead power lines and Eddie breaking into a window to make sure Steve wasn't bleeding or possessed, Steve had gone ahead and given you keys. He'd said he trusted you with his life—and that Eddie was to never break in again.

"'Kay, we have to approach this tactfully, sweetheart. How 'bout this: I'll bring up my own birthday first. Then it'll be a natural turn into a conversation about his."

"Or," you said, flipping the grilled cheese onto a plate. "We use a tried and true method that boyfriends and girlfriends have used for thousands of years: food and sweet lovin'."

Eddie turned on the puppy eyes. "Do I get one? I'll tell you my birthday too, baby."

"I already know your birthday, big guy," you snorted, setting down another sandwich in front of him.

He pumped his fist. "Another victorious win."

You dusted your hands and leaned on the kitchen island.

"We can't pressure him. That'll only make him retreat,” you mused. “I just hope he doesn't not trust us or anything."

"Nah," Eddie assured around a mouthful of sandwich. "Maybe he's just not a birthday kinda guy."

The 733i pulled into the driveway, engine shortly cutting out. Then you heard Steve's footsteps up to the door and the key turning in the lock.

"Honey, you're home!" Eddie called gleefully.

Steve looked up, startled, then relaxed when he realized it was you two.

"Oh, hey. Robin said you came by. Sorry I missed you—Keith put me on this stupid delivery thing."

"No prob," Eddie said, rising and wiping his hands on his jeans. "We'd much rather have your undivided attention, hot stuff."

Before Steve could remove his uniform, Eddie pulled him into a deep kiss, hands sliding into the seat pockets of Steve's jeans. Steve stumbled from the intensity, clinging to Eddie's shoulders. He melted instantly. Eddie cupped the back of Steve's neck, coaxing out a whine.

"Eds," you groaned. “Come on.”

Steve, puffy-lipped and dazed, watched you with wide eyes as Eddie kept him near.

"What? Too much?"

"At least let him sit down before you suck face," you chided, pulling out a chair.

"Was just doing the sweet lovin' bit," Eddie mumbled.

Steve eagerly turned to you, clearly hoping for a match in affection. You gave in a little, since he'd had a bad day, but it was important to save the main goods for the interrogation.

"Eat," you ordered after pressing a few quick kisses to his lips. "Robin said you missed lunch."

"Snitch," he sighed, picking up the sandwich. "Wasn't that big of a deal."

"You already don't eat breakfast as often as you should. Do I need to come down here and force feed you pancakes every morning?"

"Well." Steve swallowed. "Not gonna say no."

“You are so lucky you’re cute.”

“How ‘bout me, baby?” Eddie beamed. “Am I cute too?”

“Oh, the cutest,” you cooed, pulling him down by his leather jacket collar and nipping playfully at his lips.

“Tease,” he complained.

“We’ll get there.”

Soon, Steve was down to the crusts of his sandwich. You propped yourself on your elbows, smiling sweetly.

“Want another? Or I can make you something else?”

Steve blinked, toast crumbs on his mouth. “I’m okay, baby. Thank you.”

Phase two. Eddie leapt up to herd Steve over to the couch under the guise of “helping” him take off his uniform. After washing and putting the plate back in the cupboard, you joined them, taking Steve’s other side. The TV was on, turned down low. Eddie gently finger-combed through the slight tangles in Steve’s hair. His lids had started to droop. You pressed a kiss behind Steve’s ear, cupping his chin. Then you traced the freckles on his collarbone, just resting your lips on him. He leaned into your touch.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” you asked mildly, not breaking your movements.

“Hmm? Yeah, everything’s fine,” Steve answered drowsily.

“Work’s okay?”

“Work’s fine. Jus’ today was a pain.”

“Buckley mentioned you haven’t been feeling your best,” Eddie said.

“Oh. Um, I dunno. I'm fine, really."

You glanced at Eddie, who nodded. Steve's hand was on your hip; not wanting anything, just feeling you.

"We heard it's your birthday soon."

The hand stiffened. You remained wrapped around Steve, wanting to keep the atmosphere light.

"Yeah," Steve admitted. "It is."

You kissed his cheek. “Did you wanna do anything for it?”

Steve shrugged shyly. “We don’t have to.”

“We want to,” Eddie said. “If you want to.”

Steve sat up, not looking at either of you. Meticulously, he cracked his knuckles, shoulders tense.

“‘S just, I never really celebrated my birthday. My… my dad said it was stupid to put so much on a day that comes every year. Said I didn't deserve it, most years. But he always wanted a gift for his birthday.”

You and Eddie stayed quiet, waiting for Steve to finish. He moved from his knuckles to a healing cut on his thumb, picking at it.

“I don’t think Tommy H even knew when my birthday was.” He laughed, but it sounded more like a choke. “I guess he wasn’t really a birthday guy either. He took Carol to the lake for her birthday, I remember.”

“We can go someplace for your birthday,” offered Eddie. “Take my van. I’ll even let ya sit up front, since you’d be the birthday boy and all.”

“No, no,” Steve scoffed. “Oh my God, no, that’d be dumb. Not–not that going someplace with you guys is dumb, just that making a big deal about it now would be dumb. I don’t want you guys to have to plan around my birthday.”

You put your hand on Steve’s before he tore his cuticle picking the cut. He looked at you and tried for a smile.

“Plus I didn’t give you a heads up or anything," he continued. "It’d be pretty much impossible to do something now.”

“That’s not—”

“Okay,” you cut Eddie off. “Okay, Steve. If you don’t want to do anything, we won’t. We were just wondering is all.”

He nodded, sucking on his lower lip. Eddie shot you a look behind Steve’s back. You held up a hand, shaking your head.

"Cool. Yeah, it’d just be too much work anyway. I get it. I’m gonna, um, shower. We can watch a movie…?”

You kissed Steve’s lips with a smile. “Think it’s Eddie’s turn to pick.”

He groaned. “Okay, but not Star Wars again. I can recite practically every line at this point.”

“A New Hope is peak cinema,” Eddie informed him. “But whatever. I suppose I can scrounge up something else.”

He waited until Steve disappeared down the hall before pouncing on you.

“What was that, baby?” he whined. “Pretty sure you made his hair deflate.”

“We’re going to give Steve a birthday he’ll never forget. And it couldn’t be a surprise if I told him, could it?”

Eddie’s lips spread into a slow grin. “Was this your plan all along?”

“I had to make sure Steve didn’t genuinely want a party,” you explained. “But I think it’s pretty clear he does. He’s just guilty about it.”

“That was some messed up shit his dad pulled,” Eddie sighed.

Steve didn’t like talking about his family much. They were usually away, including this month. You and Eddie slept over when they were gone—Steve hated being alone in his house.

The shower turned on. You leaned into Eddie, arms around his neck.

“So whaddya say, Eds? Ready to throw our boyfriend the best surprise party ever?”

“I’m following your lead, baby,” he said, bowing to meet your lips. “Let’s do it.”

This was not a good idea.

“Steve said not to break into his house again, Eds. That’s, like, his only rule.”

“This isn’t breaking in! We have keys. Besides, how can we keep this a surprise if we barge in like we own the place?”

“I don’t understand why we can’t just ask him his size.”

Eddie slid open the top dresser drawer. He rifled through socks for a moment, then moved on.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a man for his measurements?” he grinned. “And you need the pictures for the video.”

“Well, hurry up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You heard the front door open. Eddie froze.

“Shit,” you hissed. “Shit, shit.”

“I thought he wasn’t gonna be back till four. What do we do?” Eddie hissed.

“Okay, it’s fine,” you whispered. “I’ll distract him. Work fast.”

You hurried out to the hall, quietly shutting Steve’s bedroom door behind you. Steve was poking around in the fridge. Maybe you could hide? The drapes were long enough, right? Or behind the TV…

“Holy fuck!”

The bottles on the fridge door rattled as Steve flinched upon seeing you. He slammed the door too hard.

“Y/N, Jesus Christ. What are you doing here? I thought you were busy today.”

Steve had wanted to hang out today. You’d made up an excuse about housework. Eddie had faked pneumonia.

“H-hey, Steve. I was—I am busy. But, um… I needed a pan! A frying pan. Mine broke.”

He tilted his head. “You came to my house to steal a pan?”

“Yep. I reeeally need to fry stuff. Plus your mom buys the best cookware.”

“Uh… okay. Well, since you’re here, did you wanna do something? Eddie’s sick so I was thinking we could get lunch and bring it to him.”

You winced. Why did he have to be so sweet?

“I can’t. Any other day I would but I–I shouldn’t even be here, really. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Oh.” Steve nodded. You could tell he was trying not to look too dejected. Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“No, hey, you have things to do. I don’t expect you to drop it all for me.”

God, those big eyes were brutal. But you had to stick it out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Steve asked, half smiling. “Try not to break my mom’s kitchen.”

