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aloesarchives · 3 months

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All That is Revealed(JJK One-shot)

TW/Warnings: Some angst but Fluff ending, minor profanity, MANGA SPOILERS FOR HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC, Possible OOC Toji/Megumi/and Satoru/ Toji and Satoru still having beef after 12 years, Reader feeling stressed, Megumi indirectly cockblocks Toji

A sequel to this headcanon

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Toji x Fem!/Mama! Reader, Megumi x Mama! Reader(platonic)

AU: Toji Lives AU

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.8k words

Summary: You finally tell your son and his friends about Satoru and Toji’s shared “history”.

It had only been a week since Megumi got cooked by his dad during their little practice sparring session, which ended with you breaking it up and reprimanding Toji for almost critically injuring his son. That is not what’s bothering Megumi, however. Well, okay, he left a little salty with a bruised pride from barely holding his own against his dad. But that’s beside the point.

What’s bothering him is what you said to him at the end of your conversations. After learning Toji was just playing with Megumi, not even using a fraction of his actual strength, Megumi asks you how truly powerful his dad is. Your only answer was, “Ask your teacher, Megumi.” You then left the school grounds without another word. What did you mean by that? Megumi had never seen his pompous teacher like this before. Satoru’s endless sweat bullets and fidgety hands looked out of character for him. He tried asking him the next day, but Satoru didn’t acknowledge the question and completely ignored it. However, Megumi noted Gojo’s increased stuttering and rapidly fluctuating curse energy. He didn’t have any luck with Geto-sensei either. Geto would give some sort of cryptic answer to Megumi’s question with a lopsided grin, but even reading between the lines was a pain for Megumi himself.

Though, Megumi couldn’t blame his teachers for avoiding his question. He is well aware that his family is not average, even by Jujutsu standards. His father, Toji, was seen as the black sheep of the entire Jujutsu society, a useless human with no trace of curse energy. But the whispers and hushed voices he heard were a different story. His notorious epithet of “Sorcerer killer” wasn’t something every sorcerer took lightly. From the reactions he’d seen about the talks of his dad, something wasn’t adding up. The disconcert and uneasiness radiated from his two special grade teachers at the mention of his father, not to mention many others having a sober expression when speaking about him. It was like an entire act missing from a volume, and Megumi needed to figure out why.

Since he couldn’t get it out of his teachers, he’ll go for the primary source itself, you. Yet, he was swamped with school and back-to-back missions every chance he had. So, he had no time to bring it up in the first place. It was gnawing at him for days, and he wasn’t the only one. Yuuji and Nobara were also curious about your vague statement and wanted answers. Seemingly more determined than Megumi himself. But it isn’t their fault since your vague answer sparked more questions than answers. Plus, on top of not knowing much about you either.

You were an enigma to the two students. They have seen you around campus but will be out of sight the next, leaving no trace other than your curse residuals behind. Yuuji and Nobara met you briefly a couple of times after the exchange event, only for Megumi to drag them away to leave you to your own devices. It also didn’t help them that Megumi was pretty reserved about personal details, especially ones involving family. Their only leads on you came from the mouths of other sorcerers and the school staff members. Their teacher, known to be a mortal deity, speaks highly of you with a pinch of fondness, which is strange since he never says that of anyone in such a manner. Not even to their other teacher, Suguru Geto, his best friend.

After constantly pestering and begging Megumi to tell more about his ethereal and alluring mother, Megumi decides it is now an excellent time to converse with you. For him, it’s killing two birds with one stone. His friends will finally stop bugging him about you, and he’ll get his answers. It was Thursday; the first years were preparing for a night mission. Gojo had told Megumi that you were coming to discuss recent curse activities and sorcerers' reports for the mouth. The students didn’t have to leave until 3:00pm, so he had time to spare. After their routine classes and training, Megumi begins seeking you out along with Yuuji and Nobara. With plenty of time before dispatching their mission, they searched the whole campus for you.

While walking through a corridor from one of the student lounges, the students hear voices from one of the nearby private rooms. Before Megumi could think, Divine Dog: Totality summoned itself and dragged Megumi to where the voices came from. Megumi didn’t know his shadows to summon themselves without his command. However, this has happened a few times, such as when you’re nearby, and they picked up your curse residuals. So, remembering that his shikigamis know your essence, he lets Totality pull him along with Yuuji and Nobara. He was proven right when your voice on the other side of the shogi door was from the other side. Totality wags its tail, pushing its master’s hand to open it before disappearing into the corridor’s shadows. Before he knocked, he could hear the different voices as well. There was Gojo-Sensei, Geto-Sensei, and— is that his dad’s voice too?

‘What the hell? Why is Dad here of all places?’ Megumi thought with his brows furrowing. He knows about the rule that Toji must always be with you on Jujutsu High grounds. He only comes to the school when he wants to tag along or you ask him to. It’s mainly the latter. Megumi snapped out of his thoughts when Nobara and Yuuji shook his shoulders to knock. He takes a deep breath before lightly tapping his knuckles on the door. There was a brief silence before your voice called out to them.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Megumi, Mom. I also brought Yuuji and Nobara, too.”

Upon hearing your son, you allowed them to come in. As the students came in, they spotted you in the room's layout. The light from the afternoon sun made the mahogany coffee table shine. Three black lounge sofas spaced to face each other, two on the opposite ends of the table while the other met the head. You sat on the head sofa with your legs crossed; Toji was on your left while Satoru and Suguru sat on the other two sofas. Satoru joins Suguru's side to make room for the kiddos to sit. You eye your son curiously, seeing his fidgeting fingers stick out his straight posture.

“What brings you three here? Something on your mind, Megumi?” You say tenderly, a soft affection for your son to feel comfortable.

“Yeah, Mom. . . It’s about–”

“Fushiguro-kun wants to know about your question from last week, (L/N)-Sensei!”

“Yeah, Fushiguro-sensei! Fushiguro has been moppy all week because of it. Would you so kindly answer his question, Fushiguro-Sensei?”

You paused from sipping your (favorite drink), looking at the trio with scrunched brows and a slight frown. Megumi reprimanded the two for speaking on his behalf before he returned to facing you, his fists unusually clenched in his lap.

“ Megumi, I’m sorry for giving you anxious thoughts and restless nights. I didn’t mean to do anything to hurt you; you know that, right? My son, what is it that you want to ask me? You said, reassuring your brooding son. You glanced at Toji, his face unchanging, but his eyes shared the same feeling. Your husband shrugged his shoulders at you, indicating he had no idea what was happening with Megumi. You direct your attention back to your son, hoping he will confide in you like always. Your son takes another deep breath to calm his nerves before speaking again.

“Last week, after Dad beat me, you said that he wasn’t even trying. So when I asked you how strong, you said ask Gojo-Sensei, and that was it. Unfortunately, Gojo-Sensei and Geto-Sensei didn’t answer me, so I wanted to ask you.”

You looked over at the two teachers who were once your students. Suguru shrugged with his hands out while Satoru whistled away with his hands behind his back, relaxing in his seat. You shook your head. You look back at your son with a soft smile.

“I see, so you had to come to the primary source. Well, don’t blame your teachers, Megumi. After all, this is a hard topic for them to discuss.”

The trio looked at each other, confused but curious in your answer. But Megumi was more confused since he had known the two teachers all his life.

“Mom, what are you implying?”

The air shifted, and tension settled in, though Nobara and Yuuji couldn’t feel it. Megumi knew what he was asking was going into a rough part of his parents' lives. Megumi may not be the brightest, but he’s far from dumb. He knows this is serious with what he knows about his father and how vague everyone has been. You were about to speak up if it weren’t for Satoru stepping in to give an answer to the young Fushiguro, albeit failing miserably as he was beating around the bush.

“Megumi-kun, how do I explain this. . . Toji-san, your father, he, erm, he actually–”

“Your father defeated Gojo-kun, Megumi.” You blatantly said, interrupting Satoru to save himself the embarrassment.

There were various reactions to your answer. Though Satoru was wearing his blindfold, you could sense his eyes widened as he refrained from talking further. Suguru and Toji choked on their own air. Yuuji and Nobara had surprised looks, mouths slightly open. But out of everyone, Megumi had the most emotional reaction. His fists clenched even harder, and his face etched in absolute flabbergast. He was completely floored by your answer. What intensified this reaction was the profound aura you gave off. Your posture was not stiff but firm, showing no sign of slack throughout your body. You set your cup down while uncrossing your legs so the heels of your shoes are flat on the ground. Megumi knew you were telling the truth. He could feel his blood start to rush throughout his body like his chest had been squeezed and forced the air out of his lungs.

“M-mom. . . In what way? And how?”

Though your eyes were severe, your soft smile never left your lips.

“I will try to explain everything to you, but there are many details that I have to give you a shortened version. I’m also speaking on behalf of your father. At the time, I was a part-time sorcerer with a full-time job in the real world. I only knew your father did freelance work with another person. I knew your father hunted curses for a check but not hits on someone. I also became a teacher at Jujutsu Tech so we could get by because my full-time job was cutting hours. Your father’s work paid well but wasn’t consistent, so we had some financial troubles. This caused your father to disappear for months at a time, leaving me to raise you and your sister alone.”

Mentioning the last part, Toji shifted in his seat to be more comfortable. It was futile because it was his attempt to respond to being reminded of one of his biggest regrets in life. Toji knew he had every right to feel shameful for his past actions. Still, it doesn’t change the fact he still gets hurt by them after 12 years. You gently reached out to place your hand on your husband’s as it was on your shoulder. Sensing his discomfort, you tried to soothe his thoughts with the gesture. He deflates slightly as your soft action gives ease, leaning his head to lay on your other shoulder. Your eyes never left Megumi’s as you resumed comforting his dad.

“The day after your Father’s disappearance, I got a significant assignment where I had to oversee and act as one of two guardians for a mission. The same one your teachers were assigned at the request of Tengan, Jujutsu society’s barrier guardian. Initially, they wanted to just have Satoru-kun and Suguru-kun do it. However, the nature of the mission needed some, let’s say, more cautious individuals, and that’s where Maho and I, a fellow sorcerer, were brought in.”

“Okay, but (L/N)-dono, we were careful and diligent if you or Maho-san didn’t come with us! Suguru and I would’ve handled it just fine!”

You raised a single eyebrow at the blindfolded fool, giving him an intense side-eye.

“Given your track record of forgetting to dematerialize veils and scooping out the perimeter beforehand, I could beg to differ. Plus, with how you were back then, your lack of self-awareness would’ve got you, AND Suguru, into situations that would have been completely avoidable.”

Everyone snickered at your comment, causing Satoru’s cheeks to be dusted over with a rosy color. Suguru even laughed at his expense when he should be backing up his best friend. Satoru whined at Suguru, and the two started to bicker with each other. You paid no mind to it as you used to it over the years.

“So what was the mission, Mom?” Megumi inquire

“Every couple of years or so, Tengen needs to merge with their chosen vessel called the star plasma vessel. The merging allows Tengen to not evolve past their humanity, maintaining a humanoid form. At the time, their chosen vessel was a girl named Riko Amanai. The mission was for Satoru and Suguru to escort her to Tengen to complete the merging. However, I was mainly assigned because a high-paying bounty was placed on Riko, so I had to help.”

“Do you know who placed it, Mom?” Megumi said, a little agitated at the person who made your mission a living hell.

Satoru and Suguru stared intently at you, wondering what you would say next. You glanced at the two and then your husband before inhaling to give you some air from the already tense room.

“The person… that placed the bounty on her, Megumi, was… was your father.”

At the mention of Toji, Megumi's face went from rage to repulsion in a matter of seconds. He looked at his father with absolute detest as Toji had regret written all over himself. Yuuji and Nobara felt like they were watching a soap opera. This is the most they have seen Megumi this reactive. They saw him as someone who kept his emotions in check, never letting too much spill out. However, seeing this version of him was unexpected but made them sympathetic since his life is more intertwined in the Jujutsu world than theirs.

“A cult member from a group that worshipped Tengen disagreed. He contacted Toji and Shui Kong, his freelance partner, to capture Riko. Dead or Alive. So Toji decided to place a bounty so others could wear us down. He didn’t, however, know I was on that mission. Nor was I even aware he was the one who placed the bounty.”

Each word you spoke carried a heaviness as you recalled the mission's events. You tried to include crucial details, having Satoru and Suguru talk occasionally. To know that it takes one mission to change everything was unbelievable. The first years, though shocked, were locked into the story. Many mixed emotions stirred within them as you retell the fable mission. Even though this happened long ago, speaking about this constantly reminded you of life’s unpredictability. It can be fulfilling, then cruel and unfair the next. As you continue, a heavy weight you haven’t felt in years creeps up as you nears the mission's climax. Getting to the fable fights that rocked the Jujutsu world forever.

The more you speak, the heavier the invisible weight becomes. The feeling of suffocation closing in. At the moment, you didn’t know why you were feeling this. But later on, you come to realize it came from the burden of having to tell your son the atrocities his own father committed, not just against the Jujutsu world, but against you as well. For as long as you can remember, you knew Megumi wasn’t always getting along with his dad. He was a mama’s boy through and through, a brother who always looked out for his older sister.

When it came to his dad, however, it was a mixed bag. Megumi does love his dad, but he doesn’t necessarily hate him. Even when Toji returned, he wasn’t forgiving of his presence like Tsumiki or open-minded like you. He was expecting his dad to vanish like before. Your heart aches to know your own son had that level of self-consciousness from a young age, meaning he and his sister were forced to grow up, all while you tried to raise them by yourself. It was clear that after 12 years, Megumi hadn’t entirely accepted his father.

Now came for you to reveal what his father had done to be so infamous. So you laid it out for them. Telling how Toji temporarily killed Gojo, fought and won against Suguru and Maho, and captured Riko. This happened when you only talked to Tengen for a few minutes, coming out of the chamber to see the chaos. Your eyes never left Megumi, watching to see how he was handling it. Oddly enough, he had an unreadable expression, but you know the rage that burned in his eyes. You can tell he was holding himself together. But if no people were around, he would have snapped at his father and lost all the patience he had accumulated over the years.

This obviously didn’t go unnoticed by the other adults in the room. Satoru and Suguru briefly observed Megumi, empathetic at his mother’s revelations. Unsurprising to them to see Megumi like this. After all, they were a part of the majority of his life, essentially seeing the boy grow up. The two knew he never wore his heart on his sleeve. The flurries of mixed emotions brewed in him like a storm. But his restraint was stronger, letting his eyes speak for themselves. Emphasizing their awareness of how much Megumi loves and respects you, he does not dare lash out because he knows it wasn’t your fault.

Toji had difficulty sparing Megumi a glance, the shame never leaving his body. The years of fatherhood have softened his hard exterior, not always bearing the cocky smirk he wore his single years. Like father like son, Toji had a blank expression, but his eyes held warmth and softness unlike any other to the blessing in his life, his son. He doesn’t blame Megumi if he gives him a spiteful look. If not for his filter, Megumi would denounce and never acknowledge Toji as his father. No matter the reassurance from you or Tsumiki, it can’t convince you to think otherwise. And he was okay with that reality.

Satoru made a backhanded remark at Toji in between your storytelling, which made Toji glare harshly at him. Suguru chided Satoru for his comment, which prompted Toji to throw one back with a smirk etched on his lips to highlight his scar. Megumi didn’t care to put up with his teacher and dad’s squabble. He was focusing on the memories you recited. He’ll leave the worrying to his classmates, who became a little on edge to see if a full-blown argument would break out. You, however, will not let any of it, considering the weight of your burden is already frustrating as it is.

“Satoru, Toji, please! Now’s not the time, and I’m not in the mood to deal with you two, so behave yourselves! Drop the pompous attitude, Satoru and Toji; this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t hung on beef with a couple of teenagers. Also, stop manspreading and sit up properly! That’s why you both have back pain from your ugly posture! Tsks,” You firmly command, staring them down individually.

The two immediately dropped their act, listening to your demand like soldiers getting reprimanded by their commander. Your tone made it to Suguru and the students because they subconsciously sat up in their seats. You sigh to try and ease the pressure of your burden caused. Surprisingly, it did help only a little as you finished the story. Speaking of Satoru’s enlightenment and newly awakened power, the dissolving of the cult group, and the eventual aftermath.

“In the end, your teachers defeated Toji. And before you ask, Riko Amanai and Kuroi survived. I rescued her and got her back on Jujutsu High grounds. The two actually live on Jujutsu Tech grounds but don’t leave the barrier often due to their safety, unfortunately.”

“So what happened to Dad afterward?” Megumi finally spoke up after sitting on the sidelines so his classmates could answer the asking.

“Your father was imprisoned, waiting for his execution. However, I pulled some strings and made a deal with the higher-ups in exchange for your father’s life. Satoru-kun did me a huge favor and came in clutch when talking to the higher-ups. In the end, your father’s execution was halted on the conditions he and I would have to abide by. The rest was history.”

You haven’t thought much about it, but this story-telling was just a conversation between you and Megumi. You forgot Yuuji and Nobara were there listening in, too. This dawned on you when they kept looking back at each other and Megumi. As much as you wanted to continue your over-sharing experience, this was a good place to stop, considering your son might not be mentally ready for the others. ‘That’s for another time.’

Before anyone could speak up, particularly Megumi, the door to the room slid open, revealing Maho, Akari, Nanako, and Mimiko. Maho glances around the room curiously before coughing into her hand.

“I’m sorry to break up your little conversation, y’all. But the first years need to get going on their night mission. Akari is here to take you three to the location now. Also, Suguru, the girls want to check out a new pop-up dessert stand while on patrol in the Taito ward.”

Suguru chuckles, standing up and straightening out his uniform. He bid you and Satoru bye while sending good luck the first years' way. Nanako started to whine that they’d be late queuing Suguru to get going. Once Suguru leaves, the first years begin to leave the room. You got up to stretch when you noticed Megumi stopping at the doorway. You start to regret telling Megumi all this because this may not allow him to focus on the mission. Putting his friends and the mission in danger.

Just as you were about to call for him, he hastily walked over and gave you a tight hug. Startled at first, you eventually returned with the same intensity. Even though Megumi was 15 years old, a young, proper man, you can’t help but see your little baby boy who always called out Mama. You softly pat his head and kiss his forehead before your son pulls away. Megumi looks at you with a soft smile he has always given since he was a young boy.

“I’ll be safe, Mom. Don’t worry, I’ll come back home in one piece.” Megumi reassured you.

“ Sweet, soft hum I know you will. Just promise me you, Yuuji, and Nobara will try to be careful.”

“Of course, Mom. We will.”

Toji grins at Megumi and nods when his son locks his eyes with him. You look over at the other two standing behind Megumi. They replied to you with a ‘Yes, Ma’am!’ in a saluting position. You laughed at their antics before shoeing them off to Akari for their mission. As their footsteps grew quiet, you relaxed your shoulders briefly before squaring them back up. You haven’t forgotten that Satoru was still in the room with you and Toji. He was still sitting, his signature grin gone and replaced with a firm line on his lips. You know he was peering up at you through his blindfold while Toji causally threw an arm around your shoulder.

“(L/N)-dono, did you purposely leave out the conditions of your deal with the higher-ups to Megumi-kun?”

“. . .Yes. My son has every right to know about what happened. But simultaneously, this is a matter to be shared with him alone, not when his other classmates are present. The aftermath of the Star Plamsa incident created a domino effect that thrust Megumi into this world. When I tell him everything, I want it so he’s not forced to put his guard up. I wish for him to be comfortable with his vulnerability to this reality our family is in. To tell there’s the possibility he could lose his parents will weigh heavily on him, and he’s already been through so much for his age.”

You attentively gaze down at Satoru. It wasn’t unusual for him to look out for you, to show his caring, almost vulnerable side. He knows you don’t like hiding truths from people, especially your children. So, for you not to tell the other details means something else that’s made you hesitant. He was right, as you revealed the other issue.

“I also don’t want to jeopardize Megumi’s relationship with Toji. I won’t force him to feel what he already has. But I at least want him to understand that his father loves his family more than anything, even though what Toji did was inexcusable. I just don’t want to put Megumi under pressure in front of other people to be this calm, reserved Sorcerer. I want my son to be present and comfortable asking me anything when I tell him. You know how Megumi is, Satoru.”

He simply nods at your answer before he stands up at his full 190 cm height. He pulls on his goofy grin, pulling a complete 180 from how he was mere minutes ago.

“Of course, (Y/N)-dono. I understand, given what Megumi-kun is like when he’s on missions. Anyway, I gotta meet with Yaga-san, or I’ll get yelled at again. I’ll see you later, (Y/N)-dono!”

Satoru walks out of the room, leaving you and your husband alone. It was quiet, the sound of nature only resonating in the room. Then you suddenly felt Toji’s arms wrapped around you firmly, laying his forehead on your shoulder. Gently grasp Toji’s forearms and rub them soothingly.

“I know it’s hard for you to come forward to tell Megs this, Hon. I’m sorry I couldn’t say my part. I'm still terrible at saying my words. Thank you for speaking in my place, (Y/N).” Toji vocalizes, his tenderness revealing itself in the confines of the sit-in room.