He started to walk toward the hall. You raced to block him.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

Steve squinted. “I’m going to my room?”

“Your room?” you said loudly. “Steve is going to his room.”

“Y/N, are you feeling okay? Eddie said he has pneumonia. You didn’t catch anything, did you?”

“I feel fine, Steve. Are you sure you wanna go to your room?”

“Considering my clothes are in there, ideally, yes.”

“Cosmopolitan says changing in different rooms can be empowering.”

“Y/N,” he sighed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing! What if your room is haunted?”

“What?”

You took Steve by his wrists and dragged him back to the island.

“Maybe you can try changing in the kitchen,” you shouted at the bedroom.

“Honey, you’re kinda freaking me out.”

“I–”

Eddie peeked around the corner, waving. He gave you a thumbs up. You jumped, causing Steve to look truly concerned.

“I,” you began. “Love you! Stevie, baby, I love you. You’re a dream. Keep it tight.”

“Huh?”

You kissed his cheek and backed towards the front door.

“Gotta go!”

“What about your pan?” he called.

“Eggs are overrated!” you rushed out, closing the door.

You bolted down the block where Eddie had parked, cutting through a neighbor’s lawn. Eddie was already in the van, engine running.

“You’d better have gotten those pictures,” you panted. “I ran.”

“Your efforts were not in vain, baby. Great vamping, by the way. You lost me with the haunted room, though.”

“Please drive. I can’t believe there isn’t a single brain cell among the three of us.”

“There is,” Eddie said. “‘S just Steve has it this week.”

“Call Dustin. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

“Does anybody have any questions?”

“I have a question,” said Max, raising her hand. “Who the hell is that?”

“This is Spider,” Eddie introduced. “He’s the one letting me borrow his projector and screen for the party.”

“Whassup, dawg?” Spider nodded, piercings glinting as he did so.

“You have a projector guy?” asked Robin.

“I know people,” Eddie defended. “I met Spider at one of my performances.”

“This dude shreds on guitar,” Spider said, then turned to you. “You’re a very lucky woman. I wish you all a lifetime of happiness.”

“Thanks, Spider.” You smiled awkwardly. “Okay, aside from Eddie's friend, any other questions?”

“How long am I keeping Steve occupied?” Robin asked.

“At least until eight. If you need an excuse, I can—”

“No, no,” she grinned, looking too pleased. “I’ll figure something out.”

“O…kay. Dustin, you know what you’re doing?”

“Absolutely,” he said, giving a thumbs up. “And here’s the tape.”

He handed you the video. You took it eagerly.

“Awesome. Now look: ultimately this is to give Steve a great birthday. So let’s focus on that, okay?”

“This is really cool what you’re doing, Y/N,” Lucas decided.

“It also helps that Steve’s no longer a douche,” added Mike.

“Hey,” scolded Eddie. “Watch it, Wheeler.”

“Uh, fellas?” said Robin, who had one of the curtains parted. “Did anybody tell Steve to come over?”

“What?” you yelped, rushing to the window. “Eds, did he call you?”

“Not since yesterday, baby. Gave the pneumatic performance of a lifetime.”

“Shit, shit. Okay, this is fine. It’s fine. Eddie, you’ve just gotta make him go away.”

“What? I’m supposed to be bedridden.”

“I’m sorry, honey, but you gotta. We’re at your trailer. It’ll look suspicious if I come out. Just pretend you’re getting better.”

“I’m no good at lying,” he whined. “Especially not to those baby browns. He’ll see right through me, sweetheart.”

“No, brother, you’ve totally got this,” said Spider. “Treat him like an old Fender. Gentle, but firm.”

Knock! Knock!

“It’s okay,” you added. “It’s only until the end of the week. Here.”

You threw a knitted throw around Eddie’s shoulders.

“What do I even say?” he whispered.

“You’ve been dating for three months,” Robin hissed. “It’s Steve.”

“I don’t need that attitude, Buckley.”

“Eddie?” came Steve’s voice. “Babe, you there?”

Eddie hacked a cough, jiggling the lock.

“Here,” he croaked, pulling open the door. “Steve?”

“Hey," Steve said brightly. "How do you feel?”

“Uh, sick,” Eddie started weakly. “S-so sick. Achoo!”

“Oh.” You winced at Steve’s soft tone. “Okay, that’s cool. I was just—sorry, this is silly but uh, Y/N’s been acting really weird and I dunno, I just haven’t seen you guys much this week. Are we good? That night, with the birthday thing…”

“Yes!” Eddie blurted too loud. “Everything’s good. Everything’s amazing. We haven’t even thought about your birthday.”

Ouch. You didn’t have to see Steve’s face to know what a crash and burn that was.

“Oh. Uh, right. So…” You heard the front steps creak. “Wait, whose bikes are those?”

“What?” Eddie squeaked. “Oh, p-probably some kids left 'em. You know kids, always leaving their shit everywhere.”

“That one kinda looks like Dustin’s…”

“Nope, don’t think so!”

“Eds,” Steve sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Y/N but, like, I wish you’d talk to me instead of making things up. Y/N said she needed to borrow a pan and Robin’s been acting super weird this week. Dustin won’t even come into the store. Everybody’s walking on eggshells around me and—”

He stopped, eyes wide. Eddie pulled the throw tighter.

“Are you… are you guys breaking up with me?”

“What? No! God no, Steve, we’re not breaking up with you. It’s just—we’re just…”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, hopeful.

“...Busy,” Eddie finished lamely. “Really busy.”

“And sick,” Steve said coldly. “Right.”

“Baby…”

“No, it’s—” Steve held up a hand. “It’s fine. Whatever. I’ll see you later. Or not. Tell Dustin hi.”

You covered your face with your hands when the door slammed. It took Steve less than a minute to leave, his car soon rolling out of the park.

“Munson. Dude. No bueno,” Spider said, eyes wide.

“I know!” he cried, tearing the throw off. “Fuck, I know, I know, it was terrible. I’m terrible. And so close to his birthday, God…”

“No, no. Eds, I haven’t been much better,” you said. “I was so caught up in keeping this a surprise…”

And now Steve didn’t even want to see you.

“It’s okay, guys,” Dustin assured. “Steve’ll forgive you once it comes together.”

“He was so hurt,” Eddie cringed. “God, maybe we should just call it off.”

“No,” Robin said firmly. “No way. I have covered for that dingus too many times to let it all go to shit. He’s head over heels for you both. He’ll understand.”

You turned to Eddie with a frown. He pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“Whaddya think, Eddie?”

“I think Buckley’s right, sweetheart. Steve’ll understand. He’s just taking it hard ‘cause it’s his birthday.”

“Yeah?”

“I hope so,” he chuckled. “Or I’ll have faked pneumonia for nothing. Plus think about how worth it it’ll be to see the look on his face.”

Eddie was right. Steve deserved this. He deserved a birthday to remember. You had to pull through.

“Okay,” you said. “What time does Party City close?”

“Can I have a taste? Pleeeaaase?”

“For the thousandth time, no!” You moved the mixing bowl away from Eddie’s wandering hands. “You’ll have some soon enough. Why don’t you help the kids with the decorations?”

“I was actually banned from the yard, if you can believe it. Apparently there is such a thing as too many balloons.”

You rolled your eyes. “Take a brownie. One. As compensation.”

Eddie happily took the confection, immediately getting fudge icing and sprinkles on his nose. He took a bite and groaned, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“Shit, these are good, baby. He’s gonna love these.”

“Yeah? It’s a new recipe.”

“Hell yeah, angel. Are you gonna make these for my birthday?”

“If you’re good,” you winked, wiping frosting from his lip. “Here, help me decorate the cake. This one’s cooled.”

You had smoothly iced the top of the red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. In delicate cursive, you’d already written Happy birthday with blue icing. You handed Eddie the piping bag.

“Here, write his name.”

“Shit, okay, I got this.”

Eddie took the bag with both hands, sticking his tongue out in concentration. His aim wasn’t as careful as yours, so the message ended up saying Happy birthday, sTeVE baBY!!!

“Hm. Think he’ll be able to tell who wrote what?”

You bit your lip, leaning into his chest.

“That’s okay, honey. Adds personality. Now, please.” You took the piping bag back. “Please go make sure Spider and the kids aren’t tearing up the Harringtons’ lawn.”

“Very well. I shall return,” he said in his best dungeon master voice. “Save me a cupcake!”

You put the last layer of the birthday cake into the oven. Then the phone rang.

“Harrington residence.”

“Hey there, best girlfriend in the world,” came Robin’s voice. “Are you guys almost done setting up?”

“Almost,” you said, checking the clock. “Give us another half hour. Everything okay with Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s cool. I jimmied the lock to the supply closet and made him think he’s locked in.”

“You what?”

“It’s fine!” she insisted. “He’s just pissed. He’s not, like, having a breakdown or anything.”

“Robin,” you sighed. “That’s not what I meant when I said keep him at work.”

“No, it’s cool. He’s—oh, he’s trying to kick down the door. Gotta go. We’ll be there in thirty minutes!”

Thirty minutes passed in a blur. Spider, oddities aside, got the projector running smoothly. You gave him a half dozen cupcakes and twenty bucks. He bowed deeply, kissed Eddie’s rings, and left. Joyce Byers had generously helped you with the dinner, and as soon as the cake was complete, you warmed the chicken.

“He’s here!” came Will’s voice, who’d been assigned lookout. “He’s here! Places, guys.”

Everyone filed out to the backyard. You and Dustin turned on the projector while Eddie and the others pulled out the screen. You heard them walk through the pool gate with Robin talking louder than usual to signal her entrance.

“...Keith definitely needs to get those locks changed,” Steve was saying.

“You’re so right. We’ll call him first thing tomorrow. Or maybe you could be less of a dingus and not get locked in next time.”

“I have never gotten locked in before! Robin, why won’t you let me inside my house?”

"It's a secret," she grinned.

"Robin, look, I really don't feel up to this. My week has kinda been a bummer and—"

"Steve.” She turned his head to the screen. "Just watch."

The projector clicked on, tape rolling. The screen was blank for a moment before switching to the video.

“What am I saying?” Max had been impatient when you’d caught her after school to record her part.

“It’s his birthday. Say what you’d tell him on his birthday,” you urged from behind the camera.

She looked at the camera, sighing.

“Fine. Hi, Steve. Uh, happy birthday. You’re twenty, right? Practically an old man. Don’t break a hip. Somebody’s gotta watch out for us shitheads.” She smiled then, rolling her eyes. “Guess you’re alright, though. Happy birthday.”

“Hi, Steve.” Joyce Byers sweetly waved at the camera. “Y/N and Eddie are here. They asked me to say a few words to you on your birthday. You guys are such dolls.”

“Mrs. Byers—” you said offscreen. “If you could talk to Steve…?”

“Oh, right. Steve, I know we don’t know each other well, but I’ve heard a lot about you and how you’ve grown into a very nice young man. Thank you for keeping my sons safe, and for protecting the kids. Happy birthday!”

Steve stared, eyebrows to his hairline. His lips were parted, eyes never leaving the screen as Robin herded him into a chair.

“Steve, buddy, hi!” Dustin beamed on screen. “You’re turning twenty, that’s awesome! Um, I wanna say that you’re really cool and you’re like one of my best friends now. Also, Y/N and Eddie did all this and they’re awesome. Please don’t be mad at them for being weird this week—they’ve just been planning hard for your party.”

The others had begun to trickle out of hiding. You and Eddie were slow in joining, not wanting to interrupt the video.

“Harrington,” came Hopper’s firm voice. “Heard you’re turning twenty. I better not get any calls about being drunk and disorderly.” His expression softened into what could almost be called a smile. He nodded at you and Eddie behind the camera. “Glad you’ve found a better crowd to run with. Happy birthday.”

You stepped out fully. Steve’s gaze landed on you and Eddie. His eyes were glassy.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” El, Lucas, and Mike yelled. “Hope it’s awesome!” she added.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“Hey,” Steve said, equally as soft. “How did—what—”

“Happy birthday, dingus!” Robin sang on film. “Okay, wait. Look at them for a second.” She shifted the camera around, panning it around to you and Eddie.

“Robin!” you squealed on camera, trying to push it back around. “Speak to him!”

“No, you guys should get a feature too. Steve, these two love you so much and you’d better not fuck it up because they really are the best.”

She turned it back to her, smiling.

“Now I’ll say my piece: you’re my best friend. Not to get sappy and shit, but you’re a good guy and you deserve good things. Happy birthday.”

The tape rolled to a stop. You held your breath. A tear slipped down Steve’s cheek. Eddie was quick to swipe it away from his thumb.

“Babe,” Eddie murmured. “Is–is this okay?”

“Okay?” Steve choked. “Okay?”

“We know,” Eddie continued, grimacing, “that we’ve been acting fucking weird but only because we wanted this to be a surprise. We’re real sorry, babe.”

“Don’t—Jesus, don’t be sorry—” Steve gasped, stumbling forward.

He threw both arms over you and Eddie. You hugged him back hard, kissing his shoulder.

“Happy birthday, big guy,” Eddie said.

“We love you so much,” you added. “Happy birthday, Stevie.”

“You guys did this all for me? I thought…shit.”

Steve sniffed, rubbing his eyes. Eddie kissed him first, then you went. Steve gasped into your mouth, overwhelmed.

“You okay?” you murmured, cupping his cheeks. “Not too much?”

“No. It’s perfect. It’s—God, a single cupcake would’ve been great. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“We wanted to! We love you! I love Steve Harrington and Y/N L/N!” Eddie shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Eds,” you scolded laughingly, tugging his arm. “You’ll wake the neighbors, quit!”

Eddie pulled Steve in by his waist.

"Let 'em complain. Our favorite guy's birthday is today."

You led Steve and the others back into the house. There, you began to dish out the food. Steve stayed close as you and Eddie helped the kids serve themselves. The dining room had been decorated with pictures of Steve. With you, with Eddie, with Robin, at school, in the summer, whatever photos you could find.

“These were what we had to get a few days ago,” you explained.

“That’s why a bunch of photos are missing from my room,” Steve said.

“Yeah, Eddie’s no James Bond, clearly,” you laughed. “But we… well, we made the theme Memory. ‘Cause you haven’t really had any good birthdays. So we hope this’ll start a new line of memories.”

Steve bit his lip, rubbing his eye.

“Please don’t cry, handsome,” Eddie pleaded, wiping another stray tear from Steve’s cheek. “This is supposed to be happy.”

"No, I am happy. You two always bring life into this house," Steve murmured. "You make it feel like home."

You covered the pans and pulled your boys near.

"Well, we can do this as much as you want. Eddie and I will cook anytime you like, honey."

"I cooked," Eddie said proudly. "I also did some decorating. Shit, your present!"

Steve's eyes widened. "My present? This wasn't it?"

"No, duh. We had to get you a gift, obviously."

"You didn't have to—"

"But we wanted to," you interrupted, silencing Steve with a kiss. "Will you let us spoil you?"

Eddie gave Steve a gift bag stuffed with his favorite newspaper funnies.

"A jacket?” Steve gasped. "Eddie, it’s…”

"Now we can match," Eddie said giddily. "Y/N has jeans to complete the set."

Eddie had customized the back of the jacket with a mix of his, yours, and Steve's favorite patches. On the sleeve it said bestest birthday boy!!!! He'd also patched on a heart that said S.H. hearts E.M. + Y.N.

"You looked so good in Eddie's vest," you slyly grinned. “Hawkins won’t survive with you killing in denim.”

"Okay, well, I hope you know you're only giving me a giant ego, so," Steve announced.

"It's your birthday," Eddie shrugged. "We can afford it."

"Hey, are we eating or what!" shouted Dustin.

"Eat, eat, we'll be there in a sec," you called back.

"Probably making out in the kitchen," you heard Robin mutter.

Steve took your and Eddie's hands in his. He sniffed, smiling wide.

"Thank you. Really. This is—this is the most special thing anybody's ever done for me."

"Good," you said, kissing his temple. "You deserve this and more."

"Yeah, and just so you know," Eddie added. "This is only the beginning. Now that we know your birthday, you're not escaping us, Harrington."

"Oh?" Steve laughed bashfully, apple-cheeked and glowing. "How on earth are you gonna top this one?"

You and Eddie grinned at each other.

"It’s a surprise.”

#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #steve harrington x reader x eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic

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monstrouslyobsessed · 1 year

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A tribe composed only of men in a tropical forest. They are cannibals and eat members of other tribes and trespassers. Reader and her group was captured and since the chef and the other members found her cute and breedable, they decided to not eat her and make her the "mother" of the tribe. Thanks! —anonymous

—a/n: hm, im a lil iffy doing this one due to potential xenophobia and cultural insensitivity (regardless of what one may think of certain customs, the tribes who inspired this such suggestion are still people who deserve a measure of respect), so i’ll be changing the species and incorporate it in my beastfolk au instead to hopefully avoid offending anyone.

also, this turned into a fic (plus me making it into beastfolk au so no claiming without permission) lmao so not really a concept anymore. sorry about that! im keeping the format tho.

also, I wanna make a note for you for the asterisk marking in the tag list. the word i made up (Ce’ne, specifically) basically meant both ‘mother’ and ‘father’ and can be passed as gender neutral, to have/give children. to be safe though, im marking it as gendered language.

—tw / tags: gn reader, brief use of gendered language*, language barrier, injuries, horror, implied maneating, gore, multiple deaths, implied trespassing, implied beastfolk trafficking, kidnapping, confinement, body painting, teratophilia, exophilia, general yandere themes, sfw? —readers are advised to read at their own discretion.