“I appreciate it, Honey. You know I always have your back like you have mine. But please know Megumi does care for you, Toji. He has his own way of showing it, that’s all.” You assured him.

“Yeah, I know. He doesn’t like to do those whole words of affirmation things. I get the kid.”

“Hm, where have I seen that before? Like father like son, I guess.” You feigned your curiosity at your husband.

This evokes a burst of laughter out of Toji as he turns you around while still holding you close. Looking at you like an absolute fool too deep in love.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you, (Y/N)? Come here, you.”

Toji dips his head, going for a kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed in response. You would have kept them closed if your phone hadn’t buzzed off in your pocket three times. You pulled away just as Toji was millimeters away from your lips. Toji groans as you check your phone to see who texted you.

“Who the hell is texting you right now–?” Toji asked in annoyance.

“It’s from Megumi, Dear. Give me a second.”

Toji grumbles, shoving his face in your neck to see what his son sent. You can feel your husband pouting, making you rub his head to calm him down. You read your son's texts that interrupted you and your husband’s intimate moment.

‘We’re at the location, Mom’

‘It doesn’t look bad, but I’ll still be careful.’

‘I’ll text you when we’re done, Mom.’

‘I love you, Mama❤️’

You cooed at Megumi’s text, sending your replies to him. Toji notices the texts and smiles as well. Megumi, indeed, was a mama’s boy; there is no denying it. Your sweet smile still graces your lovely lips as you look at your husband.

“Toji, stop pouting. I’ll give you all the kisses you want when we get home. I know how you are, you fiend.”

“What do you mean, Hon? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You give Toji the stare that causes him to put his hands up in defense while scratching the back of his head. You roll your eyes as you escape your buff husband’s grasp, walking towards the door.

“If we get groceries and you cook dinner tonight, I’ll let you have your way with me, Dear~. Tsumiki said she was staying at a friend’s house because they were studying for an exam tomorrow. She won’t be home until Friday afternoon.” You said in your suggestive tone, sending a wink to your husband over your shoulder.

Toji holds a mischievous smirk as he quickly walks over to follow you closely as you leave the grounds of Jujutsu Tech.

“Of course, Doll. Anything for you~.”

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mhsdatgo · 3 months

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Hotd writers choosing to adapt Mushroom's records out of everything they had in hand is the worst decision they could've ever come up with btw.

It's been stated time and time again that while F&B is purely built on records and gossip and morphed retelling of events out of bias and propaganda, Mushroom is the LEAST reliable of all the sources. He's a fool at Rhaenyra's court, his job is make people gasp and laugh, not retell historical events.

We're talking about the same guy who said that he had a penis large enough to match the size of his head, mind you. Also, he's obsessed with little girls giving BJs to Targaryen men somewhere in Flea Bottom. It's happened twice according to him.

The writers' reasoning for this choice is basically that F&B was written by Maesters and Septons, who were all greedy men, apart from being Green supporters. So anything they say is false, anything they say is written with sexist intent. Writer's intention was to do the exact opposite.

Then tell me, for the love of God, tell me, why is every woman apart from Rhaenyra, who is clearly whitewashed and I can go into heavy detail about that, basically shunned?

The Maesters claim Alicent left Viserys' body to rot and swell for days preparing and LEADING Rhaenyra's usurpation. She's the leader of the Greens, she and she alone. Not Otto. The Green Council answers only to her orders, they are loyal to HER.

I've seen people argue that since Alicent is what Maesters view as an "ideal" woman, then they would try anything to paint her in the best light possible. While I agree that this may be true, I don't think this is the case. In history books, even in real life, women are rarely painted as leaders or important figures.

For Queen Alicent to be written as THE face of the Greens, you know this mama wasn't playing around.

Now, how is this:

In ANY WAY, even comparable to THIS?:

At the end of ep.8 and quite literally the entirety of ep.9, Alicent is shown as a lost woman who doesn't even seem to know what she's doing, pushed by Viserys' last words about prophecy rather than SHEER DESIRE to get her hands dirty for her children's safety (which by the way will always be superior imo). The Green Council conspires behind her back, and on top of it all, she's yelled at by one of her own men and is made to take it like a beaten dog.

Moreover, we had Helaena's ROAST (yes it was a roast, my Queen inherited cunty lines from her cunty mother) against Aegon and her coronation, the latter being addressed as something quite wholesome, if you ask me. Alicent places her own crown upon her daughter's head and calls her "my Queen" after kissing her cheeks and kneeling. Afterwards, her and Alicent are literally written to be the only ones who could get through Aegon II's thick skull when he wanted to start the war right then and there as a result of Rhaenyra crowning herself on Dragonstone.

You hear me??? Aegon sat down and fucking listened to the two women in his life. Not the Council, them. These two were dogwalking him, the KING, on the daily, how is that sexist writing on the Maesters' part????

Yet these things are nowhere to be seen in Ryan Condal and Sara Hess' "progressive" show. We got beaten dog Alicent and Helaena being nothing but a walking spoiler machine other than yet another instrument to paint Aegon as the big bad wolf and usurper. Not a single scene of them counseling Aegon.

Baela and Rhaena have nearly no lines or scenes that don't show them in the presence of the Strongs. They are seemingly okay with anything Rhae throws their way because it's Rhae. The one and only scene about Baela openly speaking to her grandma about her wish to fight for Rhaenyra was deleted.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra is stripped of her rage and thirst for vengeance, and instead made to negotiate for peace while in the books she was the one pushing to go to war first.

Can you tell me, again, how the fanfiction that is Hotd supposed to prove that they want to be "progressive" in contrast to the Maesters' "sexist" work, when literally all they do is whitewash Rhaenyra and sideline any woman who isn't her?

#anti hotd #team green #alicent hightower #helaena targaryen #queen helaena #hotd discourse #asoiaf discourse #queen alicent

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years

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BACK TOGETHER

A/N: okayyyy another little steve fic bc yall really loved my prev one!

PAIRING: Steve Harrington x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

WARNING: season 4 spoiler!!!

SUMMARY: You and Steve broke up not long ago, but watching over Max in the night brings the two of you back together.

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The gang is now stationed in the Wheelers’ basement once again. After what happened to Max in the cemetery you’re guarding her nonstop, there’s always someone watching her, checking that she is still listening to the music and hasn’t gone into trance again. It’s one in the morning and you’re the chosen one to keep an eye on her, but Steve has decided to join you.

It’s been a bit weird, hanging out with Steve so much even though the two of you broke up just a few weeks ago. You haven’t spoken much, but the recent happenings with Vecna brought the old gang together so now you’re forced to be around each other again. The breakup happened after a stupid, but pretty intense fight you had, it started because you’ve had enough of Steve always hanging out with Robin and even though you know Robin is playing on a different team, it’s still pretty annoying when you can’t make plans with your boyfriend because he already has something going on with Robin.

He accused you of being jealous for no reason and you told him he is a child and it ended with a screaming match and the two of you parted ways after breaking up. One year of relationship ended in such a ridiculous way, you almost kind of feel embarrassed.

“You’re not hearing any clock dinging, right?” Steve asks, breaking the silence since everyone around you is asleep.

“Wait, you don’t hear it?” you ask with a dead serious face and watch as his expression falls completely. “I’m just kidding,” you add quickly.

“It’s not funny, Y/N, not after what happened to Max!” he tells you off, but you still find it a bit comical. He should know you well enough to know you’d have already told them if Vecna was after you.

“Sorry, just trying to stay awake,” you yawn, taking a glance at Max who is seemingly still perfectly fine.

“Go to sleep, I can take over your shift,” he offers.

“No need to play the hero, Steve.”

“I’m not… I’m just trying to be nice,” he rolls his eyes.

“We’re not together anymore, so you don’t have to go out of your way to be nice to me, though you didn’t quite do it before either.”

Your comment comes out a bit spicier than you intended, but you also think it’s true. It’s too late to act nice now, he should have cared about you when you expected it from him.

“Y/N, maybe we should talk about that,” he sighs, running a hand through his ridiculously good hair. How does he look this good even in the middle of what feels like another apocalypse?

“About what exactly? That we broke up or that you said I was jealous or that you spent more time with Robin than your own girlfriend?”

“God, I almost forgot how hot you are when you give me an attitude.”

“And you’re such a child,” you roll your eyes and attempt to get up from beside him, but he grabs your hand and pulls you back.

“I’m sorry! Please, I want to apologize!”

“About wha–”

“Everything, Y/N,” he groans, already knowing what you wanted to ask. “You were right and I was an ass. I just always thought you would find someone better than me at college so I convinced myself you don’t need me and I didn’t want to need you either.”

His confession surprises you, he never told you he was having second guesses and you would have reacted differently if only he told you the truth.

“Steve, I’m staying in Hawkins instead of applying to schools out of state. I made this decision because of you. Do you think I would just drop you for some other guy?”

“I don’t know, I thought about that, yes,” he replies with a shrug, but it’s obvious he is struggling inside.

“You’re an idiot, Steve. That’s what you are,” you sigh.

“Well, at least we agree about that. I really am an idiot, because I lost the best girl in town.”

Silence falls on you, it’s heavy and says a lot. You want to tell him you still love him, that you still want to be with him, but you want him to take this step, to tell you he wants to give your relationship another go. But you know it can take some time for Steve to figure out, to decode the signs you send him.

“What song would you play to bring me back?” you ask to keep the conversation going. His eyebrows rise as he looks at you with a tiny smile as he thinks about his answer.

“Something from Duran Duran, it’s your favorite, right?” he smirks as you gape at him.

“You ass, that’s your favorite!” Steve starts laughing and you can’t hold it back either as you smack him in the chest.

“Cyndi Lauper Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. You played it every morning last year when we drove to school,” he then says and it’s the correct answer, it’s definitely your favorite song at the moment. “Though I’m a bit hurt that your favorite song is not related to me,” he adds.

“But it is.”

“What?” he furrows his eyebrows at you.

“It was playing on the radio when you picked me up on our first date,” you tell him. “I took it as a sign.”

“That it was gonna be a good date?”

“That Steve Harrington is not as big of a douchebag people say him to be,” you tease him smirking. “And I was right. He is a pretty good guy. He just… gets lost sometimes, forgets that I love him a lot and I don’t want other men when I have him.”

He looks at you with those puppy eyes, his ridiculously curly eyelashes framing them perfectly and all your anger and disappointment is now gone. You just want your boyfriend back. Luckily, Steve reads the situation as well and he knows this is his chance to get you back.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I was a shitty boyfriend, but if you gave me another chance I would do everything to make you happy.”

“What took you so long?” you sigh with a soft smile before leaning in and pressing your lips against his.

You missed his lips, his kisses, his touches, the way he cups your face when he deepens the kiss. For a moment you’re not in the Wheelers’ basement, but in a safe place somewhere far away from the madness in Hawkins.

“It’s so nice you two just got back together, but you’re supposed to be watching Max.”

Dustin’s voice snaps you out of your little bubble and pulling away from Steve you see him sitting up, his eyes puffy and barely open as he watches the two of you.

“Henderson, you just know exactly when to open your mouth, huh?” Steve sighs and the kid in question just smirks and shrugs before lying back down and Steve doesn’t hesitate before pulling you closer to continue from where you left it before Dustin’s interruption.

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

Breaking Up Slowly: Chapter Two

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

chapter rating: E (18+ only, TLOU spoilers sorta?, breakups, angst, cold!joel, arguments, accusations of infidelity, dom!joel, brief dirty talk, talk of unprotected piv, nightmares, anxiety, thigh riding, soft ending)

word count: 5.2k

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It had been three weeks since the motel, or somewhere near it, at least—it was hard to tell when you were this exhausted. After a very hard fought win, Joel had scored the three of you a truck with the help of Bill, his…interesting acquaintance that lived in his own town outside of Boston. Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of nothing.

Until tonight.

Joel had been up driving for the better part of the day, his eyelids growing heavier with each blink. You watched him from the passenger seat, Ellie fast asleep in the backseat thanks to the old country playing on a cassette she’d found.

“Joel,” you started, secretly hoping that you wouldn’t have to say anything more to him than that.

God only knows what would come out if he got you on a roll.

“Yep?” he rasped, voice scratchy with exhaustion.

“Let me drive,” you pleaded. Joel glanced over at you with a scowl, and although you could tell he wanted to say no, he was beat. “C’mon.”

“Alright, just for a couple hours,” he sighed, pulling over onto the side of the road. The two of you took a quick scan around before exiting the truck, the dark night making it difficult to assess the danger. “Here, just—“ He waved you over, silently demanding you crawl over his lap and trade seats without having to get out. You bit your lip as you assessed the risk—climbing over his lap meant you’d have to touch him, perhaps even feel his hand on your hip guiding you. Could you really risk opening that can of worms after weeks of relative peace? “What are you—“

You opened your door and quickly made your way around in the light downpour to his, opening it up and patiently waiting for him to get over himself and climb out.

“You’re ridiculous,” he hissed as he stepped out of the car, his shoulder bumping into yours as he passed you. Insults you could take, but the look in his eyes? That look of sheer disdain could’ve killed you if you were a slightly weaker woman.

Climbing into the drivers seat, you tried to blink away the tears that had begun to blur your vision while Joel seemingly took a bathroom break by a bush. You didn’t mind the delay, it just made it easier for you to rid yourself of your tears in peace.

“You okay?” Ellie’s voice from the backseat startled you, making you jump as you wiped your eyes dry. Clearing your throat you nodded, looking in the rear view mirror at her with a weak smile.

“Yeah. I’m good.” She gave you a skeptical eyebrow raise as Joel finally climbed into the passenger seat, still wearing his scowl.

“Hurry up and get on the road,” he demanded.

“She was waiting on you,” Ellie chimed in with an irritated tone, surprising Joel. He turned to look back at her, and although you were oblivious to it, Ellie gestured to you and mimed crying, tipping Joel off to your sensitive state.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat and softened his tone, reaching over to touch your arm but it only caused you to jerk the steering wheel. “Jesus! Are you sure you can drive?”

“Would you—“ you snapped but stopped yourself from saying anything else, the clench in your jaw a sign of the inner strength it took to stop yourself from laying into him. “Just get some rest.”

“I’ll be able to rest when you get us there in one piece,” he huffed, crossing his arms and shifting in the seat so that he was more comfortable.

“Maybe if you sleep you’ll wake up less of an ass,” Ellie mumbled to herself and pulled a soft chuckle from you.

Although the two of you tried to keep all this drama between yourselves, you knew Ellie wasn’t dumb. She could see the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you, the way you quieted in his presence, the way he grew mean in yours. You didn’t want her to pick sides, but in all honestly, Joel wasn’t making it easy for her to root for him with his quick temper and no-nonsense attitude.

It wasn’t long before the sounds of the road lulled Joel to sleep, his familiar soft snores shattering you in ways you’d never confess to out loud.

“So…how did you two meet?” Ellie asked after a couple hours of silence, leaning in between the gap between the two front seats to talk to you, her voice kept low as to not wake the grump beside you.

“El, I don’t really wanna—“

“Please? I’m going crazy thinking about everything…give me something less scary to think about,” she pled and you were sighing, caving to her.

“We met in Boston. I was one of the ‘lucky’ ones, I guess. Born there, raised there, was fifteen when the outbreak happened,” you started, eyes constantly flickering over to Joel to make sure he was still asleep. “For a while, the zone was…chaos. You were just a little kid, you probably don’t remember, but it was a war zone between the military, infected, and the hunters. That’s how I met Joel.”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about that.”

“Five years or so ago we were properly introduced—our groups sort of ran with the same crowd, I guess. Me being a smuggler and trader and him being…him.” You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face as you thought back to simpler times, when his existence didn’t mean so much to you. “After a particularly bad incident that split him and his brother up, I managed to convince him to leave the hunting behind and do what I do.”

“And what was that?”

“Trading ration cards, supplies, meds…smuggling stuff in and out of the zone. Not exactly doing the Lord’s work, but…”

“Not hunting people.” You chuckled.

“Exactly.”

“So when did it…change?” Ellie asked with an awareness that shocked you, leaving you speechless for a moment.

“Eventually, you know, we grew from acquaintances to friends, then from friends into…something more. But there was a lot going on. I was head over heels for him since day one.” You kept your eyes forward, feeling your throat swell with hurt. “Tess was my friend, originally. But then she started to spend more time with Joel, and they eventually became closer than I was to either of them anymore. So, I gave him the choice to pursue her, and he did. That’s…that’s really all there is to it.”

“So…if he hurt you like that, why do you still want him?” Ellie’s questioning had finally become too much, your posture straightening as you breathed in a slow inhale. Your hand reached for the dial to turn up the cassette, desperate for a bit of silence.

“I think that’s enough talking for tonight.”

Ellie seemed to be emotionally intelligent enough to back off, sitting back in her seat and staring out of the window rather than pushing you for more answers to her endless list of questions. Answers you weren’t even sure you had.

You had all but five minutes of silence before Joel was breathing in deep through his nose, his eyes batting open and his posture adjusting.

“Shit, how long have I been out?” He turned to you but you couldn’t chance a glance at him, not after you and Ellie’s stroll down bittersweet-memory lane.

“Uh, a couple hours,” you replied in a weak voice, turning the music down. “We should find somewhere to pull over. I’m getting tired.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine. I’ll take over,” he offered, rubbing his palms over his face until all the leftover drowsiness had faded. “Just pull over and we can switch seats.”

“We need to sleep and eat and fucking pee, Joel. We can stop for a while.” You finally turned to look at him, expecting that narrowed look you’d become familiar with over the last few weeks, but he didn’t look angry. He looked…concerned?

“It’s too dark out…ain’t safe right now,” he whispered, his voice as gentle as his the look in his eyes. “Just let me take over.”

You hardly had time to manage a response before his hand was reaching over, his palm warm as it hesitantly rested on your knee. You let out a shaky breath and cursed yourself for being so weak for him, shaking your head at yourself.

“Ellie, tell the woman to pull over so she can get some damn sleep,” Joel spoke up, looking into the backseat.

“Pull over so you can get some damn sleep,” she repeated, earning a chuckle from you.

“C’mon, darlin’…pull over.” You sighed at his use of a pet name, wanting to scold him for using it so flippantly, but you found yourself pulling over anyways. This time, you and Ellie switched seats so that you could lay down in the back and actually try to get some decent rest.

You felt a pair of hands run up and down your bare sides, warm and strong and so large. Just one of them was the size of two of yours, and even through the haze of sleep you could tell who they belong to. With a sleepy grin and eyes still closed, you reached up to his neck as he hovered over you, pulling him down until his face was buried in your neck. Arching your back into him, he slipped his arms underneath you and hoisted you back onto his lap, his lips pliant and wet against your pulse.

“Missed you,” Joel husked as he started to guide your hips against his clothed cock, hands gripping the globes of your ass over the cotton of your underwear. “Mm, wake up, darlin’. I wanna see those eyes.”

Leaning back, you still carried a smile as you blinked your eyes open, Joel’s concentrated look earning a soft gasp from your lips as the bulk of his zipper rubbed against your throbbing clit. A smile grew on his own face as he reached up and ran the pad of his thumb over your lip.

“So damn beautiful,” he praised with a look of awe. “I hate havin’ to leave this bed. Especially to go out there.”

“Hard day?” You purred as you leaned in to pepper his neck with kisses, your fingers making quick work of the buttons of his flannel.

“Robert’s up to somethin’…Tess and I tried to snoop around but—“

“Tess?” You immediately felt your stomach flip with jealousy.

“Yeah,” he replied, lifting your head from his neck to inspect the sour look on your face. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You snapped defensively, already having shut yourself away internally. Joel gestured at your face, now irritated.

“That! You get all…worked up over nothin’,” he scolded. You mumbled a sarcastic apology and climbed off his lap and off the bed, feeling his hot gaze on you as you searched for your t-shirt. “How many times do I gotta tell you, Tess and I are friends. That’s it.”

“Yeah, Joel. So are we,” you reminded, the ill-defined nature of your relationship leaving plenty of room for interpretation even after two years of being together.

“I’d just like to have one god damn day where you act like the woman I met,” he snapped, standing up and following you out into your apartment’s living room.

“I’m not the one who’s changed!” Joel watched you as you turned the sink on and poured yourself a glass of shitty tap water, one hand on his hip and a look of disbelief written on his face. “If you would just admit that there’s something going on between you two, we could figure something out! We could…share you or something.”

“Like it’s a damn custody battle?” He guffawed, shaking his head and turning to look out of the window. “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re fucking her!” You shouted, causing him to whip his head around. His eyes were pointed, the kind that you’d seen hundreds of times before but had luckily never been on the receiving end of. In just a few steps he was in front of you, backing you against the counter behind you. Your breath hitched as you stared up into his eyes, all the anger and insecurity leaving your body under the heat of his stare. With a weaker, broken voice, you asked, “Are you fucking her?”

“No.” He shook his head, his voice strong with sincerity. “And don’t you ever accuse me of it again unless you see it with your own damn eyes.” His hands gripped your hips again, his touch less revering but still just as needy and desperate. “You are the only person in this god damned world capable of making me this fuckin’ angry…and this fuckin’ hard.”