—featured character(s): the jaguars tribe / the ‘Jags’, the Scarred One —word count: 2.1k

—this is part of my beastfolk universe! —zoo era.

Everything hurts, especially the excruciating pain in your back. It felt as though your flesh had been flayed and then set ablaze, the agony akin to acid being poured into open wounds. You groggily dragged your eyes open with a whimper choked out from your dusty throat. Needles of numbness buzzed on your damp skin and the only sound you could hear was the pounding of your own heart in your ears.

It was dark when you came to, but not pitch-black as you could see thin gaps of light creeping through wherever you were currently. The flickering golden light was in a constant motion, casting dancing shadows across the space. You could smell a smoky scent of burning wood and the air was heavy and damp, hanging on your skin like a winter blanket. Your brain was still groggy and the answers to where you were and why, were not forthcoming.

At hearing your groans, someone hissed out for your attention, “—! —! Are you okay!?” They kept their voice low, as if they were trying to avoid alerting anyone outside the threshold you were placed in.

You could barely see with the blur of pain fogging your eyes, but you slowly shook your head, “I…I don’t know.” You desperately searched for the owner of that voice, but you found nothing but a shifting blob of shadow some feet away from you. You couldn’t move, your arms tied to what felt like a wooden pole and your ankles bounded together with bushy ropes. Your head was ringing loudly and you moaned, “Wh—what happened?”

“T-the d-director fucked over all of us, —!” Their reply was edged with a sense of betrayal, “He was one of ‘em fuckin’ zoo hunters, using us to get close to the Jags—!”

Fuck. You remembered with a contorted grimace. As an up-and-coming researcher with a vested interest in studying the feral beastfolks and animals, you had ambitions and dreams realized. You had been honored to have encountered and even personally met a handful of tribal people. Although It was no grand merit, you learned enough about their customs and languages to set up a survey to map out the possible locations of local tribes.

As you’d learned, this knowledge was a dangerous thing to have.

The director must have been after a specific tribe of the feral beastfolk; the whiskeredfolks with ringed spots in their golden fur that you and your colleagues had nicknamed 'Jags.'. Unlike the timid, long-legged tribe you had befriended with and the one with thick-maned people with whom you had more tenuous relationships with, this particular one was notorious for being dangerous and killing the outsiders on sight.

Without a doubt, you and your expedition group had flown too close to the sun and got burned for it. Despite your frequent warnings, the so-called director convinced everyone to take just a 'few steps closer' to the Jags’ territory. In a blink, all hell’s broke loose.

You remembered the sound of roaring and the sight of bodies scantily clad in animal skins launching themselves at you and your people, weapons in hand. You felt a searing pain in your back and then darkness consumed you. The last thing you saw was gruesome, with a spear tearing through a fellow researcher’s chest.

The vision still burned within your mind’s eye and tears stung your bruised cheeks.

“S—shit,” You dug the soles of your bare feet (what happened to your boots?) into the wet dirt and thumped your head against the wooden pole. You tried counting what you could see, but there was only one. “w-where is everyone else?”

Your colleague went quiet. The jeering laughter and a sole human shrieking followed your question. The screaming sounded suspiciously like the director’s—and your blood went cold when that cry abruptly ended to a gurgle.

The shadow blob nodded, their motion solemn in the darkness, “We made him confessed when ‘ey tossed us in here when you were still out. Since ‘en, ‘em cats started picking us clean one by one. ‘e bastard was the first one to go, probably because he’s big and meaty.”

You caught a hitched breath and heard them shuddering, “We’re ‘e last ones. Why didn’t we listen to you?” Your colleague choked.

Why didn’t they, you’d wonder about this for the rest of your remaining life, but now, your brain could barely function with your back throbbing in pain. You could feel the back of your shirt being soaked through with your warm blood and your body slowly going cold. With a rasping breath, you rolled over your heavy head to your fellow researcher, “H—hey, at least…at least we’re dying doing what we loved, right?”

It was a shit joke, but it was enough to get them to snort.

“Hopefully ‘ey’d put us out quicker ‘an what ‘ey did to ‘e bastard.” They mumbled.

A whispering flap of the tent’s entryway fluttered.

A flickering light blinded you, casting shadows across the dark enclosure and preventing you from seeing who had entered. Several footsteps grinding into the dirt and a brief warmth pressed against your knees. You heard a mumbling in another language, oddly approving, and a short shuffling from where your colleague was.

The light was gone and you found yourself alone in the suffocating darkness. With a slow groan, you braced for your inevitable end, hoping that at least everyone in your group had met a quick demise.

Sans that fucker of a director who lured you all into a death trap.

You closed your eyes, not expecting to see another day.

When you woke up, you saw the daylight creeping inside the gaps of the woven palm leaves and blinked in confusion. When you turned your head, you realized you were resting on a soft bedding, of dried leaves and colorful fabrics, and was staring at the knitted canopy. Weren’t you tied up to a support pole earlier, with your back gaping and bleeding?

A moan tumbled out from your lips. From the corner of your eyes, you saw movement and you jerked when a voice bellowed not too far away from you. As if they were raising an alarm—or calling for someone’s attention. Fear struck your heart—

And you so wanted to move. Your body was too stiff and your muscles soft from exhaustion and strains from your injuries. Absently, your skin itched and you somehow found enough strength to glance down your body.

You swallowed thickly at your current state.

Where had your clothes gone? Why were you half naked and wearing patterned animal skins? Why had they tended to you at all?

On your skin, leaves and odd colored globs were plastered over your injuries. Why had they spared you?

“R’oa,” a deep voice entered your ears and drenched your spine with a shiver.

Hello, you absently translated from knowing some of the local common tongue. You slowly rolled your head over and blinked at the sight of the kneeling figure. Your heart jumped to your throat when it dawned on you on who he may be.

His face and body were marked with striking decorations of rosettes and bright painted patterns you recognized as his people’s custom. He wore ornate accessories, including a heavy ring through his flared nostrils, to signify his rank in the tribe. Towering over you with ease, he was large and his presence nothing but raw power and his naked torso coiled with rippling muscles.

But, none of his features stood out as much as his scars littering his skin—and one of which had left a long, jagged pit down his cheek and left his eye an striking grey hue. He was a well fought warrior, perhaps the best in his tribe.

Without a doubt, you were in the presence of one true predator.

Shakily, you nodded with a quiet return of his foreign language.

He seemed pleased by how submissive you were being.

There were no other option left but to humor the person who could easily shallow you whole in several gulps.

“*Canu zuhs nu i'ars nuus nil zuazsu.” He grasped on your forearm, the pads on his palm were coarse and hard on your skin, and tugged you off your bed.

Come...meet…people? You groggily tried to translate, as you went along with the whiskeredfolk’s whim. A yelp darted from your lips, when he swung you into the crook of his arm and pain rung around your eyes from the sudden movement and your injuries feeling like they were being split open once more.

“Tuil i'asu uhrthisus, ilai rsizuhs ail!” Another voice snarled out, and you flinched as you distantly heard a slap on the whiskeredfolk's person. You glanced upward and saw him wearing a crossed brow.

Injured…that was all you understood from their exchange.

With his ears folded back to his skull, the scarred male grumbled something back to the owner of the other voice. He quietened at the growling reply, and you still trembled from the way his voice seemed to burrow deep inside your skin. You could feel his foreign words through his chest, vibrating into your aching ribs.

The other voice sounded feminine, possibly aged, and you wondered if they were the one who had nursed you back to health. You had no energy to crane your head over the scarred one’s bicep to see, catching a brief glimpse of a strange hood over their head.

The scarred one took you outside, pushing the flap aside, and you winced at how bright the dabbled sunlight was. When your eyes readjusted, you blinked and regretted every decision you’d ever made in your life. Your stomach curdled at the sight and your nose stung.

Within the ashy pit, still smoking from the previous night’s bonfire, black skeletal remains hung on their respective stakes. There was little meat left on their bones and their skulls were missing. You did not wish to dwell on why and ripped away your tearful eyes from your colleagues’ bodies.

Why were you spared?

Oh, gods, the stench in the air was foul, smelling like burnt meat and melted plastic. Smothering your hands over your lower face, you gagged the exact moment the scarred male barked out. You grimaced, trying to make sense of the words he shouted out.

“Mil zuazsu, I si'ass izar suu!”

People, call.

You were so distracted by the gruesome sight that you hadn’t realized how quiet the settlement was. Initially, the only whiskeredfolks you could see were several teenage males, looking at you with curiosity in their eyes.

When you blinked, more whiskeredfolks emerged from their homes at the scarred one’s call. They quickly surrounded you, keeping a respectable distance, their eyes burning holes into your bare skin. Some had hunger in their gazes, others quiet rage, and a few were wide-eyed and curious.

You gazed across your whiskered audience, noting their muscular body shapes, and realized that most were males. You could count the females with both hands, and a sense of dread sank into your stomach. Instinctively, you knew why you were spared, but your mind screamed in denial.

The scarred one thumped his feet and swished his tail, “Tu Ce’ne phsi'asus ir i'asus i'a sarph si'ars!” His tone was exuberant, eager, and his tribe erupted in an excited murmur.

You furrowed your brows, but you could only understand Ce’ne, which meant both Mother and Father. But, who was Ce’ne?

He jostled you to your feet and kept a grip on you when you wobbled. The scarred one leaned over you, his jagged teeth beaming in the sunlight. “Na nasu zuhss ais zuazsu rius suhsssurr,”

You jumped as the entire tribe erupted in a loud roar of joy. Their eyes glittered with delight and you could feel your fear intensifying. You felt colder than you were back in the throes of blood loss from the night before. Your heart shuddered at the way they looked at you.

“sa szuhrssu zuhsais i'a Ce’ne sa phsi'ars ir sir!” the scarred one finished and clapped both of his large claws on your shoulders. He herded you closer to the mass, as if to showcase every inch of you.

Grant us cubs. That was all you could make out from what the scarred male said. Your eyes widened at the realization and a strangled whimper rose from your parched throat.

There was no escaping this, was there?

You couldn't move as the weight of the leader bore down on your shoulders, his talons cutting into your skin. Tears welled up in your eyes as a hooded female appeared with a strangely shaped bowl in her hands. You were shaking like a leaf, when she dipped her fingers into the dark, coagulated liquid within.

You sobbed the moment she smeared the tribe’s pattern onto your exposed chest, as if marking you as their property.

The Ce’ne. You were the Ce’ne.

—end

fictional translation: Canu zuhs nu i'ars nuus nil zuazsu. —Come with me and meet my people.

Tuil i'asu uhrthisus, ilai rsizuhs ail! —They are injured, you stupid boy!

Mil zuazsu, I si'ass izar suu! —My people, I call upon thee!

Tu Ce’ne phsi'asus ir i'asus i'a sarph si'ars! —The Mother/Father graced us after a long last! Na nasu zuhss ais zuazsu rius suhsssurr, sa szuhrssu zuhsais i'a Ce’ne sa phsi'ars ir sir! —No more will our people suffer childless, to dwindle without a mother/father to grant us cubs!

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v3nusxsky · 9 months

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OKAY OKAY, HEAR ME OUT. I came up with this one day and it makes me cackle so I think it’s a cute Drabble you could write SO WELL.

Basically reader works at the Jericho coffee shop and Larissa comes in, ofc she’s smitten by the reader and tries to play it like she doesn’t know the menu (spoiler alert, she a regular and this doesn’t fool the reader ONE BIT) and so Larissa is like, “What do you usually order?” And the reader has had the biggest crush on her since she saw Larissa so reader says, “A tall blonde latte.” With a smirk that just makes Larissa blush so hard.

The rest is entirely up to you, if you want to of course no pressure, but I know you’d do amazing with this! 🥰🥰🥰

Usual?

*Authors note~ hi lovely, this is such a cute idea and I’m so thankful for your confidence in me to write it, I hope I can live up to your expectations*

Trigger warnings~ none?

You always loved the evening shift, most people hated it, closing the weathervane seemed to be the least liked part of the job. You can’t say it was your favourite but she was. Every evening at six pm on the dot the principal of Nevermore would come in and Order a hot chocolate and occasionally a cake that would be on special promotion. You’d never served the blonde but you were happy to admire her from afar as you continued to close up the weathervane while your co worker Nova dealt with the customers.

Larissa made this routine a key part of her day, learning your days off and times made it easy to do. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but Larissa was drawn to you. So much so, the principal had you on her mind all the time, but yet never having the courage to speak to you. Yes, Morticia’s has scared the poor woman from ever putting her heart on the line. But she couldn’t help but sit in her booth and let the sound of your voice wash over her, the way you moved around the back of the weathervane it was like you were dancing. She almost died one evening when she heard you humming a tune as you cashed up the till in the back room. That was her tipping point. She had to try.

Today you were training a new evening shift member, so it was unusual for you to be front of house when Larissa came in, but she couldn’t wait to shoot her shot with you. The door opened just enough to let the principal slip through the doors and make her way to the counter. “What can I get you?” You murmured to the woman who was scanning the menu above your head. “Im not so sure, what would you suggest?” Larissa smiled at you hoping to hide her nerves. “Can I have your name?” You asked as you began to prep the drink. “Larissa” she breathed before moving to the collection area.

Coffee machine whirling around for her drink as you decided on a blueberry bun for her treat. You knew who she was, and that she most definitely hasn’t been here before but still you decided to indulge her. Coffee now ready you took that and the cake to her table, “A Tall Blonde Latte” you smirked as a blush adorned her cheeks. “Oh and a beautiful blueberry bun made by my own hands” you murmured before fleeing back to check on your trainee.

Larissa couldn’t lie and say she didn’t enjoy the latte but the cake was absolutely delightful. “So how do we like the order?” You murmured with a kind smile. “Delicious, you have good taste” she reassured. From behind your back you produced a take away cup full of hot chocolate, her usual order, “on the house.” You left back to work, Larissa happily taking the cup in her hands as she spotted a message on her cup, “call me pretty lady” and your number scrawled neatly underneath.

Ding

“It’s Larissa Weems from the coffee shop”

“Hi Larissa, I’m Y/N, how was your hot chocolate beautiful”

“Delicious darling, thank you, may I be forward with you?”

“Of course Larissa”

“Would I be able to take you on a date this Friday, you’re beautiful and I’ve just been waiting for the right time to make a move.”

“Friday is great Larissa, I can’t wait”

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pearl-blue-musings · 9 months

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Ooo, unwined is a perfect idea. You're amazing, Elle. Genius. Unmatched. I'm going to go with Nanami. Been too long since I've thought about that man, ugh. 🤤 If we're doing backstory...

Okay, so one of my life long dreams is opening a bakery and idk, the thought of meeting him there and making his fav pastries, getting to know him and eventually being the one to ask him out. First he'd reject me because he's ✨️untrusting✨️ and I'd be all ): but he finally realized that I'm worth it. The stress of being so nervous about it would end just 😍😍 at the end of the night

-🌸

!!!!! I’m so glad you love the idea 🥰🥰🥰

This poor man would be stressed cause work is shit and being a sorcerer is shit so he’ll need all the treats he can get

“Finally, closes for the evening.”

You switch the sign from open to closed on the door and begin to clean up. Tonight, you had offered to close up as it was a slow night and you needed the time alone. You start to put the extra pastries away when your ear is alerted to the chime of the door. Damn it, you knew you forgot to do something.

“Sorry we’re closed,” you start, “we open up again in the morn—“. You stop suddenly when you turn around and see your repeat customer, and part time lover, Nanami Kento standing inside the bakery. You drop what you’re doing and quickly stride over to him, exhaustion evident on his features as you put his bag down in a chair. “Kento? Are you okay?”

Nanami takes off his glasses before encompassing you in a hug. You hear him breathe in your scent and feel him hug you tighter and tighter. You hum lightly as you met him breathe deeply, letting his hands draw abstract lines on your back. His fingers find the knot in your apron and slowly undoes it, letting the fabric fall to the floor. The tip of his nose brushes your ear lobe as he starts to kiss and peck at your neck. His movements become more intentional as his fingers tread with the edges of your shirt.

“Kento talk to me,” you breathe out softly. “Is everything okay?”

His warm breath caresses your neck before coming up to your ear. “Work was shit today. And I apologize for sounding vulgar but… I need to be inside you.”

You run your thighs together at his honesty and earnest, pulling him into your office. You sit him in your chair and spread his legs, admiring the muscle tone he keeps hidden behind khaki trousers. Your hands make work on massaging his thighs before slowly unbuckling his belt and pants. His cock springs free and the heat emanating from it has you salivating. You wet your lips before wrapping them around the tip, one hand gripping and slowly working his shaft.

Nanami immediately grabs your hair and forces you to go faster, groaning in pleasure at your mouth on him. His eyes shut tightly as your tongue works up the side of penis. You love the way he gets lost in the ecstasy of you sucking him off, his usual calm expression torn asunder just by your mouth. Your free hand massages his inner thigh and that has him bucking up into you. You open your eyes slightly to see him biting his lip, a drip of sweat coming to his brow. You bob your head up and down faster as you hollow your cheeks, knowing what he likes. “Fuck, princess, faster. Feels so good.”

Nanami’s hips have a mind of their own as they buck freely and without restraint. Your own moans are mingled in as you feel yourself get wet. As much as you want to attend to yourself this isn’t about you. It’s about relieving the stress of someone you deeply care about. The hand on his dick jerks him hard as you continue to suck on his erect cock, feeling beads of pre on your tongue.