He ripped your panties at the side-seams, the cotton falling to the floor as he spun you around to face the counter and kicked your legs apart. Next came your shirt, quickly peeled off you and thrown across the room before his calloused hands ran up and down the expanse of your bare spine and around to your stomach until he was gripping your breasts with both hands.

“Maybe I just gotta fuck this jealousy outta ya,” he proposed as his lips traveled up your shoulder blade to the back of your neck, biting a soft mark into the skin there. You whimpered and nodded, sticking your ass out for him even more than he’d already arranged it, earning a smack to the plump flesh. “All you need is a little reassurin’, don’t ya? My jealous fuckin’ girl.”

The sound of his belt coming undone had you dripping with need, but right as he started to slip into you, you were bolting upright with a plea for air, a cracked gasp leaving your lips as you focused on reality. Joel and Ellie were startled by the sound as they sat in the front seats of the truck, both of their necks craning to glance at you.

It had just been a dream. A bad dream. A fucking good dream.

“Jesus, you okay?” Ellie asked, turning in her chair completely to face you as you sat in the backseat covered in sweat, your chest heaving as you tried to calm the aching arousal between your thighs. You felt completely embarrassed, especially given the racy nature of your dream. Had you said anything out loud in your sleep that gave your subconscious’s deepest desires away? Could Joel tell that you were dreaming about him? The way he avoided your eyes in the rear-view mirror did little to reassure you otherwise.

“Yeah,” you panted back to the teenager. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” she chided, tone laced with disappointment? Frustration? You weren’t sure.

“Ellie, knock it off and turn around. Put your damn seatbelt on,” Joel scolded, much to both of your surprise. Feeling the need to clarify his defense, he spoke again, “We’re almost to Pittsburgh.”

“Pittsburgh?” You gathered yourself enough to object to the plan. “You didn’t say anything about us going through Pittsburgh.”

“Well I didn’t know until about a hundred miles ago,” he responded with a curious tone. “There a reason we shouldn’t?”

“I’ve heard it’s littered with hunters. We should find another way around,” you advised, meeting Joel’s eyes in the mirror.

“I don’t know that we got the gas for that.”

“Joel…you know what hunters do to people. I’d rather us run out of gas in the woods and have to walk than to run into them.”

He took a moment to think about his options, his jaw ticking and thumbs drumming on the steering wheel before he was turning the truck around.

“Alright. There was a small town a few miles back,” he rasped. “We can try to get a night’s rest there and hopefully even some gas.”

You offered him a small smile, silently thanking him for listening to you when he easily could have ignored your advice. Joel didn’t smile back, simply nodding at you once through the rearview mirror, but it was enough to have a frenzy of butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“Place is clear from what I can tell,” Joel pointed at an abandoned house he just cleared in a small, quiet town about an hour outside of Pittsburgh called Somerset. “Long as we stay quiet and keep our eyes open, I think we’ll be alright out here for the night.”

You stared up at the two-story colonial home, it’s red brick half-covered with kelly-green vines, the white of the doorframe and gazebo now a murky grey. Still, even in it’s withered state, it looked like a nice place to call home. Maybe in another life you’d be living in a home like this with a family you helped create, a cat or a dog to curl up in your lap, a husband that loved you and let you love him.

But that world is simply a fantasy.

The world you found yourself in was grimy, murky, overgrown with weeds and left uncared for. There was no place for a family, no time to sit curled up with a pet, no men left who could give or receive that type of love—that type of luxury.

You needed to learn to let go of these delusions and fantasies if you wanted to stay alive out here. Joel seemed to do it easy enough, after all.

“C’mon,” Joel urged you forward with a small voice, nudging his head towards the house while Ellie was already heading in. You cleared your throat, embarrassed that he’d caught you deep in your thoughts, but as you went to walk past him, his hand gently grabbed hold of your wrist. “Hey, you alright?”

No. No, I’m fucking not. Not with you holding my hand like this. Not with you looking at me like that. Not with you.

Your lips parted to speak but nothing came out. Instead, you gave him a quick nod, your response seemingly not adequate enough for him because he refused to let go of you.

“I’m fine,” you tried to reassure him again, this time mustering more sincerity.

“You can fool her all you want, but you can’t fool me,” he whispered earnestly, shaking his head at you, eyes looking into yours tenderly, almost longing. “What can I do?”

“Joel, you can’t fix this mess,” you gestured to your head. “I’ll be alright.”

“Will you? Because from what I can see, you can’t stay out of your damn head for five minutes,” he continued his whisper yelling, not wanting Ellie or any possible infected to hear. “Tell me what I need to do to help you.”

You stood there looking stunned or stupid, you couldn’t tell by the look of irritation on his face. What were you supposed to do? Beg him to love you again? Beg him to leave you again? No. You’d find a way to be okay on your own. You needed to find a way to be okay on your own.

“I’m not your problem anymore,” you finally decided on.

“The hell you aren’t,” he snapped at a normal volume as you started towards the house. He called your name, clearly not finished with the conversation, but you didn’t stop or turn around. “Baby, please—“

“Do. Not.” You turned your head around, eyes welling with tears instantly as you pointed your finger at him. “Do not call me that. You have no right to call me that.”

“I’m worried about you,” he almost whimpered, his voice cracking with raw emotion as he walked to meet you on the front step. “And you’re right. I have no right to care this much ‘bout someone I’m not with, but…I. Can’t. Help. It.”

“If I have to find a way to be okay without you, you can find a way to stop caring about me,” you argued, fighting the urge to lift your hand to his perfectly rugged face. “I’m tired. Can we go inside now?”

“One last thing,” he begged. “What were you dreaming about in the truck?”

“That’s private,” you snapped.

“You said my name.”

“Yeah, well…you’ve given me plenty to dream about in our time together,” you shrugged. “Good and bad.”

“You’re killin’ me,” he shuddered, shaking his head at you. You watched as his hand raised up, his palm ghosting over your cheek, wanting to cradle it but refraining from making contact. Holding your breath, you tried to will him closer, pleading to some unseen force for him to make a move, to make him try, but no one seemed to be listening. He dropped his hand to his side and sucked in a slow breath, his eyes bouncing between yours. “Just…be okay. Alright?”

“Yeah…I’m working on it.”

You grabbed the doorknob and walked inside, hearing Ellie’s gasps and stunned laughter as she checked out the home.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed as she came walking down the stairs towards the two of you. “This place insane!”

“Keep your voice down,” Joel scolded dryly, dejected from your conversation. “It’s clear, but that don’t mean it’ll stay that way.”

“Sorry,” she sassed under her breath as she reached you, following the two of you into the living room. “How much was a place like this back then? Like a million dollars?”

“Nah,” Joel started as he inspected the cabinets for any sign of spores. “Round here it was probably only ‘bout two, maybe three hundred.”

“Dollars?”

“Thousand dollars.” He corrected.

“How much was your house?” She inquired as she hoisted herself up onto the kitchen island beside you, your eyes and hands busy unloading a can of beans to settle your rumbling stomach.

“Ya know, that woulda been a rude question to ask somebody back in the day?” Joel grumbled as he turned around, your eyes missing the way his scanned over your concentrated face.

“Well, we’re not back in the day anymore,” Ellie retorted. “How much?”

“Three fifty,” he caved and answered her, too busy watching you to continue this back and forth. When you finished peeling the lid open, your eyes met his on accident, and you watched as he quickly turned to look at Ellie. “Three-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars down the drain, that is.”

Joel left the room abruptly, mumbling something about going upstairs to look around, leaving you and Ellie standing there with creased eyebrows.

“What’s his deal?” She whispered to you as you handed her a spoon, offering to share the can of room-temp black beans with her to which she accepted.

“I think that’s my fault,” you sighed, spooning some beans into your mouth.

“How’d you put up with him for so long? You two seem so different.”

You chuckled, shaking your head and shrugging. “It wasn’t like this back then. This is…new territory.”

“I can’t imagine him being any different,” she chuckled. “What’s he like when he’s not so…grumpy?”

“Well, he’s always a little grumpy, but that’s a part of his charm,” you smiled. “I don’t know, he was funny and sensitive and sweet…warm, gentle…soft.”

“Joel is soft?”

“Was,” you corrected with an exhale. “Joel was soft. Not…anymore, apparently.”

Joel laid awake downstairs on the sofa, trying and failing to will his eyes closed for the last hour. Through the window shined a midnight blue glow, casting dark shadows across the hardwood floor. It was silent, no outside force to be blamed for his restlessness, just his aching heart.

He couldn’t sleep knowing that you were right upstairs, clearly aching for him the same way he was for you. He could see how being around him was beginning to eat you alive and how you tried your best to fool him. But he knew you better than he knew himself, your eyes having been his safe place for two damn years. He could see that you were always lost inside your own head and he craved to be able to let you out, to help you come back.

Rolling onto his side, he stared ahead at the long-forgotten fireplace, it’s red brick now blackened with coal black soot. He had half a mind to believe that’s how his heart looked these days—it’s how it felt, at least.

His introspection was cut short by a blood-curdling scream from upstairs, the voice to adult to be Ellie. Joel grabbed his shotgun and raced up the stairs, bursting into your room ready to kill something, but instead being met with the sight of you, freshly awake and panting. You were sat upright on your blanket on the floor, your hand over your heart, eyes squeezed shut, shaking breaths filling the room.

“Just a nightmare,” you offered a bit of explanation in hopes of ridding him of his worry, his face still screwed in terror. “I’m okay.”

“Stop that.” The sternness in his voice woke you all the way up, your eyes widening as he stomped over to you. For just a split second, you feared him, the look in his eyes dark with rage and emotion.

But then he was kneeling down, dropping his gun to the floor beside your makeshift cot, his hands lifting to your cheeks to cradle your head in his hands. You hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until his thumbs were wiping away the stream of tears running down your cheeks. Your throat began to swell at the warmth in his touch, a sob threatening to break free as he stared at you like you were the only thing in this world he cared about.

“Let me be here for you,” he begged in a barely audible whisper. “Let me help.”

“It’ll just hurt more,” you cried, tears flowing again. Joel threw caution to the wind and pulled you into his arms, laying down with you on the floor, your face buried in his neck while he pet the back of your head.

“Is this helpin’ or hurtin’?” he asked in a whisper, his hand on your back rubbing soothing circles to calm you. When you didn’t respond, he tried to let go of you, not wanting to force his comfort upon you that if you weren’t comfortable with it.

As soon as his hands left you, though, you hugged him tighter, a silent demand for him to stay put. You’d almost forgotten how good it felt to be held by him, the way his strong arms wrapped around you like you were something precious, his warmth, the feeling of his body beneath his clothes, even the musk of his natural scent—it all soothed the ache that had been plaguing you since he left. Since the last time he held you like this.

“Talk to me,” he demanded softly, his fingers now lightly scratching your scalp. “What were you dreamin’ about?”

“It’s…embarrassing,” you confessed, your words muffled as you kept your face buried in his neck.

“Darlin’,” he cooed, his fingers lowering from your head to run up and down your bicep in featherlight strokes. Sitting up a bit so that you were looking into his eyes, you hesitated before speaking, not wanting to ruin this moment with the truth.

“Dreamt I was…” you sighed, exhaling all your anxiety and melting back into him, your cheek resting on his chest. “Dreamt I was dying…clickers feasting on me, and you were just…watching. You were just standing there, no emotion, no fear, no…grief in your eyes. Like it meant nothing—like I meant nothing.”

“Look at me,” he tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to his gravely serious ones. “If anything were to ever happen to you…I promise you, it would shatter me. Would be the end for me, too.”

“Why can’t you just let me love you?” You asked, your voice breaking with emotion as you reached to hold his face, tracing your thumb over lines and freckles that you’d memorized by heart. “It’s all I want…just to love you.”

“Love me,” he rasped back, his eyes dropping to your lips. “Love me.”

You moaned softly, so hushed that Joel had to question whether or not he actually heard it, but your hands tugging him by the collar of his jacket to roll on top of you shooed all doubt in his mind. He let out a soft moan of his own as he slotted his thigh between yours, his hand stroking your hair out of your face as he laid half on top of you, eyes worshipping you in the pale blue of the midnight moon shining through the window.

“We can’t…not with Ellie in the next room,” he warned as he hovered his lips over yours, your lips chasing his. “Don’t let me get carried away with you.”

“Just kiss me,” you breathed out as you pulled him to your lips, a gasped moan spilling from his lips into yours as he gripped your hip so tight it might leave a few bruise marks. You swiped your tongue over his lips and he growled, rolling his hips into yours. You whimpered into his mouth, your fingers tangled in his slowly greying locks, your teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

“God,” he groaned, his hand slipping lower to squeeze your ass. “I missed you so much, my pretty girl…missed you so much.”

“I want you,” you begged breathlessly, grinding yourself against his thigh in hopes of finding some relief. Joel shook his head as his lips found your neck. “Please,” you begged again even more desperately. “I can be quiet.”

“We both know that ain’t true,” he smirked against your skin, seemingly lost in memories of the past when the two of you were free to go at it like wild animals. “But…you can get yourself off on my thigh. Long as you save all those pretty sounds just for me.”

“Fuck,” you moaned into his ear, continuing to roll your hips against his tree-trunk of a thigh. The seam of your jeans caught deliciously against your hyper-sensitive clit, your body buzzing from having the man you lived back in your arms after so long. “Gonna cum,” you warned, earning a squeeze of his hands on your ass and his teeth biting at your neck. “Joel…fuck…I’m…oh,” you spoke through pants until you broke, your hips stuttering against his thigh as your orgasm hit you hard enough to hurt, the violent aftershocks of your euphoria almost too blissful to take.

“There you go,” he praised, kissing your pulse and running his hand up and down the curve of your body. Completely spent, you felt yourself falling back to sleep underneath him, Joel’s warmth and weight your new favorite blanket.

Joel kissed your temple before moving to get up, needing to go back downstairs in order to watch the front door for any intruders. Feeling his warmth leaving you, you tried to reach out and grab him but quickly gave up, your exhaustion triumphing over your desire. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at you, sleeping peacefully with a glow still on your cheeks from your orgasm. You looked so beautiful and delicate, this world failing to get to you, failing to turn you cold and worn down like everybody else. Though he knew this was dangerous—you and him tiptoeing over the line he drew between you—he couldn’t bear to keep himself from you anymore, not now that he got the chance to hold you again.

Leaning down to press one last kiss to your cheek, he pulled your blanket over your body.

“Sleep well, honey,” he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear as he debated speaking the words he’d long been withholding from you. But here, with you fast asleep, he couldn’t stop himself from confessing the truth. “I love you more than anything in the world. I’m sorry I never showed it.”

As Joel grabbed his gun and turned to leave, he heard your voice, soft and husky with sleep.

“I love you, too.”

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absurdthirst · 7 months

Text

Kinktober 2023: October 8th

Day 8: Sex Pollen/Fuck or Die, Chastity, Sexual Competition

Max Lord x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Magic stones, ancient inscriptions, DUB-CON, compulsion to have sex, wordless consent, public sex, frantic sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of biting

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The TV guy has been hanging around for the last few days. Causing a disruption in the everyday workload as the director had pushed for a personalized tour to the CEO of Black Gold since he was promising a sizable donation to the foundation. If there was one thing that could turn your normally stalwart director into a groveling slut, it was the promise of funds.

You hear a booming laugh and roll your eyes. Unsure of what the joke was down the hall, but you know it was Barbara that was giving him the tour so it couldn’t be that funny. Nothing against her, but she wasn’t the joking type. You look back down at your large magnifying glass, looking through it at the inscription etched into the stone that has been a source of intrigue to you over the past few days since it had arrived.

When your name is called, you try not to get annoyed, knowing that your boss would want you to place nice. Looking up and plastering a smile on your face as you watch Barbara and the TV guy, you forget his name, walk in.

Well, she walks. He seemingly saunters in like he owns the place. Perhaps he thinks that because he’s going to write a check, he is an owner.

His eyes are quick, clever. Far more clever that you would imagine seeing those cheesy commercials he always has played on the tv during Jeopardy. The smile you could do without. It’s screaming slightly sleazy, put on and false in order to get what he wants. The only question is, what does Max Lord want?

Introductions are made, Barabara bouncing almost nervously as you shake the salesman’s hand. Pulling your hand away quickly and turning towards her so she can tell you what she wants. She never approaches you unless she needs something. You aren’t one of the posh, beautiful scientists she wants so desperately to be close to.

“Can I ask a favor?” She asks, clapping her hands together and giving you a pleading look. “I have a meeting that I can’t reschedule.” Her eyes flicker over to the suit and then back to you. “Could you please finish up the tour for Mr. Lord?” “Please….” He winces. “Call me Maxwell.” He offers with a sugar sweet smile that he seems to think to be a gift. He’s not bad looking, but he would look better if he took the Sun-in out of his hair and lost the boxy shoulder pads. You were one of the few that hated the way fashion has gone.

“I have a lot to do here.” You protest but Barbara gives you an even more pleading expression. “But…..I can finish it up.” She nearly claps in relief. “After I finish up my work.” You warn seriously.

“Yeah….sure….” She’s bobbing her head quickly and looking over Maxwell. “That’s great. Well, I know you’ll have a great time, so I’ll just run along.”

You ignore the flirting and flustering as Maxwell makes a slight scene at Barbara leaving, kissing her hand and making her giggle like she’s five again. Soon enough, there’s blissful silence back in your lab so you can concentrate.

“So what are you studying?” The question comes after two blissful minutes of silence. Two minutes that you had obviously hoped would be longer. Your eyes cut up from your magnifying glass to find Maxwell looking at the stone curiously.

“A rock.” You glibly answer, keeping your tone just as dry as you possibly can. Barely resisting the urge to smirk when his grin slides off his unfairly handsome face.

Maybe you feel a little guilty, but it’s not enough to make you apologize as you look back down at the inscription with a frown. While your Latin was rusty, you swear this is talking about fertility. Just as you tilt the glass down more, a finger appears in front of your magnifying glass, making it look even larger than normal, showing you the grooves in his skin. “What’s-”

“No!” You cry out, knowing that the stone cannot be touched without gloves. The instructions had been very clear in the crate that the stone was packed in. “Don’t touch it!”

Your fingers collide, both of you touching the vivid jade stone at the same time. The piece seemingly glows at the contact and both of you gasp as you snatch your hands away, knocking over the magnifying glass.

The next few moments are nothing short of a blur of pain and confusion. Nearly blacking out until a pair of lips smash against yours in the most inelegant, needy kiss of your life.

“Ohhhh!” Your eyes fly open, finding Maxwell’s face right in yours and his mouth opens, groaning.

“I can’t- I need-” He doesn’t stop kissing you, his words are just cut off by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Your tongue. The feeling of him pressing against you awakening something base inside you.

You don’t know why, but you need him. The word fertility flashing in your mind and you push it away because of the burning of your skin and the throbbing of your cunt.

He apparently feels the same way. Something hard and pulsing starts to push against your hip as he backs you up against the table you had been working at. Nothing but fervent kisses being exchanged, and his hands start to pull at your clothes.

You never even think to push him away. It doesn’t even cross your mind. Too busy grabbing handfuls of him and ripping open the obvious faux Gucci belt so you can rip those ridiculously baggy pants off of him.

His hands are bigger, harder than you ever would have imagined when watching those commercials of his. Wonderful on your skin as he slides them up your thighs under your skirt. Hot as find the edge of your panties and hooking under them to start dragging them down.

It’s not like you’ve talked about this, but neither one of you cares. Both of you groaning when your own hand dives into his briefs and wraps around an impressive cock. He hides it well under those bulky suits.

Both of you need each other in a way that can’t even be described. The pain flaring in your stomach drives you, squeezing and pumping his cock, pulling back the foreskin and smearing the bead of precum around the head while he pants into your mouth.

Your name, not even spoken by him before, sounds like ambrosia as it drips from his tongue. His own fingers sliding through your folds before he is pushing you up onto the table and spreading your legs to step between.

Your cry would draw any number of personnel if there had been anyone. It had already been late in the day, and then the meeting had drawn everyone else away, leaving your floor empty with the exception of you and Maxwell. “Max!” Your eyes widen when he pushes inside you, filling you to the hilt with a needy, frantic thrust.

He groans again, twitching violently inside you and gripping the edge of the table behind you. Pulling his hips back and shuddering when he thrusts forward again and moans at how tight you are.

Rocking the table with how hard he’s fucking you, you can’t do anyting but hold on and whine for him. Every piercing thrust of his cock pushing the pain away and making your cunt feel amazing. Hitting all the best spots, deep inside you and scratching an itch you didn’t know you had.

Kisses are littered on your skin, his teeth being used far more that you ever thought possible as a man fucks into you as frantically as Maxwell does. Chasing that same goal with the urgency that is burning underneath your own skin. Both of you pulling and grabbing at each other, clothes bunched between you as you grind your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“I didn’t- fuck, it’s so good.” Maxwell rambles. “You’re so good. I can’t - it’s so- fuck.”