Without warning, Nanami cums down your throat and holds your head in place, cursing out your name fervently as your eyes start to water. You make sure not to make mess; this is your bakery after all. After he’s sure he’s done, he gently releases you and cups your cheek. “Darling,” he starts, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

You lick your lips, pushing yourself up to kiss his own. “I know. But the way I wanna fuck you, I’d rather not do it in the bakery.”

Elle’s Wine Night!

#elle’s musical moots #elle’s wine night #🌸 anon #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader

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dreadsuitsamus · 1 year

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Jubilee | Renji Abarai x Reader |

author's note: this is an au where renji is a mechanic and reader is his secretary/bookkeeper. i plan to do an overall larger story with this au, and will likely consider this fic 'canon' to that one when it's released lol. but i love this idea and had to write something quick for it, and it's lightly inspired by an outing with my friends the other night 🩷

pairing: renji abarai x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, modern au

The sound of the door between the garage and the office area alerts you to your mechanic's presence, eyes quickly flitting to check the time— around his usual time for a snack, so you expect to soon see him with a bag of popcorn as he sits in his usual seat at the edge of your desk. But when you hear the jingling of his keys instead of the microwave popcorn popping, all sense of time and the world as you know it shatters. This man, while not strict about routine at all, has always naturally followed the same way day in and day out.

Renji appears before your desk, the keys to the building and his car swinging around the ring looped on his index finger. "C'mon, we're closing early today."

Blinking and quickly pinching your thigh to ensure this is real and that you haven't nodded off at the desk again, you perk a brow at your friend and technical boss. "Huh?"

"Gotta clean your ears out." He teases with that handsome smile. "I know everything I tell you goes in one ear and out the other, but clearly some stuff sticks since you apparently didn't hear me. I said, c'mon. Shop's closed the rest of the day."

"But you've still got-" Your hands search for the daily schedule Renji wrote out for himself, and on it it shows he's only got but four of the six oil changes done, not to mention the—

"Hey!" He knocks his knuckles against your wooden desk. "It's fine. Trust me, the work'll still be there tomorrow. Now can you please come on?"

Irritation twinges at your lips, pulling them into a bit of a pout, not that you'd admit that to him and take the chance of him wanting to stay late another day to make up for the short workday. He slips into one of his nice button-up shirts he keeps on standby— his favorite Hawaiian shirt, actually. It's black and the flowers are a mix of white and warm colors, and you've always thought it looks stunning on him.

"What's the occasion?" The question is a hum on your lips while you tidy up the desk and shut down your computer.

"It's the last night of that lil carnival that's in town. I wanna go check it out." Renji says boredly, swinging his keys as he waits for you to finish getting ready to go. "I want you to go with me. My treat."

"Aren't you generous, paying for a lady's three dollar entrance ticket?" You tease and pick up your purse, following him out of the door and waiting as he locks up.

"Turns out 'm not the worst boss after all, eh? I remember birthdays too, punk, so consider this part of your birthday present." He pokes at your forehead with a sly grin, and damn him to hell— you were quite hoping he'd forgotten your upcoming, dreaded thirty-third birthday.

Your lips pull into a pout. "So you're admitting you're the boss here, hm?" Renji always tells customers you're the one in charge and sticks with that mindset even when you're alone, so such a statement from him is odd.

"Just for today. Had to give ya a break." Renji winks, the light from the sun that's just barely starting to set casting a nice glow on him.

Your scoff is light and followed by a warm laugh, and soon you're ducking into one of Renji's many cars. It's his daily driver, nothing fancy or classic or particularly stunning, but it's the only automatic he owns and thus the only one you can actually drive, so it's your favorite by default. "This jubilee happens every year, y'know, and this is the only time you've ever mentioned it outside of complaining about all the traffic it causes."

Renji shrugs, looking far too relaxed as he drives. "I wanna go."

Good enough for me.

The city park is full of people and madness as Renji drives in, swooping into the last miraculously-empty parking spot. And bless his foolishness as he smiles cheekily at the father of five that's fuming in the minivan as he has to make another rotation for an empty spot. You hide a snicker in your hand and walk with Renji to the entrance, watching as he charms the old lady selling the tickets and making her day.

"What?? Six dollars?! You're cleaning me out, missy." He teases, opening his wallet and pulling out the cash for the entry fee. Bless the old woman's heart as she laughs and blushes at Renji's innocent flirting and slaps the two tickets into his hand.

"I think you'd make more money as a stripper for old ladies." You snort and walk with your friend into the carnival, the bright lights from the rides and the smell of greasy food attacking your senses.

"I don't have the rhythm for stripping." Renji laments with a dramatic sigh.

Your giggle is music to Renji's ears as you survey the carnival. The lines are all long and he's not quite sure how he feels about some of these rides— this was put together in a matter of days?? Hell no.

The ferris wheel still looks kind of fun, however…

Renji leads the way to the ride, and after a quick glance back to make sure you're still there, he takes your hand. "Don't go missing on me now!"

The warmth of his hand is just barely hotter than the burn of your cheeks; it's been five years since you met and subsequently started working with Renji at his dingy little auto shop, and you loathe to think about the truth of why you've been single all this time— if that sort of love with your friend was in the cards, it would've happened by now.

Renji, oblivious to your mental plight, finally finds the end of the line to the ferris wheel and staunchly takes his place and quietly dares anyone to try and cut in line. His hand is still firmly holding yours and it's like a switch flicks in his mind with how suddenly he drops it.

"Your hand is oddly soft." You murmur as you begin people watching.

"I keep telling you, WD-40 is the best moisturizer you can use!" Renji insists with a laugh, and you shove him playfully— he knows how much you hate the smell of the degreaser.

The line moves slowly, as expected for a ferris wheel, and it's dark by the time you're loading into your carriage. The breeze is cooler than it has been all day long, and Renji notices your shiver as the ride gets going. "I didn't bring a jacket." He murmurs. "You can use my shirt, if you want."

You shake your head and rub your arms as they litter with goosebumps. "No, it's okay. It's just a little chilly."

"Mm. Well, come here." His leanly muscled, tattooed arm slips around your shoulders and already you feel a certain warmth enveloping you. "Been told I run like a furnace."

"You do."

"Guess that makes me pretty hot, huh?" Renji's smile is full and you just can't help yourself but laugh at his cheesy little joke.

"With all the swearing I hear from that garage and that red hair of yours, you're definitely at least a hothead."

"Ooooh, deserved." The redhead hisses. "I don't try to be, y'know."

"I know. I also know all that effort goes out the window the second you hit your head on a hood."

"Hey, you give it a try and tell me you wouldn't let out a swear or two!" Renji pouts, brow furrowed and he looks so stupid but still so damn cute.

"I don't have any reason to be under a hood— that's what I have you for."

"Damn right." He's smug now, the bozo. He squeezes you tighter to his side, running his hand up and down your arm a few times. "You feel okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." He's so warm, and damn that fancy cologne of his, the one that cost him more than one of his tattoo sessions. It's essentially been designed to set every nerve of yours alight and fill your chest with a pounding urge to pounce on the poor mechanic that just wanted to smell nice.

"Good." He mutters lowly, his thumb swiping across your chilly skin.

The ferris wheel is filled up eventually, and you get maybe five rotations before a sudden stop, the LED lighting on the sides of each carriage going out as well. Renji groans, louder than the other voices in the midst of the outage, and looks down at the ground and tilts the carriage enough to make your heart skip a terrifying beat. Before you can even think twice you're grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging him closer to you.

"We are all the way at the top! Do not tilt this fucking thing!"

"Scaredy-cat." Is all Renji responds with, the bastard.

"Shut up!" You hiss, and Renji finally settles in as someone down below alerts you through a megaphone that the fireworks show is about to begin, and that they've had to pause the ride.

"Well look at that. We got the best seat in the house." Your mechanic settles in, pulling you close to his warm side as the show begins.

And truly, it's worth being stuck at the top of the ride. The lights are fantastically bright, the shapes and pops and booms all backed by a playlist full of some of your personal favorite bops and classics. Renji smiles as you sing along, and finds himself looking at you more than the show, not that you notice his watchful eyes.

Renji carefully slips his phone from his pocket and snaps a few photos, and by the time he takes the last picture you've caught on long enough to smile for the camera. And that's as long as your interest lasts as the finale starts up, but Renji's too busy setting the perfect picture as his phone's wallpaper to witness it.

His heart warms when you meet his eyes just as the last few fireworks go off, and his cheeks flush red at the gentle, brief touch of your lips to his cheek. "Thank you for the birthday present, Renji."

He makes sure to bring you to the local event and do the same thing each and every year after, if for nothing other than your sweet kiss.

#renji abarai x reader #renji abarai x you #renji x reader #renji x you #renji abarai #renji bleach #bleach #fluff #fic

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theunbearableweightofpedropascal · 7 months

Text

Be my Baby ch. 6

Warnings: (angst)

A/N: Sorry in advance.

Word Count: 3.9k

A few days after your beloved pizza party you finally met another member from the army photo. Santiago Garcia walked into the garage with an air about him that alerted you how well-acquainted he was with women. He was absolutely beautiful but he was the exact man you prided yourself on staying away from. Though being in a situationship with a married man wasn’t much better.

“Hi, welcome to Miller’s Motors how may I help you?” Your customer service voice and smile instantly take over.

“I mean I wouldn’t mind just hanging out here with you until one of those jackasses come out here.” His dazzling smile is working overtime while he leans on the counter and you can’t help the laugh that emitted from you.

“Okay, Mr. Garcia suit yourself.” Back on your ‘work’ computer, you opened the Twitter tab again and continued scrolling.

“Just how attached to Catfish are you or are you still looking at other options?” While Santi frames his question as flirty, he wants to see how you feel about Frankie.

“Catfish?” Unsure of how you should answer you counter his question with one of your own.

“It’s his callsign from our army days. Mine is Pope, Will is Ironhead, and Frankie is Catfish.” All the tidbits you find out about Frankie make him so much more interesting.

“Okay but why is he Catfish? And what about Benny?” The other callsigns seem to align with personality, except for Frankie’s.

“Well he always had trouble growing his beard and he had a reputation with the ladies at training camp, thus the birth of Catfish.” You can’t say you’re surprised by Frankie’s past discretions, he had to learn that from somewhere. “As for Benny he came much later so we never really thought about it.”

“Well, what about Goldilocks? I think that suits him, especially because he would go into someone's house and eat their food without a second thought.” Your analysis of Benny’s callsign has Santiago burst into laughter at how right you are.

“And he definitely would talk about how bad the food is after scarfing it all down.” The both of you are now loudly laughing in the empty lobby like you’ve known each other for years.

“Pope step away from my receptionist.” William is the first through the door and he playfully narrows his eyes at Santi from behind you.

“Benny we found a callsign for you, how does Goldilocks sound?” At the mention of the name, you and Santi laugh in remembrance of your jokes. Despite the inside joke, Benny looks pleased.

“How is it that I’ve known you asshole’s years and she’s the one to come up with a callsign for me?” Benny’s large arms swarm around you to hug you in appreciation.

“I mean we had some names but you wouldn’t like it.” William nudges Frankie in jest with a smirk plastered on his face.

“You know for such a quiet man you are so sassy.” Your words cause a roar of laughter from the group of men and you take that as your cue to take a nice long lunch break.

……..

“Bitch,” Hearing the drawn-out exemplative from your best friend over the phone brought a smile to your face. Either you were going to hear the juiciest gossip or Dante just proposed, “If you could see this fucking ring I have on right now.”

“Finally, I’ve been waiting 40 days and 40 nights for this.” There was no one rooting for Ronnie's happiness as much as you.

“Before we even get into this wedding stuff you’re gonna be my Maid of Honor right?” The sentence tumbled out so quickly that if you listen so well you might’ve missed it.

“Of course, what cake do you think you’re gonna get?” You take a bite of your caser salad while you listen to her rattle off her top 5 flavors. With a simple hum every couple of seconds while she gets all her excited rambles out.

“Shit, let me call my parents so they think they’re the first people I called.” A goofy smile graces your face at the fact that you were the first person she called.

“Okay, text me when you’re gonna be free for a sleepover so we can go through the actual details. Love you.” You end your sentence with an exaggerated kiss that she would hear on the other end.

“It’ll probably be Friday or Saturday but I’ll know for sure by tonight. Love you bye.” Her exaggerated kiss was the last thing you heard before the line cut out.

It’s been about an hour and a half since you left for your lunch break and Ameilia has been keeping you company intermittently. A slightly disappointed sigh leaves your lips when you’ve taken the last bite of your salad realizing you’ll have to get back to work. When you leave your cash on the table you make sure you tip a little extra since Ameilia snuck you two pieces of berry pie.

Upon re-entering the lobby you find Santiago behind the front, seemingly taking your place for the long break. He’s focused completely on the computer in front of him and by the time you round the corner, it’s too late for him to close the window.

“Plenty of Fish? I took you as more of a Tinder kind of guy.” The side eye you receive from him makes it hard for you to cover your smile.

Before he can say a smart comeback the phone blares and you set your pie on the counter to answer.

“Miller’s Brother Automotive, how may I help you?” The cheeriness of your voice makes you grimace.

“Hello, this is Nurse Lauren calling from Lake Montessori. I’ve been trying to get ahold of Rosie’s father Fransico Morales and he listed this number as his work contact.”

“Of course, he’s in the garage can you hold for a moment?” Without waiting for her answer you head to the garage to summon Frankie.

“The nurse for your daughter’s school is on the phone asking for you.” As soon as he hears it’s about Rosie he’s walking faster than you to get back to the phone.

“Hello, this is Fransico Morales.” You can see the tension in his shoulders trying to figure out why the school is calling him. Both you and Santi scroll through his dating profile while he talks on the phone.

After presumably finding the reason for the call his shoulders deflate and he utters a faint “Jesus,”

“I see, I can be there in about 15 minutes.” There’s a slight pause before he says, “Take care.”

When the phone hits the hook he heaves an irritated sigh before turning to you and Santi. “Apparently Rosie’s stomach was bugging her since she got to school and she ended up throwing up on the playground. Maria was the one to drop her off and they tried calling her but she wasn’t picking up.”

“So she knew she was sick when she dropped her off?” Irritation is written all over Santiago’s face and voice.

“Seems that way because there’s no way Rosie wouldn’t say anything. So fucking irresponsible.” Frankie grits the last sentence out before heading to the back to wash his hands properly. When he comes back out with clean hands and a more patient face he stops by you.

“We should be back in like 15 minutes.” He slightly bends to kiss your forehead before heading out the front door. Santiago wolf-whistles when it’s just the two of you but you roll your eyes.

After 5 minutes Will and Benny come inside to ask what happened and there’s no time wasted by Santiago to fill them in. You head to the break room to see what would be helpful to a sick kid. Luckily Benny has a collection of tea and you take out peppermint and some sugar.

You pop your head out only to see them huddled together and gossiping like school girls.

“Hey, are there any pillows or blankets in the back offices?” Each of them turns to you with wide eyes before Benny tells you he has some in his office. When you come back out you place the brown blanket on the sofa closet to the garage door and prop the pillow on the armrest.

The guys can’t help but watch and exchange looks as you make the area cozy for Rosie. You beat them to it. Looking at the time you head back into the break room to heat water for the tea. By the time you come back out with the steaming tea, Frankie is laying Rosie down on the sofa and the guys are circling her.

“I made some peppermint tea and I think I have some cough drops in my purse.” As you carefully place the cup down on the table in front of her Frankie watches you in awe. Rosie’s tired brown eyes steal a glance at you and you nearly melt. Even though her little face is sickly pale she’s the cutest kid you’ve ever seen.

“Thank you,” after he shows his gratitude he turns back to his daughter and continues running his hands through her curls.

“And if you feel up for it I have an extra piece of berry pie.” Her downcast eyes widen at the mention of pie and it almost livens her chubby face.

“Really?” She perks up on the sofa and tries to remove the blanket before Frankie settles her.

“After you drink some tea and lay down kay?” She pouts at his words but obliges and lays back down.

With all the guys personally checking in on Rosie you head back to your desk and check your purse for those cough drops. There are about three but that should be good enough, plus they’re the ones that taste like candy. You lay them out on your desk before looking up to find Frankie in front of you. He leans across the table with that look in his eye, the one that makes your tummy flutter.

“I meant it when I said thank you back there. I appreciate you so much, Hermosa.” He places his warm hand over yours.

“Never a problem Catfish.” You let your eyes fall back on the desk and remember to ask him, “It’s fine that I give these to Rosie right?”

He laughs at your genuine sweet nature before answering, “Yes, and if it’s not too much would you mind checking on her, I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to.”

“Like I said never a problem.” You give him your biggest smile, making it a point to scrunch your face.

The two of you share a moment before he releases your hand to head back out to the garage. Coincidentally you find the guys staring at you with smirks plastered on their faces. They say their last comforting words to Rosie and trail after Frankie.

Since two of the three cars were going to be ready in an hour you called to let the customers know. You peer over to find Rosie drinking her tea and you grab the first cough drop before heading over.

“How’s your tea?” You take a seat in the chair next to the sofa.

“It’s good but I like more sugar.” Her direct answer has you nodding your head in faux contemplation.

“If you finish that cup I promise to make your next one extra sugary.” She smiles at your bargain and begins tipping the cup back to drink more. “You don’t have to get it all now sweetie but I love the enthusiasm.”

“What’s your name?” You tell her your name and she says it a couple of times while nodding. You return the question to her as if you didn’t already know.

“I’m Rosie. So are you my Daddy’s friend?” The tilt of her voice makes you think she’s teasing you.