You can only moan in agreement, not even coherent enough to speak right now. Your entire focus on the connection of his cock in your pussy.

Your body is so sensitive that you are shocked by how quickly you cum. Taking you by surprise as your head falls back and your hands hold onto his broad shoulders. Cunt clenching down around him and the heat of your orgasm rushing through your body and seemingly quenching that fire that had been burning since you touched the stone only minutes before.

“Oh fuck, oh mierda.” He groans, clenching his teeth and shouting when he thrusts once more, pulsing heavily inside you as he paints your womb with his seed in hot spurts. Panting and whining as he rocks his hips to push every drop into your quivering cunt until he’s spent and collapsing against you and both of you drop to the table top.

Gasping for air, you try to catch your breath as you roll your head to the side and feel Max nuzzle against your neck, his own breath still undstead. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the stone. “What the fuck was that?” You ask, bewildered and almost giggly as you look at the fertility stone that had compelled both of you to fuck like wild animals in your lab.

“I don’t know.” He pants. “But I might need a minute if we do it again.”

Breaking into a giggle, your hand slides up to pet the hair that you had been snorting at earlier. Maybe Max Lord wasn’t soooo bad. “Hell of a tour, huh?”

“Fuck.” He chuckles, still not moving on top of you and snuggling into you even more when your fingers scratch his scalp. “The best.”

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #maxwell lord x f!reader #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord imagine #maxwell lord fanfiction #max lord x reader #max lord x you #max lord x f!reader #max lord smut #max lord imagine #max lord fanfiction #max lord ww84

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daisies-and-domming · 2 years

Note

Hey!! Would you do a sub!billy hargrove/dom!reader smut? Thank u <3

Boy Next Door (NSFW)

S3 spoilers in my author’s note, and vague reference to how S2 ends!!

Summary: You’ve lived in the trailer park nearly your entire life, long enough to know that nothing in Hawkins was ever normal. So when the new king of the school starts dropping by your trailer at ungodly hours, you don’t even blink - why would you? Weirder shit’s happened here, and you’re certainly not complaining either, not when the king decides to get on his knees for you.

Warnings: swearing, smut, dom!reader, reader has an undefined hole, p in said undefined hole, sub!billy, oral (reader receiving), frottage(?), edging, praise, little bits of degradation (reader calls billy “slut” and talks condescendingly at some points), unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it kids!!), a lil bit of a breeding kink, billy likes when reader pulls on his hair <3

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

Oh my god anon I didn’t know I needed sub!billy until you sent this in and now I’m scouring the website for more… I’m a whore for subby men, what can I say 🤷 He’s a little ooc but I firmly believe that billy is secretly a soft with people he trusts - sure, he’s mean to max, but I think that’s because he doesn’t want her involved in his life of alcohol and flirting - and I’ll die on that hill. This is set between S2 and S3, but in my universe billy doesn’t die during S3 anyways because I’m the author and I said so >:O Anyways, I had so much fun writing this, thank you for the request!! It takes like 1000 words to get to the smut, I’m so sorry ;-; But the smut is like 2000 some words, so hopefully that makes up for it ahaha I went batshit

– – –

You’ve lived in this dinghy trailer park in the middle of nowhere, Indiana, your entire conscious life. When your parents were really drunk (which, in all honesty, was far more often than you were willing to admit) they would talk about their “golden days”: when your parents were something other than full-time alcoholics, living in the suburbs of Cleveland in a nice neighbourhood. You were told you were born there, in that nice suburb house near the coast of one of the great lakes, but you’ve never had the nerve to ask what happened that landed them here, in Hawkins.

But Ohio was none of your concern now. There were supernatural beings practically on your doorstep and the only people that seemed to care were the children that your friend Steve seemingly adopted, which would make for a good movie. But the fact that a ragtag bunch of kids were the ones saving your very real world left a nauseating pit in your stomach. Sure, the angry buzz cut kid who they called “Eleven” put an end to the last thing that came after Hawkins, but something tells you this was just the beginning. No matter. At the moment, you had bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that there’s a soft knocking on your door, despite the little analog clock reading a blinking “2:34am”.

Peering through the peephole, a clearly drunk Billy Hargrove stood, wobbling slightly. You’d seen him around school - it’s hard not to when he drives a flashy car and insists on poking at Steve - but certainly hadn’t spoken to him before. Opening the door slightly, you make eye contact with the man in question.

“Hi,” you say, tentatively. “Can I help you?”

“l/n!!” he slurs, eyes lighting up. “What’re y’doin in my trailer?”

You frown at him. “This is where I live, dipshit. Your trailer is more than a few down.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” he said, nudging at you. “Lemme in, will ya?”

You stood firm, skeptical. “Why should I?”

“Because,” he drawls. “You’re pretty, I’m pretty, we should do pretty people stuff together.”

You snort, but move to the side. You didn’t know what his home life was like, but, nevertheless, sending him away in the middle of the night, piss drunk, was dumb. If he had gotten hurt on the way back to his trailer because you had sent him away you would never forgive yourself. Sure, he seemed like a pretentious douchebag, but even pretentious douchebags deserve a chance. Besides, the ‘rents were out, which meant there wouldn’t be any “did you use protection?” or “you aren’t pregnant, are you?” questions the following morning.

“l/n,” Billy whined out, making you turn in time to see him flop onto your couch. “Why aren’t we doin’ pretty people stuff yet?”

You shut and lock the door, plopping yourself down on the floor in front of the couch in an attempt to set an unspoken boundary. “Because you’re drunk. You’re welcome to come over here sober some time and try this whole song and dance then, but I believe in full consent when doin’ that tango. You’re inebriated, so no ‘pretty people stuff’ for you tonight.”

He whined dramatically. “But that’s half the fun of getting drunk!!”

“God, you’re really drunk,” you say, wrinkling your nose at the smell. “We can talk if you want, but you’re not getting any tonight, lover boy.”

“Ooooh, you wanna hear about the crazy shit that Tina did at the party today??” – – –

This became a recurring event. Billy would go out and party, then come over, drunk out of his mind and strangely soft. You had learned a lot about him - about Max (who he seemed to truly care about, despite how he acted when sober), about his dickhead father, about his mother, about why he drowned himself in people and alcohol all the time. You weren’t sure why he chose to keep dropping by, but you weren’t too perturbed. In any other situation, you might even consider him your friend. But, you remind yourself, he’s always drunk or high or some combination of the two. You don’t make friends when you’re drunk. And you certainly don’t fall for them, either.

A knock resonated at your door and you froze, staring at the clock. It was 3:24pm on a Saturday afternoon, unless Steve had decided to give you a surprise visit there should be no one at the door.

“l/n! Open the goddamn door,” a voice rang out, one that you recognized immediately. “I don’t have all goddamn day!”

You stumble to the door, opening it embarrassingly quickly. “Hi???”

“Hey,” he said, shoving his way past you.

“Wait wait wait,” you said, spinning around to him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What I normally do, dickbag,” Billy said, refusing to make eye contact. “We gonna talk or what?”

You close the door gently, clicking the lock almost tentatively. “You’re sober.”

A flash of hurt crossed his face, but he quickly covered it up. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“That - that’s not what I’m saying!” you exclaimed, exasperated. “I just - I kinda figured you didn’t want to talk to me, normally. I’m not exactly your usual crowd.”

He groaned, running a hand over his face. “Look - how do I say this? I… don’t think you’re that shitty, or whatever. Sure, Tina’s a hot piece of ass, but if I tried to actually, I don’t fucking know, talk to her, she’d just laugh and tell me to ‘shut up’ or somethin’.”

“I don’t think you’re that shitty, either,” you say, slowly. “Is that all you wanted to talk about…? We could’ve done this on the porch.”

“It’s a trailer, there’s no goddamn porch,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes but still not making eye contact with you.

“You’re dodging,” you say, walking over to him and crowding him a bit. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I don’t want to go back home,” he said bluntly, still dodging your prying eyes. “Deadbeat dad is on a rampage again. Dropped Max off at the arcade and found myself here.”

You blink up at him and back up a bit, feeling awful for prying. “Shit man - sorry I pushed you. You’re welcome here whenever you want to escape your place, sober or not. Or if you just want to come over. You can bring Max, too, she seems nice!! My ‘rents are never around, like ever, and even when they are they’re drunk and hiding in their room, and there’s a key under the doormat in the back if you need an escape and I’m not here - though I’d be careful about my parents, they get pretty drunk sometimes too, it’s not pretty. That’s not the point though! Point is, you’re always welcome, I’m sorry for prying-”

He pushed you to the couch, a small smile on his face, and were his eyes a little teary?? “Shut up, loser. I got it, I’m welcome to be here. Not shocked, though, people love me, of course you’d want me around.”

You roll your eyes at his smirk, trying to tug him down to the couch. However, you hadn’t anticipated him resisting, and your knee jerk reaction was to just yank. He stumbled and landed on top of you, knees straddling your legs. He blinks at you, owlishly, face flushed and pupils beginning to dilate.

You grin up at him, jokingly winking. “Just where I wanted you, baby.”

“Can I- can I take you up on your previous offer?” he said, voice lacking its usual bravado and confidence.

“Previous offer as in…?”

“Sex,” he said, straightforward. “You said if I was sober we could fuck.”

“What eloquence, Mr. Hargrove,” you said. “And I believe we referred to it as ‘pretty people stuff.’”

“That’s a yes, yeah?” he said, hands resting on the couch on either side of your head.

“Aw, look at you, asking for consent,” you said, grinning up at him deviously. “Mmm…maybe if you beg me.”

He looked at you, incredulous. “If you think I’ll ever beg for something, you’ve got something coming-”

You cut him off, pulling him down into a harsh kiss. He groaned into the kiss, grinding down into your clothed sex. When he pulls away, he smirks down at you, cocky.

“You’re going to be the one begging for me, babe,” he said, head tilting. “So how ‘bout we hear it, hm?”

Well that wouldn’t do. Using all your strength, you flip your positions, grinding down on him once you’ve settled above him.

“If we’re doing this, baby boy,” you said, sultry. “We’re doing this my way, got it?”

You could see the struggle in his eyes, and began to grind down on him lightly.

“Come on, sweet thing,” you murmured against his lips, rolling your hips in a way that had his eyes rolling back. “You can be good for me, can’t you?”

“Mm- yeah, yes, I can be good for you,” he groaned. “Now get on with it, will you?”

You frown at him, faux pouting. “Thought you were gonna be good. But that’s fine, we can play that game, I don’t mind.”

He opened his mouth to object but was cut off when your grinding turned harsh and fast, his words turning into a breathy moan. He slapped a hand over his mouth but you weren’t having it.

“Listen here, Hargrove,” you growled. “You’re going to let me hear those pretty little sounds or you’re not going to come. Understand?”

“No way in hell-”

You reach a hand down to his straining cock and squeeze, hard, revelling in the way his head rolls back and his hips jerk up into your hand. His mouth opens and closes uselessly, and you lean your weight onto your knees so you can shove your fingers that aren’t cradling his cock right down his throat. He gags, eyes glazed and unfocused.

“God, look at you,” you groan, voice strained. “Made for this, made for me to use, huh?”

He tries to respond but all that comes out are choked moans, drool dribbling down his chin as he gags on your fingers. You other hand kickstarts, rubbing him not-so-nicely through his pants. He looked gorgeous like this: choking on your fingers, eyes unfocused, hips bucking uncontrollably into your harsh touches. God, you just want to drown yourself in the feeling of the power you had over this man, this man who insisted on so much control in his everyday life. But here he was, on your couch, gagging on your fingers like he never wanted anything else.

His bucking gets more erratic and his breaths get shorter, signalling an incoming orgasm. You paw at his cock a little harder, removing your fingers from down his throat so you could hear him when you tear his orgasm away from him.

“You wanna cum, baby?” you coo, letting your hips take over for your hand and grinding down on his clothed erection. “Wanna cum for me?”

“Yeah - gonna cum, gonna cum, let me cum-”

“No.”

His hips jolt upwards as you lift yourself from his lap, chasing after your heat. You smirk sadistically at him, chuckling at the glare he gives you in exchange for your denial.

“What the fuck?!” he yells, hands clenching at his sides (but not moving to change his predicament, you noted). “I was so fucking close, why would you-”

You put a finger on his lips, shushing him. “You were a brat earlier, so I’m treating you like one. Maybe if you get me off I will consider letting you come.”

“Yeah?” he said, still panting from his lost orgasm. “Yeah, I can fuckin’ do that.”

“Good,” you say, getting up. “Get on your knees in front of the couch.”

He snorted at first, but his face contorted when he realised you were serious. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? You’re not going to get me on my knees, sweetheart.”

“Then you’re not going to cum,” you said matter-of-factly. “Eat me out on your knees like the little slut you are or you don’t get to cum.”

His nose scrunched up angrily but he moved to get down in front of the couch. “There. That make your sick little heart happy?”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a mouthy brat we wouldn’t be here in the first place,” you said, discarding your pants and undergarments god knows where. “Don’t touch without permission, m’kay?”

He growled but kept his hands obediently at his side. In spite of all his back talk, Billy didn’t ever make a move to take control. He wants this, you realise, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

“How cute,” you coo, pinching his cheek as you settle yourself in front of him. “Now eat me out - no hands though, baby. Just put your pretty little mouth to better use for me, mhm?”

He begrudgingly folds his hands behind his back and buries himself in your hole. Your head rolls back, a low groan escaping your mouth. If he wasn’t drowning himself in you he might see your composure slipping, but he seemed just as out of it as you. Hips jerking up into nothing, hands clasped behind his back, face red and teary, Billy looked like so fucking good that you felt yourself clenching around his tongue, rolling your hips into his lapping.

“God… so good with that tongue, baby, shit - keep doing that, y-yeah, just like that,” you blabber out, a hand flying to grip at his hair. You give an experimental tug and grin when he moans, breathy and high.

“Y-yeah? You want me to tug on your - ngh - hair? Shove you deeper into me?” you say, chuckling lowly when he nods into you. “Your wish is my command, sweet thing.”

You could feel your orgasm drawing nearer as Billy’s talented tongue ruined your insides. His movements were precise, even without the use of his hands, and when he nicked your sweet spot you came, clamping your thighs around his head as you tugged harshly on his hair.

Panting, you try to regain enough composure to address Billy. “God, sweetheart, your so fucking good with your tongue.”

“Yeah?” he said, tone cocky despite the straining bulge in his jeans. “You gonna let me use you now? I know you want it darlin’, you can’t keep pretending to have contr - mph!”

You yanked him up in a kiss, effectively shutting him up. Your legs were a little shaky from your previous orgasm but you were stubborn: there’s no way in hell after all this you would give Billy the satisfaction of fucking into you.

“Get on the goddamn couch,” you said, panting as you pulled away. “I’m going to ride you until all you can think of is me.”

“Fuck, pretty thing,” he groans, dropping onto the couch. “You better hold true to that or I might have to take over.”

“If you think you have a say in how this goes you’re dead wrong,” you said, straddling his hips. “You don’t cum until I say, got it baby?”

“Easy peasy,” he said, ever the fucking brat. “Think you can hold it sweets? Because I can guarantee that you’ll be creaming around my cock in no time.”

“Mhm,” you murmur, unimpressed as you help him wiggle out of his jeans and underwear. “Whatever you need to help you sleep at night.”

“You scared you can’t take it - shit!” he moans, cock twitching as you sink down on him in one slide. “Fuck, you gotta give a man a warning-”

You don’t. Bouncing up and down on his cock at a harsh pace, your trailer is filled with the lewd sound of skin slapping skin. You’re sure the neighbours can tell what you two are doing - hell, the whole trailer park probably knew - but you didn’t have the heart to care. His cock stretched you wide, so goddamn girthy that every bounce had white bouncing at the edge of your vision.

Billy wasn’t much better. He had a death grip on your hips, finger-shaped bruises already forming. Tongue sticking out, eye half-lidded and staring up at you reverently, Billy was a fucked out mess already and you’d just started.

“Mmngh, feelin’ good, pretty boy? God… just look at you, takin’ - ungh - t-takin’ it so goddamn well, shit,” you said, still slamming yourself down on his cock like your life depended on it.

“Mmm, fuck, please, please please please-”

You couldn’t even tell what he was begging for anymore. “What do you - ngh - what do you need, babe - fuck, just like that pretty thing - huh? Got to be specific, darlin’ - god…”

“Cum,” he moans out, eyes shut tightly as he bucks into you. “Need t’ fuckin’ cum!”

You clench around him as he bucks, eyes rolling back a bit. “Ngh, yeah? You wanna cum? Wanna fill my pretty little hole - ahn, do that again, jesus - fill my pretty little hole with your cum?”

“Yeah, shit. Gonna let me?”

“Mhmm, I don’t know…” you said, pretending to ponder like you weren’t desperate to feel him fill you up. “Have you been - jesus fucking christ - have you been good?”

“‘ve been good!!” he wails, eyes teary as he stares up at you. “Been so good, such a good boy, please let me cum, please, jus’ wanna be you good boy, please please please!”

Your eyes roll back. Fuck, you hadn’t expected him to beg in return. Slowing down a bit, your bounces send him slow and deep, causing you to clench. His eyes cross and his grip on the couch turns his knuckles white, trying so goddamn hard to hold himself back.

“You can cum,” you groan, his cock rutting against your sweet spot just right. “You can cum, baby, cum with me, want you to cum with me-”

Your vision goes white and you clench, gripping his cock harshly. He near screams, fucking himself up into you as he came. You both melt into each other, a panting, post-orgasm mess tangled on the couch. When your brain was finally back online, you winch, gently sliding his softened cock out of you.

“Fuck, really did a number on me,” Billy murmured, ragdolled on the couch looking like he never wanted to move. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Fuck off, Hargrove,” you say, trying your best to walk (or waddle, rather) your way to the kitchen to start cleaning off.

“You love me and you know it!”

You roll your eyes, grabbing a washcloth and dampening it. God, he was such a doofus. You couldn’t believe that the rest of the school considered him the king, but maybe your friendship was something special. You sure hoped so - you were certain he wasn’t just submitting himself to anyone, after all.

“Where the fuck did you go, dickhead? The great Billy Hargrove demands cuddles!”

God, he was such a dork sometimes. You snort, but make your way back to the living room, water bottle and damp washcloth in hand.

“Have patience, great Billy,” you said, handing him the water bottle before gently cleaning him up. “Great things come for those who wait.”

“Oh shut up,” he said, melting into your touch. “I didn’t come here for you to philosophise.”

“Course, course,” you say, jokingly. “Okay, all done. Let’s pick up all our shit and go to my room, yeah? Really don’t want my parents to come home and find us naked in the living room.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re boring,” he jokes, wobbly as he stands to help you grab your discarded clothes. “Half the fun is getting caught.”

“Perv,” you shot back.

“Says the one who rode me on their parents' couch.”

“Ew!! Don’t fucking say that, I don’t want to think about my parents in the afterglow!”

“You’re the one who brought them up!” “Yeah, because I don’t want them involved in my post-orgasmic haze!!” you say, exasperated. “Cmon, this way.”

Dumping your clothes unceremoniously on the floor, you lock the door and drag Billy towards your bed. Wordlessly, the two of you melt into each other. You’d worry about sneaking him out under your parents’ radar later - right now, you had much more pressing concerns.

Word Count: 3374

#stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove stranger things #dom!reader #dom reader #sub!billy #Sub billy #sub!billy hargrove #sub billy hargrove #holy fucking shit #i'm such a simp sometimes jesus

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

History Might Have Forgotten

Summary: A new storyteller appears at Alhaitham’s favorite cafe, and you seem to like to pick his brain about reading between the lines.

Word count: 4.2k (The longest one I’ve ever written)

Tags: gn reader x alhaitham, sfw, slow burn, lore heavy (kinda), spoilers for archon quest, just alhaitham being difficult to get along with as usual. Kaveh just here for moral support. I did use in-game dialogue from their post on the cafe message board. Written before 3.4, so some things might be inaccurate later on.

Authors Note: Sorry if the fairytales are kinda wack, I tried to make my own. Also, I looked at a bunch of lore about sumeru and the scarlet king and goddess of flowers and just decided to run with it. Def not pure canon, but I hope you still enjoy!

“There once was a time when the lord of flowers had accompanied the lord of the forest into the depths of the irminsul, curious about the root of all knowledge in Teyvat. Its bright white branches stretched seemingly endlessly, throughout the realm. She was unprepared for the dull reality of waiting for her friend to finish her sacred tasks of looking after the irminsul.

Looking around at the knowledge that flowed like a gentle sinkhole towards the tree of the world, whose white branches reflected off the calm pool, the lord of flowers felt the itch to get up and perform a dance.

Perhaps dancing shall make the time pass by faster, and with that thought, the goddess of flowers closed her eyes letting the beat of imaginary music flow through her divine body.

Each elegant step, each precise glide of her hands, each graceful twirl faithfully followed by the reflection in the pool of knowledge. Her dance so captivating that the lord of the forest could not help but stop and admire her friend’s dance, as an avatar of the irminsul, she could feel that the sacred tree was also pleased with this performance.