“Yes, I am why?” You put a tilt in your voice similar to her.

“You’re really pretty to be his friend.” She tries to hide her smile behind the mug.

“Thank you, Rosie, I think you’re really pretty too.” Her giggles warm your heart and you almost forget the reason you came over here. “I brought you a cough drop but I promise it tastes like candy.”

“Thank you, I don’t think I feel as bad anymore so can I have that piece of pie now?” Her puppy dog eyes resemble her father’s so much that you don’t think you can deny her.

“Alright finish that tea, but not too fast, and I’ll get it ready.” You make your way back to collect the pieces of pie from your desk and bring it to the break room. Each piece is placed on a paper plate and you grab two plastic forks from the box on the counter.

When you come out of the break room Rosie is criss-cross applesauce on the couch pleasantly waiting for the pie. A huge smile breaks out across her face when you place hers in front of her and she thanks you immediately. Neither of you wastes time digging into your respective slices.

A few minutes pass before the tell-tale bell rings above the door and a customer walks in. You leave your half-eaten slice to go back to the desk and greet them. She gives you her last name and you bring up her paperwork in the system.

“Okay let me check in and it shouldn’t be long. Please take a seat anywhere and I’ll get back to you.” On your way towards the garage, Rosie smiles big at you with purple smeared around her mouth. You wave back before going through the door.

“Who’s working on Monroe’s Honda?” You call out to the four men in the area, and Benny’s head pops up from the hood. “She just arrived and I wanted to know how much longer.”

“I was literally about to come inside I’m just running my third check to make sure.” He heads back to the car and you leave to head back but Frankie saddles up next to you.

“How’s my baby? I have about 10 minutes left on this car before I’m done.” You are tempted to answer for yourself but you know what he means.

“Tearing down that berry pie like it’s going out of style.” His laugh sounds full and boisterous and you’re glad after how irate he was when he went to pick up Rosie.

The waiting area is the same as you left it and you let Mrs. Monroe know her car is just about ready. As you turn around you almost bump into Rosie who’s holding her now empty plate in her small hands.

“I finished and I couldn’t find the trash.” You shouldn’t be surprised at her manners since Frankie is her father but you tell her to follow you. She rounds the desk behind you and you point out the trash can under your desk. “If you want you can have the rest of my pie.”

Rosie still places her plate in the trash but she thanks you before running back off to her corner. Benny slides through the door and checks out Mrs. Monroe so you head back over to Rosie.

Before you can sit in your seat she tells you, “I have to tinkle.” And just as quickly as you sat down you’re right back up and guiding her to the bathroom in the back. You wait in the hallway while she finishes up her business. The moment she opens the door you double-check that she’s washed her hands. Thankfully Rosie provides her slightly damp hands for your approval.

“What’s your favorite color? Mine is all of them, I can’t pick one.” Her charming voice fills the empty hallway you two walk down.

“I used to love all the colors too, but now I really love purple.” You look down at her to smile while giving your answer and she slips her slightly damp hand in yours.

“Purple is really pretty but so is the rainbow and cheetah.” You didn’t have the heart to correct her on cheetah being a pattern.

When you two re-enter the lobby the both of you are so engrossed in conversation that you miss the tension unfolding while you’ve been away. Frankie stands in front of a stunning woman with dark brown hair who’s seething in anger. But she’s not the only one, Frankie’s irritation is coming off his body in waves.

Clarity alludes you the more you look between them, there’s a familiarity. It doesn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place when Rosie raises her other hand to wave at the woman before yelling out, “Hi Mommy.” Two sets of eyes land on you and you’ve never felt more out of place in your life. Suddenly being swallowed by the earth sounded delightful.

“Who the hell is this?” Her sharp but alluring voice cuts through the air and you finally allow yourself to fully take her in. This is Frankie’s wife. You can’t help but notice her polished appearance, her hair looks freshly blown out and her French-tipped nails only add to the form-fitting dress she’s wearing.

“I’m the receptionist, I just took Rosie to the bathroom.” You try and keep your voice level, not wanting to escalate the situation in front of Rosie.

“I’m gone for a couple of hours and you pawn our daughter off to some receptionist?” Though she kept her voice down you end up hearing every word.

As much as you’d heard about her you still weren’t prepared to see her, part of you was pretending as long as you couldn’t see her she didn’t exist.

“A couple of hours?” Frankie pauses at that to give her the nastiest look you’ve ever seen cross his face. “You dropped our daughter off knowing she was sick so you could-” He stops himself to gesture at her clearly put-together outfit.

“I didn’t know she was sick, how was I supposed to know she would throw up all over the place.” From Frankie’s face, it’s clear he wants to say something but with Rsoie here he holds himself back.

“But I told you I didn’t feel good Mommy, you told me it would pass.” The silence that followed her innocent statement scared you, and you weren’t the one Frankie had his eyes set on.

Shaking yourself out of your stunned stupor you gently coax Rosie to go see her Uncle’s in the garage. For the first time since you’ve worked here, you close the door behind you. The guys take notice and you simply tell them, “Frankie’s wife is here.” Confused faces instead turn into silent understanding and they pause their routine for closing.

…………

“Maria,” In all their years of marriage she’d never heard this tone of voice. “Are you fucking crazy?” The lack of yelling made it even worse, not that he ever really raised his voice.

“Look Francisco, I had a meeting and it didn’t sound serious so I still dropped her off. Okay? I’m sorry.” Maria places her hands on her husband's biceps but he backs away from her touch.

“You are unbelievable, they couldn’t get in contact with you for 5 hours. How long could this meeting have possibly been?” It was one thing for her to disregard him but for her to do it to their daughter was something unforgivable. But there was only one reason she would be so careless, and her outfit told him everything.

“Tell me you weren’t meeting with Chris, tell me you didn’t drop our daughter off so you could run off with your boyfriend.”

“I-,” A panicked expression crosses her face and Frankie doesn’t allow for any more of her excuses.

“I’m done. Putting a man before our child is in-fucking-sane.” He can’t recognize the woman in front of him, and he understands how she felt during his addiction. The person he met at the altar is gone.

“I agree. The open marriage thing has gone too far and I’m ready to close it okay?” At this point even she can see her marriage crumbling before her and despite previous thoughts, she’s not ready to let go.

“I’m not talking about closing the marriage, I want a divorce.” The distinction in his voice before he turns and heads to the garage fills her with desperation. Maria follows closely behind him as he opens the door. She stays in the door way silently watching and waiting for another chance to talk.

You are gently rubbing Rosie’s head while she sleeps soundly in a makeshift bed of two chairs. The way Frankie’s face lights up when he looks at you makes her skin crawl. But it gets worse when your eyes meet his there’s no denying there is something between you.

She thinks back to how Frankie told her Benny introduced him to the girl he was seeing. She supposes it makes sense you are beautiful and you seem caring. As much as she wanted to throw the rules in his face she knew she had no leg to stand on. At this point, she had nothing else to lose and Rosie was asleep so it would only be fair to warn you.

From the doorway she makes herself known and Frankie rolls his eyes, hoping that ignoring her will make her go away. One look around the room and she can see how outnumbered she is. The men who once welcomed her with open arms now disdainfully glance at her.

“I’m not sure how well he’s hidden it but he’s a drug addict and his PTSD will always send him right back down the cocaine rabbit hole. Save yourself from the endless baggage.” Maria threw her last card on the table and from the way Francisco froze, it had the desired impact.

No one could have predicted that would come out of her mouth. Your eyes widen at the sudden intake of information and you seek out Frankie’s eyes but he’s turned away from you. Seconds feel like minutes and no one else has said a word. What could be said to follow something so cruel?

All you want to do is tell Frankie that you don’t think less of him, but that’s a private conversation. And unlike some people, you understand the need for privacy and tact.

“It’s time for you to go.” William steps in to shield Frankie who keeps his eyes locked on the ground.

While Maria struts away like she didn’t ruin what little comfort Frankie had, tears begin to rim his eyes. As if his shame wasn’t bad enough it had to happen in front of you. There was no telling how you would feel about him now and he wouldn’t blame you.

Benny and Santiago circle Frankie whispering about something you can’t hear. You stand to approach him but Will’s chest fills your vision. His eyes are cast down in a way that you can tell you’re being shut out of this private moment.

“I don’t think now is a good time sweets,” His hand rests on your shoulder before squeezing in what you think is reassurance.

“Could you tell him I don’t think any less of him? And to call me when he’s ready please?” Your voice cracks as you try to keep it together because you’re the last person who should be crying.

Will feels terrible about making you go but it’s too late and you’re already out the door with your sniffles following. When the door closes again Frankie knows you’ve left and his shoulders begin shaking. The only reason he’s still standing is because of the three men holding him up. Thankfully Rosie’s cold keeps her knocked out so she misses her father’s breakdown.

@harriedandharassed @emilianamason

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier smut #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x you

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