As the lord of flowers knelt one knee to the ground in a bow, signifying the end of the show…

There was the echo of a drop hitting the waters still surface, followed by a violent rush of water as the surface tension broke, then stillness once more.

A Jinn came into existence. Its birth was witnessed by the lord of the forest and the lord of flowers whom the Jinn mirrored in beauty.

‘It appears irminsul loved your performance so much, it wanted to create an avatar from your reflection.’ The forest lord interpreted the message from the world tree.

‘A gift of the highest honor.’ The goddess of flowers spoke, gently caressing the locks which framed the Jinn’s gaze that looked not into her eyes, but into the depths of her heart.”

‘What a ridiculous tall tale’, the scribe thought as he took a sip of coffee.

Teal eyes peering over his cup, in place of where Maddah, the caffeine-addicted man, usually was, stood a fresh face. He remembers Kaveh rambling about how Maddah’s material had become so stale, the owners at Puspa Cafe had invited a wandering storyteller.

Instead of the exaggerated legends of great battles, lost treasure, and towering monsters told by the jittery man. These stories were different, it was as if the storyteller was painting a scenery into the minds of the listener, slowly immersing them into a mental play. However, as a man of reason, Alhaitham found it hard to ignore the glaring inaccuracies in the stories.

In the largest expanse of ancient text and scripts of kingdoms gone, there was no mention of such a Jinn. As he thought about the sources of this tale, calm applause rippled through the homely corner of the cafe.

You had finished telling your tales for the day, a serene smile thanking your listeners as you headed towards the acting manager. A bit eager to collect your payment in the form of a warm meal and a few mora. It had only been a week since the manager approached your street performance near the Grand Bazaar, seemly desperate to invite you to perform at Puspa Cafe.

Who were you to pass up such a cushy opportunity? A hot meal and a steady stream of mora were more than you could ever ask for. You brought forth your best stories, where one story ended, the next began. However, you would always stop after introducing the next story, ensuring that the anticipation drew your listeners back like bees to a sweet flower.

Upon your way to settle down at a table to await your meal, the peaceful atmosphere of the cafe was shattered by two bickering voices.

“And that is exactly why I've always despised materialists like you. Art is a precious fruit of leisure. You can't compare it to production and exploitation for commercial purposes!” A blond man exclaimed.

“Leisurely people are like people walking on a spherical ground, they don't exist. Why don't you use your brain and think for a moment? Can the production of anything exist without commercial exchange?” Was the rebuttal from an ashen-haired man.

Oh, and you thought you were supposed to be the entertainment as people dined on their coffee and meals. The clash of wits playing out in front of everyone’s amused glances, something about the reactions of the other patrons told you this was a regular occurrence.

“Have you no understanding of what passion is? Passion comes within the heart, not the cold machine of commercialism!”

“Passion is like a fire, without anything to feed it. It soon will flicker weakly before burning out into ashes. How can any passion survive without mora?”

“Ugh! I cannot bare to listen to your mangled views of art!”

“Great, shall I take that as a sign that you have found new lodging?”

“How low will you stoop, Scribe??”

“Excuse me.”

Both of their heads snapped toward you, the person who had interfered with their debate. However, your interest could not help but be peeked by the discussion of this comical scene. You had abandoned your original plans of settling down, instead, you had wandered toward this lively table.

As a supporter of art yourself, you felt the need to come to the blond man’s defense, seeing how his lack of composure is leading him down the path of defeat.

“Apologies, if I am intruding. However, this discussion is far too interesting to not join. May I give my thoughts?”

The blond man shifted his position at the table, opening up room for you to sit down.

“Please be my guest, storyteller. Please educate this materialistic man about the basics of human leisure.”

Placing yourself in front of the ashen-haired man, you made sure to keep your back straight to give yourself an air of confidence. You began your surrebutter.

“While it is true that an aspect of art is tied to commercialism, the true value cannot be fully measured. It cannot be counted like mora, nor measured by a sexton. Thus, causing many scholars to brush art off as a frivolous waste of time. But the value of art can be felt, no? From the layout of this cafe, to the spines of books, to the print of the words. It’s all art.”

The man in front of you just returned a scoff. Oh, you knew you were in for a long debate now.

Throughout the drawn-out debate, you had gained key information about the two gentlemen that had welcomed you to their table. The blond man’s name was Kaveh, the famous architect and fellow lover of the arts. The ashen-haired man, with whom you were engaged in continuous rounds of rebuttals, was the scribe of the Akademiya, Alhaitham. A stubborn and rational man, you concluded. Unfortunately for him, you can be just as self-willed.

“As I have stated before. Art holds more than just monetary value, dear scribe. As a graduate of Haravatat, you should know that many of the texts you translated over your studies were preserved by storytellers and artists who first pasted them down in oral tradition, followed by written script and murals.” You signed.

“That is exactly why we students had to be wary of the inaccuracies and inconsistencies riddled all throughout those texts. Just like with the tale you told earlier, there is no record of such a Jinn existing before, such a significant creation by the sacred tree will most certainly be recorded somewhere. The history that they record is so twisted by biases and failure of human memory, it is rare to gain anything of significant value from them.”

“Oh my, dear scribe were you by chance equating the existence of a character in a folktale correlates with a physical being?” You tried to stifle your snicker.

“I did not expect you to have such a cute side. I heard that the children in Mondstadt do the same, believing that a man in a red suit will slide down their chimney to give them wonderful little toys. Were you disappointed?”

Alhaitham narrowed his teal eyes at you in a slight glare. “You know what I mean. There seem to not be any mention of this Jinn in other Sumerian folktales.”

You couldn’t help the urge to tease him, but you could feel that he did not seem to want to continue the debate after hearing the cackle coming out of his roommate from your little jest.

“Yes, yes I was just jesting, dear scribe. Please don’t be disappointed. The Jinn could be an analogy of the bond formed between the lord of the forest and the lord of the flowers.” You stood up from your seat.

Your food had long been eaten, his coffee had long been left untouched. You were at the moment considered an employee of Puspa Cafe in a way, thus you shouldn’t be upsetting the customers now.

“Let us conclude this debate for today. I believe I have taken enough of your time, gentlemen. How about we continue this discussion another day? Perhaps over a meal again?” You gave him a smile mixed with customer service and genuine hopefulness.

“Another time?” Alhaitham scoffed, “you want this debate to drag out?”

“Of course,” you noted that he likes to scoff a lot (must be his ego). “It’s to ensure that you will come back to listen to my stories again, maybe you will learn something new. After all, I have to prove to you and the acting manager my ‘commercial value’ no?”

The tall man simply crossed his arms over his chest, an unreadable expression on his face. However, something in his eyes gave you the hint that you needed to confidently conclude, ‘he’ll be back’. After all, no scholar in your experience would ever turn down an opportunity to gain a new piece of wisdom.

“I shall take my leave now, I bid you all goodnight. Until the next time we meet.”

Alhaitham’s eyes followed your figure as you ambled your way toward the acting manager to bid her goodnight, before exiting from the intricately painted door of the cafe, your features highlighted by the warm hues of the setting sun. Once your frame disappeared from his field of view, the scribe realized an error in his interaction with you.

There was an unequal exchange of information, from Kaveh’s blabbering mouth you had gained knowledge of their names, studies, and employment. Meanwhile, Alhaitham could not recall a time during tonight when you had given him your name, all they knew was that you were a wandering storyteller.

‘Oh well, it’s trivial at this point.’ He did not even want to imagine how ridiculous a scene would be of the grand scribe chasing down someone simply for a name.

‘This unequal exchange of information will be balanced out in due time.’ He finished the rest of his cold coffee, unphased by the bitter taste. As if a thought was distracting his mind from the taste. Or was it the sweet anticipation of a future meeting that had mellowed out that bitterness?

Good refreshing debates that stimulate his mind were rare to come by, of course, he would want to take this chance to polish his knowledge and beliefs.

The moon chased the sun away, then the sun chased the moon away from its place in the sky. Thus, a new day came forth.

It was five o’clock sharp when Alhaitham placed his pen down, the report in his hand half finished. However, it was no longer his responsibility for the day as dictated by the hands of the grandfather clock in his office. Tidying up his desk and taking his cape off the back of his chair, he knew he had to be quick so as to not run into an Akademiya intern with another mountain of paperwork to place on his oak desk.

Since the removal of Azar and his group of corrupted sages, as well as the reinstitution of their archon, the piles of paperwork that ended up on his desk only grew exponentially. But, Alhaitham made sure that the paperwork trail will not follow him once he step foot outside his office doors. He made sure to clearly post his working hours right outside his door, it was not his fault that esteemed scholars seem to not be able to read his posting.

He had arrived at his office at nine o’clock in the morning, worked a full day at his desk reading new research proposals, applications for open positions, and signing off on new amendments issued by the lesser lord. Now that the clock now reads a minute past five, he had concluded that it was enough work for the day. It was not like the entire Akademiya would collapse without their acting grand sage for the night, though he preferred to not have that title.

Taking long strides across the marble floors of the Akademiya floors, Alhaitham made sure to avoid the searching eyes of others, especially if they happened to be carrying a stack of paper. Exiting out of the grand doors of the building and continuing down the winding path, allowing his skin to get used to the sudden change from the cool crisp air of his office, to the warm afternoon breeze typical of Sumeru. Thus, he began his routine journey toward a certain cafe.

The moment he pushed open the door to the cafe, he could see the staff take one look at him, then start to prepare his order. There was no need for him to speak a word to any of them as he made his way to his preferred table. The familiar faces of other patrons were all around, more to join as they were still making their way from work to the cafe, the same smell of coffee and samosas wafting through the air. The only change seemed to be that Maddah was not standing in the center of the collection of tables.

In that spot stood you, the nameless storyteller who recently had just arrived, and the person patient (willing) enough to want to continue a debate with him.

“Thank you all for coming back to hear my stories tonight, “ you began as soon as the last table was occupied.

“The tale I wish to tell tonight may be a bit different, as I believe it holds a small mystery. Will you be able to decipher it?”

Alhaitham could feel the weight of your gaze upon him as you questioned the audience. He simply decided to blow off the steam from the coffee that had just been placed on his table, the white vapors bending and warping his view of you.

“There once was a dove, young and as soft as padisarah petals. It had a lovely coo, which earned the dove the favor of the goddess of flowers.

‘What a lovely thing you are, just as the same as I. Oh, my little dove will you coo for me?’ The goddess stroked its down feathers.”

Taking sips of his dark coffee in intervals as he watched you perform, Alhaitham could not help but find the story childish. Certainly not befitting of a cafe frequented by working adults, and yet here you were captivating a room full of weary grown-ups with a children’s tale. It must be your gestures and facial expressions that drew the audience in.

At this point in the story, it seems to have been established that the dove would only coo about the events of the goddess’s day truthfully. One day, the lord of flowers must have grown tired of its cooing and left the dove on a branch, promising to come back for it. Then came a group of children.

“‘Little dove, little dove, sing us a tale!’ They cheered.

So the dove, chest puffed with a sense of being wanted, sang the details of the day lived by its goddess. However, halfway through the children began to walk away.

‘Wait, wait!’ The dove cried. ‘I have not finished.’

‘No more! Your tales are far too boring.’

‘Boring?’ Thought the dove, ‘but it’s the truth.’

Alone once more the dove gaze longingly at the marketplace in front of it. Eyes peeled for the goddess that promised to return.

It watched a child drop a piece of flatbread which was then swiftly picked up by a mouse. A cat ran away from a dog that yapped nonstop. Merchants calling people over to their stalls, blacksmiths wiping the sweat from their eyes, and a sumpter beast resting near the edge.

An idea strung into the mind of the dove, as it used its wings to find the children.

‘Children! I have a new tale to tell, oh will you please listen to it?’

Resting on the lap of one of the children, the dove began.

‘There once was a mouse who followed the crumbs of bread left by a small child, straight into the watchful eyes of a cat! With a squeak, the mouse ran from the cat as the feline gave chase.

Only for the cat to step upon the tail of a dog, who howled in pain, then began running after the cat who ran after the mouse. The dog’s clumsy body knocked over a basket of spices that belonged to a merchant, causing the man to let out a cry of despair at his lost profits as he began to chase the dog who ran after the cat who was still running after the mouse.

The merchant in his rage failed to see the blacksmith, bumping into his arm causing the large man to brand himself with hot iron. The large man roared in pain, then began chasing the merchant who pursued the dog, who ran after the cat, who was hunting the mouse.

The blacksmith, still nursing his wound, stepped on the head of a sumptering beast, who raged after being awoken from its nap and began charging at the blacksmith, who ran as quickly as he could, causing the merchant to run faster. When the dog saw that the merchant was getting closer, he began to prance faster toward the cat, who let out a hiss as she ran after the mouse who still had the crumb in its mouth.’

Finishing the tale, the dove heard laughter ring out from the children.

‘What a wondrous tale,’ a familiar voice called out.

It was the goddess, who had returned to search for the little dove and wound up hearing the tale as well.

‘My little dove, will you coo more tales like this for me?’

Thus, from that day onwards the little dove would coo tales that brought new curiosity to the court where three friends met.”

You brought your hands in front of your torso, signaling the end of the story. Giving a slight bow as the patrons began to clap.

“So, can anyone guess what this story was trying to explain?” You finally revealed the question to the audience.

A chorus of answers began to ring out from eager scholars and nonscholars alike wanting to test their wisdom.

“Is it an analogy for how lies are more beautiful than truth?”

“No, it must be symbolizing the corruption of truth due to pressure!”

“Was it a warning to entertainers that if their patron gets tired of their ‘coo’, they’ll be abandoned?”

“No, mmm not quite, my that is a dark interpretation. Are you by chance okay, sir Maddah?”

As the ensemble of interpretations dragged on, you could tell the crowd was slowly moving toward the answer you were looking for.

“Oh! I know it! The story seeks to depict the origin of storytelling!” Kaveh exclaimed, one can only wonder when he had sat down at Alhaitham’s table and began ordering meals and drinks on the former scribe’s tab.

“Yes! Excellent! I knew a fellow aesthete would get the unwritten meaning!” You clapped and looked toward the blond man with a smile.

Great, you just inflated his roommate’s already overbearing ego. He could already see that baseless confidence travel its way up Kaveh’s face as he proudly huffed. After you had thanked the audience for being wonder listeners and for participating in your little mystery, you made your way to their table.

“So, what did you think of the story? Did you find its hidden meaning?” You sat down right in front of him, in the same spot as yesterday.

“Oh? Like what, how oral recordings of history become so marred and twisted throughout the years by many tongues to the point it is reduced to a mere story for a child?” Alhaitham picked right the debate right there, skipping the pleasantries. You let out a sigh, lips pouting a bit as you rested your head on one hand.

“My, not even a hello? None the else. Your claim from yesterday just got challenged.”

“How so?” He placed his cup down, attention solely focused on you now.

“That same Jinn created from a goddess’s reflection from yesterday’s tale made an appearance in this tale.” You remarked.

“Nonsense, these stories are not related, there was no mention of a Jinn. Plus, how can I be sure that you did not just craft this tale overnight when this debate was put on hold?” He crossed his arms, the wire of his headphones shifting slightly.

“It is quite the popular folktale among some of the desert settlements I have visited, the tale of the goddess of flower’s beloved dove, and if you were willing to look past the superficial surface you would have seen the clear indicator. Tell me scribe, what does the line ‘what a lovely thing you are, just as the same as I’, remind you of?”

Bringing one hand to tuck under his chin as he replayed that line in his head for approximately 5 seconds.

“It’s what one would say if they were complimenting themselves in front of a mirror.”

He saw you lift your head up a bit as the beginnings of a smile began to form on your lips.

“However,” he added, “it’s such a jump to an interpretation from a minuscule detail. Such things do not hold much merit. Ever heard of confirmation bias, the tendency to interpret things to align your preconceived beliefs? ”

“In the space where truths are recorded, there lies the space for truths not recorded. To interpret this space, one must naturally make some leaps of faith, often by relating the spaces between two written truths, one can find hidden knowledge take shape in that space.”

“So you are admitting that the interpretation is made up?”

“No, I’m simply saying that there is a hidden truth. I shall tell you the deeper meaning of this tale since you can’t seem to want to read between the lines. The story acknowledges that history passed through tales gets warped, evidenced by the tall tale spun by the dove about the mouse. However, the key events and characters remained immortalized in the dove’s story.”

Your food had arrived in front of you, but your eyes never left his. Even as the enticing scent of tahchin beckoned.

“The mouse was there, as was the cat, as was the merchant, and so on. As this tale continues to be passed down and hear, these events shall always be there. Through war, oppression, and persecution, that snapshot of time can still live through it all. Just waiting for someone to look past the surface and discover the past carefully encased by the cushion of folklore.”

“What a poetic view of children’s bedtime story of a dove that can talk.” Alhaitham went to pour himself another cup of coffee, just to enjoy the aroma as he would like to have a restful night of sleep.

“In the spaces where truths are left unrecorded each time one truth is, those truths are just forever lost to time. The question they raise is left unanswered. I have experienced this more than my fair share of times.” The scribe commented.

“What if stories and art serve to lead you to those answers?”

“What if they lead you further astray?”

And with that, the second act of this debate seems to have drawn to a close. Alhaitham pulled out a book, enjoying the peace that had washed over the table as you shifted your attention to the tahchin. Kaveh had long joined another table for a round of TCG.

“Dear scribe, can you answer me this? Have you read all text related to the history of Sumeru and its desert?”

Looking up from his book a bit peeved, he answers honestly. “I have not, but I have studied most.”

“So, your previous statement about how there is no record of the Jinn is incorrect. There is no record that you have read.”

“I have already read most.”

“But not all.”

He resisted the urge to press his lips into a thin line at the sight of you eating a spoonful of tahchin, a hint of smugness twinkled in your eyes. As if you had leveled out the rebuttals once more. It seems like this debate might drag on longer than he had anticipated.

Authors Note 2: Okay so this story is heavily based on an oc of mine, but I thought it would be more interesting to have it to make it about the reader. But if I feel like it (or if enough people are curious enough) I might post my oc, but this series and blog will stay as a reader insert bc it’s more fun that way no?

#alhaitham x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham x y/n #genshin impact x you #al-haitham x reader #al haitham x you #al haitham x reader #al-haitham x you #vivalabunbunfics

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musings-of-a-rose · 9 months

Text

Safe With Me

Pairing: Robbie Reyes x f!reader

Word Count: 10,700+ (you voted and wanted a longer one shot!)

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Listen, I have it bad for Gabriel Luna. Bad. As in no coming back. And I saw some gifs of him as Robbie (the first role I saw him in), I've been rewatching his episodes of Agents of Shield, and I had to write something. Thanks to @mermaidxatxheart for giving me an idea that, in typical me fashion, went completely off the rail and became an actual story and not just smut.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Robbie Reyes Masterlist

Bold Italics are the Rider internally speaking to Robbie

Robbie never thought he’d be here, a driver to some rich guy’s daughter. He could feel the Rider, how beneath him the Rider felt that playing chauffeur was. But it was because of the Rider that Robbie was here, trying to get solid information on her dad, to prove he was the secret bad guy…and to bring vengeance.

When he agreed to be a driver for the family, he thought he’d be driving around the man himself, but when his daughter stepped out of the house, Robbie’s eyes went wide and he was momentarily speechless. He hadn’t seen anyone this gorgeous in…well, ever. She walked with confidence to the car and when he tried to open the door for her, she gave him a small smile and stepped around him, eyes roaming over the car.

“1969 Dodge Charger…you’ve made some modifications?”

She knows about cars?

When he doesn’t answer right away, she stops, hand hovering over the hood and looks up at him, her eyebrows raised as she waits for an answer.

“Yeah, uh..yes.”

She nods, glancing back down at the flawless finish. “May I?”

Robbie never lets anyone touch his car. No one.

“Don’t scratch her.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Her fingers lightly brush against the black paint, the car seemingly humming under her touch. Robbie shifts where he stands, like he can almost feel her fingers brush against his own skin.

“She’s remarkable. And you’re sure you’re fine with driving me around in her?” Her eyes meet his again and he swallows hard. He'd thought the request to be driven in a car like his was odd, but he assumed Mr. Rich Asshole was a car guy. He never anticipated that it was his daughter.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shifts a little, smiling as she glances back down at the car before moving around it to get inside the door Robbie had opened. She pauses before sitting and looks at him, so close he swears he can feel her breath on his face.

“If you change your mind, let me know. I’d hate to put this car in any danger.”

Robbie chuckles to himself as he closes the door behind her. If only she knew how much danger his car got into on a weekly basis.

Over the next few weeks, he takes her various places on a pretty consistent schedule, mostly shopping, occasionally meeting up with some friends, a random night club or two. Robbie finds her fascinating. He assumed that she would be pompous, like most rich people, that she would look down on others and treat them like shit. But she doesn’t. And the more he watches her, the more he sees how her smiles to her friends don’t reach her eyes, how she never wears the clothes she buys, the little sigh that escapes her lips before she steps out and into the club, her dress just barely covering her.

One day, Robbie was elbow deep in a broken engine when his phone rang, the one that he used only for his chauffeur job. He wipes his hands on his coveralls and pulls the phone out, surprised to see her name lighting up the screen. She never needs him on Mondays.

“This is Robbie.”

“Hi, Mr. Reyes. I’m sorry to call you on your day off, but..would you be willing to take me into town?”

He looks back at the engine, disassembled, pieces scattered all around, and she takes his hesitance as a no.

“You know what? I’m sorry, Mr. Reyes. I shouldn’t ask you on your day off. I..I’ll just-”

“No, no. It’s ok. I can come get you. Are you at home?”

“Yeah. When can you get here?”

Robbie glances up at the clock on the wall. “45 minutes?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Ok. I’ll see you then.”

Robbie stares at the phone for a moment before cleaning up and changing, wiping the grease from his face and hands. Why had she called? She seemed a little off.

He got there in 20 minutes with a little help from the Rider.

When he pulls up, she’s there, walking quickly to his car. Robbie jumps out and starts to walk around to get her door but she waves him off. “It’s ok. I got it.” He nods, watching her walk to the car, hunched in on herself, arms crossed and hiding behind sunglasses. She gets in and closes the door, buckling her seat belt.

“Where to?”

“I don’t care, just drive.”

Robbie starts up the car, revving the engine a little because he knew she liked that. The corner of her mouth ticks up slightly into the beginning of a smile and he relaxes slightly, still worried about her.

“My dad hates that sound.”

It’s the first time she’s mentioned her dad, has said anything to him outside of polite conversation and chats about the car.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

She reaches out and touches his arm, lightly squeezing him. “No, please don’t stop.” Robbie stops the car as the gates open slowly and he turns to look at her, trying to see through her sunglasses.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Neva.”

Robbie’s eyebrows pinch together. “Neva?”

She nods, taking a breath. “It’s what my nanny called me. She was Russian. She said it meant snowy, or something like that. I was born during a bad snowstorm,” She clarifies and Robbie nods. Neva removes her hand from his arm and starts to pick at her nails, placing them in her lap. “She was the only one who really cared for me. No one else calls me that name. Probably because nobody cares.”

Robbie is speechless. He has no idea what to say, but he wants her to know that she can open up to him. Maybe she’ll tell him more about her dad, but it’s more than that now. It’s…wait, does he care about her?

“I’m sorry you have shitty parents.”

She laughs then, her head tilting back with the force of it, and Robbie vows to make her laugh as often as he can. As her laughter fades, she takes off her glasses and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You’re a riot, Mr. Reyes. Thanks for making me laugh.”

He smiles at her. “Is…is there anything I can do for you?”

She stares at him a long time and he hopes she can’t see the warmth in his cheeks that was definitely not from the Rider.

“I doubt you can help, but thank you.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty resourceful.”

She smiles sadly. “I doubt any of your resources could change who my father is.” Robbie opens his mouth to respond when she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. You don’t want to hear about my problems… so, do you have a sister or brother or girlfriend or…or someone?”

He studies her for a moment, amazed at how she instantly schooled her demeanor into a completely different emotion, as if whatever the shit was with her dad never happened.

“I have a brother.”

“Just a brother? No girlfriend? Sister! I meant sister.”

He glances away from her, hiding his smirk at her slip up by pretending to look out the window before he turns. “Nah, just Gabe.”

“Gabe. How old is he?”

“High school.”

“Ah. The fun years, or whatever everyone says.”

“What, you didn’t like high school?”

She shakes her head. “Hated it. Everyone was so fake and I just didn’t fit in. Ok, well I mean I made friends but not anyone I’d actually consider a real friend. Just kids of people my dad has connections with or wants connections with.”

“Your dad would use you for that?”

She grows quiet, staring out of the window. “He does.”

Robbie stops at the red light and angles his body towards her. “Hey, you sure you’re ok-”

“Does Gabe need anything for school?”

Robbie stares at her, her eyes pleading for him to take the change of subject. He’d follow her lead this time, but he tucks that information about her dad in the back of his mind. Something wasn’t sitting right with him about it.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re good.”

“That’s not what I asked. Is there something he’s into?”

“He used to be really into soccer before…”

“Before?”

Robbie took a deep breath. “Before the accident…Now he’s in a wheelchair.”

She squeezes his arm again and it makes his whole body feel like a livewire. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Mr. Reyes. Do you guys need anything? What about any medical bills?”

“We’re fine, thanks.”

She takes her hand away like he had slapped her. “I’m just trying to help.”

He stops at another red light, putting on his turn signal. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…everyone always wants to pity us. But we’re doing fine.”

“I never said you weren’t. I just..have the means to help. If you’ll let me?”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Good thing you didn’t then. Now, what sorts of clothes does he like?”

Robbie could tell she was being genuine, not like most people with money who fake it just to use it as a tax write off or a photo op. So they spend the next several minutes talking about Gabe, Robbie telling her some fun stories from their youth as she directs him to a shopping district. He pulls up to an empty spot and parks, getting out of the car and opening Neva’s door. She gets out and smoothes down her pants as Robbie starts to head back to the driver’s seat.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to wait for you like I always do.”

“Oh no. You’re coming with me.” She links her arm through his and Robbie tries to slow down his beating heart, certain that she can hear it through his chest. “I need you, Mr. Reyes.”

“Yeah?” Shit, he shouldn’t have let that slip out. She didn’t mean she needed him, but she needed his opinion.

She squeezes his arm with hers in response, turning her head to look at him, her face inches from his. He swallows hard as his eyes switch between hers, his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. Her eyes flick down to his lips, his breath catching in his throat as she leans towards him ever so slightly.

“Ah, mademoiselle!” The store owner had come outside, no doubt spotting Neva, who frequents his shop. Robbie’s blood boils at the interruption but perhaps it was for the best. He’d almost forgotten that the reason he’s even driving her around is to get more information on her dad.

“Alexandre. How nice to see you.”

Alexandre leans in to kiss her cheek and Robbie feels her grip on his arm tighten slightly.

“What brings you in today?”

“I need some gifts for a friend of mine.” Neva launches into a description of Gabe that is so spot on for not ever meeting him or seeing a picture of him that Robbie is taken aback. Once inside, Robbie tries to extricate himself from her but she holds on tight, pulling him to some racks of clothes that Alexandre was pointing out, pulling things from the racks and tossing them at another clerk, who was frantically trying to hold everything. Once they had it all laid out, Neva turns to Robbie, gesturing at the clothes all nicely folded.

“How’s this? Is there anything he wouldn’t like?”

He can feel Alexandre’s eyes on him, like he knows he doesn’t belong in her world, like Robbie doesn’t already know that. He shakes his head. “I can’t take this.”

“Oh. Is it the wrong size? Or color?”

“No, it’s just…it’s too much.”

“Oh. Does he need another dresser?”

“No that’s not-”

“Mr. Reyes, you told me it was his birthday and I’m insisting on buying him some things. He’s been working hard in school and deserves a reward for all of his hard work. Now, is there anything else he needs?”

Her eyebrows are raised in question: why did she say it was Gabe's birthday? He doesn’t have time to think about that and he knows she won’t accept him declining her offer. “No. No this is more than enough.”

She smiles at him, one that reaches her eyes. “Good. Alexandre?” He’s there in an instant. “Ring me up. Charge my father’s card.”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

She takes him to lunch next, insisting that she pays as this was supposed to be his day off. They go to some fancy restaurant with food that Robbie can’t pronounce, with portions that are way too small for the price, but they tasted great. Not homemade meals from his abuela great, but not bad.

He pulls up to the front of the house, putting the car in park before grabbing the handle, when Neva touches his arm again.

“Thank you for today, Mr. Reyes.”

He hesitates a moment before placing his gloved hand over hers, meeting her gaze. “You can call me anytime, Neva.” She smiles at him, squeezing his arm before turning, allowing Robbie time to open her door just in case her dad was watching. He can still feel her hand on his arm, how it felt to link her arm in his, how her laugh sounded, the way he made her smile, like it was only for him.

Damn, Robbie. You got it bad.

—----

“How did you find this?” Robbie stares at the car part in the box he’s holding in disbelief. “I’ve been looking for this for years!”

Neva smiles and waves her hand nonchalantly. “I know a guy.”

“No, you don’t understand. This is impossible to find.”

“Obvioulsy not as you’re holding it.”

Robbie looks up at her, a smile sliding into place. “I don’t..this is too much, I..”

Neva pretends to gasp, placing her hand on her chest. “Was I just graced a smile from Mr. Reyes?” Robbie can almost feel his ears turning pink, a little extra heat in his cheeks and looks back down into the box. Neva leans in a little closer to him. “I’ll have to do this more often if it means I get to see that smile.”

Robbie looks up, his eyes meeting hers. She’s close to him now. If he just leaned in a little further, he could press his lips to hers, feel how soft they -

“Do you want to put it in now?” Her eyebrows raise, but not before she glances down at his lips again.

“What?”

Neva nods her head towards the box. “The part.”

Robbie shakes his head, pushing aside the images of pressing her against the side of the car, her leg wrapping around him as they embrace. “Uh…yeah. But after work-”

“I have nothing to do today. Can we go now? I’d love to watch you install it. If that’s ok with you?”

I’d let you do whatever you want.

Robbie tries to hold back the smile he feels coming on, but he can’t. “Hell yeah. Oh, I mean-”

Neva waves her hand. “I don’t give a fuck about bad language. Also, that’s two smiles I got from you. I’m definitely spoiling you more often.”

Robbie pulls into Canelo’s Auto and Body, driving up to one of the empty bays. He hops out and starts looking for tools, gathering what he needs.

“Are you allowed to do that?”

Robbie turns to see Neva standing outside of the car, watching him open and close toolboxes. He realizes then that he’s never mentioned also being a mechanic.

“Yeah. I work here too.”

Her eyes go wide and she nods. “That actually makes so much sense now!”

“What does?”

She gestures around. “The cars. How you’re able to keep her-” she points to the Charger “-so pristine.”

“Yeah. It’s a good place. Owned by good people. I don’t know where we’d be without them,” Robbie returns to the drawers, finding the last tool he needed and closes the drawer. When he turns back around, he freezes, watching Neva remove her outershirt, standing there in a skin tight camisole that hugs her in all the right ways, framing her chest perfectly as she pulls her hair back off of her face. Once her hair is secured, she pats her head a little, making sure she didn’t forget any loose strands. She jumps a little when she sees Robbie staring.

“Sorry! It’s just hot out and-am I making you uncomfortable?”

“What? Uh no. No, you’re, uh..fine.”

Her smile makes his body tingle and he has a short, internal conversation with the Rider, telling him to calm his shit. Robbie sets up his tools, putting the car up on jacks. When he finally lifts the hood, he hears a soft moan from Neva as she steps around, her eyes fixed on the engine.

“Did you do all this work yourself?” She asks, standing so close to him that their arms lightly brush against each other and Robbie desperately wishes he wasn’t wearing sleeves.

“Y-yeah. I had to rebuild her, basically. The car was my uncle’s but he doesn’t need it now.”

She glances up at him. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Robbie chuckles. "Don't be. He's in prison."

"Oh,” She looks down, nervous, at a loss for words. “…well I'm not sure how to respond to that. I'm sorry?" She lifts her head and he can feel her eyes on him.

Robbie turns his head slightly to look at her. "It is what it is." He wasn't about to go into his personal business with her. Not when she's standing so close, smelling like her shampoo of strawberries and coconut. He can’t help it, his eyes flicking down to her soft lips, dragging back up her face to see hers tracing a similar path on his own. He brings a hand to her face, gently cradling her cheek as he slowly leans towards her, feeling her fingers lightly tug at his shirt to pull him closer. Her eyes close-

“Robbie! I didn’t expect to see yo- oh.”

Robbie and Neva spring apart as a man in coveralls walks in, rubbing a dirty oil rag across his matching hands.

“Hey Canelo. I just came in to install this piece.” Robbie gestures towards the box and Canelo glances inside, whistling in awe.

“Holy shit. Where did you find it?”

“I didn’t. She did.” Robbie nods his head towards Neva, who shrugs.

Canelo looks between them both, a smile tugging at his lips. “Robbie, do you really think your date wants to see you work on a car?”

“Oh we’re not-”

“We aren’t-”, they both speak at the same time and Canelo chuckles.

“Actually, I asked him to bring me. I love this car.” Canelo looks at Neva in surprise.

“Oh yeah?” He proceeds to give her a mini quiz, which she aces.

“Robbie, don’t let this one go. She’s a keeper.”

“No, we’re not-”

Canelo waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” He leaves, tossing you a wink before heading back into the office. Neva steps back from the car, giving Robbie space to work. He sighs, internally cursing his boss for interrupting that kiss. It would’ve been a kiss, right?

When he drops her off later, after taking the car for a much enjoyed ride, she touches his arm to stop him from getting out and opening her door.

“I think we should talk about what happened. Or, almost happened.”

She regrets the kiss doesn’t she? Almost kiss? We are from different worlds.

Robbie waves his hand, determined to get in front of this so he doesn’t show how her letting him down hurts. “It’s ok. Nothing happened so…”

Her face changes, a flash of disappointment before she expertly schools it. “Very well then. If that’s what you want. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Reyes.” And she opens the door, closing it a little harder than normal behind her. Robbie watches her walk away, feeling like he fucked up big time.

That’s because you did fuck up.

—----

For the next few weeks, Neva is polite, a coolness settling over their interactions after his rejection. He didn’t want to reject her, he wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, begging him for more. But she was the one who was going to stop things so why should he feel guilty?

She didn’t tell you that, you idiot. You made it up.

She asks him to drive her to a party one night, offering to pay him extra since it was after his regular hours. He agreed, of course he agreed. He felt guilty and kept trying to talk to her, but couldn’t find the words.

Don’t forget why you’re really here.

When he pulls up she’s walking out of the house, a snug, black dress that rouches on the sides, a slit going up nearly to her hip, and a neckline that plunges, perfectly framing her chest. She has on black heels and clutches a small black purse that is more for looks than practicality. Suddenly, Robbie couldn’t breathe, watching her walk towards the car, the dress sliding across her skin but never revealing more than it should. She makes it halfway before the Rider snaps him out of it and he jumps out, walking quickly to the other side to open the door. She gets in the car without really looking at him, smoothing down her hair as he closes the door. When they start to drive off, she sighs, setting the small clutch in her lap and leaning her face against her fist as her elbow rests on the door. When the gate is opening, Robbie chances a look at her. She looks phenomenal, but her expression doesn’t match. Her color is a little off, the sparkle in her eyes not really there.

“Are you ok?”

“Mmm?” Neva turns her head to look at him.

“You don’t look good. I mean, y-you-you look..just…but I mean, your face doesn’t…” What the fuck dude?

Luckily for him, she smiles slightly, a small chuckle escaping her. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

His cheeks warm, his ears tinging a slight shade of pink as he stammers on. “I just… I meant that you don’t look into this.”

“This?”

“The party.”

She leans back on her fist. “Oh. Yeah. I’m not really.”

“Then why go?”

She sighs. “Because my dad commands I make an appearance.”

“You don’t have to go, you know.”

She doesn’t look at him, her eyes gazing off at a point in the distance. “I’ve been through worse. I can survive a party.”

He’s quiet for a moment. What did she mean she’s been through worse? “Well if you change your mind, you know how to find me.”

He drops her off, watching her walk into the building that’s crammed with people, loud music blaring and lights flashing everywhere. He drives around the corner, parking just off property so as not to interfere with the valet and waits. He had a feeling. And sure enough, about an hour later she texts him to come get her. They pull out of the drive up and he puts on his blinker at the next light.

“How was the party?”

“Ugh. I couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone in this world is so damn fake. And they all seem to want my attention,” she huffs.

“Home then?”

“No way. Are you hungry, Mr. Reyes?”

“I could eat.”

She perks up, sitting a little straighter in her seat. “Great! Take me to your favorite place.”

Robbie chuckles. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Well I like you so I’m sure I will.”

His stomach leaps into his throat. So he didn’t fuck everything up then. “It’s…not your type of place.”

She turns her head, her eyes studying him as he keeps his on the road. “Have you learned nothing about me, Mr. Reyes? Now drive.”

He smirks. “Yes, ma’am.”

He drives across town to his neighborhood, pulling up to park in front of a diner. Neva looks around. “This is it?”

“Told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised your favorite is diner food.”

“And what would you know about diner food?”

“Oh ha-ha. I have eaten at a diner before.”

“Uh huh. How much did a burger cost?”

She punches his arm, fighting the smile that wants to come out. “Shut up.”

He opens the door for her, offering his arm when she goes to get out and she takes it, linking them together.

“Ok so, this isn’t my favorite place. But that one is closed and this is my number 2.”

“You know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Hey, I don’t take just anyone to Bertha’s. They have the best burger in town.” He feels her hold him closer and at first he thinks it’s for the neighborhood, but one mental smack from the Rider and he sees that she’s cold. Taking off his formal jacket, he settles it across her shoulders and she cuddles into it. Robbie swears he sees her smelling it out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t say anything.

As they eat, she opens up more, their flow settling back into how things were. Little flirtations, her hand brushing his, her foot accidentally bumping into his leg over and over, her moaning when she tries the burger. Ok, that last one was just the way Robbie heard it but it counted. In his head, anyway. On their way out, she notices the graffiti on the side of the building next door. She stops, pulling him back by their linked arms to look at it.

“That’s the Ghost Rider,” Robbie explains.

“Who?”

He launches into a generic explanation about the local legend of The Ghost Rider, how he has a flaming skull for a head and seeks vengeance on those who have done wrong.

“And by vengeance you mean he kills them?”

He stiffens slightly. “Yeah.”

“Hhmm…”

“Most people think he’s a murderer.”

“No. I like him. We need justice where there is none.”

Robbie is speechless. No one has ever looked at the Rider like that, at him like that. And she doesn’t even know they’re connected.

I like her, Robbie. Hold onto this one.

You just like her because she said she liked you.

They finish making their way around the back of the diner to the car, and Robbie leans over to open the door for Neva when she pulls him, facing her back to the car.

“Thank you so much for tonight. This is the most fun I’ve had since…well, probably ever.”

“Nah, it was my pleasure.”

She smiles at him, her eyes bright and inviting, making his skin prickle like a live wire. His body is growing warmer, and not from the Rider. She’s so close, her scent of strawberries and coconut filling his nose as she leans closer, her eyes darting down to his lips. He leans too and their foreheads meet, both of them breathing heavily as they stand there, the air around them crackling with tension.

“Robbie,” she says it quietly, but it’s all he needs.

Robbie’s hands come up to cup her cheeks, turning her head up to him as he presses his lips to hers, feeling her sigh, her body relaxing into him. He glides his tongue across her lips and she parts them instantly, silently begging him for more. His lips never leave hers as he puts a hand out, walking her backwards into the side of the car. Her fingers twist in his shirt, pulling him closer before she slides them around his broad back, trying to grip him anywhere she can. He drops his hand to the back of her knee and lifts it on his hip, her gasp breaking their kiss. He takes advantage of this, turning her head to the side and kissing the side of her neck, sucking on a spot just below her ear. She moans and Robbie gasps against her neck, feeling her skin pimple under his lips.

But then she’s pushing him back and Robbie stumbles, his eyebrows furrowing together. Did he misread the situation? No, she wanted this as much as him… His brain goes fuzzy as he watches her walk around the car, gently setting her ass against the hood as she looks at him, her eyes wide and dark with want, her eyebrow arched, begging him to come closer.

He’s there in less than 2 steps, hands cupping her face again as he brings his lips to hers, feeling warmth fan out from where they touch. His hands slide down her, taking in every curve of her body before he grips her ass, moaning slightly into her mouth before lifting her to set her on the hood of the car, her legs automatically opening and wrapping around him, trying to bring him closer. He leans her down, her back against the hood of the car as he continues to kiss her, lips soft and needy. Her fingers fumble at his belt line and he finally snaps out of it. Robbie pulls back and grips her wrist, looking down at her.

“I…this is not…I don’t want our first time to be like this.”

A smile crinkles up her eyes and Robbie feels it in his bones. “You’ve thought about us before? Our first time?”

“Oh, I think about you all the time, chica. I want the space and time to take you apart.”

She whimpers, his pants feeling a little tighter at the sound. “Fuck, Robbie. I want that too but right now, I don’t care about where we are. I want you. I need you.” Her eyebrows pinch up in question, fully leaving it up to him.

He smiles. “I can’t say no to you.”

He lays his body against hers, sliding his hand up her bare thigh while propping himself up with the other, his elbow leaning against the hood. He doesn’t kiss her, choosing to watch her expressions as his hand ghosts across her cool skin, disappearing under her mini dress. He ghosts his fingers across her underwear, chuckling when she jolts at his touch. Her fingers grip his forearms, nails trying to dig through the sleeve of his shirt as he draws light circles over her clothed cunt, her breathing coming out in ragged gasps.

“Please,” she begs, voice barely above a whisper. Gently, he dips his finger under her pantyline, sliding it down her wet pussy, tracing light circles at her clit. “Oh!” She gasps, trying to hold back her sounds because they are in a parking lot. Robbie had completely forgotten their pretty public display. His hand stills and she huffs, her lip coming out in a pout.

“Are you sure, chica? We’re pretty out here.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I need to feel you inside me, Robbbie,” She blinks up at him with a fire, not too different from the one he feels blazing behind his own gaze. “I won’t break.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, Neva.”

Robbie sits back, fingers deftly opening his belt and pants just enough to pull himself out, groaning as his hard cock springs free. His skin is warm and he swallows hard, trying to get himself to cool down a bit. But then he sees her, moving her panties aside for him and, while he can’t see too clearly due to the lack of proper light, he can see that she’s fucking gorgeous, somewhere he will have to explore when he has the space to. Lining himself up, he looks down at her and pushes in, clamping a hand over her mouth when she lets out a high pitched, loud, moan, and it’s all he can do to not join her as she envelopes him, her heat wrapping around him perfectly, like she had been waiting just for him. When he bottoms out he waits, hips joined close together as she catches her breath. She looks up at him, pleasure radiating out from just her gaze alone, a gives him a nod. He pulls his hips back and slowly slides in again, groaning at the feel of her as he slots his hips against hers. He adds in an extra deep thrust and she cries out, trying to swallow her own moans as Robbie hones in on that spot, thrusting deep and hard against her. Neva starts to slide up the hood of the car, her dress doing nothing to hold her in place. Her fingers grip his sleeves, trying desperately to find something to hold her in place as Robbie continues to thrust into her.

He’s about to stop, give her a moment to grab something when her hand shoots out, gripping the raised engine of his Charger. Instantly his skin heats, feeling like he’s about to catch fire at the sight of her digging her fingers into the metal, her other hand gripping his as he pushes it to the side of her head, knuckles clanking against the dark metal. His body is tingling and he shakes his head to clear it when he feels her raise her legs higher, digging her heels into his ass and lower back, trying to get him deeper.

He growls, pressing a hard kiss to her lips before pulling out, grabbing her ankles and sliding her down the hood, her gasp turning to whimpers as he grabs her hips and flips her, pushing her chest down against the cool metal of the Charger. He pushes into her quickly, feeling himself warm instantly as he speeds his hips up, thrusting extra hard when he’s fully inside of her. Neva’s hands scramble across the car, looking for something to hold onto and she finds the engine again, using it to help her push back against him, bringing him slightly deeper than before. His skin is ablaze, his thoughts racing, mixing with the Riders as he fucks her, warning him mentally to back off, unsure how long he’d be able to keep him at bay when he’s worked up like this.

Then she pulses around him, his name tumbling from her lips over and over as she cums, squeezing him tightly, trying to keep him inside of her. He feels his balls tighten, his skin starting to lightly glow and he grunts, cumming hard as his hips jut into her soft ass, his hands squeezing her hips to keep her in place. He keeps his eyes closed, feeling his release wash over him as he simultaneously tries to fight back the Rider, who does eventually back down. Robbie looks down at Neva, her back heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Still seated snuggly inside, he leans over and pushes the hair from her cheek, moving in to kiss her there. Instead, she turns her head more, finding his lips with her own, as if she were trying to keep him there a little longer. The kiss breaks and Robbie pulls out with a grunt, tucking himself back into his pants.

“I don’t know if I have anything to clean you up-”

She chuckles, cutting off his sentence. Sitting up, she sways and Robbie catches her, pulling her close.

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind feeling you between my thighs.”

His ears are hot, silently begging the Rider to stay put. “I plan on spending a lot of time between your thighs.”

“Ugh how are you so fucking hot?” She pulls him down to her, her nails scraping against the back of his head, his arms wrapping around her.

“You’re so warm,” she sighs, cuddling into him.

“I run hot.”

“Yeah you do.”

Robbie drives her back home, but not before she tells him to pull over, hopping into his lap and riding him until they’re both screaming the others name.

—----

The next few weeks are spent tucking themselves away from prying eyes, Robbie practically living between her legs, pulling every sound he can from her. It becomes a little easier to keep the Rider at bay while he’s buried inside of her, but he’s not sure if he can always hold him back, which terrifies him. Neva doesn’t know about the Rider, about his secret. Would she even accept him?

It’s his night off, Neva having some sort of engagement to go to, a car sent to pick her up. Robbie slides a bowl of mac and cheese across the table to Gabe, who picks at it with his fork.

“What?” Robbie asks, a mouthful of mac and cheese.

“It’s nothing.”

“You too good for mac and cheese now?” He smirks, but drops it once he sees Gabe not smiling.

“Gabe?”

“It’s just…you always put hot dogs in it before.”

Robbie smiles softly, schooling his face as he stands up, grabbing his brother’s bowl. “Alright, your majesty. Would you like them cut in cubes or circles?”

Gabe punches him in the arm. “You’re an ass.”

—-

Robbie jolts awake, his phone ringing loudly as is vibrates on his nightstand. Rubbing his eyes, he quickly glances at the time - 1am. No good calls come this late. He feels the color drain from his face when he realizes it’s his work phone, the one that Neva calls. He picks up, hoping that it was just her letting him know she made it home ok. She had promised to do that.

“Hey, chica.”

She takes a moment to answer and Robbie straightens up, sensing something is wrong.

“Nev-”

“Please come get me,” her voice is barely above a whisper, harsh and rough, not sounding at all like the whispers she presses into his ear when he’s buried inside of her. His phone pings but he ignores it.

“Where are-”

The phone clicks off, but not before he heard a yell from her, a terrified yell, a pleading yell. He glances down at the phone and sees she had dropped her location, a red dot pulsing up at him from the map. He grabs his jacket, jumping into the Charger, feeling the fire blaze in him.

If anything has happened to her, we will get justice.

“You got that right,” His eyebrows furrow together in anger, his foot pressing into the gas as he makes his way across town in record time. He pulls up to the gate of a large estate, the guard taking his time coming over to him. Robbie tells him he’s here for Neva and the guard lets him in, the gate sliding shut behind him. He pulls right up to the front door, his car angled for a quick getaway if needed. His skin is on fire as he opens the door, striding over to the front door, raising his fist to knock when he hears her scream, pleading with someone to stop. Without thinking he kicks open the door, taking several large steps inside towards her voice and the sound of something hard making contact with her skin, a scream coming out every time it slaps against her. When he enters the room he sees her on the floor, blood smeared across her as her body curls in on itself, shielding her face with one hand, the other outstretched towards the man towering above her, riding crop raised above him, begging him to stop. Robbie’s skin lights up, eyes turning to fire as his skin melts away, the Rider pushing his way out.

—-

Neva, Earlier That Night:

“You will attend the gala with Mr. Fortier and attend his party after.”

I nod, familiar with this game having been forced to play it my entire life. My dad says me attending these things with these men, powerful men as he says, helps his business endeavors, which in turn helps the family. That I need to do what I have to for the good of the family.

Of course, he’s not the one to have to endure them.

Showing up, being glorified arm candy clutching to the sleeve of some powerful man or his son, having to discreetly slap away their unwanted touches without upsetting them, having people ogle you like you were just another pretty face, like you were just a piece of furniture, really wears on you. But what else can I do?

I never liked going to these events, showing up with these people, but especially now that I have Robbie, albeit secretly because there’s no way my father would approve of me being with “the help”. I despise them. I begged my father not to go but he wouldn’t hear of it, slapping me across the face when I initially said no. I dabbed on a little extra concealer to hide the redness from his palm and painted on a smile for Mr. Fortier.

The evening progressed as they usually do. A gala meant a beautiful gown, one that was worth more than most people make in a year, hand holding onto the arm of the man of the evening, Mr. Fortier, as he smirks, loving the attention he gets showing up with me on his arm. His hand rests on my thigh under the table at dinner and it turns my stomach. He starts to squeeze, his nails digging into my skin slightly, so I discreetly place my hand over his, squeezing it back like I wanted to hold hands, choking back the bile that threatens to spew from my mouth as he gives me a smile.

We dance, his hand sliding a little too low for my comfort so I ask him to spin me, just to get away from his touch for a moment. The money for whatever charity this gala was sponsoring was made, everyone cheering like they made their donations to actually help the charity and not just for the tax write-off. I scan the room, seeing many faces that I know my father has done business with behind closed doors, illegal things that I’m not supposed to know about but I’m too smart to not realize that my dad is not a good man.

Mr. Fortier asks me into his house after the gala for drinks and I initially decline, wanting to get home and scrub this night from my body, but when he persists, I remember my father telling me I will attend his after party. So I accept, a fake smile on my lips as he takes my hand, leading me inside. Once he has me in the living room I sit at his request, watching him walk to to his drink cart, offering to make me a drink. I decline the offer, saying I had too much already and he shrugs, raising the glass to his lips. It’s when he’s drinking that it starts to sink in - the silence of the house, the lack of movement even from staff, nothing to indicate an after party. I don’t even remember him telling other people there’s one at his house.

I feel the color start to drain from my face as I realize what might happen next. It’s happened before, my father delighted with the extra money he earned from me. I didn’t realize it at the time, certain that the men had actually cared for me as I did them, so it hurt even more when I realized they’d done it for money or whatever deal my father promised them. They were my age and we were young, I was naive, believing in love and falling for slick words and touches I’d never had before. When I found out, I confronted my dad, who initially denied everything. I wanted to believe he was telling the truth, that he wasn’t putting on a show by telling these men to fuck off. But several months later, I would see them leaving the house, shaking hands with my father.

I’d confided in my nanny, who held me close and told me that something similar had happened to her, except it hadn’t been her choice like it was mine. But then she told me about a secret herb to put in their drink, basically to knock them out, and then I could set the narrative. I graciously took the herb and it had been successful. Whenever anyone got too handsy, I’d offer to make them a drink, lacing the liquid with a dash of the tasteless herb, feeling a little too triumphant when they slumped over just a minute later.

But this time, it’s too late. He’s already had a drink, placing the glass back down on his cart as he makes his way back around the couch to me. If he senses that I’m on to him he doesn’t let on, and he may not. Oscar winning actors have nothing on me. He sits next to me on the couch, leaning back and putting his arm along the backside of the couch.

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.

I nod. “Of course. It’s always nice to have a fun time and raise money for charity.”

“That’s what I like about this particular gala. The money actually goes to the cause and not someone’s pocket.”

An asshole with a conscience? That’s a first.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Fortier.” I glance at the clock on the wall, ornate filigray design set into the darkened wood. “Oh - it’s actually getting late. I need to be getting home.” I go to stand but he puts a hand out in front of me, preventing me from standing.

“You don’t have to go so soon, do you?”

I swallow down the scream that’s been echoing around my head and try to put on my best apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fortier, but I do.” I go to stand, but his hand doesn’t move.

“How will you get home?”

“I’ll call a car.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll have one of mine drive you home. Give me a moment to call them.”

I nod, not comforted by his words. It’s the way he’s looking at me that’s making me feel icky, like I want to run from the house and not stop until I’m home. Or at Robbie’s. Do I even know where he lives?

“Please have a car ready for our guest…Thank you.” He hangs up the phone and I throw him a hopefully convincing smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Fortier, for a fun night. I’m glad the fundraiser met its goal.” I move to stand when his hand tightens around my wrist, his ring digging into my skin.

“Your father promised me your time after the gala. To do what I want.”

I look at him, trying to swallow down my fear and channel all of my confidence into my gaze. “Please let me go, Mr. Fortier.”

“I will get what I want.”

“Mr-”

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes across the quiet room, my cheek stinging with the contact as my head whips to the side. My hand instinctively comes up to my cheek, cupping it as I turn to look at him, his grip somehow tighter.

“Please, Mr. Fortier, I don’t want-”

He shakes his head. “No, you stupid girl. I don’t want to have sex with you. I have other…desires that I need to release.”

I swallow hard, not really sure what he means, but trying to take solace in the fact that he’s not wanting to take me.

“What -” My whole body is wrenched forward, face slamming against the hardwood floors as he throws me to the ground. He kicks me once, hard, and I nearly vomit, his dark chuckling getting louder as he squats next to me.

“Like I said, I have no interest in having sex with you. But putting marks on something so beautiful?” His finger graises my cheek and I flinch. “Well, that’s the fun we’re going to have tonight.”

Pain. That’s all I know for what feels like forever, my skin splitting open open over and over, bones never quite breaking but on the verge of, hair being pulled from my scalp. He meant what he said. He never touches me sexually, never makes any indication of wanting that. I can feel myself in danger of blacking out, desperately trying to cling to consciousness despite my body wanting to shut down to ease the pain. After he throws me to the floor again, my body sliding across the floor, I hear him leave the room, telling me stay put. I lay there, feeling the cold floor slick with some of my blood, my brain screaming at me to run while I have the moment, but I know I wouldn’t make it far, and that it would be worse for me if I attempted it. Something digs into my side and I realize it’s my clutch, having fallen from the couch when I was initially thrown. Wincing at the pain, I grab it, sliding it across the floor to my head. I fish out my phone, keeping one eye on the open door as I blink at the screen, unable to make out any numbers. Luckily, I only need one. Pressing the speed dial slot 1, I wait, praying to whomever is listening that Robbie is awake.

“Hey, chica.”

I nearly break down at his voice, a light shining through the darkness I’ve been pulled in.

“Nev-”

“Please come get me,” I choke out, trying to be quiet but clear. I drop my location to him when I hear Mr. Fortier’s footsteps coming back into the room.

“Where are-”

He grabs my ankle and I scream, eyes going wide as I see the riding crop held in his other hand, pleading with him to just let me go. I’m not sure how much time passes but in the back of my mind I hear him, the Charger, unmistakeable in its sound, pulling up to the house. Mr. Fortier doesn’t seem to notice, too involved in whatever sick pleasure he’s gaining from this as he raises the crop to me again and again. I cover my face, raising my arm out weakly to try and stop him, begging him to stop.

And I feel him, Robbie, barging into the room, the last thing I see before passing out is his eyes, full of fire, blazing orange as he shifts, heat enveloping the room, somehow comforting me as I black out.

—----

Neva:

I remember waking once since that night, very briefly, bright lights shining down into my face while gloved hands and a person in a white coat moves around me, poking and touching my skin where Mr. Fortier had left his mark. I remember my pulse speeding up and then he’s there, Robbie, holding my hand and pushing hair back from my face, telling me he’s got me, that I’m safe. Then I black out again.

My eyelids flutter open and at first, I’m certain I’ve gone blind. But then my eyes adjust and I realize that I’m in a room, a bedroom, and that it must be night because the room is nearly pitch black, a quiet nightlight plugged in on the other side of the room, making just enough light to see the floor. As my brain catches up to me, I start to make out shadowy shapes from around the room, a taller one that must be a dresser, a smaller one that most likely held books or a tv. I’m in a bedroom, not a hospital room, and certainly not my own room.

I slowly flex my fingers, making a fist and opening them back up against the sheets and I notice the weight next to me. Slowly, my head pounding slightly, I turn to look and see Robbie next to me, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, a quiet snore emanating from him. God, he’s beautiful. The man I trust most in this world. Actually, the person I trust most-

Wait. Did his head turn into a flaming skull? Was he Ghost Rider? That had to be a pain hallucination. Right?

He jolts awake, his eyes finding mine and, seeing that I’m awake, he sits up, shaking his head quickly to rid it of sleep.

“Hey, chica. How are you feeling?”

“Ok, I think.” My throat is raw and then he’s holding up a glass of water, a bendy straw sticking out of the top and holding it to my lips.

“Small sips, ok?” I do as he says, the water helping to abate the raw feeling.

“How long?”

“Just a couple of days. I took you to a guy I know to get you checked out after you begged me not to bring you to a hospital.”

That explains the bright lights and white coat.

“He said you’ll be fine, that nothing was broken but you’re severely bruised, several cuts needing stitches, and that you’ll be sore for a bit. I do have some pain meds here if you need them.”

“Did…did anyone look for me?” I say this already knowing the answer.

“I…no. Well, you got a text a day or so ago, but I didn’t look.” He leans back and grabs my phone off the nightstand, handing it to me. I unlock it, navigating to the text app and, sure enough, there’s the text from my dad.

Dad: You earned us an extra 7%. A job well done.

I roll my eyes, trying to swallow back the anger and bile in my throat as I hand Robbie back the phone. His eyes glance down at the screen where I’ve left the text up, his eyes almost glowing orange as his brow furrows together in anger.

“What the fuck?” He asks, looking up at me.

I try to sit up but my body screams at me, forcing me to stay put. He takes my hand, rubbing little circles into the back of it with his thumb. “It’s ok, Neva. Just stay put.”

I nod, taking a deep breath. And then I tell him everything, how my father treated me my entire life, how I was forced to wine and dine these men or their sons, how I was able to fight most of them off with herbs given to me by my nanny, how twice it had come to more than business and how stupid I was for believing those men, even though they claimed to love me still after I found out, but the trust had been broken. How I missed the chance tonight to give the herb to Mr. Fortier, how I’ve been hurt before but never like this. I don’t look at him when I tell him, but his hand never moves from mine, squeezing it harder with every detail I give him. By the end, I’m surprised to find tears on my face, Robbie reaching up to swipe them away for me.

“So I’m not surprised no one is looking for me. My dad always sends an update text like this, that what I’ve done for the family was worth it. 7% though? If my dad saw me, he’d negotiate for at least 8%.” It was meant to be funny, trying to lighten the tension, but Robbie didn’t laugh. Or smile.

“Your dad is a bad man.”

I nod. “I’ve known that for quite a while, Robbie.”

“Why didn’t you leave the family then?”

That’s a loaded question. “I guess it was easier to stay. I was raised to do this, Robbie. By the time I’d realized how fucked up it was, my dad’s reach was far. I had no one, aside from my nanny whom he sent back to Russia. I trusted no one, resigned to my fate. And then…you. From day one you made me, no make me feel safe. Like someone cares about me, that I won’t just fade into nothing. You’re my hero, Robbie.” I finally chance a glance up at him, expecting a smile or something, but instead, I’m met with a guilty look, an undeserving expression on his face and he doesn’t look at me.

“Robbie?”

“I’m not a hero.”

I squeeze his hand. “You are. You literally saved my life that night.”

He shakes his head. “That wasn’t me.”

I scoff. “It was you who walked through the door, saw me, and it was you who pulled me from that…wait was the house on fire?”

He’s quiet for a few minutes and I give him the space he needs. He shifts next to me, making sure I can see his eyes.

“I have to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. Not even my brother, ok?”

I try to move again, but my body retaliates, pain radiating out from where I moved. “I promise. You can tell me anything.”

“Just…know that I feel safe with you, that it’s you who saved me. I don’t deserve it. Don’t argue, just listen, ok?” He takes a deep breath. “I’m Ghost Rider. Well, he is in me.”

“...the guy with the flaming skull head, right?”

“That’s him.”

I let out a small laugh of relief and his eyebrows pinch together. “Why are you laughing?”

“No, it’s just…I saw you...well him? Right before I passed out and I thought for sure I was going crazy, that maybe I’d hit my head too hard. God, this is a relief!”

He studies me for several long moments. “I wasn’t expecting this reaction, you sure you’re ok?”

“I feel much better now that I know my brain isn’t severely addled.”

“I tell you that I turn into a murderous being with a flaming skull for a head and your reaction is ‘oh thank God I’m not crazy’?” The corners of his mouth tick up and then he’s full on smiling. “You’re loca, Neva.”

“Maybe. But you said he’s in you? I don’t understand. Are you not an inhuman then?”

Robbie watches me for a moment and then shakes his head. He launches into an explanation, about how he was out car racing when the Fifth Street Locos attacked his car, on a hit for his uncle, how Gabe, who had simply caught him leaving the house late at night and Robbie convinced him to come along, had a bullet lodged in his spine which means he’d never walk again. How he himself was flung from the Charger, body riddled with bullets, when a voice offered him revenge and he accepted, his body reanimating and healing. How he did seek vengeance, taking out not just that gang but other people too, the Rider coming out to burn them alive, that he only took out those who deserved it. That he did burn down Mr. Fortier’s house, after taking care of him himself, to make it look like an accident.

“When I walked in and I saw him standing over you, I just lost it. The Rider too. That’s what you saw.”

I squeeze his hand harder, placing his palm on my chest. “Is that why you’re always warm?”

“Pretty much.”

“I stand by what I said before. You’re not a murderer, Robbie. You don’t kill innocent people. They deserve what they’ve gotten, I’m sure…Is it… could I talk to him?”

Robbie raises his eyebrows. “You wanna talk to him?”

“I just want to thank him personally for his part in saving me? If that’s ok.”

He watches me for a long time, like he’s having an internal conversation with himself and it dawns on me, he probably is. Just with the Rider.

“Ok.”

Robbie stands up, taking a step back from the bed, his bed, his eyes on mine. And then they’re blazing orange, like fire itself, his skin peeling back as the skull emerges, embers and flames raising from that face that holds my heart. The Rider stands there, lighting up the room as he turns his face down to me, flames licking out from where his eyes should be.

“Thank you.”

He nods, a single nod before the flames were being extinguished, skin growing back piece by piece and then Robbie’s back, immediately coming to my side, hesitating in taking my hand.

“You ok, Neva?”

I nod. “Better, now that I get to see your face.” I grunt through a little pain to bring my hand to his cheek, fingers touching the spots where I know his freckles lay. Those freckles that are the death of me.

“You’re after my dad, aren’t you?” It slips out, this thought I’d had once he told me about the Rider. And honestly, it all makes sense. He never seemed the chauffeur type. I just thought I had been lucky to find the one random, hot man driving one of my dream cars that actually wanted to drive people around in it.

“Nev-”

“It’s ok. I know he’s my father, technically, but he’s never been my dad.”

“Will we be ok?” Even though the room is dark, I can see his eyes, wide and worried, eyebrows pinched together. I manage to slide my hand up to that spot, trying to smooth away that pinch with my fingers.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He visibly relaxes, sliding himself next to me and gently wrapping himself around me, his nose nuzzling in my hair as he inhales, all while I’m inhaling him where my face is against his broad chest.

“Can you just…wait until I’m better?”

“Did you want to see him?”

“What? Oh no. I just want Nurse Robbie to take care of me.”

He chuckles and my head bounces slightly with it, the rumbling there lulling me back to sleep.

“Nurse Robbie is on duty.”

—----

3 months later…

Her dad was gone, the Rider had left his mark that day. Her mom had fled the country, taking every asset she could, seemingly leaving Neva with nothing. But of course, Neva was smarter than that, tucking money away for literally years, always using her dad’s credit when she needed something. She had more than enough to live comfortably the rest of her life, not filthy rich like before, but more than comfortable, eventually wearing down Robbie with her pleas of “just let me spoil you and your brother”. She’d gotten them a new place in a good part of town, pulling strings to get Gabe into a really nice school that would look great on his college applications.

When Robbie insisted he stay at Canelo’s in order to stay in the know about what was happening, in case the Rider needed to come out, she followed him, surprising Canelo himself with her extensive knowledge of cars. Her presence attracted new customers, much to the delight of Canelo.

But today was a slow day and her target was Robbie.

“Would you just hand me the wrench already?” Robbie smiles, his hand outstretched as Neva clutches the wrench to her chest, an impish smirk on her face as she shakes her head.

“Come and get it.”

He chuckles, standing with a slight grunt as his muscles stretch. “Oh you wanna play, chica?” Robbie

He lunges towards her, hands outstretched, smile on his face and she squeals, trying to run with the wrench but it’s shape making it awkward. She drops it and slows momentarily, thinking Robbie would stop but then he’s there, covering her mouth as she squeals again, smiling into his gloved hand as he pushes her into the office, locking the door behind him before giving her his own version of teasing, her fingers twisting through his hair, his name a quiet chant on her lips, and Robbie knows there is nowhere he’d rather be.

—----

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munmomuu · 6 months

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Gale's ambition and the orb's hunger

Rambling about Gale's ambition after seeing the alternative ending dialogue for Gale. Spoilers for the entirety of his story.

This dialogue shows that even though Mystra doesn't rid Gale fo the orb, after defeating the Netherbrain his orb seems to change. It's hunger, gone.

Did Mystra quiet the orb?

If the player asks about it being Mystra's influence, Gale doesn't deny it could be Mystra, but refers that the orb's hunger was fuelled with his own. I have seen some origin spoilers for Gale that Mystra does apparently tell him that the orb is a consequence of his actions - this is why she hasn't "done" anything about it. It's a punishment.

It wouldn't make sense in this timeline that she would rid Gale of his orb because during the game, he didn't obey Mystra at all. While it could be possible that Mystra would do it out of "well you saved the world, I guess that's good enough" reward, she never really presented that as an option. She wanted the crown. Saving the world was seemingly secondary to her.

What we know about the orb previously?

So, just to know if Gale being content would affect the orb, we should consider what it does to him. Thorought the game, we get several references it being compared to hunger directly. "Clawing my insides like a teething displacer kitten"; narrator describing the hunger when he shows the orb to you; his condition is called "Arcane Hunger".

His treatment is literally feeding pure weave to it, and this is also what Mystra does once Elminster places her charm on him. It seems like the Karsite weave is to made to consume weave. He descibes that consuming the magic "never feels right, but it relieves".

We can't talk about the orb without mentioning Karsus. There's also a lot of mentions about Karsus being ambitious, same as with Gale, especially after hitting act 3. We know that Gale was ambitious even before the game - his orb is the consequence of that ambition, when he wanted to prove himself worthy of wielding more power to Mystra.

Was the orb's hunger strenghtened by the tadpole and the Crown?

Gale doesn't seem to know that the orb is Netherese until Mystra tells it is Karsus' creation. Gale seems to know the orb is Netherese origin, but doesn't connect it to Karsus until Mystra tells him. We also know from the hag, if we try her let help us with the tadpole, that the tadpole is imbued with Netherese magic. Gale's offhanded comment about the orb destabilizing because of Netherese sandals seems like a joke to me, but his condition started to decline eventually when he was tadpoled, until Mystra starts to feed it.

I think being near the crown also affected Gale. During his romance scene in act 2, he mentions about feeling the heart of Absolute, and how much heavier his heart becomes. It could be a metaphor just him sensing being closer to death, but what if it is actually a physical sensation he feels being nearer the crown? He can't feel the hunger anymore that the orb would cause, because it is being fed.

If you kill Elminster before he can set the charm on Gale, the end of act 2 is the furthest you can get Gale to come with you until he leaves permanently, because the orb gets so destabilized he feels it's not safe to be around you anymore. This could be the Crown's influence on him overtaking his hunger.

Act 3 - Physical hunger is gone, but the mental hunger lingers

The reason why I keep repeating that the orb is being fed, is that it's important to understand that Gale doesn't feel the orb's hunger physically, but the mental hunger still is there. Ambition. This is why there is quite a swap in Gale's demeanor once he sees the Crown - I believe the orb somehow influences the wizard's ambitions, similarly to Karsus.

At this point, the player has quite the impact on how Gale wil handle his ambition. I will talk only about romance standpoint since it's the one I'm familar with. If you choose him to give up on his ambitions with the crown, you have to convince him that he is enough as he is. This is a completely new situation for him - he always has strived to be better and do more. He doesn't know how to just be. Of course he wants to survive the battle with the Netherbrain, but after that? What ambitions he would have anymore? The orb has nothing to work with anymore - the tadpoles are dead, the brain is dead, the Crown is shattered in the Chiontar.

What about if you encourage his ambitions? His mindset seems to shift quite drastically compared to when we met him. He's feeding into the resentment for believing Mystra took his powers and that she didn't give him more than what he deserved in his mind.

A small side tangent: With Patch 4, Larian added a glow effect to the orb while he says the line about controlling the Karsite weave. I've been thinking about the symbolism for it - is it a power flare up? It is the same effect which Mystra's charm has, does it mean that Mystra stopped feeding Gale's orb?

Whatever it is, at this point Gale has completely changed. During the boat scene he says he doesn't wish to ascend, but now he wants to be a god. If Tav tries to tell him not to do it, he emotionlessly leaves them. Let that sink in. The hopeless romantic, who shared his spirit with his lover, assured how there is no force to come between them and disobeyed his goddess for them, leaves them for more power without hesitation.

And that isn't even the worst part of it. Disclaimer: Datamining is never "a sure way to know what the devs intented" and shouldn't be used as a true point for canon, but let's humor my angsty mood with it. According to the datamined endings that Withers would have told what happened the companions after the game, even if Tav would support sharing Gale's godhood, Gale never returns to Tav to fulfill it because ambition doesn't like to share. That shows how much Gale changes during the game if his ambition takes over. Maybe even claim that the orb's hunger takes over. ** Strikethrough added after patch 5, see my note in the end.

To end this on a more positive note, him overcoming that toxic ambition is huge, and the fact that he would feel content by Tav's side is really romantic considering all what could have happened.

** Added after patch 5 and epilogue stuff: I won't be typing out what happens in the epilogue (I have posted the outcome to Youtube if someone is curious), but needless to say, it's a good point on never trusting datamining as a canon point. But, the epilogue proves that original datamining point obsolete.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 gale #i needed to get this out of my system #gale is such a great character

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tinybirbwrites · 1 year

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the fall

a quick one-shot I wrote after playing the new archon quest, about the only thing that kinda bothered me. so this isn't particularly well-written or anything, just a quick, self indulgent little thing.

spoilers for the archon quest (3.2) ahead.

Watching Scaramouche, the so-called “False God,” desperately reach out for the electro Gnosis, hearing him beg with that heartbreaking expression on his usually resentful, cold face… And seeing Nahida, the Traveler and Paimon completely ignore his pleas in favor of using the Gnosis to save Irminsul, it made something twist inside your chest.

The cables and tubes attached to his back finally snapped from the strain he'd put on them, and you watched as he jolted forward.

“Hey—” you turned your head to tell the Traveler, Nahida, anyone, to catch him, but it was like they'd already forgotten about him completely.

There was no time, and your companions were otherwise preoccupied, so you sprinted forward as fast as you could, trying to calculate his fall and where he would land, and how you'd even catch—

Of course, with only so little time to react and act, all you could do was brace yourself, reach out your arms and hope for the best.

One second later, the weight of another's body, combined with the velocity of a fall from great height had you slamming to the ground with a pained grunt. Your arms had to be either broken or dislocated from trying to accommodate Scaramouche's weight and inconvenient position, not wanting to hurt his head or break his neck.

Upon quick inspection of the young man's body, he indeed seemed to still be intact—more so than you were, even. Looking at his eyes told a different story though, the dangerous, hate-fuelled light inside them had gone out, his expression empty, dead.

You couldn't blame him. After everything he had done to get here, after finally getting what he'd wanted for years and years, it had been taken away from him far too quickly.

It's better this way, you told yourself, he's unstable and dangerous.

Contrary to your thoughts, you cradled his head to your chest like a mother would do with her child, gently pulling his body close as if to keep him safe from any more harm. He just looked so vulnerable and broken at that moment, it felt wrong to just leave him lying around like a doll.

His expression didn't change much, only the slightest furrow of his brow betraying his seemingly lifeless state. He didn't fight you, though you couldn't tell whether it was because he didn't have the strength, or because he was lacking the will to.

It was like all the fight had just left his body, not even opting to call you names like you'd expected him to.

You craned your neck around, voice slightly croaked as you called out, “Hey, guys, was no one gonna—” Your friends were gone.

Okay, you thought, I get Irminsul is pretty important, but this is still kind of cold.

“...always the same.”

You looked down, surprised upon hearing his voice, previously so powerful and aggressive, now reduced to a mere whisper.

“Always cast aside. Always abandoned. Always left with nothing. Always left empty.”

He was mostly talking to himself, lost in his own thoughts and pain, but maybe he could tell you were bothered by the complete lack of sympathy from your friends.

“For what it's worth,” you said, matching his quiet tone, “I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Not until I know you'll be cared for, at the very least. Can't believe they'd just leave you lying around like scrap after a fall like that…”

Especially after witnessing the genuine fear and desperation on his face first-hand, when all Scaramouche had ever shown was a false smile and deep-rooted resentment.

Scaramouche tilted his head slightly, leaning closer to your chest and pressing his ear against it. You watched in silence as he listened to your heartbeat with an almost wistful look on his face. Eventually, he closed his eyes, not waking even after you tried talking to him again.

#scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin scaramouche #belatedly added tag buT GOD THE FEELS LIKE #NO ONE CAUGHT HIM #THEY!!! DIDN'T!!!! CATCH HIM!!!#I'M SO MAD FR #they just 😐

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anohai · 1 year

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A big issue with Seyka’s character arc in Burning Shores...

*clicks tongue* Fuck it.

I debated over writing this out and posting it. Decided I might as well for not only my personal catharsis, but because it's been over 3 weeks since Burning Shores came out, I have had the time to mull things over more, talk with some friendly people who came to the some of the same conclusions I did, and really analyze everything. I’ve seen a sprinkle of other people expressing something similar to what I am about to cover, but I felt this deserved its own topic of conversation.

And forewarn, there be spoilers.

Of course, we're back to Seyka. I promise I'm not trying to pick on her. She actually has loads of potential, and I don't think she's a bad character. It's just she deserved better than what was shown in her overall character arc.

Last time, I wrote about the Seyloy romance, and why it is difficult (for some more than others) to feel good about it. This critique isn't going to be about that again in case you are wondering if I'm simply yelling louder in the echo chamber, but there will be some correlation to it. The more I played the DLC, the more I realized that while I still wasn’t sold on the romance, it wasn’t the root of why something felt off with Seyka’s story to me. So once the adrenaline of having a new shiny DLC to run around in wore off and was able to properly take my time soaking things in, this was the conclusion I came to:

The biggest issue with Seyka's entire character arc is that they tried way too hard to make her near-exile situation comparable to Aloy's when it very, very much is not.

In any capacity whatsoever. As to why?

Seyka tells us at one point that she loves her tribe, her community, and has always felt she's had a place in it until recently. The reason she's in any hot water at all when we meet her is because she ran off and stole a diviner's focus. Seyka is a marine, not a diviner so we know this is considered a huge taboo among the Quen. They are a sovereign tribe with a classicist system where the people are allowed to know only what is deemed necessary based on their role and/or rank. Should rules be broken, we are left to assume based on our conversations with Alva and even interactions with the Ceo & Overseer Bohai in HFW that the royal family and those in charge are imposing & unforgiving enough that normally there are severe consequences.

Luckily for Seyka, this isn't the case.

The first time we follow her back to Fleet's End, we're met with those who are referred to as Compliance Officers who are wanting a nasty word or two with our new friend. We are brought to Admiral Gerrit, the real person in charge, and he is....actually quite understanding of Seyka's actions. He gives her a quick verbal slap on the wrist but proceeds to give her full permission to continue her search for her sister and their other missing people with the stolen focus on hand. He's humble enough to tell Aloy in a private conversation afterwards if you choose to talk to him that their faction of the expedition has been spread thin enough as it is and Seyka has already proven herself to be a valuable and skilled member. Enough so that he admits he’s become increasingly reliant on her regardless of only being a petty officer in title. This assessment is fair and kind. It’s more than I would have expected out of someone with such a high position among the Quen of all tribes.

Seyka is given a huge safety net thanks to this swell guy. The compliance offers themselves can't do anything, and from what we see in the side quests, they are seemingly nothing more than a few school-yard bullies without any real authority to their position. They are annoying & petty at worst. All bark, no bite. As far as the rest of the Quen go, most individuals we come across seem either pretty cool or neutral with Seyka. It's not until later that we get any indication there are some who are calling for her exile afterall, but we only know this because we hear it from Seyka instead of seeing it happen. People are talking, as they will, and she's furious about it.

But really....the threat still isn't there. It never was. At least not to the extent I think we are supposed to believe it was.

All things considered, Seyka was placed in a very privileged, advantageous position amongst those in her tribe. Along with the lack of visible threat, there is never any real tension shown minus a few grumblings expressed in the background when we first arrive in Fleet’s End. And despite how Aloy perceives her, Seyka isn’t exactly a black sheep here. Especially when you consider she never had any personal turmoil with the rest of her tribe until not long before the events of Burning Shores and happily tells you herself she has always felt like she’s belonged. She's pretty much allowed to do what she wants without much pushback, and I found myself rolling my eyes during the final scene where she says she's unsure of where she stands with her tribe. Seyka is not an outcast, and I, for one, was never convinced or afraid she was at real risk of becoming one.

Which makes this all the more confusing when Aloy says she's an inspiration. An outcast in all but name. I'm willing to chalk some of this up to hormones talking and Aloy's growing infatuation taking a choke hold as most first time crushes will do. Except the problem here is that the writing clearly felt like we were meant to connect Seyka's strife with Aloy's on some level; carry the same sympathy for her that Aloy expresses, and see more of where their similarities hold up.

And yet...

I felt more for Kotallo who was kicked from his initial clan because his leader saw him as a threat and then later, might as well have gotten demoted for losing an arm because his tribe sees him as near useless for it..

And Zo who lives among the most pacifist, peace-loving tribe and was admonished when she not only went to fight back in the Red Raids, but wanted to do something about the blight and their broken Land Gods..

And Talanah who had to fight against blatant sexism that many carry in her tribe and an actual attempt for her murder all because she wanted to move up in the Lodge and make things better..

And Aloy, herself, who was outcast at birth for simply being born without a mother. And spent her entire life with only the man who raised her for company. In one small valley. For 19 years. Because there was no choice for her.

But somehow, we're supposed to see Seyka the same way Aloy does? Like no one she's ever met??

I...Really?

I'm sorry, but I don't buy this rebel fighter, near-outcast ploy here. And saying she's unlike anyone Aloy has ever met feels like a slap in the face to not only Aloy, herself, but to some of her companions we have come to know & love in the first two games. Most of whom I'd argue have been through more hell because of their own tribes long before they even met her. Seyka's plight is trivial, inconsequential in comparison and no where near as crippling as Aloy's was or her friends. It's honestly frustrating that it feels suggested it is.

What's worse is that this plotline is used as one big narrative tool to bring Seyka and Aloy closer on standing grounds outside of ability and personality. This essentially means Seyka and her entire character arc were written for the sole purpose of the romance. A character built for Aloy to quickly fall head over heels for and add progress in her own arc. I wrote last time that I can see this growth as an opportunity to explore romance further for Aloy with a pre-established character or two in H3. If I’m right & that happens to be the heart-wrenching, long-term, master plan Guerilla is going for, they have my applause (and my stress). Great for Aloy. In my opinion though, being created to be a love interest (lasting or not) for the main hero is a bit unfair to Seyka.

She's clever, she's badass, and she isn't afraid to take action without permission and help where she can. Next to Aloy, however, she stands as a self-reflection of her. A spotless mirror as to who Aloy could have been had she grown up under a community as well. I would love to see Seyka break out on her own as an individual character that isn't in the context of romance if ever given the opportunity.

Heck, if Guerilla wanted to in the eventuality they will be finished with Aloy's story, the Quen have easy potential to have an entire spinoff game revolved around them. We have a whole side quest in BS where a small group of Quen want to sneak focuses to non-diviners for the sake of knowing what's usually kept hidden from them. Hello, is that the beginnings of a rebellion, I see? And the world of Horizon has yet to be explored in places outside of the North American continent. Other tribes, different machines, more Old World locations, etc. Loads of potential everywhere. And guess what!? We practically have a budding main character on a silver platter: Seyka! She obviously has big enough main character energy. Might as well utilize it outside of a DLC if you can, and I don't mean for the next game.

It's hard say for sure whether or not Seyka will remain a DLC character. No matter what fans say, the ending was left ambiguous. Not only because of the romance but also where Seyka's future lies. She knows about Nemesis, yet she tells Aloy she's unsure of what she wants to do after her faction reunites with the other half in San Francisco, whether it's going home or something else. I would think if Guerilla had solid plans to include her in H3 while they were developing Burning Shores, they would have written the ending where she either offers to stay behind in Legacy’s Landfall for a time like Alva does or Aloy asks for her aid to help fight against Nemesis. Something to make it more clear she's here to stay. We don't though, so as far as anyone outside of Guerilla is currently aware, Seyka is not guaranteed to play a big part in H3 if any at all. And remember, DLCs are meant to be an extension of the main game and are primarily optional. They are typically not a requirement for playing the next big installment as far as understanding the story goes.

If she does show up in H3, the only thing I dread is the idea of her coming up and saying she's basically denounced her tribe because she still feels out of place and doesn't think she can belong afterall. Not to mention she has her sister, and after what happened with Kina, it would be a really bad look if she just decided to permanently leave her behind when her tribe isn't or never was trying that hard to push her away in the first place. And Seyka said it herself. She’s “not some weak-kneed sailor who abandons ship when the seas get rough,” and I’d like to believe she means it. It'd be one thing if she actually is forced into exile, but after the events of the DLC, she has too good of a repertoire for that to happen now. At least while she's outside of Quen homelands.

(Btw, don't even get me started on Aloy's convo with Kina over "remember Seyka's been through a lot too" as if we didn't just rescue this poor girl from A CULT and nearly groomed into becoming this centuries-old dude's image of his dead wife. Like honey, I know you're in love but have some thought & tact here.)

That’s about it. I will reiterate that as a character, I do actually like Seyka. As a self-imposed outcast? No. As Aloy’s love interest? That…needs some serious work. But as an individual who loves her tribe but will fight for what she believes in even if it means going against the royal, societal grain? Absolutely! And special kudos to Kylie Liya Page for bringing her to life.

Also, if you want to read a review that summarizes everything I just ranted about better than I could manage, along with everything good and not-so-great when it comes to the DLC, I recommend this essay here by ariseis.

If you made it to the end of this long rant, thanks for reading~

#horizon #horizon forbidden west #horizon zero dawn #hfw #burning shores #hfw burning shores #horizon forbidden west burning shores #seyka #burning shores spoilers #burning shores critique #guerilla

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